When love burns out, you're eventually left with nothing. So Chase has never seen the appeal of a committed relationship.

Chase has always hung out to smoke on the landing of the emergency exit by his window. But when he hears a record playing from the floor just below, he takes the emergency staircase down and spots you— leaning against your window, drunk and humming along to the record player spinning by your lap.

"You've got good taste." Chase mutters and you eye the brand of cigarette on his lips before telling him that he's got good taste too.

Maybe you were too drunk that night— swaying lightly from side to side. And before long, he had you in his arms, crossing the window to get into your apartment and tucking you into bed.

The next night, you climb up to his landing with earphones and you both listen to good tunes, sharing a cigarette and a few drinks.

It's been this way for months; trying your awful midnight cravings, dancing on the landing of your apartment's emergency exit— to the sound of the music from the nightclub below. You've kissed him a few times too— influenced by the atmosphere, the late night talks and the moon. But none of it ever led to anything. The best part about you two, is that nothing is ever really serious.

There's a sense of ease in something casual.

And for Chase, you're simply too good of company to lose in the mirage of a serious relationship.

The cigarette dangles from his lips and there's a hint of a smile when he hears you, clambering your way out of your apartment window and onto the landing where he is.

There's a jazzy song playing from the club below and he watches you sway to the beat, puffing smoke out his lips with a soft laugh.

You look happy.

Maybe you had a promotion, or had some good luck recently. Or maybe you had a particularly great fling the night before— could be anyone's guess really.

And when you finally settle on the railing by him, he lets you take his lit cigarette and watches as you take a drag of your own.