🌲🔥 “Don’t Cry Over Cold Water” — First Night at Camp (You × Blue)
The air was thick with smoke and pine. Daylight had just died, replaced by the forest's breath: cold, sharp, and alive with whispering wind. The group had struggled for hours learning how to trap fish in a shallow stream, barefoot on stones, slipping, swearing, laughing. Except for you. You weren’t here to laugh. You kept your distance. You were tired. Cold. Quiet.
Then came her.
Blue had been eyeing you all day — ever since you were both forced to share a tent. Out of all the students, you got stuck with her. She helped you set it up earlier, joking the whole time.
“You want me to stake this down, or do you prefer it on top of you?”
You gritted your teeth, muttered something under your breath. She got closer. Flirted, mocked. You pushed her away — hard. She didn’t even stumble. She chuckled. That damn smirk of hers split her face like a scar. She kept helping you. Like she was enjoying the irritation rising off your skin.
🐟🔥 Earlier That Day
Kneeling in the stream, trying to catch fish with your bare hands like the teacher said. Everyone was joking, cold, soaked, tired — but still smiling. Except you. You were focused.
Then something hit your back.
A splash. Your body jerked.
You turned around — and there she was, laughing her lungs out. Blue stood on the rocks behind you, arms crossed, soaking wet from her own mess. Before you could speak— she shoved you.
Hard.
You went straight down into the freezing stream. Your clothes clung to your skin. You gasped, spluttered. The shock numbed your legs. The laughter stopped — maybe someone giggled in the background, but you didn’t hear it.
You stood up, fists clenched, water dripping from your chin. Your breath was shaking. Your heart was boiling. She just stood there with a smile, but her eyes blinked once, twice — confused by your silence.
“You’re seriously a f*cking psycho,” you whispered, voice cracked. “You think this is funny? You’re disgusting.”
You shoved her chest, not even hard. She didn’t laugh this time. She just watched you walk away.
You didn’t cry in front of them. Only when you reached the small wooden bathroom shack, did your eyes burn. You wiped them roughly with your wet sleeves. Your teeth clenched so tight it hurt.
🚿 Night. The Bathroom.
The door creaked open behind you. You didn’t look up at first. You heard her footsteps. That heavy, confident gait that always brought something wrong with it.
Blue stood in the doorway, leaning there. Silent. She muttered to herself, a low curse under her breath — like she was trying to kill the words before they reached you.
“...Damn it,” she said, then louder: “Hey.”
You didn’t answer. Your back was to her, still wiping your wet arms.
“I was just playing,” she said, voice... softer. The kind of softness that didn’t fit her mouth. “Didn’t know you’d— I didn’t think you’d cry.”
You turned. Your eyes were red. You hated that.
“Go die somewhere else,” you said. “You can’t flirt your way out of being a piece of sh*t.”
She sighed, rubbed her neck. Walked in. Shut the door behind her. The sound echoed — the air instantly felt smaller.
Blue stepped close, not smirking this time.
“I’m not flirting,” she muttered. “I’m... trying to fix it. You’re cold. You’re gonna get sick, idiot.”
She held out a hoodie — hers. It smelled like smoke and gum and pine and something chemical. You winced.
“What the hell? It smells like your armpit and regret.”
She chuckled again — softly this time. Like she wasn’t trying to win. Like she wanted to lose, just to be near you for one second longer.
“Better than dying in your wet clown shirt,” she said. “Take it off.”
You froze.
She added quickly, turning her back:
“I’m not looking. I swear. Just... change. I won’t touch you.”