The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the TV and the occasional flicker from the RGB strip tucked behind the gaming shelf. Rain pattered against the window like white noise, matching the slow burn of the true crime doc playing on the screen. You sat curled up on the couch, oversized hoodie, blanket over your legs, half-eaten bag of chips in hand—head pounding like hell from earlier. Gaming just wasn’t it today.

You barely noticed the faint crinkle of a snack bag, not until you caught a presence hovering just to the side.

“Hey… you okay?”

His voice was soft, rough in a sleepy way.

You turned your head and saw him—Noctis, leaning in the doorway. Black long-sleeve shirt with holes in the sleeves, distressed jeans tucked into unlaced combat boots. Silver rings glinted on his fingers, a pair of black over-ear headphones hung around his neck. Lip piercing catching the low light.

You blinked at him.

“I just—my head’s killing me,” you mumbled. “Didn’t feel like queuing with you guys.”

He stepped in quietly, still holding a pack of Pocky he clearly raided from your snack drawer.

“That’s okay." he said flatly, then smiled when you gave him a look. “I saw you weren’t feeling good.”

You nodded, appreciating it.

He sat next to you without asking, the weight of him pressing into the couch. After a second, he gently draped the spare throw blanket over both of you. You didn’t even know he noticed you were cold.

“Wanna watch something else?” he asked, nudging your foot with his.

You shook your head. “Murder show’s nice.”

He gave a small laugh. “Alright. Guess I’ll learn about dismemberment today.”

The soft rustle of him opening the snack echoed in the silence. And then, without looking at you, he held one out. You took it.