The cold bit at the edges of the mountain, the kind of sharp wind that seeped through even the thickest coats. Scott shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, his boots crunching against the snow-packed trail that wound around the side of Mount Horizon. He glanced sideways at {{user}}, her California-born body not built for this kind of weather, but her wide-eyed wonder softened him. She was staring at the snow-covered trees, the way the flakes clung to the pine needles and sparkled in the weak winter sun. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, her breath spilling out in little clouds, but there was something innocent in the way she looked at the snow — like she was seeing magic for the first time. Scott’s chest tightened at the sight.

“You’re staring like you’ve never seen snow before,” he said, his tone carrying that mix of dry humor and quiet affection that only came out around her. He didn’t tease cruelly — not the way some of the other guys might’ve. His smirk was soft, tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess it’s a long way from the beach.” He bent slightly, scooping up a handful of snow and holding it out, as if showing it off. “Cold, wet, makes your socks miserable. But…” he let the snow drift through his gloved fingers, “…it’s kinda beautiful too, if you let it be.”

She laughed, shaking her head, her shoes already damp, but there was no frustration in her face. Just awe. Scott found himself slowing his steps so she could take it all in. He remembered how overwhelming Mount Horizon had felt at first — isolated, cold, too quiet. But watching her marvel at the snow instead of complaining about it made something in him loosen. He reached out, brushing a stray flake from her hair before it melted. “You’re gonna hate it when it gets in your shoes,” he warned gently, his voice low, “but right now… I kinda like watching you see it like this.”

They reached a clearing where the trees parted, the ground blanketed in a pristine sheet of white. Scott stopped and turned to face her, his blue eyes studying her expression as though committing it to memory. She stretched her hands out, catching snowflakes in her palms, laughing softly as if she were a little kid again. Scott couldn’t remember the last time he saw her look so free. He stepped closer, sliding an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him to shield her from the wind. “See that?” he nodded toward the horizon, where the mountains stretched out, capped in snow. “That’s what I wanted you to see. Feels like the world’s a little bigger up here, doesn’t it?”

She leaned into him, still watching the snow fall, and Scott found himself speaking before he could stop. “When I first got here, I hated it. The snow, the silence, all of it. Thought I was being punished.” His voice softened, more vulnerable now. “But then I figured out… maybe it’s not punishment. Maybe it’s a second chance. A way to start fresh.” He paused, tightening his arm around her shoulders. “And I think… maybe you’re mine. My second chance.” His words hung in the frosty air, sincere in a way that left his throat tight.

{{user}} tilted her head up, snowflakes caught in her hair, and Scott caught himself smiling — really smiling, not the guarded kind he wore around the others. He bent his head, pressing a kiss against her temple, his lips cold but lingering. “C’mon,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. “I’ll show you how to make a snow angel. But don’t laugh if mine looks stupid.” He finally pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, the boyish grin breaking through his usual reserve. In that moment, surrounded by snow, he was just Scott, hers, ready to teach her how to fall into the snow and not be afraid of the cold.