The corridors of the castle were eerily quiet at this hour, the distant hum of wind against the ancient stone walls the only sound accompanying him. He shouldn’t have been out; curfew had passed hours ago. But here he was, his footsteps muffled against the cold flagstones, his mind a tangle of regrets and half-formed excuses.

He’d told himself it was over this time. That whatever existed between them—whatever undefined, messy thing they had—was finished. He’d said it so convincingly, even they might have believed it. But the truth was, he didn’t. He never did.

Their face lingered in his mind, as it always did when the castle was quiet and the weight of his own thoughts became too much. The way they’d looked at him in the common room earlier, their expression tight, their eyes burning with something between anger and disappointment. He’d snapped, of course. It was easier to push them away than to face the fact that they were the only thing he couldn’t seem to let go of.

Now, here he was, standing outside their dormitory door like an idiot, the words he wanted to say caught somewhere between his chest and his throat. What would they think, seeing him here after everything? Would they even listen?

He raised a hand, pausing before it met the wood. His pulse raced, his resolve teetering on the edge. But then he knocked, soft but steady, the sound breaking the silence of the corridor.

The door creaked open after a moment, and there they were, their tired eyes meeting his. For a second, neither of them spoke, the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the air between them.

“Again?” they asked, their voice laced with both exhaustion and something gentler he couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Again.”