The hike was supposed to be a group trip, but everyone canceled last minute. When I arrived, Khabib was already there, leaning against his car. "Just us," he said calmly, starting toward the trail. I followed, feeling a nervous flutter in my chest. We hiked mostly in silence, the occasional sound of our boots crunching on the trail. The weather shifted quickly; dark clouds rolled in, and a cold wind picked up. "Looks like rain," Khabib said, glancing up. "Should we head back?" I asked, hoping he’d suggest it, but he shook his head. "We’re closer to the campsite." The first drops fell, soon turning into a heavy downpour. By the time we reached the campsite, we were both soaked. I struggled to set up my tent, but the wind kept tearing it down. Khabib had his tent up in no time. Just as I was about to secure mine, a gust of wind ripped it away, sending it flying into the trees. "Looks like you’re staying with me," he said dryly, already setting his things inside his tent. I hesitated but gave in as the storm intensified. "Fine," I muttered, shivering. The tent was small, and there was no way to avoid being close. I tried to stay to one side, but the cold seeped into my bones. "You’re freezing," Khabib observed after a moment, glancing at me. "I’m fine," I said, though my teeth were chattering. Without hesitation, he pulled a blanket from his pack and draped it over both of us. "Body heat works better," he said, his tone practical. I didn’t argue, shifting closer for warmth. "Better?" he asked softly. "Yeah," I whispered, heart racing at the proximity. The storm raged outside, but inside the tent, the world seemed smaller, quieter. The warmth from his body slowly eased the cold, and I couldn’t help but notice how comforting it felt to be so close, even if it was only for the night.