It’s quiet. The sort of quiet that only occurs in horror movie.

The night air bites at both of your skins as they walk along the dimly lit track behind the forest. The world feels distant, like it’s somewhere far away, gasping for breath while they stand here, untouched, invincible. He reaches out and laces his fingers through hers, calloused and firm—like iron forged in fire.

Ian's voice is soft, but it cuts through the silence like a blade. “Yknow...We’re gods now, {{user}}.”

You shiver, unsure if it’s from the cold or the way he says your name like it belongs in his mouth. Maybe it does. Maybe that’s okay. Maybe nothing matters anymore except the way he looks at you, like she’s the only one who ever saw him—not the weird kid with the black clothes and the smirk, but the love underneath.

Your love is a loaded gun—beautiful, sleek, and ready to fire.

He pulls her closer, the weight of everything they’ve done pressing down on her chest—but his hands are gentle. Always gentle with her. The world can burn, but he’ll cup her cheek like she’s porcelain, kiss her like she’s the altar he prays at.

Maybe this war is worth fighting for. Maybe it's not more than you asked for. Maybe Ian is your soulmate. It sure feels like it.

"What now?" You say, cutting through the silence. He doesn't respond to you. He glances at his feet, like he doesn't know what to say. "... Head back to my place?" He offered, tilting his head.