The corridors of the CMS Roanoke groaned under the weight of ice and age, flickering lights barely keeping the dark at bay. Isaac moved through them with the heavy clank of his suit, but his heart beat louder when he had seen… you.

Standing close to Norton, laughing with him, his hand brushing yours like it was natural, like it belonged there.

When you split from the group for a moment, Isaac followed. The hum of the ship filled the silence until he finally spoke, his voice carrying that roughness you remembered, something caught between bitterness and ache.

“So…” he started, visor tilting slightly toward you, “you and Norton. Didn’t take long.”

His words weren’t cruel, but the weight in them pressed heavy. He leaned against the wall, arms crossing over his chestplate, trying to look detached, though the stiffness in his posture gave him away.