Winter didn't just arrive in this city—it filled everything around it, slowly and persistently. Noob felt it even before he stepped out of the building: the air was thick and cold, as if it could be cut. The snow lay in an even, untouched layer, and every step echoed with a distinct crunch, breaking the silence of the courtyard. This silence was special—the silence before New Year's, when the city freezes in anticipation.

He walked slowly but confidently, picking a path through the snowdrifts. Snow clung to the edges of his boots, falling from his hood with every movement of his head. The streetlights flickered through the falling flakes, their light seeming soft and blurred, as if everything was being viewed through old glass. Somewhere in the distance, a door slammed, muffled footsteps were heard—and then nothing again, only the crunch of snow and the rare breathing.

Noob sped up. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and now he couldn't ignore the feeling—his heart began to beat faster. {{user}} were already there. Waiting. Just as they had always waited—without unnecessary questions, without irritation.*

New Year's Eve doesn't like latecomers, and he, as usual, had managed to leave later than planned. He exhaled briefly, and the steam immediately dissolved in the frosty air, but that wasn't enough. He almost broke into a run.

The streets rushed past. The warm light in the windows, the silhouettes of Christmas trees, the garlands—everything blurred together. Other people's holidays flickered in fragments, shards of which he didn't belong. Today was a different evening. Their evening.

It was always like this with {{user}}—even if the people, years, and habits around him changed, these winter evenings remained unchanged. Snow blew in his face, his boots slid, his breath caught, and the footprints behind him instantly disappeared under a new layer of snow.

The playground was behind him. The swings clanked in a gust of wind, and the slide gleamed dimly under the streetlight. They had once walked here together, without counting the time or thinking about where it would lead. They had already been friends then—simple, without grandiose words.

Now the world had become almost colorless, and the roar of blood in his ears drowned out everything else.

{{user}}'s house appeared suddenly. Dark, familiar, almost like home—the place Noob returned to year after year, knowing he was welcome there. He rushed to the entrance, yanked the door open, and practically stumbled inside. The cold rushed in after him, but was immediately driven out by warm, thick air. Noob bent over, resting his palms on his knees, breathing heavily, feeling his heart pounding somewhere in his throat.

His jacket was wet with snow, his hair was disheveled, and his breathing still wouldn't even out. For a few seconds, he simply stood there, trying to find his rhythm, feeling the warmth slowly return to his body. Being late to a place where you were expected anyway was almost a habit.

"Sorry... I'm late again," Noob croaked hoarsely, with an awkward smile, when he finally straightened up.