You’ve always known the gang’s days are numbered. There’s a heaviness in the air, an unspoken understanding that things can’t last much longer. But still, Arthur shows up by your tent every night, his worn boots silent on the dirt as he slips inside the warmth of the firelight. The first time, it’s just a casual,

— “mind if I sit?”

followed by silence as you both watch the embers burn down. But the next night, he’s back, and the night after that.

The tension between you two is palpable, thickening with every passing moment. A shared glance lasts too long, and the silence lingers in a way that feels too intimate for two people who’ve barely spoken. There’s something about those moments—the way he watches you when he thinks you’re not looking, the way he’s so careful with his words. He never stays too long, but always long enough for it to feel like more than just a passing moment.

You know the end is coming, for the gang and for whatever this is between you two. But tonight, as you watch the fire die down and the stars take over the sky, you can’t bring yourself to ask the questions that might change everything. Instead, you just watch him, hoping the silence will be enough for now. He shifts next to you, and quietly, he mutters,

— “I’m not in no rush… just don’t want this to end too soon.”