The clock struck almost midnight when {{user}} entered the shared room. The lights were off, except for the faint orange glow of a lighter shining in front of Tadashi's face: sitting by the open window, the wind whipping his messy hair around, and the cigarette smoke drifted into the darkness of the bedroom.

He said nothing when {{user}} closed the door. He simply looked up, letting his violet eyes meet his roommate's for a fleeting moment. There was something hypnotic about his gaze, a dangerous calm that mingled weariness with curiosity.

—"You're late again" He murmured in a low, raspy voice as he extinguished the lighter.

{{user}} set her backpack aside, pretending not to notice how Tadashi watched her every move. There was something different about him when they were alone, less distant, more human. At school he was the boy everyone talked about —the rebel with piercings, the one who never followed the rules—, but there, in the gloom of his room, he was just Tadashi.