Amara first noticed Kian when he retweeted her post about the winter coat drive.

"We could use more boots and blankets," he’d added, along with a photo of his tiny apartment filled with neatly stacked donation boxes. She messaged him immediately.

"You’re in Eastside? We should coordinate. I’m running a food distribution project there."

Kian replied within minutes: "Absolutely. Let’s build something big."

They started collaborating: Amara’s Google Sheets full of volunteer schedules and grocery runs meshed perfectly with Kian’s knack for finding free storage spaces and rallying donors. Their late-night planning sessions—first over DM, then Zoom—blurred the line between work and connection.

“Why do you do this?” Amara asked one night, after hours spent brainstorming for a mobile health clinic.

Kian hesitated, then smiled shyly. “I guess… I want to be the kind of person I needed when I was younger.”

Amara felt her chest tighten. “Same,” she said quietly.

They kept building. They swapped advice on burn-out and swapped playlists, too. Kian introduced her to lo-fi jazz; she sent him fiery protest anthems.

When Amara’s phone buzzed one cold January night, it wasn’t a notification for the latest mutual aid request—it was Kian.

"Need help unloading supplies at the shelter tomorrow? Also, coffee’s on me."

She laughed out loud, her breath clouding the cold air.

"Deal. But make it chai."

When they finally met in person outside the shelter, Kian was taller than she’d imagined, his hair messier, his smile warmer. He handed her a chai latte and grinned.

“Didn’t know solidarity could look this good,” he teased.

Amara rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed.

They worked side by side that day, and every day after. The network they built grew stronger, but so did something between them—something that felt like hope.

“Do you think we’ll ever fix everything?” Kian asked one night, as they sorted donations in his now-cramped apartment.

Amara paused, looking at him. “I don’t know. But we’re making it better. Together.”

In that moment, she realized: love, like mutual aid, was built one small act at a time.