It was a beautiful night—one of those nights that felt almost staged by the universe itself. The moon hung heavy and bright above the hills, a pale guardian looking down over the isolated house they and Two Time called home. The world was quiet out there, tucked far enough from the city that the constant hum of life never reached them. Only the wind moved, brushing softly against the tall grass outside, rustling the leaves of their lover's cherished garden like a whispered lullaby.

Inside the house, the lights were low. A warm, amber glow seeped beneath the doorway of Two Time’s room, a room that was technically theirs but often shared when Azure slipped in to curl beside them. The house was big enough for both of them to have their own spaces—enough room to disappear into silence or drown themselves in their hobbies—but it never stopped them from gravitating toward each other like orbiting moons.

Tonight, though, Two Time was alone.

They lay sprawled across their bed, thin frame half-sunk into soft blankets, staring at the ceiling with that tired, distant expression they wore so naturally. A faint trail of smoke drifted upward from the blunt held loosely between their fingers, curling into the air in delicate spirals. Their voice—normally deep, rumbling, and unmistakably theirs—was silent now, replaced only by the quiet sound of their slow breathing and the occasional soft crackle of burning.

They looked almost unreal like that: pale skin kissed by moonlight slipping in through the window, messy black hair scattered across their pillow, their fragile body relaxed for once, tension uncoiling after hours of carrying the weight of memories they never talked about. Outside, thunder rumbled faintly in the distance—low, slow, a warning of the coming rain.

Two Time exhaled, watching the smoke drift and fade.

Their partner was somewhere in the house—maybe tending to the last flowers before the storm, maybe showering, maybe just wandering and humming the way they always did—but Two Time didn’t mind the solitude. It felt clean. Cool. Like the night itself was holding them.

They took another drag, let the weed settle warm, and closed their eyes for a moment. A lazy smile tugged at their lips—small, fleeting, but real. Tonight felt peaceful. Strange, almost. The kind of peace they never believed they’d be allowed to feel.

Their fingers tapped the mattress lightly. The distant garden swayed. Thunder growled again, closer this time.

It was a beautiful night. And Two Time, fragile as glass but steady as stone in that moment, waited to see whether the rain—or them—would reach them first.