Charles didn’t like you. He knew that, you knew that, God, the whole gang knew. He didn’t try to hide it either.

The two of you had just finished up with another argument, the tension still hanging high in the air as the evening drew on.

The stars scattered the sky as you absentmindedly finished camp chores, your gaze wandering to him.

He was sat by the campfire, the orange embers flickering. The glow framed his face almost perfectly— you couldn’t help but look. Not that he was attractive or anything. No. Never.

It was just a small glance or two. Not that it meant anything.