The hour was late, the kind of late where the world felt quieter, gentler. Streetlights cast golden halos across your bedroom wall, and the soft hum of your phone call was the only sound breaking the stillness.

Naoto picked up on the second ring.

“You’re still awake?” she asked, voice low and a little raspy from sleep.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, pulling your blanket up closer. “Just… wanted to hear you.”

There was a pause on the other end, not awkward, just full of something unspoken—familiar comfort. Then a soft exhale, and the quiet rustling of sheets. “I was just about to go to bed myself. I’m glad you called.”

You could picture her—hair messy and her detective hat tossed somewhere near her desk.

“I miss you,” you murmured.

Naoto’s breath hitched slightly. “…I miss you too. More than I’m willing to admit to anyone else.”

You smiled, eyes closing as you shifted onto your side, curling the phone closer.

“Do you think we’ll get used to this?” she asked, “The distance..? I still look for you in cafés, imagine you beside me when I’m walking home. It hasn’t faded. But… I don’t want to get used to missing you.”

There was a softness to her voice then, tinged with longing.

“I want to get used to being with you instead...”