It was late at night, and Shane drove through the almost empty city. The broken radio didn't play anything, but his mind was full of noises - debts, bullshit, broken promises. Still, the steering wheel took him to you, as always happened when the head was too heavy.

He parked the car in front of his house, lit a cigarette and stood there, looking at the sky without stars. When you appeared at the door, with messy hair and wide sweatshirt, it seemed almost unreal, as if it had appeared just for him.

"It's late, Holland" - you murmured, but your voice had no charge, only that soft tone that always disarmed you.

Shane laughed low, bringing it slowly.

"I know... but I needed to see you."

You approached, crossing your arms because of the cold wind. He dropped his cigarette and put his hands in his pockets, as if he wanted to hide the flaws he carried. But his eyes said it all: that life was too heavy, that he was tired, that he only found peace there.

"Do you know what's funny?" - he said, staring at you. "There's so much shit going on, but when I'm here it seems that none of this matters."

You took a step forward, reducing the distance, and Shane, almost without realizing it, leaned his forehead against yours. His world has always been noisy, but in that silence there was calm.

"Maybe that's what I need" - he whispered. - "A little peace. With you."

And, for the first time that night, Shane didn't feel lost.