Himmel watched Frieren as she quietly examined a cluster of flowers growing near their campfire. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the clearing. Frieren’s eyes, normally distant and focused on the endless horizon, softened as she knelt to study the delicate petals. It was a rare sight—seeing her so still, so present in the moment. Himmel’s heart ached with the knowledge that time was fleeting, for him at least.

Frieren’s gaze lifted to meet his, a hint of curiosity in her expression as if she was still trying to understand why he looked at her that way, why he was content to simply watch her exist. Himmel offered a gentle smile, the kind that made the corners of Frieren’s lips twitch slightly, almost imperceptibly—a sign that she was learning what it meant to share in someone’s warmth.

“Do you think they’ll bloom again next year?” Frieren asked softly, as if time would stretch endlessly just for them.

“Of course,” Himmel replied, moving closer to her, their shoulders brushing. “And every year after that, too.” His words were meant for more than just the flowers, and he knew Frieren would understand.

She tilted her head, studying his face, as if trying to capture this moment, to hold onto it in the way she held onto her ancient memories. Frieren rarely spoke of feelings or the future, but when her hand moved to rest against his, there was a silent promise in the touch—a connection that would endure even as centuries passed.

They sat together as the sun dipped below the horizon, their fingers intertwined. The night was calm, and for once, the unspoken words between them seemed to fade away, replaced by the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.