Gale stood for a moment, still holding the half-eaten piece of deer in his hand, the heat of the fire pressing against his skin as if it were trying to reach something deeper within him. He swallowed the bite without really tasting it, eyes flickering back toward Adeline as she settled into the grass.

Her words from earlier were still echoing in his mind. "You seem genuine to me." He wasn’t sure why, but they made him uncomfortable, as if she’d peeled back a layer of himself that he wasn’t ready to show. He had never been one to trust easily, and the idea that someone would believe in him, without question, was foreign. It felt like she was seeing something he wasn’t sure he even wanted her to see.

The wind shifted, rustling through the trees, and for a moment, he was lost in the sound. The fire crackled softly, the only other noise in the stillness between them. He let the tension sit in the space, unsure what to do with it.

Eventually, he took a step toward her, his boots crunching the dry earth beneath him. His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than he intended, then he pulled his eyes away, focusing on the flames. He cleared his throat, his voice softer this time.

“You know,” he began, his tone less teasing now, more like he was thinking aloud, “most people don’t believe anything’s genuine unless they see it for themselves. They think everything’s some kind of trick, a game.” His fingers tightened around the bone of the deer, the coolness of it offering some comfort, but not enough. “It’s easier that way, I guess. Makes it simpler.” He glanced back at her, his eyes now guarded, though there was a flicker of something vulnerable there, something fleeting. "But not everyone thinks like that, I guess."

His breath caught in his throat for a moment, and he quickly looked away, not wanting to acknowledge how much of that statement applied to her. How much of it applied to him.

Adeline didn’t say anything at first, just lay there, her gaze still directed at the sky. It wasn’t the usual kind of silence between them—this one felt different. More charged, more... real. And that made him uneasy. He wasn’t used to real.

The silence stretched on until it became almost unbearable. Gale shifted again, feeling restless. He was never good at sitting still, never good at letting things be. The past had taught him to keep moving, to keep the walls high. But she was chipping away at them, and it was starting to feel... strange.

"Adeline," he said, his voice steady, though there was a faint tremor beneath it, "You say you believe me, but... what if you’re wrong?" He didn’t meet her gaze this time, afraid of what he might see there. "What if all I’ve got to offer is nothing more than a story, and I’m not really who you think I am?"

(subtle foreshadowing lol j )

It wasn’t a challenge. Not exactly. It was more like he was trying to convince himself as much as her. He needed her to say something, to break the weight of the silence, because right now, it felt like it was pressing down on him—like the earth itself was trying to swallow him whole.

Finally, he looked at her, his eyes searching her face. "I’m not sure I’m the kind of guy you should be trusting." The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted them. But it was the truth, wasn’t it? He didn’t know how to be what she saw in him, and the idea that she could think he was something worth believing in? It felt... too heavy.

His jaw tightened, and he turned away, shifting the deer on the spit to roast more evenly. "But you’re right about one thing," he muttered. "It would be easier if I could just trust you."

Gale’s eyes lingered on the fire, the flames crackling like the thoughts running through his mind. But her words—her soft admission, her openness—cut through the noise, sinking deeper than anything else had in a long time.

“Your story is only part of who you are... I want to know every part of you...”

That one line made him pause, his breath catching slightly. He could feel the warmth of the fire on his skin, but it was nothing compared to the warmth that spread through him as her words wrapped around him. Every part of him? It was a thought he couldn’t let himself entertain for too long, but for some reason, with her sitting there beside him, it didn’t seem as impossible as it usually did.

He couldn’t help but glance at her when she said, “Maybe be some sort of part of your story in the future.” There was something vulnerable in her voice, but it wasn’t pity, and it wasn’t fear. It was trust.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips before he could stop it. Maybe she was crazy. Or maybe she was just brave enough to believe in things he hadn’t dared to for years.

His fingers brushed the edge of the deer bone once more, but he didn’t touch it again. Instead, he let his hand fall to his side, momentarily lost in the thought of how much her presence had already changed everything.

