Knight Syndrome

Ren

The campfire crackled, sending sparks into the night sky along with Ren's scattered thoughts.

He sat on a log, watching the flames eat through wood. Around him, the others laughed and talked. To his left, Thyme's friend Rey telling some story about a disastrous fishing trip, Gorya and Thyme sharing a blanket, their shoulders pressed together in that easy intimacy that no longer stung.

He'd invited Ameena. She'd said yes. And now she sat three feet away from him, close enough that he could see the firelight dancing in her eyes, far enough that the space between them felt deliberate.

They haven't spoken since then.

Since the day at his apartment. Since Thyme's careless question and his own careless answer.

"I don't like her."

The lie still sat in his stomach like a stone. He'd sensed her presence outside the door which he deduced to some instinct, and he'd said it anyway. Said it loudly. Said it clearly. As if hurting her would somehow protect them both.

Self-sabotage. That's what his grandfather would have called it. You're so afraid of drawing the wrong thing that you'd rather tear the page out completely.

He wanted to explain. Wanted to tell her the truth: that he'd said it because Thyme was pushing, because he wasn't ready, because the last time he let himself want something, he'd had to watch it choose someone else. That saying "I don't like her" was easier than admitting he liked her in ways he couldn't control.

But how do you explain that to someone you've already hurt?

"Anyone want more marshmallows?" Rey held up the bag. "I bought enough to feed an army."

"You bought them?" Thyme raised an eyebrow. "With what money?"

"With my charm and good looks, obviously."

"So Ren paid."

Rey grinned. "Ren always pays. It's practically a law of nature at this point."

Ren shrugged. He hadn't even noticed the transaction. Supplies, groceries, the cabin rental that went on his card. He didn't track it.

Ameena glanced at him, a flicker of something in her expression, irritation? judgment? He caught it, the way she looked away too quickly.

What did I do now?

He replayed the moment. The marshmallows. The money. Rey's joke.

Oh.

To him, paying for things was automatic, thoughtless. But to someone like Ameena, someone who'd mentioned working multiple part-time jobs, who'd offered to help Gorya find paid gigs it maybe looked different. Maybe it looked careless. Or worse, condescending.

He didn't know how to fix that. Didn't know how to be less... himself.

"Pass me a blanket," Ameena said to Rey, her voice neutral. "I'll pay you back."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ren said without thinking. "It's just a blanket."

Ameena's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Thanks," she said, and the word had edges.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

He wanted to take it back, to explain that he didn't mean it that way, that he genuinely didn't think about money because he'd never had to. But that explanation would only make it worse, wouldn't it? I'm not trying to be condescending, I'm just so rich I've forgotten money exists.

So he said nothing. Just watched her skewer a marshmallow with more force than necessary and hold it over the flames.

"You'll burn it," he said quietly.