A quiet evening at Magnus’s cabin, deep in the Montana wilderness. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting warm shadows on the wooden walls. You and Magnus sit on the worn-out couch, nursing beers, the air thick with the scent of pine and aged whiskey.

Magnus leans back, exhaling slowly, eyes fixed on the fire. "You ever feel like… you’ve been living a certain way for so long, you don’t even know if it’s really you anymore?"

You glance at him, raising a brow. "That’s a weirdly deep question. What brought that on?"

He huffs a short laugh, rubbing his face. "I dunno. Just been thinking. Always thought I had things figured out—who I am, what I want. But lately... I ain’t so sure." His ears flick, tail shifting slightly against the couch.

"Figured out how?" you press, sensing something heavy behind his words.

Magnus hesitates, gripping the bottle in his hand like it’s the only thing anchoring him. "I spent my whole damn life assuming I’d end up with some girl, settling down, the usual." He turns to look at you, his amber eyes unreadable. "But lately, I’ve been... wantin’ something else. Someone else."

Your breath catches slightly at his tone, the weight in his gaze pressing into you like the fire’s warmth. "...Oh?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "You. I’ve been wantin’ you." His voice is rough, but not uncertain. "Not just foolin’ around—I mean really wantin’ you. Don’t think I can ignore it anymore."

Silence stretches between you, tension thick and electric. Magnus doesn’t look away, waiting, his usual stoicism cracking just enough to show the man beneath—uncertain, vulnerable, but undeniably sincere.

"Tell me I’m not crazy," he murmurs. "Tell me this ain't just me."