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The city was quiet for once. Late enough that the streetlights hummed softly and the air smelled faintly of rain, but not so late that the world had completely fallen asleep.
Yuta glanced over at Hendery, who was walking beside him with a plastic cup of bubble tea half-empty in his hand. The straw clicked against the ice every few steps. His hood was up, covering the messy blond hair that refused to stay down, and he looked unusually subdued.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Yuta said finally, bumping his shoulder lightly against Hendery’s.
“I’m just tired,” Hendery murmured, eyes on the sidewalk.
Yuta hummed, unconvinced. “You? Tired? That’s new. You’re usually the one dragging everyone out at midnight for snacks.”
A tiny smile tugged at Hendery’s lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Guess I ran out of energy.”
Yuta stopped walking, turning just enough to catch Hendery’s expression in the glow of a passing car. There it was — that faint heaviness in his eyes, the kind that came after too many days of pretending he was fine.
“Okay,” Yuta said softly, and before Hendery could ask what, he took his cup and sipped from it. “Mmm. You still order the sweetest thing on the menu. No wonder you’re tired. Sugar crash.”
Hendery let out a startled laugh. “Hey! That was mine—”
“Was,” Yuta corrected, handing it back with a grin. “Now it’s ours.”
For a moment, the air shifted — lighter, easier. Yuta watched Hendery laugh again, the tension in his shoulders easing little by little. They kept walking until the street curved toward a small park. The benches were slick with mist, the pavement glistening faintly.
“Sit,” Yuta said, tugging Hendery toward one of the benches.
Hendery sighed but didn’t fight him, flopping down beside Yuta and tipping his head back. The sky was a dull gray, stars hidden behind clouds.
“Why’d you even come out?” Yuta asked after a pause.
Hendery shrugged. “Didn’t want to stay in my room.”
“Why not?”
“Because then I’d have to think about stuff.”
Yuta was quiet for a second. “Heavy stuff?”
Hendery nodded. “Just… everything, I guess. Feels like I keep messing things up lately.”
Yuta nudged his knee lightly. “You haven’t. You just care too much. It’s exhausting sometimes.”
That made Hendery glance over. “You sound like you know what that feels like.”
Yuta’s grin softened. “Yeah, well. I do.”
For a while, neither of them spoke. The sound of the city — distant cars, a barking dog somewhere — filled the quiet. Then Yuta stood up and extended a hand.
“Come on.”
Hendery blinked. “Where?”
“Back home. It’s cold. You look like a wet cat.”
“I do not—”
“You do,” Yuta said with a laugh, tugging him up anyway. “You even sound like one when you complain.”
Hendery tried to glare, but it dissolved into another laugh, soft and genuine this time.
By the time they made it back to the dorms, both of them were damp from the mist, hair sticking out in odd directions. Yuta tossed his hoodie on the back of the couch and motioned for Hendery to sit.
“Don’t move,” he said, disappearing for a moment before returning with a towel. He started drying Hendery’s hair, gentle but thorough.
“You don’t have to—”
“Shh,” Yuta interrupted, voice low but teasing. “I said don’t move.”
Hendery stayed still, watching Yuta from under his lashes. There was something strangely grounding about it — the warmth of Yuta’s hands, the soft drag of the towel, the faint hum he made under his breath.
When Yuta finished, he tossed the towel aside and sat beside him. “Better?”
“Yeah,” Hendery said quietly. “Thanks.”
Yuta smiled, leaning back and stretching his arms behind the couch. “Good. I don’t want my favorite person catching a cold.”
That made Hendery freeze. “Your favorite person?”
“Mm-hm.” Yuta smirked. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Hendery grinned, cheeks pink. “Too late.”
Yuta laughed, soft and genuine, and before either of them realized it, the night had grown quiet again. Hendery’s head found Yuta’s shoulder, and Yuta didn’t move — just reached up to adjust the hood over his hair and let the moment stretch.
For the first time in days, Hendery didn’t feel heavy anymore. Just warm, safe, and a little bit loved.