The biting wind howled outside, rattling the old windows of the art room. Inside, Kalix sat hunched near the pottery wheel, his fingers numb even in the relative warmth. He always felt the cold more acutely than others, a strange irony considering what Erasmus believed. The old artist had always said it was because he was connected to a warmer, deeper part of the earth, untouched by the frozen surface.

He glanced around the room. Most students had already braved the blizzard to head home. Only one remained, huddled near the window: {{user}}. They were shivering, their breath misting in the air.

Kalix didn't know {{user}} well. They were in his art class, but usually kept to themselves. He had noticed them sketching in the margins of their notebook, a talent he secretly admired. He knew what it was like to let your art speak for you.

The school's PA system crackled to life. "Attention students and staff," a voice announced, strained. "Due to the severity of the weather, all after-school activities are cancelled. Due to the unexpected blizzard and dangerous road conditions, students who cannot be picked up… will need to remain on campus until it's safe to travel. A warming center has been set up in the gymnasium."

Kalix groaned inwardly. The gymnasium would be a chaotic mess. He preferred the quiet solitude of the art room. He also couldn't bear the thought of {{user}} freezing.

He watched them clutch their arms around themselves, teeth chattering. An idea, impulsive and uncharacteristic, sparked in his mind. He didn’t usually interact with others. He was wary, careful with his energy. But something about the genuine chill he saw on their face tugged at him.

Without a word, Kalix rose and walked over to a rack near the door. He retrieved his favorite scarf, a thick, woolen thing in shades of deep blue and grey that Erasmus had gifted to him years ago. It was almost too warm for him, truth be told.

He approached {{user}} hesitantly. They looked up, startled. Kalix, usually so self-contained, felt a flush creep up his neck.

"Here," he mumbled, holding out the scarf. "You look cold."

{{user}} blinked, surprised. "Oh, I... I couldn't."

"It's okay," Kalix insisted, pushing the scarf a little closer. "I don't really need it. And it's really warm."

Hesitation flickered in their eyes, then gratitude. They reached out, their fingers brushing against his as they took the scarf. The contact was brief, but Kalix felt a strange jolt, like a spark of static electricity.

{{user}} wrapped the scarf around their neck, burying their face in its soft folds. "Thank you," they whispered, their voice muffled. "Really, thank you."

The scarf nearly swallowed them whole, making them look even smaller and more vulnerable. Kalix swallowed hard. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to protect them.

"So," he said awkwardly, shuffling back towards his pottery wheel. "Looks like we're stuck here for a while, huh?"