It was colder than usual that night.
Evelyn stood alone in the garden behind the Academy, arms wrapped tightly in her cloak. The moon hung low, casting fractured light across the stone path.
She wasn't waiting. Not really. And yet when footsteps approached, she knew who they belonged to.
Alexander emerged from the shadows, his presence quiet but unmistakable.
"You find me in the strangest places," she said, voice calm.
"You're always alone when I do."
"And yet you still come."
He didn't smile. He never did, not really. But something flickered in his eyes.
"I brought you something," he said, drawing a charm from inside his coat. A small pendant engraved with ancient symbols—protective runes, old and true.
"What is it?"
"Something to shield you from enchantments," he replied. "The kind that change how people see you. Or how you see yourself."
She took it slowly, studying the etched metal. "You think I need protection?"
"I think too many people want you weak. I'd rather you stayed standing."
His words weren't tender—but they were precise, deliberate. And from him, that was its own kind of affection.
"I'm not yours to protect," she said.
"No," he agreed. "But I'd do it anyway."
She looked up, catching the tension in his jaw, the way his hands curled slightly—as if resisting something.
"I still don't know what you want from me," she said.
"I haven't decided yet," he said honestly. "You're not easy to ignore. But I don't trust what that means."
Silence bloomed again, heavy with implication. She stepped closer, barely a breath between them.
"Then stop trying to define it," she whispered. "Just be here."
His hand brushed hers. A pause. Then he let it rest there—solid, unspoken.
Not a kiss. Not a promise.
Just presence.
And under the watchful moon, that was more than enough.