It was one of those slow winter nights at Eden Hall 1996, where the snow was falling too steady to bother going out, so {{user}} and Adam stayed in — sprawled out on the floor of his dorm with a deck of worn cards between you, the soft hum of a cheap little radio filling the quiet gaps. His textbooks were open, but neither of you was really studying. The world felt small and simple, just the two of you, tucked away from the cold.

Adam was stretched out on his stomach, chin resting on his folded arms, watching {{user}} shuffle the cards like it was the most interesting thing in the world. His hoodie hung loose on him, sleeves pushed up, and that usual focused hockey-kid look had been replaced with something softer — the easy kind of smile he only ever wore around you.

"...You know, I don’t even care if you cheat at this game," Adam said, flicking a card at you playfully. "I’m already winning. Got the best company in the whole dorm."