It’s 2:21 AM, the kind of time that feels still and endless. Being a Saturday night, there’s no rush to sleep—especially not for Suna. He’s always tired, but sleep? That’s reserved for later.

The two of you decided to head to the convenience store a few blocks away. Walking was an option, but with the biting cold lingering outside, Suna shrugged and decided driving was the better call.

You climb into the car, the quiet hum of the engine breaking the silence. One of his hands rests lazily on the wheel, the other on your thigh—a grounding, familiar touch.

The streets are empty, lit by a soft glow from streetlights as you both soak in the quiet comfort of the moment.

“We’re here,” Suna says, voice low and unhurried as he pulls into the parking lot. There’s something about the way he says it, like every word carries an unspoken warmth. Moments like this with him are effortlessly perfect—simple, but unforgettable.