Outside the office, it was noticeably cooler now that the afternoon was becoming evening and the sun no longer poured through the tall windows around the outside of the warehouse. Hunt's jacket was enough to keep him warm, especially since the cold wasn't too severe, but MC shivered. He took in their bare arms and felt a spark of annoyance.

"No jacket? Typical."

"Forgive me," they snapped back. "I wasn't planning on spending my evening in a giant refrigerator."

Hunt realized for perhaps the first time that MC was probably just as unhappy with their situation as he was, but he knew that if he softened his attitude now his walls would keep falling away. "I suppose you're expecting me to offer you my coat like some boy walking you home from Prom?"

"I wouldn't take it if you paid me."

Fine. Freeze for all I care. Halting his wandering path back into the warehouse, Hunt glanced around one more time. "Well, we're not getting out of here anytime soon."

MC stopped walking, too, and faced him. "You're finally admitting you've been wrong this whole time?"

"I wouldn't go that far, but trying to escape is clearly futile." He sighed. "Your turn. What do you want to do?"

MC took their time looking around, trailing their hands up and down their arms in an attempt to generate some heat. "Maybe we can look for something to eat?"

At the thought of food, Hunt's stomach growled uneasily. "You had a good idea for once. There's bound to be leftovers somewhere in this building."

It only took a few minutes to find their way back to the restaurant set. It was a street cafe of ambiguous European origin; the gracefully curved tables were draped with red tablecloths and topped with bowls of red and white roses. Tall candles perched in ancient green wine bottles overrun with wax. One table bore a basket of bread, another a plate of cheesecake and candied fruit. Behind the plastic windows were baguettes and a few other dishes.

MC immediately approached the desserts, but the disappointment was evident on their face when they tried to pick one up from the plate. "Fake food? I really wanted this chocolate-covered strawberry…"

"Useless," Hunt muttered, his hunger only growing now that he realized that there was nothing he could do about it.

"Wait, I see a catering cart." MC pointed across towards the wall and immediately wandered off.

Hunt was left standing in the middle of the set, alone with his thoughts. The soft rhythm of MC's steps echoed around him and he could hear the distant settling of the enormous building. Without another person next to him, the chilled air seemed to affect him more than before. He did up a few more buttons on his suit jacket and tugged forcefully at his cuffs, unwilling to admit that it was probably his separation from MC causing the uneasiness to coil in his gut. What if they got lost in the warehouse? What if they found a way out and left him there? After the way he had been acting, he wouldn't have blamed them.

Fortunately, it was less than a minute before the footsteps returned. MC held up a few hard-looking bagels, their expression apologetic. "Looks like this is it."

With relief and some anxiety that he was once again in such close proximity to his student, Hunt accepted a bagel and took an experimental bite. It wasn't as bad as it looked; there were even a few raisins, and some of the others looked like they had cheese baked into them. It could have been a lot worse.

Several minutes later he found himself sitting at one of the tables with MC, the two of them steadily eating their way through the bagels. His throat felt dry and he wished they had found water—it had been a hot day, after all, and the bread wasn't helping.

The silence between them drew out to the point of awkwardness. Come on, Thomas. Are you really so love-struck that you can't make casual conversation with your student? Pull yourself together. He sighed and put down his bagel. "All right. Fine. Let's talk."

"Really?" MC raised an eyebrow. "Mr. I Don't Want To Talk To MC All Day wants to talk?"

That's what I get for trying to be nice. "We're stuck here all night, and I know you're not going to let up. Let's just get this out of the way. What do you want to know?"

"Um, everything," MC said as though this was both obvious and specific.

"You're going to have to narrow it down a bit."

"I want to know about your feelings."

Hunt's chest tightened, remembering the way he had pulled MC close on that balcony and kissed them. "You already know enough."

They waved their own bagel as though they were discussing the finer points of a script. "I know you feel something for me, but I don't understand why you can't just tell me that now."

Hunt held up his hands, anger prickling at the base of his skull. What was the point in trying so hard to keep his own feelings hidden—for the good of them both—if MC was just going to keep picking away at him? "Fine. You want to know how I actually feel? I'll tell you even though it won't make the slightest difference." Maybe it will hurt less if I can just explain.

He took a deep breath to steady his racing pulse. MC watched him, eyes wide and expression neutral. "I feel—"

Crack! The lights snapped off, throwing the set into complete darkness.

For several seconds, all he could hear was his breathing and MC's and the roar of blood in his ears. Once the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, he cleared his throat. "The power must've turned off for the night. We should light these candles."

Faintly in the darkness he could hear MC's clothing rustling an their fingernails scratching at the cheap synthetic tablecloth. "Wait, you were going to tell me how you feel about me!"

"That was almost a moment of weakness." Hunt distracted himself by searching through his pockets for the matchbook he knew he would find. "It won't happen again."

MC's chair groaned as they apparently through themselves back in it. "You have got to be kidding me."

"I'm not."

When he found the matches he struck one with a hiss and it sputtered to life. MC's features were thrown into sharp relief by the flickering glow, and they squinted at the sudden brightness. The light grew steadier once he transferred the flame to the candles' wicks and shook out the match.

"'Cause everyone just has matches on them," MC grumbled. "That's normal."

Don't tell them about the times you got too drunk to drive home. Don't tell them how many nights you've spent in bare, anonymous motel rooms, too drunk and too empty even to call a taxi. Don't tell them about the growing collection of matchbooks you take from the bowls in the lobbies, too scared to pick up smoking but too desperate not to consider it. Don't tell them— "They were on the table. What have I told you about being observant?"

MC looked doubtful but apparently took the lie in stride. "We're not in class right now. You don't have to teach me all the time."

"But I do. It's my job to always push you, to be firm if it means you reaching your full potential." I'm your professor.

"So you do care about me."

By now the conversation was causing Hunt physical pain. His fingernails bit into the palms of his clenched fists and a stabbing headache was developing in his temples. "As a student. This thing you feel for me, it's just a crush," he explained, forcing the words out as sweat collected on the back of his neck. This is best. This is best. This is best. "It's fake love, the kind people eat up at the movies. Look around this set. None of this is real, yet when this movie comes out, people will swoon for the romance as though real love can be like that. But it's all fake."

MC stood up so forcefully that their chair toppled over backwards, clanging and echoing in the darkened warehouse. The planted their hands on the table and leaned down to glare at Hunt. "My feelings for you are not fake. What I feel for you is more than just a Hollywood romance. It's real. And real feelings are about spending time with someone and enjoying their company, even when you're just eating stale bagels together. Even when the other person is being ridiculously stubborn." With that, they righted their chair and sat back down, breathing heavily.

Hunt was, frankly, a little stunned. It hadn't occurred to him that MC was willing to put so much into defending their feelings. "For once, I may have underestimated you, Danny."

"Yeah, just this once," MC said wearily, their head in their hands.