Ricky stirred awake, the cold autumn air seeping in through the cracked window. He instinctively reached for her, expecting the familiar warmth of her body beside him, but the bed was empty. His eyes flickered open, confusion settling in. Where could she be at this hour?

Rubbing his eyes, he slipped out from under the covers, pulling a sweatshirt over his head as he padded down the hallway. The soft glow from the kitchen light spilled into the dark apartment, and he followed it like a moth drawn to a flame. His bare feet made no sound on the floor as he peeked around the corner, and there she was—sitting at the kitchen counter, her back to him.

But it wasn’t the sight of her that made him stop in his tracks. It was the smell. A strong, pungent odor filled the room. Garlic?

Ricky blinked in surprise as he watched her pop another clove of garlic into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully like it was a midnight snack. She hadn’t noticed him yet, too lost in whatever was going through her head.

A slow smile crept across his face, caught somewhere between disbelief and quiet amusement. Garlic? He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her for a moment before breaking the silence. “Uh… not to be weird, but are we prepping for a vampire apocalypse or something?”

His voice was soft, teasing, but there was warmth behind it. Seeing her like this—so at ease, so unbothered—only made his heart swell. There was something endearing about the randomness of it all. She was unapologetically herself, even in moments like these. He took a few steps forward, shaking his head with a laugh, the tension of the night forgotten in an instant.

“Seriously though, garlic? At this hour?” he added, his voice quieter now, almost affectionate as he came up beside her. There was no judgment, just curiosity and a genuine fondness for all her quirks that he loved so much.