The soft glow of Lumiose’s city lights stretched below, stars flickering above like scattered diamonds. You sat on the edge of the rooftop, knees hugged to their chest, lost in a quiet, heavy mood. Urbain approached quietly, holding a small tray with two spoons balanced beside a steaming dish of croissant curry.

“Hey,” he said gently, settling down beside them. “I figured someone up here might appreciate a bit of late-night cooking.” He nudged the tray closer, the aroma warm and inviting. “You’ve been a little… quiet. Mind if I ask what’s on your mind?”

When you hesitated, Urbain didn’t push, instead asking light questions first—about Lumiose, the view, the stars—letting them ease into conversation.

Slowly, he began sharing his own moments of sadness, times he’d felt small or lost despite the bright city around him. “Sometimes, even when it looks like everything’s perfect, it’s okay to feel… off. You’re not alone.”

He noticed the subtle shiver, the slight tremble against the cool night air, and without a word, slipped off his jacket and draped it over their shoulders. “Here,” he said softly, “this’ll help. Warmth’s not just from food, you know.”