The Single Matches

The fire died. Not slowly, like old coals fading, but with a sharp, wet hiss, a sudden inhalation of light. One moment, the crackle warmed my face, painting Ashley’s rigid profile in flickering orange. The next, nothing. Just the deep, consuming black of the autumn woods, a damp chill seeping in, sudden and absolute. The smell of burning pine vanished, replaced by wet earth and the metallic tang of static.

"What was that?" My voice was a choked rasp. My hands, automatically, flew up, trying to find the residual warmth, finding only the cold, rough bark of the log I was perched on. I could feel the hair on my arms standing on end, not just from the cold.

Ashley didn’t answer immediately. He was a solid block of darkness beside me, unmoving. He always was. Too still. Too deliberate. I swore I could hear his jaw working, a faint click in the sudden silence. That infuriated me more than the dark, almost. His calm, even now.

"The tarp," he finally said, voice low, even. Too low, almost a rumble in his chest that made something in my own ribs vibrate. "It collapsed. Water." But it hadn't been raining. Not a drop. We’d checked the forecast, meticulously, like Ashley always did. Like I had, too, just to prove I could be as meticulous as him.

My heart hammered, a frantic drum against my sternum. "No rain. There was no rain, Ashley." I tried to get up, stumbled over my own feet, a grunt escaping me. My shin knocked hard against the fallen firewood, a sharp, quick pain. I bit down a yelp.

A hand, large and firm, suddenly gripped my arm, steadying me. Ashley. The heat of his palm was a shock, unexpected and grounding, even through the thick fabric of my jacket. I froze. My breath hitched, a tiny, involuntary sound. The air around us felt thick, alive with something I couldn't name, couldn't see.

"Stay put," he ordered, his voice still that low, steady thrum. My skin prickled where he touched me. The antagonism, usually a sharp, constant hum between us, felt distant, replaced by something heavier, something more volatile. My nerves screamed. Half from fear, half from the sheer, unsettling proximity.

He released my arm. The abrupt absence of his touch left a ghost of warmth, a phantom pressure that I, stupidly, missed. I clenched my fists, knuckles white in the impenetrable gloom.

A rustle in the undergrowth, close. Too close. The sound wasn't wind. It was purposeful, heavy. My spine tingled. My mouth went dry. This wasn't just a collapsed tarp. This was... something else. The stories people told around campfires. Stories I usually scoffed at. Now, they felt too real.

"Did you…" I started, then swallowed, my throat tight. "Did you bring the lantern?" I hated asking him anything. Hated needing him. But the darkness was pressing in, a physical weight on my chest.

A sigh from the black beside me. Ashley. "It was with the supplies. Near the fire." He didn't sound annoyed. That was worse. His calm was like a wall. "Oliver, don't move. I'll check."

"No!" The word burst out of me, a desperate plea. I didn't want him to leave. Didn't want to be alone in this absolute, suffocating dark. "I'll come too. We stick together, right? That’s… basic survival."

He paused. I heard the scuff of his heavy boots on the damp ground. He was standing up. Tall. Even in the dark, I felt his presence loom over me, an overwhelming shadow. "Fine. But move slowly. And don’t touch anything."

I could barely see my hand in front of my face. The only light was a faint, hazy glow from the distant town, a sickly orange bleeding through the thick canopy of oak and maple, already mostly stripped bare by the cold. Leaves, dry and brittle, crunched under my worn hiking boots, each step sounding like a gunshot in the oppressive quiet.

We shuffled forward, shoulder to shoulder. His denim jacket brushed against mine, a constant, irritating friction. Each time, a jolt went through me. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the solid mass of him beside me, and it messed with my head. Made it harder to focus on the dread creeping up my throat.

"Feel for the cooler," Ashley murmured, his voice a low vibration near my ear. I could feel his breath, cold against my cheek. My body reacted without my permission, a flush rising under my skin, tight and hot. Stupid. He was just trying to communicate.

My hand swept out, blindly, over the cold, wet ground. My fingers brushed against something soft, then sharp. A branch. Then something else. Smooth. Cold. The collapsed tarp. The material was slick with moisture. It felt... slimy.

"Here," I whispered back, my voice barely audible. "The tarp. It’s soaked."

He knelt, a silent shadow. I heard him fumbling, the scrape of metal against fabric. My eyes strained, trying to pierce the gloom. The hair on my neck stood up again. That rustling sound. It was closer now. Not just leaves. Something heavier. Something breathing.

"I don’t… I don’t feel the lantern," Ashley said, a rare note of uncertainty in his voice. It was enough to send a fresh wave of ice through my veins. Ashley, uncertain? That was a terrifying prospect.

We shared a look, or at least, I stared into the blackness where I knew his face to be. Our gazes, unseen, locked. The air crackled with a different kind of electricity now. Not just fear, but a shared, primal understanding. The enemy-lines dissolved, replaced by a desperate, shared vulnerability.

"Matches?" I asked, my voice barely a thread. "Please tell me you have matches."

He sighed again. Longer this time. "I had a box. In my jacket pocket." His hand patted his chest, then his side. "Must have fallen out. When… whatever happened."

Panic. Pure, unadulterated panic. My throat tightened, air suddenly refusing to fill my lungs. No fire. No light. Just us, in this ink-black, breathing forest, with something watching. I could feel its gaze, heavy and cold. My hands started to tremble, a fine tremor that spread through my arms, then my entire body.

