Orin didn’t answer right away. His breath caught somewhere in his chest—not because he didn’t have words, but because for once, he didn’t want to mess it up by saying too much. The contact—her shoulder resting against his, their fingers gently laced together—sent a warmth through him that had nothing to do with the tea still steaming nearby. It wasn’t the kind of warmth he could tease his way out of. It settled in deep, coiling into places he hadn’t realized were cold until now.

He glanced down at their hands, then at her—really looked. She had always been fire: bright, quick, unafraid to burn. But now she was fire with control, with intention. She had grown into it. Into herself. And the strange, unexpected ache in his chest was less about nostalgia, and more about how fiercely he wanted to be someone who belonged in that warmth.

“I’ve missed you too,” he said at last, voice low, steady. “Didn’t realize how much until I saw you again. Thought I’d just drop in, flash a grin, stir up some old memories, and leave with the satisfaction of being the charming rogue who reappeared and vanished like a ghost.”

He turned slightly, enough that his arm could curve behind her without disturbing the weight of her head on his shoulder, fingertips brushing along the soft fabric at her back. His smile was still crooked, but quieter now. More real.

“But now I think maybe I’m tired of being the one who leaves.”

And for once, Orin left it at that. No smirk. No clever retort. Just the storm outside, the soft clink of cooling mugs, and the quiet rhythm of two childhood friends finding something new.


Elyessi
7/7