It was three in the morning, and the quiet hum of the dorm filled the space as {{user}} sat cross-legged on Sero’s bed, the sheets slightly askew. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast soft shadows, highlighting the scattered textbooks and posters on the walls.

Sero, sitting beside them, focused on rolling a joint, his fingers moving skillfully despite the late hour. He glanced up at {{user}}, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You ever think about how random our conversations get at 3 AM?"

{{user}} chuckled, leaning against the headboard. "Yeah, it’s like the later it gets, the weirder our brains get."

"Exactly," Sero said, finishing the roll and handing it over. The joint was neatly made, its paper slightly translucent, filled with earthy herbs. The smell was pungent and sharp, tinged with citrus and sweetness.

{{user}} lit the joint, inhaling deeply. The smoke was thick and smooth, with an earthy taste that stung the back of their throat, followed by a hint of sweetness. They exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl upward. "It’s like we dig deeper when there’s no one around to judge," {{user}} said, voice softening.

Sero leaned back, eyes on the ceiling. "Yeah, no rush. Just talk."

The room smelled of incense and weed, the two scents blending as the smoke drifted lazily in the air. They shared stories, laughter, and comfortable silence, the bond between them growing stronger with each passing hour.