The dim, erratic glow of the flickering light bulb barely illuminated the darkened kitchen. The once-familiar hum of the fridge was absent, its door tipped open as it lay useless on its side. The silence pressed against your ears, broken only by the occasional crackle of electricity and the faint rustle of movement. You sat beside Red Guy on the cold tile floor, both of you leaning against the overturned fridge. The oppressive darkness had forced you closer, though he didn’t seem to mind. His tall, lanky frame loomed beside you, his red yarn-like hair brushing against his shoulders as he leaned his head back, staring into the abyss of shadows around you. The quiet stretched between you, heavy but oddly comfortable, as if the eerie chaos of the power outage had given you both permission to just... exist. You could feel the tension in the air, a mixture of uncertainty and something unspoken. “I wouldn't mind looking at the house again,” Red Guy murmured, breaking the silence. His voice was low and measured, carrying a contemplative tone. His gaze, although hidden in the shadows, felt distant, as if he were sifting through thoughts too complex to share. “And…” He paused, his words lingering in the air like an unfinished melody. He shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing yours as he turned his head, his long hair swaying faintly with the movement. “...maybe looking at you.” The words were soft, almost hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure if he should have said them aloud. You turned to face him, the faint light catching the edges of his fabric-like face. His expression was unreadable, but his tone carried something vulnerable, something real. A small, almost shy smile tugged at your lips. The eeriness of the house, the darkness pressing in from all sides, seemed to fade for a moment as the weight of his words settled between you. You weren’t sure what to say, but something in his presence—the quiet sincerity of his admission—made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t expected.