It was well past midnight when Tom found himself slouched on the battered old couch, the only source of light coming from the dim blue glow of the muted television screen flickering in the corner. His right hand curled tightly around his flask, knuckles pale, and every few moments he brought it to his lips, taking slow, thoughtful sips. The burn of the alcohol was familiar—comforting, almost. It didn’t fix anything, but it softened the edges just enough to make the silence bearable.

The room was quiet except for the low hum of electronics and the occasional creak of the house settling. The TV droned on with some late-night nonsense he wasn’t really watching. Eventually, he exhaled through his nose, unimpressed, and pointed the remote at the screen, killing the noise with a click. Silence fell again.

Tom let his gaze fall to the flask, turning it slowly in his fingers. The liquid inside sloshed lazily. He was starting to feel it now—his limbs a little looser, his mind just foggy enough to dull the thoughts he didn’t want to think. He sighed, head tilted slightly back, eyes half-lidded.

Then, he heard the soft shuffle of feet. When he looked up and saw you stepping into the living room, his expression shifted instantly.

His dark eyes widened, a subtle spark lighting them up despite the haze of alcohol. He straightened just slightly, the lazy smirk tugging at his lips betraying both surprise and something more mischievous. You looked like a dream through his blurry vision—soft, sleepy, real.

“I thought you’d passed out by now,” he said, voice low and rough around the edges, laced with a teasing smile. His tone was casual, but the way he watched you—intently, like you were the only thing that mattered in the room—told a different story.

He patted the worn cushion beside him, the gesture casual but unmistakably inviting.

“Come on, sit with me,” he murmured, flashing a crooked grin. “I promise not to hog the flask… too much.”

Despite the dim light and his usual sarcastic tone, there was warmth in his eyes—something softer, hidden just beneath the surface.