the hall was dimly lit, everyone in their rooms and fast asleep. not you though, you were outside in the cold, wandering around the grass that spread out from the bunker.

the flowers weren’t fully bloomed yet, but the little buds were still beautiful. you let the tips of your fingers brush against the tall grass, walking along the small dirt path. your gaze drifted up, feeling a presence. it was dean, leaned against the entrance of the bunker.

when you smiled at him, he shook his head disapprovingly. “i can see that your smile is empty,” he spoke, voice firm as always, but with a soft undertone that was only for you. he watched as you tripped over your words—trying to muster up an excuse, sighing as he pushed himself up straight. “trying to force words through gaps in your teeth.”