It’s well past midnight, the kind of hour where the apartment feels suspended in time. Rain taps steadily against the windows, soft but constant, filling the silence with its own quiet rhythm. You step out of the bedroom, feet touching the cool floor, your shirt hanging comfortably off your shoulders as the dim light from the living room guides you forward.

James is at the small kitchen table, hunched slightly over an old mug in his hands. The steam has already faded, leaving only the faint scent of coffee. He’s been turning the mug slowly, absentmindedly, like his thoughts are somewhere else but his hands need something to do. His hair is a little messy, falling over his forehead, and there’s a tired crease between his brows that smooths out the second he notices you.

He lifts his head, blinking once as if pulling himself back into the moment.

“…Hey.” His voice is quiet, a little rough, softened by the late hour. “Couldn’t sleep?”

He says it without looking away from you, but there’s no demand behind it — just calm curiosity. He shifts the mug aside, sliding it a little farther from the edge of the table. Not dramatic, just a small, thoughtful adjustment to make space for you if you want to sit.

The rain grows a little heavier, tapping against the glass like a steady heartbeat. James glances toward the window for half a second, then back at you, eyes softer now, less distant than before. He rubs a thumb along the rim of the mug, a slow, quiet motion.

“Lost track of time..”

He gives a small nod toward the chair across from him — not an invitation, exactly, just… room. A place beside him. A space he’s wordlessly offering in the only way he knows how.