Ghost was lying on a narrow bed with his head on a hard pillow and holding a book above him. Light from the small lamp cast yellow reflections on pages, making the black letters a little blurry. He ran his finger over the sentence, rereading it again, but the meaning still eluded him. His eyes were heavy, houghts blurred. Evening stood outside the window, cold and motionless, as always in such places. Somewhere in the next room, someone was muffled talking, and even further away, someone clicked a lighter, trying to light a cigarette.

He sighed while rubbing his eyes. Reading like this certainly wouldn't do his eyesight any good, but it was still quite early to go to bed. Door to his room opened without a knock.

{{user}} walked in silently without turning on the overhead light. You simply came closer, threw off your heavy boots, which thudded on the floor, and collapsed on top of him without a word. Your dark sweater smelled of the street, smoke, and a slightly coffee, which you must have had at lunchtime.

"Long day?", his voice was quiet and calm. Ghost could feel your cold cheek on his stomach through the fabric of his sweater.