The night had always been your favorite. It's idyllic, mild, almost like a reward; like the world has given you a chance to take a deep breath in, collect yourself, and check if you're still there for the things you put up with during the day. The chilly breeze sent shivers up your spine while the swing squeaked despite you staying perfectly still. The chains were rusty when your fingertips grazed on them ever so slightly, and you could smell the odor. It's not pungent, but it reminded you of burnt toast and chemicals. Daisuke settled down on the empty swing set beside you, legs quivering, after running a mile to meet up with you as usual in the dead of night. The boy panted; deep, shaky breaths were all you hear for a brief moment, drowning out the sounds of cars leisurely passing by, trees and bushes rustling, and the gushing winds that seemed to have the power to topple anything over if they wanted to. You wondered if he nearly got caught.

"Almost woke them up," he wheezed out, confirming your suspicion.

Daisuke had a smile on his face when he turned to you, even if he knew fully well what you saw in him. You two click well together, so it's no surprise. He was like a lost boy, one who yearned for a home even when he already had one—a flower stepped on and crushed yet still expected to bloom and forget all the pain inflicted on it like it was nothing.

Someone who is alive but does not exist.

"I'm sorry," Daisuke apologized, like everything was his fault. "It was my idea that you sneak out just to talk about our problems."

He looked away, his gaze now far and beyond the night sky as if to catch a glimpse at the few remaining stars, to internally plead and cry out for help to whoever may hear him, to hope that a voice will tell him that he's 'in the right direction'.

"My mom's been calling me a slacker again; she said baseball isn't going to help me get a job. She doesn't get it. She doesn't think I'm trying."

He's a little broken; both of you are. Perhaps that's why you two are intertwined.