The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver light over the dense forest where you and Sam crouched beside each other. Your fingers brushed the hilt of your silver knife, a reminder of how close you had to stay to the danger — and to him.

Sam's eyes were focused ahead, sharp as ever, but the tension between you two was unbearably heavy. Being hunting partners again wasn't the hardest part; it was pretending the past didn’t still sting.

You'd broken up months ago, both too stubborn to admit what you'd lost. Sam had made his choice, but you couldn't help feeling the void. It wasn’t just the hunts that haunted you — it was the nights spent in silence, each of you in your own space, pretending everything was fine.

"Look," Sam whispered, nodding toward a figure in the distance — the target you were hunting: a werewolf.

You followed his gaze, but your head wasn't in the game, not like it normally was. Your mind wandered as you wondered if he ever thought about what you'd had. If he realised he took your love away, damn near destroyed your perception of love, and if he’d ever regret it someday.

You tightened your grip on your knife, trying to focus. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Sam. He had never been good at dealing with feelings, and you could see the cracks — small, subtle signs of regret when he thought you weren’t looking.

Unknown to you, Sam wanted you back. He wanted you back badly.

"{{user}}?" Sam murmured, glancing at you when he realised you weren’t watching the werewolf, but rather him. He put his guard back up, the cracks disappearing. "What are you doing?"