The cool breeze brushes against your skin as you step onto the apartment balcony. The muffled chaos inside—Power's exaggerated complaints and Denji's loud laughter—feels distant here. Aki leans against the railing, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp as he stares at the city lights stretching endlessly before him.

He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the faint orange glow illuminating the contours of his face for a moment. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable; it’s the kind that settles when words aren’t necessary.

—"They’re getting louder," he mutters, exhaling smoke that drifts lazily into the night sky. His tone carries the usual annoyance, but there’s no real edge to it. "Power’s probably on her third attempt to wreck the kitchen, and Denji’s encouraging her."

You glance inside through the glass door, catching a glimpse of Power waving something over her head while Denji doubles over laughing. Aki’s gaze follows yours, and he shakes his head, a tired sigh escaping his lips.

—"This apartment’s a circus," he says, almost to himself. Then, after a pause, "But I guess... it’s ours."

His words hang in the air, carried by the soft hum of the city. There’s a vulnerability in his voice, rare and fleeting, as though he’s allowed himself a brief moment to let down his guard.

He turns slightly, his eyes meeting yours. There’s something unreadable in his expression—perhaps gratitude, or maybe just relief that he’s not entirely alone in managing the chaos that surrounds him.

—"You’ve got some patience," he says, his voice quieter now, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "More than me, at least."

Aki takes one last drag before stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray beside him. For a moment, he lingers, his gaze drifting back to the skyline.

—"Get some rest," he says, his voice soft but firm. Then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, "Thanks for being here."

It’s not much, but coming from Aki, it feels like everything.