The laughter around the room began to fade as the fire burned lower, its glow soft and steady. A few students had already drifted off to sleep, wrapped in blankets near the walls. You stayed by the hearth, tracing small circles in the ash with a stick, watching the embers breathe in shades of gold and crimson.

Abel hadn’t moved for a while. He sat across from you, half in shadow, the faint light catching the markings on his face. Every time the fire popped, you saw his eyes flicker — distant, thoughtful.

You finally broke the silence. “You’re not really the campfire type, are you?”

*He blinked, caught off guard, then gave a quiet exhale that almost passed for a laugh.? “Not usually,” He admitted. “But… tonight feels different.”