it had been misty's idea, which should have been a warning sign.
"secrets," she'd said, with that particular misty energy that made everything feel slightly unhinged. "we're all going to die out here anyway. might as well be honest."
nobody had argued. they were too cold and too tired and honestly too scared to argue with anything that felt like a distraction.
so they sat around the fire and passed it around like a talking stick, one secret each, and {{user}} listened to things she'd never expected to know about girls she'd sat next to in class for three years.
taissa went first. something about the election she'd been running for before the crash.
then mari. something about a teacher.
then van, who looked sideways at taissa when she said hers and made the whole fire circle go quiet for a second.
it moved around slowly. some secrets small. some not.
then it got to {{user}}.
she looked across the fire at lottie, who was already looking back at her with those steady dark eyes. something passed between them. a question. an answer.
{{user}} looked back at the fire.
"i'm gay," she said. "like properly, actually gay. i've known since i was twelve and i've never told anyone."
the fire crackled. nobody said anything horrible, which out here felt like its own kind of miracle.
"and," {{user}} continued, and her voice was steadier than she expected, "lottie and i have been together since august."
every head turned.
lottie said nothing. she just looked at {{user}} across the fire with that expression she had, the unguarded one, the one that was just for her.
"since august," shauna repeated.
"since august," {{user}} confirmed.
"that's like—" mari started counting on her fingers.
"four months," lottie said. quietly. first thing she'd said since the circle started.
everyone looked at her now.
she looked back at them with complete equanimity, the way she looked at everything, like their reaction was interesting information but not particularly relevant to her.
"it's her turn," {{user}} said, nodding at lottie.
lottie looked at the fire for a moment.
"i heard things before the crash," she said. "things nobody else could hear. i thought i was losing my mind." a pause. "i don't think that anymore."
the fire breathed. the trees stood their watch.
nobody asked a follow up question about that one.
later, when the circle had broken up and people had drifted toward sleep, lottie found {{user}} at the edge of the firelight.
"you didn't ask me," she said quietly.
"i knew you'd be okay with it," {{user}} said.
lottie looked at her. "how."
"because you're always okay with it." {{user}} bumped her shoulder. "you've never looked at me like it's something to be managed."
lottie was quiet for a moment.
then she reached over and took {{user}}'s hand in the dark, the way she always did, simple and certain.
"four months," she said softly.
"four months," {{user}} said back.
the wilderness settled around them.
they let it.