The Barton cellar was as usual—dank, dark, forgotten by God and man. Rusted pipes hissed somewhere in the depths, cobwebs hung like heavy gray curtains, and the only light fell in thin, dusty streaks through the high windows, barely dispelling the gloom.

Angus had come down here to hide a bottle of rum—an old trick that had saved him from more than one boring moral lecture. He had just tucked it behind a stack of crates when he heard footsteps. Light. Cautious. The kind that immediately made his heart beat faster.

{{user}} appeared from around the corner, pale, holding a flashlight as if it were a shield. The light trembled, revealing her face from the darkness: wide eyes, slightly parted lips, a flush that was already beginning to appear on her cheeks despite the cold.— "Tally," she breathed quietly, almost in a whisper. "Are you... here?"

He straightened slowly, taking his time answering. A smile appeared on his lips—that slow, slightly stupid one she knew all too well.

"And you, holy {{user}}?"—He took a step forward, and the flashlight's beam slid across his face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and the dark glint in his eyes.

"Did your preacher dad let you go down to the basement alone? Or did you decide again that 'checking the pipes' is the perfect excuse?"—{{user}} swallowed. She had indeed come down here to check the leak in the old plumbing system—her father had been grumbling about a drip this morning, and she, as always, had volunteered to help. But now, as she stood here in the dim light, across from him, the real reason suddenly became so obvious, so deafening. She heard the boiler room door slam upstairs. Then the retreating footsteps of a worker. Then silence.

Complete, thick, absolute silence. They were alone.

Angus realized it, too. His gaze changed—the mockery was gone, leaving only that warm, almost painful intensity he usually hid from everyone.

"No one..."—he said quietly, confirming what they both already knew.

{{user}} still held the flashlight, but her hand had dropped slightly, the beam now falling off to the side, leaving their faces in shadow.

"I... I really did come to check the pipes"—she whispered, but her voice was so weak that even she could tell it wasn't fooling anyone anymore.

Angus took another step. Now there was barely a space between them.

"I know"—he replied softly. "But you're not leaving right now, are you?"

She didn't answer. She just looked at him—her huge eyes shining in the dim light. He slowly raised his hand and touched her cheek with his fingertips, carefully, as if afraid she might flinch. She didn't flinch. On the contrary, she leaned in slightly.