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The music drifted softly across the crowded hall, mingling with the murmur of laughter and the clinking of glasses. Years after the nightmare of the dungeon had finally ended, the surviving crawlers had gathered for a night of normalcy, good food, and heavy pouring.
A few feet away, Carl was leaning against a table, sharing a quiet laugh with Florin. Watching him, Katia took a slow sip of her drink, a soft, wistful smile touching her lips. Beside her, Princess Donut was thoroughly, unmistakably buzzed, while Imane and Elle leaned in close.
"It’s really nice to see him finally getting better," Imane murmured, her eyes lingering on Carl. "Happier, even if it's just a little bit."
Elle nodded, swirling the amber liquid in her cup. "He deserves it. Poor cowboy spent the entire dungeon running on fumes, completely fixated on keeping as many of us alive as humanly possible. The poor kid didn’t know how to let go."
“I don’t think he ever learned,” Katia said. Across the room, Carl laughed at something Florin had said. The sound produced a familiar ache beneath her ribs. They had spent what felt like a lifetime keeping each other alive. There had never been room to ask whether they could be anything more.
Donut let out a dramatic huff, slamming her small paw down onto the table. "Well. I know exactly what would make him feel better." She had a smug look on her face; that couldn’t be good.
The other three turned to look at the cat.
"Oh?" Elle raised an eyebrow, a curious glint in her eye. "And what miraculous idea do you have in mind, Your Majesty?"
Donut sat up straight, narrowing her eyes with theatrical gravity. "I am going to use my royal authority to command Katia to do something for me. It will make me happy, yes, but mostly, it is going to fix Carl. Because he has a very obvious, very stupid problem right now that he is entirely incapable of overcoming by himself. And I’m tired of waiting for him to figure it out."
Katia’s brow furrowed, a mix of amusement and curiosity cutting through her melancholy. "Of course I'll help, Donut. What's the problem? What do you want me to do?"
Donut looked right at her, deadpan and completely serious. "Get up. Go over there. Kiss him."
The table went entirely silent.
Katia’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart hammered a frantic, deafening rhythm against her ribs as her mind raced, every defense mechanism screaming at once. Kiss him? Here? Now? In front of everyone?
For a second, the celebratory noise around them faded into a low hum. She looked back across the room at Carl, who was still smiling, completely oblivious to the grenade Donut had just casually tossed into their universe. Katia swallowed hard, the warmth of the alcohol suddenly rushing hot and sharp through her veins.
"I can't do that," Katia whispered, her eyes widening as she pulled back slightly.
She let out a nervous breath, waving a hand toward the other side of the room. "If I just walk over there and do… that, it will put all eyes on him. He will hate that. I guarantee he’ll panic and walk right away." She lowered her voice, her expression earnest. "He has a really hard time with relationships and labels. A public display like that would be a massive statement. It'll completely overwhelm him."
Donut narrowed her eyes, undeterred. "Then you just take him to a dark corner first. Problem solved. I thought you were creative, Katia, weren’t you an art teacher?"
"He'll panic anyway," Katia argued, the anxiety tightening in her chest. "He'll think that doing something like that might completely ruin what we already have."
“Then tell him first,” Imane said in a no-nonsense voice. “Tell him you’re not going anywhere, no matter what happens next.”
Katia swallowed hard, the weight of the suggestion pressing down on her. "What if... what if he's not interested in me that way at all?"
Elle snorted softly, offering a wry, confident smile. "Listen to me kid. Here is your three-step plan," she said. “Kiss him. Wait five seconds. If he kisses you back, congratulations. If he doesn’t, you say you were drunk and I made you do it.”
Elle winked. "No harm done. And either way, you get a free sample."
Katia turned back to Donut and pointed accusingly at Elle, who was still grinning.
"See? Elle has her ducks in a row," Katia protested, her voice rising an octave. "Why doesn't she do it?"
Donut gave a slow, supremely unimpressed blink, her tail swishing with lazy arrogance. "You realize that through all of your ridiculous argumentation just now, you never once said that you did not, in fact, want to kiss Carl."
A sudden, fierce heat rushed up Katia’s neck, blooming bright and hot across her cheeks. She flushed furiously, opening her mouth to argue, but the words completely failed her.
Donut didn't miss a beat, her tone dropping any remaining pretense of negotiation. "Anyway. It needs to be you. It can only be you."
Katia frowned, her brows knitting together in complete confusion. She looked down at her drink, then back up at Donut. "I don't understand. Why on earth would it need to be me?"
Before Donut could answer, Katia’s eyes flicked upward across the room.