"This is bad," I managed to choke out. It was an understatement. This was a nightmare. My eyes darted around, trying to find any shape, any break in the darkness. Nothing. Just an oppressive, living void. The cold bit harder, making my teeth ache. I pulled my jacket tighter around me, but it felt thin, useless.

Suddenly, Ashley’s hand was on my shoulder again, firm, almost crushing. But it wasn't harsh. It was… a tether. "Oliver," he said, his voice closer, lower. "We need to get back to the clearing. Feel your way along the logs. Don’t wander."

His presence was too much. The warmth of his hand, the depth of his voice, the sheer willpower emanating from him. It was overwhelming. My breath hitched again, my chest tight. I wanted to pull away, wanted to scream at him to stop being so damn calm, but the raw terror held me in place.

The rustling returned, louder. A snap, like a twig under a heavy foot. Then a low, guttural growl that reverberated through the ground, through my own bones. My heart leaped into my throat. "What was that?" I screamed, or tried to. It came out as a strangled cry. My legs threatened to give out.

Ashley moved. He stepped in front of me, a broad, unyielding silhouette against the barely lighter expanse of the sky. His shoulder bumped mine, hard, and the scent of him—woodsmoke and something sharp, like a clean, cold wind—filled my senses. He was protecting me. Instinctively. Without thought.

"Stay behind me," he commanded, his voice edged with a tension I hadn't heard before. It wasn’t calm. It was controlled. Suppressed. And it sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with fear. It was… powerful. All-consuming. I felt it, like a physical current passing between us.

My fingers, without my conscious thought, closed around the fabric of his jacket, clinging. The denim was rough under my fingertips. I pressed myself against his back, my chest heaving, the terror a cold knot in my stomach. The growling came again, closer still, and then a series of quick, heavy thuds, receding into the trees.

Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence. Only the sound of our ragged breathing, loud in my ears. I could feel Ashley’s shoulders, tense under my hands, his breathing deep and even, despite everything. He was a rock. A goddamn mountain in the dark.

"It’s gone," I whispered, the words barely formed. My voice was shaky, unfamiliar. I didn’t know if I believed it. The woods still felt alive, still watchful.

He turned, slowly. His hand found mine in the dark, fingers lacing through mine, tight. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, a small, almost absent gesture that ignited a startling warmth through my entire arm. It wasn't a comforting grip. It was a possessive one. A claim. My breath caught in my throat.

"Let’s get back to the logs," he said, his voice still low, but softer now, a little rougher. "We’ll try again. To start a fire. Even without matches."

My feet moved, guided by his hand, pulling me forward. Each step was clumsy, but his grip was unwavering. We found the fallen tarp. Found the soaked kindling. Found the Ashleyes of our once-bright fire, cold and inert.

Ashley released my hand, but not completely. His fingers brushed my palm, lingered. My skin felt raw, sensitive. He knelt, his movements precise, even in the dark. I watched, or rather, felt him work. The rustle of dry leaves he’d gathered earlier, miraculously untouched. The small, careful clicks of flint. He must have had a spare.

He scraped. Again. And again. The air was thick with the faint smell of burning copper, static clinging to my hair. My eyes burned, straining for a spark. A tiny, desperate pinprick of light. The silence pressed in, punctuated only by the rhythmic scrape, scrape, scrape of the flint.

And then, a flicker. A fragile, brilliant orange bloom in the absolute black. My breath rushed out of me in a silent gasp. The spark caught on the dry tinder, hesitantly, then grew. A tiny, brave flame, fighting the damp cold, pushing back the endless dark.

The light spread, slowly, tentatively, painting the edges of our faces in soft, dancing shadows. I looked at Ashley, really looked at him, for the first time without the shield of antagonism. His brow was furrowed in concentration, a faint smudge of Ashley on his cheekbone. His eyes, usually cool and guarded, held a flicker of something intense, something raw. They found mine.

A wave of heat wAshleyed over me, a blush that had nothing to do with the fire. My heart pounded, a frantic, desperate rhythm. The fear was still there, a low thrum beneath my skin, but it was overshadowed by this new, unexpected, overwhelming sensation. His gaze was heavy, consuming. It felt like he was seeing straight through me, right to the trembling core of me.

"There," he murmured, his voice hoarse, as the first small flames began to lick at the kindling. He didn’t break eye contact. The fire grew, chasing away the shadows, but not the tension between us. That tension had changed. It was no longer the sharp edge of rivalry. It was something else. Thicker. Heavier. Undeniable.

He leaned back, settling onto a dry log, his movements smooth, deliberate. The firelight played across his face, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the slight curve of his lips. He looked at me, a silent question in his eyes. A challenge, almost. A promise. And I felt a warmth, deep in my belly, that had nothing to do with the rekindled flames.

The woods were quiet again. The growling gone. The presence receded. But something new had awakened between us, burning brighter than any campfire.

I took a shaky breath, the crisp, autumn air filling my lungs, sharp with the scent of pine smoke and something else. Something clean and electric. I shifted on my log, leaning slightly towards the fire, towards him. The fight was gone. For now. Replaced by a strange, humming anticipation. A soft, dangerous hope.

"We… we should probably just stay here," I said, the words barely a whisper. My eyes, still locked on his, felt heavy, weighted. It wasn't a question. It was a statement. A surrender. A shared understanding.

He nodded, a slow, deliberate movement. The corners of his lips quirked upward, a tiny, almost imperceptible smile. But I saw it. I felt it, deep in my chest. And in that moment, surrounded by the vast, silent, terrifying autumn night, I knew everything had changed.