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Chance huffed into his wine, the heat pressing against him like an overly familiar body that refused to let go.
They'd already shed their outer layers—blazer abandoned ten minutes ago, collar unbuttoned not long after that—but it wasn’t enough. Sweat clung to him anyway, dampening his hair, slicking his skin. Even his sunglasses kept sliding down his nose, traitorous little things.
“Ugh,” he groaned, setting the glass down harder than necessary. So much for savoring a good drink.
He dragged a hand through his hair and grimaced at the way his fingers came away damp. Miserable. Absolutely miserable.
Beside him, iTrapped looked…fine.
Not just fine—composed. Cloak and blazer tossed aside, sure, but his vest was still perfectly in place, that icy blue fabric doing nothing to help the way Chance’s eyes kept snagging on it. Cool. Clean. Untouched by the heat that was trying to kill him.
Chance shot him an accusatory look. “I’m dying, iTrapped.”
iTrapped raised a brow, calm as ever. “You’re sitting down.”
“That’s worse,” Chance whined. “Gambling isn’t fun without air conditioning. This place is a sauna—they seriously should've fixed this already.”
“Then we should go to another casino while yours fixes the issue.”
“No way!” Chance jolted upright, immediately regretting it when the room tilted. He swayed—
—and felt a hand steady him.
The grip was firm, impersonal. Like he’d caught a falling glass instead of a person.
iTrapped let out a quiet snort, but he didn’t pull away right away. Chance righted themself, cheeks warm for reasons that definitely weren’t just the temperature.
He pouted anyway, because principle. “You know I can’t support other casinos. That’s how you lose regulars. Sharks smell weakness—that’s how these places work.”
“They smell money,” iTrapped corrected mildly.
“Exactly,” Chance said easily. “Which is mine.”
iTrapped’s mouth twitched—too quick to read, gone before Chance could decide if he’d imagined it.
They slumped back into their seat, fanning themself dramatically. “And it’s evaporating. Right now.”
He paused, then squinted at iTrapped.
“…How are you not melting?”
iTrapped glanced down at himself, then back up. There was a brief pause before he answered.
“I took layers off.”
“That’s not enough,” Chance said flatly. “I did that. I’m still cooking.”
Their gaze slid—lingered—on the crown nestled against iTrapped’s hair. Ice-blue. Faceted. Catching the light wrong, like it belonged somewhere colder than this overheated pit of felt and smoke.
Something clicked.
“Oh.” Chance leaned in, grin spreading before he could stop it. “Ohhh.”
iTrapped stiffened immediately. “No.”
Chance blinked, affronted. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”
“I know your tone.”
“Rude.” Chance lifted a finger, pointing at the crown. “That thing. It’s freezing, right?”
“It’s not—”
“Cold,” Chance barreled on. “It’s cold. You’re cold. I’m dying. This feels like a very obvious solution.”
“No,” iTrapped said again, sharper now.
Chance clutched their chest like they'd been mortally wounded, overdoing it on purpose. “Wow. You’d deny a friend relief.”
“Yes.”
“A suffering friend?”
“You’ll live.”
Chance leaned closer anyway, crowding him without really thinking about it. “I’ll give it back. I just wanna try it.”
“No.”
“Five minutes.”
“No.”
“Two.”
“No.”
“One.”
iTrapped shot him a look that should’ve ended the conversation.
It didn’t.
Chance sagged back dramatically, then immediately tipped forward again. “Please?”
The silence stretched, thin and uncomfortable. iTrapped’s gaze slid away, unfocused, like he’d lost interest in the conversation for a moment. When he looked back, his jaw tightened just enough for Chance to notice.
Something shifted—not softer, exactly. Just…different.
“…You’re insufferable,” he said.
Chance’s grin sharpened. “That’s not a no.”
A beat.
iTrapped reached up and removed the crown, holding it just out of reach. “One minute,” he said coolly. “You damage it, drop it, or lose it, and I will make you regret it.”
The phrasing was almost casual. Almost.
Chance practically vibrated. “I knew you liked me."
“I don’t.”
“Sure,” Chance said, already leaning in as the crown settled onto his head—
—and his breath caught.
Cold snapped over him all at once, clean and biting, like winter breaking through skin. The heat peeled away in an instant. Chance shuddered despite themself.
The cold was delicious. Immediate. Absolute.
It wasn’t just cold—it was empty. Sterile. Like the absence of heat rather than its opposite.
“Oh,” he breathed. “Oh, that’s—”
He slumped back into his chair, eyes fluttering shut, a laugh slipping out before he could stop it. “I could cry.”
iTrapped watched him, expression unreadable.
Not smiling. Not reacting. Just watching—until Chance cracked an eye open. Then, and only then, his expression shifted, faintly amused.
Chance sank into the chill, savoring it. They told themself the hollowness in their chest was just relief. “You should’ve shared sooner,” he murmured. “This is criminal.”
“…You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“Shhh,” Chance said, waving him off without opening his eyes. “Let me have this.”
Silence settled between them.
iTrapped didn’t reach for the crown.