Carl was looking right at her.
Caught red-handed, he didn't look away; instead, a soft, tired, but genuine smile touched his face. He offered a small, subtle nod of acknowledgment before turning back to resume his conversation with Florin.
Donut let out a long, deeply exaggerated groan, tilting her head pointedly toward the other side of the room.
"Because. That," she said, her tone final.
"You are crazy, Donut," Katia muttered, shaking her head as a nervous laugh slipped past her lips. "And I need something stronger."
Without waiting for a response, she pushed herself up from the table, weaving through the crowded room toward the makeshift bar to get the drink she desperately needed.
As soon as she was safely out of earshot, Elle turned back to the remaining pair, a mischievous glint in her eye. She pulled out a crisp bill from her pocket and tossed it onto the table.
"Ten bucks," Elle whispered with a grin, "she does it tonight."
Instead of returning to the table to face Elle’s smug grin, Katia slipped away, mingling near the edge of the room where a cluster of former crawlers were deep in conversation.
Minutes later, the crowd shifted, and she saw Carl and Florin making their way toward the bar to grab another round. On their way back, they caught sight of her and paused.
Katia looked down at the bottle in Carl’s hand, a small, fond smile touching her lips. "Do you actually like those?" she asked.
Carl offered a quiet, genuine smile, his shoulders dropping just a fraction. "Apparently, a little bird told them they needed to stock up on alcohol-free beer," he said, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "So the bar actually has something I can drink."
Katia smiled back at him, warmth blooming in her chest. She had made the request herself, knowing all too well why he avoided drinking, still struggling with the lingering, heavy fear of losing control the way his father had. He knew she knew, and more importantly, he knew she was the one who had asked for him.
Meeting her gaze, Carl raised the bottle in a silent, appreciative toast, took a long, steady drink of his beer, and let the quiet comfort of her presence settle around them. Looking down at the drink in her hand, he said with a smile: "Well, yours definitely doesn’t look like it’s alcohol-free."
Katia followed his gaze, a quiet smile easing the tension in her shoulders. "It's not," she laughed easily, her internal anxiety melting away into the warmth of the moment. "I may or may not have spent the last hour being relentlessly harassed by Donut and Elle," she said, lifting her own glass in a mock toast, "so I definitely needed something a lot stronger."
Carl let out a low, amused huff, shaking his head. "How drunk is Donut, actually?"
Katia rolled her eyes with affectionate exasperation. "Oh, you know. Enough to spend twenty minutes aggressively arguing about the proper, royal way to pronounce the 'Chonk' in her name."
Carl snorted, a deep, resonant sound, and smiled fondly in Donut’s direction across the room. The cat was still perched on a table, excitedly miming something while Elle laughed into her drink. He loves her so much, Katia thought, her chest tightening with a sweet, aching familiar warmth. And he still thinks he carries the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.
She watched him take a relaxed breath, entirely unaware of the absolute chaos currently brewing in her mind, and of the fact that Donut expected her to scramble his entire reality before the night was over.
The hum of the celebration was deafening inside the room, and the air felt thick, charged with too many bodies and too much noise. Carl shifted his weight, his gaze dropping for a second before he looked back at her.
"It's really hot in here," Carl said, running a hand through his hair, a faint crease of exhaustion forming between his brows.
Katia’s heart skipped a beat. This was an opportunity… to what? Did she really want to mess up his life? The words she had been dreading and wanting to say suddenly sat heavy on the tip of her tongue. She hesitated, the weight of Donut’s absurd command and Elle’s three-step plan hanging in the air.
Just do it, a voice in her head urged. You wanted him in your life no matter what. You can blame it later on Donut or Elle or both.
"Come walk outside with me for a minute," Katia said, her voice softer than she intended.
Carl blinked, surprised, but a small, tentative smile quickly broke through his fatigue. He nodded. "Lead the way."
The cool night air hit them instantly, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant woodsmoke. Katia’s pulse jumped as the doors closed behind them. She blamed the alcohol.
They walked a short distance away from the entrance, moving into a quieter patch of shadow against the outer wall of the building. Carl stopped, turning to face her with a soft, tired curiosity, and casually leaned his shoulder against the brick.
This is it, Katia thought, trembling slightly as she looked up into his tired, steady eyes. No more hiding behind the safety of just being friends.
For a moment, neither of them spoke, letting the quiet of the night wrap around them. Carl looked out toward the horizon, his expression drifting, the familiar weight of old ghosts momentarily flickering in his eyes.