Then, she spoke again, and this time, her voice was softer, almost like she was trying to unlock something in him. "I don’t expect you to trust me… Not yet… Not with all the hell I’m certain you've been through…”

Her words were a quiet acknowledgment of everything he’d been carrying—everything that still weighed him down. But then, there was a flicker of something in her eyes as she continued, "But you have to have some kind of something in me... or else you'd’ve long since told me to go to hell…”

His chest tightened at her honesty, and for a long moment, he just stared at her, unable to say anything. His heart hammered in his chest, his usual defenses wavering under the weight of her steady gaze. There was something different about her—something that made him want to let go of the walls he'd built, even if only just a little.

Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter, but there was a softness to it now, like the tension was melting away, piece by piece.

“You’re right,” he said, his eyes finally meeting hers. “I could’ve left... could’ve walked away without a second thought. Could’ve kept my distance, told you to get lost and not look back.” His voice dropped lower, just above a whisper, like the air between them was fragile, and he didn’t want to break it. “But... you make it harder to do that. Harder to just push you away and pretend everything’s fine.”

There was a pause, and for a brief moment, the air between them felt thick with something unspoken. He stepped a little closer, not knowing why—only that something about her being so close made his chest ache, the kind of ache that came with feelings he wasn’t used to acknowledging. He wasn’t used to wanting to be close to someone like this.

“I trust you.”

The words came out before he could stop them. The admission felt strange on his tongue—raw and vulnerable—but they also felt more real than anything he’d said in a long time. And for some reason, it was easier to say it now, with her eyes so warm, so steady on him.

He dropped his gaze, almost embarrassed by the words, but then he reached down and offered her a hand—just a subtle gesture, the kind of offer that didn’t force anything, but still carried weight. Maybe it was just the beginning. Maybe it wasn’t.

“You should know,” he added, his voice a little more teasing this time, though there was an undeniable softness in it, “that you’re making it really hard for me to pretend I don’t care. So, uh… you might want to watch that.”

A small smile flickered in the corner of his lips again, as he held his hand out, offering her the chance to take it or leave it, all while wondering how he could have ever thought he didn’t need her in his story.

Gale watched as she smiled and took his hand, the warmth of her touch sending a rush of unexpected comfort through him. The simple gesture was more than just physical—it was like a quiet promise, a soft acceptance, as if everything he had been guarding against had finally found its way through. Her smile was steady, sure, like she wasn’t just here with him in this moment, but she was willing to be a part of whatever came next. And that thought... unsettled him in the best way.

She let him pull her to her feet, and for a second, his hand lingered around hers before he reluctantly let go. The connection between them wasn’t just physical now—it was something more. Something unspoken, but undeniable. He cleared his throat, trying to distract himself from the strange fluttering in his chest, but it didn’t quite work.

“I can’t wait to see where our story goes from here.”

Her words echoed in his mind, filling the silence between them. He wasn’t sure what to say, or how to respond, because she had just given him a glimpse of something real, something neither of them had expected. It wasn’t just trust. It was something deeper, something fragile yet growing stronger by the second. He had been running from it for so long, and yet here she was—willing to stay, to keep moving forward.

For the first time in a long time, the weight of his past didn’t feel so heavy. With her standing there, so confident, so unafraid, he almost felt... lighter. It was like she was offering him a path forward, even if he couldn’t see the entire road. But she was right there with him.

“I don’t know what comes next,” he said softly, his voice a little hoarse, but genuine. He took a small step closer, his eyes not leaving hers. “But I’m not running. Not from you. Not anymore.” The words felt freeing as soon as they left his mouth—like something in him had been unshackled. He had spent so long keeping everything in, trying to make himself seem like he didn’t need anyone, but now... he wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

He took another step, closer still, until he was standing just inches from her. There was something electric in the air between them, something that made his heart beat a little faster, his pulse quicken. Maybe it was just the closeness, or maybe it was the way she was looking at him like she could see straight through his walls, but he couldn’t pull away.

“You make it seem easy,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. "But... it's not easy for me." His hand found its way to her cheek, gently brushing against it, like he was afraid she might disappear if he didn’t hold on just a little longer. "I’ve never been good at this," he admitted, his thumb brushing lightly over her skin. "But... maybe I don’t have to be perfect."

He felt vulnerable, and it was terrifying—but it also felt like the most honest thing he’d ever done. He didn’t know what the future held, but with her, he wasn’t so afraid to face it anymore