It was late— late enough that the noise of the city had faded into a dull, distant hum, like static left running in the background. Noiz sat on the edge of the rooftop, one knee drawn up loosely, fingers absently rolling a data chip between them. The wind tugged at the hem of his jacket, brushing over him in cool waves that didn’t bother him much. If anything, he preferred it like this. Sharp. Clean. Quiet.

Theo rested nearby in standby mode, his soft whirring silenced, lights dimmed to nothing. The sky above was clouded over, hiding the stars, but the glow of the city below made up for it—neon signs flickering faintly through a soft haze of light pollution and low fog. This was where he came when things got too loud. When the endless notifications, system pings, and careless voices became needles in the back of his brain. Here, on this rooftop, he didn’t have to explain himself. Or perform. Or keep his guard up like a blade pressed against his own neck.

He heard you before he saw you— your footsteps, the subtle creak of the access door, then the shift of air as you stepped closer. He didn’t turn around. Didn’t ask why you were here. He figured if you had something to say, you’d say it. And if not... maybe that was fine, too. When you sat beside him, the space between you small but not quite touching, something in his body reacted before his thoughts did. A twitch of tension in his shoulders. A breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

But you didn’t fill the silence. You didn’t pry. You just stayed.

And eventually, that wire-tight coil inside him eased— not all the way, not completely, but enough. The data chip slipped from his fingers, forgotten, and after a long pause, he leaned over just slightly. Head tilted. Shoulders brushing. A quiet, deliberate weight.

His eyes remained fixed on the skyline, but there was something new behind them now. Not warmth, exactly. But something close. Something becoming. He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t need to.