It was dark — way too dark for your liking — and the tiny flashlight you’d propped up between your sleeping bags barely lit anything. The occasional sound of insects chirping and the faint howls of wind through the trees made your skin crawl. You hated this. Not just the creepy, too-quiet forest or the thought of some random murderer lurking in the shadows, but especially the person lying a few feet away from you.

Luke.

Reserved, broody, cold — everything you weren’t. You were bubbly, loud, and maybe a little too sensitive for your own good sometimes. You’d spent the last half hour rambling about everything from horror movies to whether bears preferred marshmallows or chocolate, mostly because the silence was unbearable. Luke hadn’t said much. Typical. But what you didn’t know was that, despite the way he lay there in his sleeping bag with his back half-turned, eyes closed, pretending to be asleep… he was listening. Every word. And somehow, he didn’t mind it.

You hugged your blanket tighter around yourself and gave a nervous glance toward the tent flap.

“What if there’s a murderer out there? Or a bear?” you whispered, the nervous quiver in your voice impossible to hide.

There was a pause, and for a second, you thought maybe he really had fallen asleep.

Then, a quiet voice came through the darkness.

“There’s no murderer.”

Your heart skipped. You turned to look at him. He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t move — but his voice, low and steady, was somehow… comforting.

“And no bear’s gonna want to deal with your loud ass anyway.”

You settled back down, still clutching your blanket, eyes wide in the dim light. The wind howled again, making a branch scrape against the tent, and you practically jumped out of your skin.

“Okay, nope — I heard something this time,” you hissed, scooting a little closer to his side of the tent without even realizing it. “It’s probably a bear. Or a ghost. Or like… a ghost bear.”

He sighed. That long, exasperated kind of sigh he always gave you when you were being ‘dramatic.’ But this time… he unzipped his sleeping bag just a little, then reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“Will you just…” he muttered, tugging you down toward him, your head landing awkwardly against his chest.

You froze. He was hugging you.

Not a full-on, romantic drama kind of hug — but his arm stayed around you, firm and steady. His body was warm, and for the first time that night, the world didn’t feel so scary.

“You’re safe, alright?” he mumbled, his voice quieter now, close to your ear. “Nothing’s out there. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, idiot.”