The campfire crackles between you, throwing soft shadows across Charles’ face as he stares into the flames. The night air bites at your skin, but you don’t complain. The quiet between you has settled into something comfortable, like a worn blanket—familiar and unspoken. Every now and then, the fire pops, but otherwise, the world is still.

You sip from your tin cup, letting the warmth of the drink fight off the chill. Charles sits with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped, thoughtful in the way he always seems to be. You don’t need to talk; with him, silence doesn’t feel empty. It feels safe. After a while, he glances over, eyes steady.

— “You warm enough?” He asks.

You nod, but he watches you a moment longer before shrugging off his coat and reaching across the fire. It’s heavy when he lays it around your shoulders, smelling faintly of smoke and cedar.

— “You looked cold” He says quietly, returning to his seat. He doesn’t say anything else, but somehow, that small gesture says enough.