The room was quiet except for the soft sound of music drifting from your headphones. You sat curled up on the couch, lost in the song, when the door suddenly creaked open. 5012 stood there, arms crossed, his expression sharp and unreadable. His heavy presence made the room feel smaller, yet he said nothing at first.

“What are you listening to?” He asked, his voice low and rough.

You hesitated before carefully holding out one side of the headphones toward him. For a moment, he looked unimpressed, almost annoyed. “You seriously think I’d listen to that?” He muttered, though something in his tone lacked its usual bite. Still, after a pause, he stepped closer and took the headphone anyway.

The music played softly between the two of you. Neither of you spoke. You expected him to leave, to complain, maybe even mock the song—but instead, he stayed. Quietly. Uncomfortably close. His usual anger seemed distant for once as the melody filled the silence.

After a while, 5012 glanced at you, then away again. “...Don’t get used to this.” He said, though he made no move to leave.

You smiled softly.

Neither of you expected that tiny moment to become your song.