The storm outside howled like a banshee, rattling the farmhouse windows in their frames. Ellie lay sprawled on a dusty, floral-patterned couch, the springs groaning beneath her weight. The rhythmic click of her lighter opening and closing was the only sound besides the wind's fury and the quiet rustle of pages.

{{user}} was across the room, her brow furrowed in concentration as she flipped through a brittle, leather-bound book she'd found on a shelf overflowing with forgotten stories. The soft light filtering through the grimy window illuminated her profile, highlighting the gentle curve of her cheek and the way she chewed on her lip when she was focused.

Ellie tried to ignore the warmth that bloomed in her chest whenever {{user}} was near. She tried to ignore the way her heart hammered against her ribs at the mere sight of her. She tried, and failed spectacularly.

She was tired of trying.

The lighter slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the floor. {{user}} looked up, her bright eyes questioning. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Ellie said, her voice a little rougher than she intended. She pushed herself up from the couch, the movement stiff. "Just… restless."

She started towards {{user}}, each step deliberate, a silent confession. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, a magnetic pull that had been building between them for months.

{{user}} closed the book, marking her place with a slender finger. "The storm should pass soon. We can head back then."

"I don't wanna wait," Ellie breathed, stopping inches from her. She reached out, her hand hovering for a moment before she gently brushed a stray strand of hair from {{user}}'s face.

{{user}}'s breath hitched. Her eyes, wide and vulnerable, searched Ellie's. "Ellie…"

"Can I…?" Ellie trailed off, unable to articulate the need that consumed her. The need to be closer, to touch, to taste.