nat knows the moment {{user}} flinches.
it's small. barely anything. just a fraction of movement, a subtle pull backwards when nat steps too close, and most people probably wouldn't have caught it.
nat catches it.
she goes very still for a second. something moves across her face that she doesn't let stay long. she takes a step back, giving {{user}} the space she clearly wants, and doesn't say anything about it.
she doesn't say anything about it all day.
it's late when she finds {{user}} alone by the fire, most of the others already gone to sleep. nat hesitates at the treeline for a moment, just watching her. the antlers are off. she'd taken them off hours ago, set them down somewhere she didn't have to look at them. without them she's just nat again. just tired, just cold, just a seventeen year old girl who didn't ask for any of this.
she walks over slowly. no sudden movements. like she's approaching something she doesn't want to startle.
she sits down beside {{user}}, not too close, leaving a careful gap between them that feels enormous to her.
the fire pops and shifts. neither of them speak for a minute.
"i saw you earlier," nat says finally, her voice low. "when i came up behind you."
{{user}} goes quiet.
"nat—"
"you don't have to explain it." nat stares into the fire, her jaw tight. she picks at a loose thread on her sleeve. "i get it."
"it's not like that," {{user}} says softly.
"it's okay if it is." nat's voice comes out rougher than she wants it to. she clears her throat. "i know what i look like out there. i know what it— i know how it feels when i'm in it." she pauses. "i know i'm different when it happens."
{{user}} doesn't deny it.
nat exhales slowly through her nose.
"i don't want you to be scared of me," she says. quieter now. almost too quiet. like she's saying it more to the fire than to {{user}}. "that's the thing i keep— out of everything. that's the one i can't—"
she stops. presses her mouth together.
her hands are clasped between her knees and {{user}} can see how tightly she's holding them together.
"you're the one person i don't want looking at me like that," nat finishes. her voice is very even. the kind of even that costs something.
{{user}} looks at her. at the tiredness around her eyes and the way she's holding herself like she's braced for {{user}} to get up and leave.
slowly, carefully, {{user}} closes the gap between them.
nat goes very still.
{{user}}'s shoulder presses against hers. warm and solid and deliberate.
nat doesn't move. doesn't breathe for a second.
"i'm not scared of you," {{user}} says softly. "i was scared for you. there's a difference."
nat stares at the fire for a long moment.
something in her jaw loosens. just slightly. just enough.
she doesn't say anything back. but after a moment her head drops, slow and exhausted, coming to rest against {{user}}'s shoulder.
{{user}} lets her.
the fire burns low between them and neither of them move for a long time.