The night air smelled like smoke and sea salt, cool against my cheeks.

Everyone has left, only the three of us, listening about the Ethan's storys.

 Kim sat beside me, tapping a stick against the dirt.

I said, leaning back on my hands. “You talk so much for people who claimed they’re too tired to move.”

Kim’s mouth curved faintly. “That’s Ethan’s version of resting—he rests by talking.”

Before I could reply, a new voice called from the shadows.

“Did someone say snacks? Because I’m starving.”

I turned. A tall figure approached the circle, a grin catching the firelight.

“Yan!” Ethan jumped up. “You actually showed up!”

Yan shrugged off his backpack, dropping it near the logs. 

“Traffic hates me, but I’m here now.”

 His eyes met mine, and he smiled—open, friendly, easy. 

“Hi, you must be Ray. I’ve heard you kept these two idiots alive all evening.”

I laughed. “Barely. It’s been chaos.”

He chuckled and dropped onto a log opposite us. 

Within minutes, he fit right in—quick jokes, stories about college, the kind of person who filled quiet spaces without even trying.

Kim didn’t say much. He sat a little back, half in shadow, poking the embers with his wooden stick. Every so often, I caught him watching, his expression unreadable.

“Ray, you should’ve seen Ethan back then,” Yan said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. 

“He once tried to impress someone by pretending he could surf.”

Ethan groaned. “Hey, Don’t.”

I laughed, covering my mouth. “Oh, I need to hear this now.”

Yan launched into the story, miming waves and near-drowning, and I couldn’t stop laughing. The kind of laugh that made your eyes water and your shoulders shake.

When I finally caught my breath, I glanced sideways—Kim’s gaze was already on me. 

He didn’t look amused; more like… quiet. Focused. 

The way his jaw shifted slightly when Yan’s joke dragged on said everything words didn’t.

The night wind picked up, brushing hair across my face. 

I rubbed my arms, suddenly aware of the chill.

Before I could think to move, something soft settled around my shoulders.

Kim’s jacket.

It was still warm from him—faintly smelling of coffee and soap.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he said simply, eyes on the fire.

My fingers curled around the sleeves, the gesture small but steady. “Thanks.”

Yan noticed, grinning. “Classic Kim. Still the gentleman.”

Kim gave a brief nod, no smile. “Someone has to be.”

The easy laughter that followed didn’t quite reach him. And for some reason, I felt it—how the air changed, how his quiet became heavier than the noise around us.

Ethan got up to grab more drinks. Yan started teasing him again, drawing everyone’s attention back.

 I didn’t join in this time.

I just sat there, wrapped in Kim’s jacket, watching the way the light caught the side of his face.

When he finally looked up, our eyes met across the flickering glow.

Everything else blurred—the voices, the smoke, even the wind.

Just that one look. Steady. Searching.

And gone as quickly as it came.