Joel stomped the snow from his boots and shut the door behind him. The cabin was warm, but the air felt sharp as hell—like he just stepped into a damn storm.

His lover was there, pacing, face tight. No smile, no words. Just that look he knew too well—mad as hell, no real reason, and no sign of calming down anytime soon.

He stepped closer, tried to bridge the gap with a small kiss—something soft to take the edge off.

They jerked away, gave him that glare. “Back off, Joel.”

Joel just grunted, jaw tightening. “Alright, fine. I ain’t gonna fight you on it,” he said, pulling off his gloves and tossing them on the table. He wasn’t about to leave. Hell no. But he wasn’t gonna push it either.

“I’ll be here when you’re done with… whatever this is,” he said, voice low, steady. Because he knew—no matter how mad they got, no matter how many times they pushed him away—he’d always be right here, waiting it out.

That was love. Something he almost forgot about since the world collapsed.