"It's nice to see everyone tonight," Carl said quietly, his voice barely above a murmur. His mind seemed far away, untethered from the present. "After everything... they all deserve to be happy. To actually move on with their lives."
Katia stepped closer, closing the distance between them. She reached out and placed a gentle hand on his arm, waiting until his gaze snapped back to hers.
"I'm happy to see the others getting better," Katia said softly, her thumb brushing a light stroke against his sleeve. She held his gaze, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest. "But you deserve to be happy, too. You deserve to move on."
Carl blinked, a sad, self-deprecating shadow settling over his eyes. He looked down at her hand on his arm and let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping. "I don't know," he murmured. "I have no idea how to… be. How are you supposed to... how do you even get on with your life after what we've been through?"
Katia offered a quiet, sad laugh at that, shaking her head. "I can't answer that. But if you happen to know someone who actually has the answer, I'd really like to know, too."
Carl hummed softly in agreement, raising the bottle to his lips for another long sip.
Taking a steadying breath, Katia broke the quiet, her voice trembling just a fraction. "I have no idea what I'm doing, either. Or what my life is going to look like." She looked down at her drink, letting her walls drop completely. "And honestly? It scares me a little."
Carl shifted, his full attention snapping back to her, his expression softening into one of deep, earnest concern as he took in her vulnerability.
Katia looked up, meeting his eyes. She took a deep breath, letting the words tumble out before her courage could fail her. "There's one thing I am completely sure of, though. And it's that you are stuck with me."
Carl blinked, a confused, lopsided smile touching his lips.
A shy laugh slipped past Katia's lips as she stepped a fraction closer. "I want you in my life, Carl. Always. Regardless of how we make that happen or what it looks like." She looked right into his eyes, pouring every ounce of truth she possessed into her voice. "I care for you so much. I can't imagine not having you at my side, and I know nothing, nothing, can ever damage what we already have."
Carl stared at her, the confusion in his eyes melting away, replaced by a quiet, overwhelming wave of understanding. He didn't hesitate, nodding slowly as the truth of her words settled deep into his chest.
"I agree," he whispered, his voice rough and thick with emotion. "I agree with everything you just said." He swallowed hard, looking at her with a raw intensity that made her breath catch. “I don’t know what any of this is supposed to look like,” he said. “But I know I don’t want to do it without you.”
Katia’s breath hitched. With a trembling hand, she set her glass down on the windowsill beside them, turned, and squared her shoulders to face Carl’s questioning glance.
Being so much smaller than him, she rose up on her tiptoes, reached out to grab the soft fabric at the neck of his shirt, and pulled him down into a kiss.
Carl was completely relaxed, but the instant their lips met, his entire body seized. He froze like a statue. He was more than used to physical proximity with her. They had shared cramped spaces, leaned on each other for survival, and held one another together through literal hell, but it had never carried any meaning beyond the safety of friendship.
Katia pulled back just enough so that their lips no longer touched, leaving a single breath of space between them.
Carl remained completely frozen, his mouth parted slightly in shock, staring down at her with a look of absolute disorientation. She felt him shaking slightly, his muscles coiled as if he was ready to run.
Five seconds ticked by in agonizing silence. Five long seconds of watching the deer-in-the-headlights terror in his wide eyes. Her heart breaking just a little, Katia started to slowly pull away, her hand sliding off his shirt as the weight of rejection, and a bit of guilt at his visible panic, began to drag her back down to earth.
His eyes flicked down to her lips, then tracked back up to her eyes, before dropping back to her mouth again.
"Katia, I..."
He didn't find the words. But before she could pull completely away, before the heavy wall of his panic could completely slam shut between them, Carl reached out.
His hand gently caught her elbow, stopping her retreat.
They stayed suspended in time for a beat.
And then he leaned in and kissed her.
It was hesitant, slow, and entirely imperfect. There was no practiced smoothness to it, just a tentative press of lips that felt like a man testing whether the ground beneath him was finally solid. Yet, standing there in the cold night air, it was everything she could have dreamed of.
A soft, breathy smile touched Katia’s lips as the unexpected warmth of the moment sank in. Carl’s mouth curved against hers into a gentle, answering smile, still full of hesitation.
Without breaking the kiss, he reached down to the windowsill, carefully setting his bottle of alcohol-free beer aside.
Slowly, almost tentatively, he brought his large hands up to rest softly on her hips. The touch was grounding, heavy with a new kind of fragile certainty. In response, Katia’s hand reached out again, sliding up to rest flat against his chest, feeling the strong, racing thrum of his heartbeat beneath his shirt.
