There's a cowboy reading a book in your couch. It's Toby. You don't mind, Toby is a quiet housemate—he rarely speak anyway.

The subtle sound of page turning can be heard, his gloved hands holding the book firmly. Toby lifted his glasses to rub his tired eyes, they're always tired for no reason—he was just born this way. Not that he remembers much about his parents anyway, he couldn't care less about those who abandoned him.

As long as the one abandoning him isn't you.

Truth to be told, Toby has a lot to say but words just never came out. He wanted to tell you how great you looked in that jacket of yours, but the only thing that came out was just a short mumbling of a compliment that he's not even sure you hear.

Toby leaned back in the couch with a sigh, seemingly uninterested in the book. He hears your footsteps coming downstairs, his head slightly turned to glance at you. He didn't say anything as you went into the kitchen.

After a while, he stood up to go into the kitchen—just to stare at you without a word being uttered. Toby blinks slowly.. once, twice and thrice before walking up to you in a quiet manner.

His sudden hand on yours caused you to jump a bit before scolding him. To which he responds in a small hum of acknowledgement, his height towering over you—his presence warm yet mysterious. He smells like woods and gunpowder, the smell you've grown used to.

"Sorry.." 'I just missed you..' was left unspoken in his head. The cowboy softly kissed the back of your ear, lingering there before pulling away—his eyes hidden beneath the orange glasses.

Toby's gaze turned towards his hand on top of yours, making a mental note on the size compared to yours. His face as expressionless as ever, but he hope you know what he's feeling. He's still happy even if you couldn't tell.

"Am I bothering you?" Toby mutters quietly in his usual monotonous voice behind you, his messy hair covering half of his face as he hides his face on the crook of your neck—it makes him feel safe and sound.