The night was calm in a way that felt rare, almost fragile.
The fire burned low, crackling softly as it consumed the last of the dry wood, casting a flickering gold light over the quiet camp.
Felix sat cross-legged near the edge of the light, absently twirling his dagger between his fingers—a hypnotic, silver blur. He wasn't sharpening it this time; he was just keeping his hands busy, trying to outrun the thoughts that only caught up to him when he was still.
Kai watched him from the shadows for a long time.
Felix had been doing that a lot lately—filling every second with noise or movement during the day, only to become painfully, unnervingly quiet the moment the sun went down.
Kai finally walked over, his boots silent on the grass, and sat beside him. He didn't ask for permission; he just settled in, close enough that their shoulders almost touched, cutting off the cold night wind.
"You're going to drop that if you keep spinning it like that," Kai said, his voice a low rumble.
Felix blinked, startled out of his trance. He managed a small, familiar laugh. "Wow. You noticed. I'm offended it took you this long to critique my form, Ice General."
Kai didn't rise to the tease. He didn't even look at the dagger. "You haven't slept in two days, Felix."
Felix shrugged, though the movement was stiff. "Sleep is overrated. Too many reruns in my head."
Kai turned to face him fully, his silver eyes catching the firelight. "Lying doesn't suit you. It never has."
That made Felix stop. The dagger stilled in his palm. The practiced smile faded—not entirely, but enough to reveal the exhaustion underneath.
"…I keep thinking," Felix said, staring into the heart of the coals, "that if I'd been less trusting, none of this would've happened. If I wasn't so damn eager to find a friend in everyone I meet, Leo wouldn't be looking over his shoulder every five seconds."
Kai was quiet for a long moment, the only sound the distant hoot of an owl.
Then he said, "If kindness is your crime, Felix, then I'll take the same sentence."
Felix looked at him, his eyes wide and startled.
Kai's expression was steady, but there was something softer there—something raw and unguarded that he usually kept under lock and key. "You didn't fail the group. And you didn't fail me."
Felix swallowed hard, his throat tight. "You don't know that, Kai. You don't know what I told him."
"I do know," Kai replied firmly. "Because if it were me in your place, I'd have believed him too. He didn't win because you were weak; he won because he knew exactly how much we value loyalty."
That finally broke the tension Felix had been holding in his chest since the fight. He exhaled a long, jagged breath, his shoulders sagging as the weight of the world seemed to lift, if only by an inch.
"You're terrible at comforting people, you know that?" Felix whispered, a ghost of his real humor returning.
Kai huffed, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "I'm aware. It's not in the manual."
A beat passed.
Then Felix leaned—just slightly—until his shoulder brushed Kai's arm. Kai didn't move away. He didn't tense up or find an excuse to stand. He stayed. The contact lingered, warm and grounding.
Felix's voice dropped, becoming small. "You never look scared, Kai. Ever. Not even when the rifts open."
Kai glanced down at the fire, his jaw working. "That's because I don't let myself. If the wall breaks, everything else falls with it."
Felix smiled faintly, looking at the man who had spent his life being a statue of duty.
"Must be exhausting. Being the wall."
"It is," Kai admitted, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.
Felix turned fully toward him now, his eyes gentle and searching. "You don't have to do that with me. You don't have to be the General when it's just us."
Kai met his gaze. For once, he didn't put the barriers back up. He didn't look away. The moment was quiet, heavy, and—for the first time in weeks—entirely safe.
Felix reached out—his hand hesitant, asking a question without words—and rested his fingers lightly against Kai's wrist, right over the pulse point.
Kai let him. No sudden movements. No declarations. Just two people choosing, for once, not to pull away from the only warmth they had left.
"…Stay," Felix said softly, the word sounding almost like a prayer.
Kai nodded, his voice a promise. "I'm not going anywhere, Felix."
Felix smiled—a real one this time, the kind that reached his eyes—and leaned his head against Kai's shoulder. Kai stayed still for a heartbeat, then slowly, tentatively, rested his own head against Felix's temple.
The fire crackled, sending a few stray sparks into the night sky. And for the first time since Aurelius fled, Felix felt like maybe—just maybe—he wasn't carrying the shards of his broken trust all by himself.