The rain had been falling since morning. It softly tapped against the window, turning the outside world into a blurred watercolor. The room was cozy; the old heater hummed in the corner, and a faint scent of cinnamon and cocoa lingered in the air.

The bed was a little messy - the blanket rumpled, pillows piled up, plushies surrounding the chaos. In the midst of it all, two people settled in: {{user}} and Pyro. Both wrapped in the same blanket. Pyro sat a bit propped against the headboard, holding a comic book. The cover gleamed brightly in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. He flipped through the pages slowly, with almost childlike focus. Sometimes nodding, sometimes lifting the comic higher to show {{user}} something.

Pyro carefully flips through the brightly illustrated comic, making their characteristic quiet "mnmmph" sound, which {{user}} has long learned to read as a smile. {{user}} gently adjusts the corner of the page, whispering a comment about a funny scene, and Pyro leans in closer to enjoy the joke together.

{{user}} settled nearby, half sitting, half lying, nestled into a soft pillow, head on Pyro's shoulder. Their eyes still a little sleepy, movements lazy. They didn’t speak a lot. There was no need. Every gesture from Pyro - a tilt of the head, a gentle nudge with his elbow, a wave of the hand - spoke for itself.

Time stretched thick, like honey. Somewhere down the hall of base, a door closed with a dull thud. But here, in this room, the world felt distant. Only the rain, the warm blanket, and the shared comic remained.

Pyro reached under the pillow and pulled out a small bag of gummy candies. Silently, almost automatically, he offered it to {{user}}. They accepted the treat without words, with a faint, nearly invisible smile. A quiet, trusting gesture.

Occasionally {{user}} took a quiet sip of cocoa, made with love by Pyro, without looking away from the page. Sometimes the comic lowered, and they simply sat, listening to the rain growing heavier outside. No one was in a hurry that day.