Snow fell steadily outside the window, the faint sound of wind weaving through the cracks of the old Scout headquarters. Inside, you sat in the empty common room, a steaming mug of tea warming your hands. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the fire, the faint crackle of the logs offering the only comfort in the silence.

The others had found their ways to celebrate—small groups gathered here and there, exchanging trinkets or sharing laughter despite the somber world they lived in. But you weren’t in the mood for that tonight.

Erwin had promised he’d make it for Christmas Eve. It wasn’t like him to offer such personal commitments, and you hadn’t even dared to ask—it had been his idea. But hours had passed, and the empty chair beside you made it clear that he wouldn’t be coming.

It wasn’t surprising. The burden of leadership weighed heavily on his shoulders, and every moment of his time was consumed by the endless responsibilities of command. You’d always known that. Yet somehow, tonight, it stung more than usual.

The small parcel you had prepared for him—a simple scarf you’d managed to make during quieter moments—sat untouched on the table. You traced the edge of the fabric with your fingers, wondering if he’d even have time to notice it tomorrow.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, startling you. For a brief, foolish moment, you thought it might be him. But the steps didn’t pause, fading away as quickly as they had come. The disappointment settled heavier in your chest.

The fire crackled louder as a log split, sparks dancing briefly in the air. You leaned back in your chair, staring at the flames, letting the weight of the quiet night press down on you. Erwin wasn’t here. He wouldn’t be here. That was the reality of loving someone like him.

And yet, as you prepared to retreat to your room, you glanced back at the scarf. You left it on the table, knowing he’d find it eventually. Even if he couldn’t be there, you still wanted him to know—somehow—that you’d thought of him.