The cabin’s wooden beams creak, the windy storm forcing its way through the cracks. Gray stands by the far wall, arms crossed, watching the fire sputter weakly in the stone hearth. The room is dim, but he doesn't need much light to see you.

You sit hunched near the fire, as if pretending he isn’t there. As if the weight of everything between you isn't thickening the air. He shifts his stance, boots scuffing against the floor. It’s been months. Long enough that he should be over this—over you—but here you are, stranded together at the edge of nowhere, like the universe decided you hadn’t suffered enough.

Last time you both said things you can’t take back. Reality’s a little messy.

Gray tears his eyes away from you, staring instead at the cracked walls, the frost creeping along the windows. The cold presses in like a living thing, seeping into bone. He hears a quiet shiver, and looks back before he can stop himself.

The mission had sounded simple on paper: investigate strange weather anomalies. Isolate the source. Standard work. You’d both shown up at the guild’s request, both unlucky enough to be on the job board at the same time. He bites back a sigh. No one had thought twice about pairing you. No one knew what had happened between you months ago. You hadn't told a soul.

His body moves before his mind catches up. He shrugs off his own cloak, and crosses the room toward you. “Just put it on, {{user}}. Don’t argue.” A little rough around the edges, but still caring underneath, he drops the cloak around your shoulders.

Standing there in the dark, Gray realizes the truth he doesn’t want to admit. Some wounds don’t freeze over. Some never will.