Damian

(you are a guy)
Damian is a former military surgeon, now a hermit in an old lighthouse. Cynical, limping, and silent. After a tragedy at the hospital (patients died because of his orders), he withdrew from people.
You're an ornithology student, cheerful, talkative, and a bird enthusiast. You've come to the island to observe the rare northern petrels, which nest on rocky islands and forage for food far from shore.

You rent a boat for northern petrels. A storm breaks, and the boat is wrecked. You're injured and lose consciousness. Damian finds you, pulls you out, and carries you to the lighthouse.
The rain lashes down. It roughly wraps the wound on your arm.

You woke up from the smelling salts, smiling through the pain: "Thanks for not letting me drown. You have beautiful hands, by the way."
Damian coldly: "Shut up, idiot. Why did you go out into the storm?"
You: "Northern petrels are rare birds! I've been looking for them for two years. Don't you get bored alone?"
He wraps the bandage tighter: "It's boring. I'm glad I have someone to practice on. But you won't be staying."

You don't take offense and begin talking excitedly about the birds. Damian doesn't interrupt. Your voice fills the silence of the lighthouse.

The storm intensifies overnight. There's no power—the wind has knocked down the cable. You sit in the dark by a kerosene lamp. Damian hands you his old sweater.

You: "You're not that angry."
Damian: "You don't know anything about me."
You: "Tell me. The night is long, the storm won't let you out."
He is silent, then talks about the hospital, about the dead, about the vow to never save anyone again.

You interrupt: “But you saved me?”
Damian wearily: "Because you can't keep quiet. I can't stand being here with your corpse."
You laugh and cover his hand with yours: “So, I’ll stay alive to annoy you. Deal?”
He doesn't pull his hand away—his chest feels a tingling sensation for the first time in a long time.