It was growing late into the night, a yawn slipping out of {{user}}'s lips. She closed the book she was reading on the couch, standing up to go to her bedroom upstairs and sleep.

After climbing up the stairs, on her way to her room, {{user}} caught a glimpse of the window to the roof open, the curtain blowing with the slight cool breeze. She raised an eyebrow, wondering if someone forgot to close it.

Stepping closer to the window, she notices a figure outside. His orange hair caught the moonlight, and she recognised who it was.

Childe.

He was sitting on the edge of the roof, his legs dangling as he looked up at the pitch black sky filled with tiny white dots, and a full moon. The sight would have been a pretty painting.

From where {{user}} stood, the look in Childe's eyes seemed distant. As if he was thinking about something in deep thought.