The cold night wind whispered past the brick wall, still carrying the faint, muffled thumping of music from inside the hall, but out here, the world had shrunk down to the space between them.
Then, Carl pulled away, his eyes unsure. Katia’s mind was a whirlwind of raw nerves and second-guessing. I rushed him, she thought, a cold knot tightening in her stomach. I broke the rules, our rules. I pushed too hard, and now I've ruined his safe place.
Carl remained still, his hands resting uncertainly on her hips. His eyes searched her face as if he was waiting for her to tell him what this meant.
"Katia..." he started again, his voice cracking slightly on the syllable. He swallowed hard, the Adam’s apple moving in his throat. He didn't pull away, but he was visibly wrestling with what had just happened.
"Look, we can just say I lost a stupid bet against Elle, and we never have to think about it again," Katia rushed on, looking away with a sad smile as she tried to shield her vulnerability, giving him all the room he needed to run away from the pressure. "No harm done. We go right back to how things were."
Carl stood frozen for a beat longer, but he did seem somewhat mollified by the safe exit she had just offered him. "I have no idea what I'm doing. But..." He swallowed hard, his dark eyes fixed entirely on hers. "I don’t want you to say it was just a bet with Elle. I don't want to pretend this didn't happen."
Carl’s hands settled more firmly on her hips, his thumbs making a slow, grounding motion against the fabric of her shirt.
"I don't want to pretend this didn't happen," Carl repeated, his voice dropping to a low, rough murmur.
Katia’s breath hitched. She looked up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of panic, any sudden urge to bolt back into the safety of the noisy hall. But the deer-in-the-headlights terror was gone. In its place was a quiet, agonizing vulnerability that matched her own.
"We’re terrible at this," Katia whispered, a watery, self-deprecating smile slipping past her lips.
"Yeah," Carl replied, a faint, lopsided smile touching his mouth as the tension finally began to drain from his broad shoulders.
He shifted closer, closing the tiny gap that remained between them. This time, the hesitation was gone. Carl leaned down, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before meeting her eyes with a quiet intensity that made her heart race.
When he kissed her this time, it wasn't the tentative, shocked press of a man testing the ice. It was deeper, steady, and filled with all the unspoken trust they had forged in the dark depths of the dungeon. It was an acknowledgment of everything they had survived together, and everything they were finally brave enough to face.
Katia let out a soft sigh, her hand sliding up to grip the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the cold night air faded entirely from her awareness.
After a long moment, they slowly pulled apart, both of them breathing a little heavier. They didn't step away from each other; instead, Carl rested his forehead gently against hers, a quiet, grounding anchor in the chill of the evening.
"So," Katia murmured, a teasing edge finally returning to her voice as she looked up at him. "Should I tell Elle I lost the bet?"
Carl laughed, low and startled, as though the sound had escaped before he could stop it. “Don’t tell her anything.”
He wrapped his arms fully around her, pulling her flush against him. They stood together in the crisp night air for a few more minutes, neither of them quite ready to cross the threshold back into the loud, chaotic celebration, but both knowing they couldn't stay hidden in the shadows forever.
Carl let out a long, slow breath. "We should probably... go back inside," he murmured, his voice softer, carrying a new kind of warmth. "Before Donut sends a search party."
Katia laughed, a bright, genuine sound that chased away the last lingering remnants of her anxiety. "Right."
They walked back toward the heavy doors side by side, their hands parting as they approached the threshold, giving each other the physical space needed to re-enter the noise of the room without feeling exposed. As they stepped back into the warmth of the hall, the sound washed over them again. Carl offered her a small, knowing look, before veering slightly toward the other side of the room to rejoin Florin.
Katia paused near the entrance, taking a steadying breath before walking back toward her table.
Donut, who had been lazily flicking her tail while deep in conversation with Imane and Elle, straightened and narrowed her eyes the second Katia sat back down. Elle leaned in, a knowing, triumphant smirk playing on her lips.
"Well?" Elle whispered eagerly, sliding a glance toward the other side of the room where Carl had just picked up his conversation with Florin, looking noticeably lighter than he had an hour ago. "Did you kiss or what?"
Katia took a sip of her drink, a calm, deeply satisfied smile playing on her lips as she looked over at Carl, who caught her eye from across the room and offered a quiet, subtle nod.
"No. I hope you didn’t bet on it, because if you did, you just lost your money, Elle," Katia said smoothly.
Elle blinked, her expression shifting from eager anticipation to pure surprise. She looked back and forth between Katia and the distant corner of the room where Carl stood, trying to piece together the clues.
