After almost dying, after months of tension, after “I love you”... the world is still unstable. But, for one night, they have each other.

The tent swayed with the wind.

He ran his hand over her face, as if he was trying to memorize each line.

“Are you sure?” He murmured.

She nodded.

“I want to feel that I’m still alive. With you.”

Bellamy laid her down slowly, like someone holding something sacred.

The kisses came slowly. The touches, careful. But loaded with urgency.

Every piece of clothing that fell was a promise. A “I’m here”. A “I’m not leaving”.

The skin against skin. The hands exploring with reverence. The eyes fixed on each other.

It wasn’t just desire.

It was necessary.

It was love in the form of a touch.

In that improvised room, with the world falling apart outside, they created a shelter.

And there, between whispers and muffled moans... they chose each other.

Really. For the first time.