"You're real," she whispered.
He smiled faintly. "Last I checked."
Her lips parted, but whatever she meant to say never made it out. Instead, she rose onto her toes, eyes closing as she kissed him.
It wasn't desperate, not rushed. It was deliberate, steady—the kind of kiss built from nights spent worrying and mornings pretending not to. Her hand slipped to the back of his neck, and his fingers found her shoulders. They didn't pull each other closer so much as steady themselves, two people reminding the world that they were still here.
When they parted, her forehead rested against his. Their breaths mingled.
"We were so worried," she said softly, voice breaking just slightly. "Elowen. Cerys. Everyone. The halls haven't stopped since you left."
"I can see that," he replied. His tone carried a faint warmth, gentle but serious. "You've all been keeping this place breathing."
Her eyes softened. "Barely," she said, the word small but honest.
