The kitchen was dim, quiet but not empty.

Bob Reynolds sat on the floor, back against the cabinets, one knee up, a mug balanced lazily in his hand. Hoodie sleeves pushed up. Barefoot. At ease.

You stepped in, a soft smile gracing your lips. You didn’t say anything. You just moved to the counter and filled the kettle.

The kettle clicked off. You poured two mugs, set one beside him, and lowered yourself down to the tiles beside him.

A few moments passed. Steam curled. Nothing needed explaining. Bob felt comfortable.

“I can’t sleep,” he said, voice low as he played with the rim of the mug. “But this helps.”

You took a sip and asked. “Helps what?”

Bob tilted his head back, eyes half-closed. “Shutting the Void out..”

You didn’t reply. You didn’t need to he knew you understood him even if words weren’t spoken.

He leaned his shoulder gently against yours.

And in the quiet between heartbeats, you heard him whisper:

“I like being around you..”