The camp was quiet. Most had turned in for the night, the weight of the day pulling them into restless sleep. But you couldn’t.

The fire crackled in front of you, soft light dancing across your face as you sat with your knees pulled close, arms wrapped around them. It wasn’t the cold keeping you up—it was everything else. The noise in your head. The feeling of being surrounded by people, yet still unseen.

You were useful. You pulled your weight. But still, to most, you were just another face.

Except… not to him.

Footsteps shifted in the dirt behind you, heavy but cautious. You didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

Bellamy Blake wasn’t one for sleep either. You’d noticed that much. Always moving, always carrying the unspoken weight of something more.

He lingered for a moment, like he was deciding whether or not to say anything.

“Can’t sleep?” he said after a beat, voice low, quiet like the night around you. It was the first real thing he’d ever said to you.

Then he stepped closer and dropped down beside you—not too close, but close enough.

You glanced at him, but he didn’t look at you. Just stared into the fire, forearms resting loosely on his knees.