"Wait," Elle said, leaning forward with narrowed, testing eyes. "You went out there. You were alone with him. Are you telling me you didn't do it?! Ah, come on! It would have been so easy."
Katia simply offered a quiet smile, taking a slow sip from her glass without saying a word.
Inside, she felt a fierce, protective warmth wrap around her chest. Even though the whole thing had started as a ridiculous, alcohol-fueled command orchestrated by a tiny, scheming Persian cat, that moment outside against the cold brick wall now belonged entirely to Carl and her. It wasn't a piece of gossip to be traded across a party table. It was fragile, hard-earned, and profoundly private; a secret sanctuary carved out of the chaos they had both barely survived.
She had her answer, Carl had his, and for the first time in forever, the future didn't feel quite so terrifyingly out of reach.
Princess Donut let out a loud, theatrical huff from where she was lounging on the table, tossing her head back in pure exasperation.
"Humans are useless,” Donut complained loudly to the entire table, her voice carrying over the din of the room. "Absolutely useless! I, as royalty, give you a direct order, and what do you do? Nothing! "
A few nearby crawlers chuckled at the outburst, paying it no mind. Katia just smiled softly into her glass, letting Donut's dramatic grumbling wash right over her. The heavy, electric secret of what had just happened outside remained safely between her and Carl, entirely their own.
Slowly, the tension dissolved back into the familiar warmth of the evening, and the party continued around them. She knew that Carl would need time to process what happened, but that was okay. They did not need labels or big declarations; they just needed each other.
Epilogue - Donut’s POV
The night air was crisp, carrying the distant, muffled echoes of laughter and music from down the road as the party finally began to wind down. Carl walked side by side with a wobbly Princess Donut, guiding her safely back toward their home.
Donut was thoroughly, spectacularly, and quite loudly intoxicated. Her walk was a weaving, unpredictable zigzag, punctuated by her usual stream of happy, unfiltered chatter.
"And I am simply telling you, Carl," Donut slurred with an air of immense royal indignation, her tail dragging slightly in the dirt, "that these stairs are personally offending me. They are too tall. You should punch them. You're very good at punching things."
Carl chuckled, his stride naturally slowing down to match her unsteady pace. A relaxed, fond smile softened his face. "I'll keep that in mind, Donut. Next time I see that flight of stairs, I'll teach 'em a lesson."
Deciding she had walked quite enough for a royal cat, Donut suddenly halted, blinked heavily up at him, and demanded to be carried. With a quiet sigh of affectionate resignation, Carl scooped her up, cradling her against his chest as they resumed their walk.
Settled in his arms, Donut turned to look up at him. Suddenly, her little cat nose twitched. She paused, her bleary eyes focusing as she caught a very distinct scent lingering on his shirt and skin; the unmistakable trace of Katia.
For a split second, Donut froze. Her eyes went wide, and she looked like a cat who had just discovered Christmas morning had arrived early. The gears in her fuzzy, alcohol-soaked brain began to spin violently as she connected the dots to her earlier matchmaking decree. A triumphant, teasing squeak bubbled right up to her throat, ready to burst out.
She did it, Donut thought gleefully. My plan worked!
She opened her mouth to launch into a barrage of smug, merciless questions, fully prepared to demand every single detail.
But then, she stopped.
She looked up and really saw him. She saw the soft, genuine smile still lingering on his lips, the profound, unaccustomed ease in his shoulders, and the quiet, peaceful relaxation in his expression. Making a surprisingly wise and uncharacteristically restrained decision, Donut swallowed back her teasing words. She chose silence.
Instead of interrogating him, Donut let out a soft, contented purr. She reached up and gave his chin a gentle, affectionate little headbutt.
"You know, Carl," Donut murmured, her voice small and sweet. "I love you a lot. And I really, really like seeing you happy."
Carl blinked, surprised by the sudden flash of vulnerability from the usually demanding cat. He tightened his hold on her just a fraction, his smile turning profoundly tender. "Thanks, Donut. I love you too."
The heavy, poignant moment hung in the cool air for a few heartbeats before dissolving back into their usual rhythm. Shaking off the softness with a flick of her ears, Donut slid right back into her royal persona.
She tapped a tiny paw firmly against his chest, with a haughty cluck of her tongue.
"Anyway," Donut declared in her most imperious, demanding tone, "I know what would make ME happy. I have decided that I want to eat that Icelandic fish stew Katia makes. Ask her to come to our place tomorrow."
Carl threw his head back and laughed, a rich sound that echoed into the night.
"All right, Princess," Carl smiled, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. "I’ll invite Katia tomorrow."