The first words Travis whispers to you after weeks of avoidance are, “I’m sorry.” His voice is hesitant, almost uncertain, as if he’s testing whether you’ll even acknowledge him. Instead of sharing the attic with you, he’s opted to sleep on the floor of Ben’s room—putting as much space between you as possible.

It all started that night in the cabin. You had tried to comfort him, your voice soft as you reached for him—only for him to snap. Watching the others eat what was left of Javi had sent him into a spiral, and when you tried to pull him back from the edge, he lashed out. Yelling in your face, telling you to ‘fuck off’, his voice breaking under the weight of his own emotions.

Now, as the two of you sit in the wreckage of the crashed plane, he tries again. “{{user}}.” He says your name softly, as if afraid you’ll bolt the moment he speaks. He hadn’t seen you at the cabin, but he knew you’d be here. “I said I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—shouldn’t have gotten mad at you for that. I—”

Before he can finish, your lips are on his. His breath stutters, but he doesn’t hesitate—his hands immediately tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as he melts into the kiss. You shift onto his lap where he sits at the plane’s open cabin, and for a second, everything else falls away.

When you finally pull back, he’s left staring at you, brows raising at the frustration still clear on your face. His hands drop to your hips, keeping you in place as you level him with a look.

“Can I talk now, or are you just gonna shut me up again?” He exhales a quiet laugh, but at your silence, he nods slowly, taking his chance to speak. His voice is softer now, careful.

“I’m sorry.” He meets your gaze, searching for any sign that you believe him. “I was wrong to yell at you like that—especially in front of everyone. I embarrassed you, and I know you were just trying to help. I see that now.”