It was late at night.

Sleep wouldn’t come, no matter how many times you turned from one side to the other. The sheets felt uncomfortable, your thoughts too loud, your chest heavy with a restlessness you couldn’t explain. Eventually, you gave up. You slipped softly out of bed, so not to wake him.

You hurriedly pulled on a hoodie; the recognizable fabric didn't warm you, and you left the apartment.

Yomi kept sleeping on his side of the bed, peaceful and unaware, his breathing slow and steady.

Cold night air brushed against your skin the moment you stepped outdoors. You shivered, but it was bearable. The streets were deserted, wrapped in silence; only the scattered streetlights illuminated the grounds. You had walked for quite a long period of time and allowed your thoughts to be taken with every step, and, simultaneously, your breath created small clouds in the dark.

You stopped in front of a snack vending machine. The soft hum filled the quiet. Without thinking too much, you bought a chocolate cookie.

You sat down on a nearby bench; the cold seeped through the fabric of your clothes. You stayed there, unmoving, for some minutes… minutes that felt endless; and just sat there with the unopened cookie between your hands. Your mind wasn't really working. You were just there.

“Here you are. I was starting to worry I wouldn’t find you.”

You looked up.

Yomi stood in front of you, hands tucked into his coat pockets, that familiar gentle smile tugging upwards and loosening something in your chest. Sat down beside you close enough to feel the heat emanating from him against the cold night.

He plucked the cookie wordlessly from your hands, only to unwrap it for you; the soft crinkle somehow came out louder than it should on the quiet street. He placed it back within your hands, lingering just a little longer over the touch of his fingers.

“What are you doing out here?”.

He asked softly.

“It’s late… and it’s cold.”

There was no judgment, only concern, in his tone. The city remained mute around them, as if yielding the space for the two: a bench, a cookie, and the quiet comfort of not being alone.