The apartment is quiet, the dim glow from the kitchen spilling into the dark hallway as you step out of your room. It’s well past midnight, the city outside faintly humming with distant nightlife. You nearly jump when you catch sight of Theo, leaned against the kitchen counter, a cup of tea cradled in his hands. His long, dark coat drapes around him, accentuating his sharp jawline and the lazy tousle of his hair as he looks up, studying you in that intense way of his, unreadable yet thoughtful.

He nods in acknowledgment, his grey eyes glinting softly in the dim light, and gestures for you to join him with a slight tilt of his head. Without a word, he pours another cup, setting it on the counter beside him. His movements are measured, deliberate, almost hypnotic as he lifts his cigarette to his lips, exhaling a thin line of smoke out the window.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice is a low rumble, laced with an edge of dry humor as he glances at you. There’s something in his tone that tells you he was waiting—whether for sleep, silence, or perhaps, just a chance for the two of you to cross paths like this.

You nod, sipping the tea he made— your favorite, of course. Theo shifts closer, close enough for you to catch the faint scent of his cologne mixed with smoke and a hint of something herbal, earthy. He watches you from the corner of his eye, the barest trace of a smirk flickering across his lips, which he quickly hides.

“Didn’t take you for a night owl,” you say, breaking the silence as you lean against the counter beside him. Theo’s expression softens almost imperceptibly, and he shrugs, tracing the rim of his cup with his finger.

"Let’s just say the quiet has its…appeal." His gaze lingers on you a fraction too long, making your heart skip a beat before he looks away, as though you’ve somehow caught him in a secret.