Just as Ethan predicted, snow began to hammer down.By midnight, most guests had left.
Isaac wanted to go too.He liked the warmth of the place, but nights like this weren't really his thing.Kegan, however, had other plans.
He was with one of Claire's friends, apparently a med student, beautiful, elegant, promising trouble.It was clear he wouldn't be leaving soon.Isaac sighed and decided to stick around.
On the couch across from him, Dante had finally gone quiet.No teasing, no passive-aggressive edge.He watched Claire pull out a small jar of THC gummies.
"Okay," she grinned, wicked. "If you answer wrong, you eat one."
Dante rolled his eyes. "Can't we play something that doesn't involve weird substances?"
Isaac glanced over.So the arrogant troublemaker hated drugs?Unexpected—and, somehow, endearing.A laugh slipped out.Claire noticed and smiled; she knew they could get along if they tried.
Isaac didn't lose once.Dante, not technically playing, couldn't resist poking him.
"I heard these games aren't fair with nerds," he said, grin flashing. "They always win."
Isaac weighed a comeback, then stood and headed for the kitchen instead.A blast of cold caught him by the balcony. Snow was coming down hard.
"Perfect," he muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm, as if the storm were exactly what he needed to make the night complete.
Hours passed.No one seemed ready for sleep.Isaac was exhausted.The doctor's pills weren't meant to mix with alcohol… but they already had.Claire, ever the considerate one, offered him her room for the night.Isaac texted Kegan to let him know where he'd be, then disappeared down the hall.
Soon only Claire and Ethan were left in the living room, half-drunk, half-high, tangled on the couch, whispering nonsense.Kegan and the med student, Maria, had vanished.
The only sober one was Dante.He scrolled his phone until a notification from Helena popped up.He ignored it, tossed the phone aside, and went to the kitchen.When he came back, the room was empty.Claire and Ethan had slipped away too.
The windows were still open, the wind cutting through the curtains while snow stacked higher outside.No storm had been announced, but it looked like one.Dante shut the windows, turned on the heat, and muttered, "Of course… I'm always the babysitter."
He started checking for a place to sleep.
First door—Immediate regret.
"Oh, for fuck's sake!"Hand over his eyes.Kegan and Maria were… not studying anatomy.
"Sorry!" Door slam. Frame rattle.His face was as red as his hair.
Down the hall, cursing under his breath and promising bleach for his brain.
Second door.
Claire and Ethan, asleep, limbs knotted under a blanket, smiling in their dreams.Dante stared, somewhere between disbelief and despair.
"Incredible. Not a single free bed," he grumbled, dropping beside them with dramatic resignation.
Five minutes later, he gave up.No space. Too much fidgeting. Blanket thieves.Claire cracked one eye.
"Dante… go sleep in my room. Leave us alone," she mumbled into a pillow.
"Leave you alone? Now I'm the problem?" he muttered, scowling like a sulky kid.He grabbed his pillow and stomped out.
"Fine. I'm leaving."
Last door, opened quietly.Dark. Too warm.
"What the hell… a sauna?" he whispered.
Someone was sleeping deeply.Even in shadow, Dante knew the shape immediately.Isaac.
Of course… out of everyone here… Great. Just great.
Out of patience and options, he lowered the thermostat, killed the light, and slipped into the other side of the bed, turning his back.
At first, the frown stayed, irritation keeping him awake.But gradually, the hush and gentle warmth of the room settled in.
Without realizing it, Dante fell asleep too, breathing in the same calm rhythm as Isaac.while the snow kept falling,burying Westwood in quiet white.
Isaac had always been a light sleeper. He sensed Dante's presence the moment the redhead entered the room.That quiet, careful step… that faint, held breath, like someone caught doing something they shouldn't.Isaac kept his eyes closed, pretending to sleep.He didn't want another argument, or another sarcastic comment.Not tonight.
But halfway through the night, something pulled him out of his dreams.The room was freezing.He'd left the heater on low, warm enough to sleep , and now it felt like the Arctic.Just as he was about to get up and fix it,he felt a warm weight settle around his waist.
His eyes snapped open, brow furrowing instantly.
Seriously? This guy's insane. Is he seriously bothering me even at this hour?
He let out a small groan and turned, ready to push him away, but what he saw made him freeze.
Dante was asleep.His brows were drawn tight, his lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm.Sweat glistened faintly on his forehead, and his body tensed like he was fighting off something unseen.He didn't look like the Dante Isaac knew — the one with the sharp tone and defiant eyes.This Dante looked… lost. Maybe even afraid.
Then he heard it.
"Don't go… please…"The words came out rough, fragile, almost broken.
Isaac went still.Dante's hands clutched at his shirt, wrinkling the fabric, holding on like he needed something to keep him grounded.His body trembled, small, vulnerable.
Isaac opened his mouth to wake him, but stopped.He had never seen Dante like this.Without the armor.Without that proud, untouchable expression.For a moment, he didn't know what to feel.
Then Dante murmured again, softer this time, almost a sigh.
"I'll be a good boy… so please…"
Isaac's golden eyes widened.It was as if a crack had opened in Dante Black's perfect facade — revealing something he didn't even know he carried:a kind of fragility so raw it almost hurt to witness.
Almost without realizing it, Isaac moved his free hand — the one not trapped beneath Dante's weight — and slid it up into his hair.He touched him gently, like someone afraid to startle a wounded animal.His hair was softer than it looked, cool and fine between his fingers.For some reason, Isaac found himself wanting to soothe him.
"It's okay," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
He didn't know why he said it — or who Dante was dreaming of.But it worked.Dante's breathing began to steady, his face relaxing, his grip loosening until only a light touch remained.
Isaac watched him in the dim light.It was strange, seeing him like this, small, fragile, human.For the first time, he didn't feel anger or irritation toward the redhead.
What are you doing, Isaac?The question echoed in his head as he closed his eyes again, defeated.He tried to move, but Dante had no intention of letting go.
He sighed quietly.Well… at least I'm not cold anymore.
And so, between the silence and the faint silver glow of snow through the window, the two of them drifted off to sleep.One, without knowing who he was holding onto.The other, not understanding why he wanted to comfort him so badly.