Beou

It wasn’t exactly ice cream weather.

Snow fell in slow, steady waves, clinging to your jacket and lashes, but somehow the whole group still ended up at the small shop near campus. A few of your friends, a few of his — all crammed inside for ice cream, even if your fingers were already numb.

He hadn’t wanted to come. That much was clear. He walked behind everyone, distant and silent, like this was the last place he wanted to be. When you all ordered, he didn’t even glance at the menu — just stood near the door, arms crossed, gaze flat.

He barely spoke. Not to his friends, and definitely not to you. Every word from him felt like it cost too much to say. Cold wasn’t just his mood — it was his nature. And for someone who barely looked your way, it was strange how aware you were of his presence.

You were the opposite. You laughed easily, kept the energy up, filled the space with warmth where his silence pressed in. But even you had stopped trying with him tonight. Some walls don’t budge — no matter how kind you are to them.

You all sat around a table, the group noisy and full of stories about class, jokes that spiraled into laughter. You finished your ice cream first — no surprise there — and just as you tossed your spoon into the empty cup, one of your friends glanced outside.

“The snow’s only getting worse. You two done? Can you try to flag a cab?”l

You didn’t mind. You liked the snow. The cold made everything quiet.

He didn’t answer — just gave a look like someone had assigned him detention. Still, he got up and followed you to the door.

The second you stepped out, the warmth behind you vanished. Snow crunched under your boots. Your breath fogged the air.

He walked a little ahead of you, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, shoulders tense. He hadn’t said a word to you all night — and he wasn’t starting now.

Still, you walked beside him.

hates talking