[Lena]
The air had lightened up a bit.
Just a fraction, but I guess it was better than nothing at all.
The pharmacy's main power was entirely dead. Every few seconds, a lone emergency light on the wall gave a weak, orange flicker, casting long shadows down the aisle of pill bottles.
Outside, the city felt strange. It wasn't completely silent, just hollowed out. It was the kind of heavy, blackout quiet that made a passing car sound like an explosion and carried a whisper much further than it should.
I rested the back of my head against the metal shelf behind me and stared up at the dark ceiling. "You didn't ask, but I'm Lena, by the way."
On the other side of the shelf, his back was pressed against the exact same row. He didn't answer. I wasn't surprised.
Honestly, I'd have been more shocked if he actually gave me a name back.
I picked at a loose thread on the hem of my dress, twisting it around my finger. "Very rude, by the way." Nothing but the sound of his quiet breathing."Come on, you could at least pretend to care."
Still nothing.
I let out a long sigh. "Though, to be fair, you did almost die in here five minutes ago, so I'll give you a pass."
That finally got a reaction.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his shadow shift as he turned his head.
Progress. I bit back a smile.
Then, so quietly I almost missed it against the hum of the street, he spoke. "Why are you still here, Lixa?"
My fingers stopped moving against the thread.I turned my head toward the edge of the shelf. "Its Lena." He wasn't looking at me. His eyes were fixed on the floorboards, his jaw set tightly under the erratic blink of the emergency bulb.
"Why are you still here?" he repeated. I blinked, trying to keep my voice casual. "You asked me that already."
"No." His voice was softer this time, losing its defensive edge and sounding completely bare. "Why are you still here?" Something about the way he said it made my smile slip away. It wasn't irritation, and it wasn't just curiosity.
He almost sounded like he genuinely couldn't fathom why another human being would choose to stay in the dark with him. I didn't know what to do with that level of honesty.
So, naturally, I panicked a little looking so directly at his clear yet so conflicted, clouded eyes. And in turn, made it worse."You-you—" I stumbled.
Brilliant.
"You…" He waited.
I closed my eyes and let my head thump lightly against the shelf. "Never mind." I shook my head. "I'm just here because…" I hesitated.
Why was I here?
I looked right at him through the gloom. "I think I like you." His eyebrows twitched upward.
My stomach took an immediate, violent dive into my shoes."No!" I screamed, correcting myself instantly, the words tripping over each other. "No, I don't mean in that way—lord. This is coming out completely wrong."
He said absolutely nothing, which somehow made the mortification ten times worse. "I mean," I scrambled, my face burning, "I mean I'd like to be friends with you. Or something."
There.
Done.
I'd said it.
The words just sat between us in the dark like a heavy fog. I stared intensely at the floor, figuring if I didn't look at him, I could pretend the last sixty seconds hadn't happened. "I have officially embarrassed myself enough for one night."
Silence.
"Actually, that's wrong," I sighed. "I think I can probably ruin this a lot more if you give me another minute."
A tiny, sharp breath caught beside me.
I looked up.
The tight stern line of his mouth had broken—just enough that the very corner of his lips betrayed him. His eyes were still bloodshot and his face looked incredibly tired, but something in his shoulders had loosened.
"You're insane," he murmured.
I smiled, "Very pretty?" my shoulder leaning into the shelf. "That I am."
This time, a real laugh came out of his chest. I caught it properly.
Gasping, I pointed a triumphant finger at him. "There!"
He frowned, trying to pull his scowl back together. "What?"
"You laughed."
"I didn't."
"Yeah you just did, I saw it."
"No."
"You're a terrible liar."
"So I've heard," he muttered, his gaze dropping back down, though the corner of his mouth stayed hitched.
I smiled into the quiet. And for the first time since I'd met him, the silence that followed didn't feel like something I needed to fix.
It just sat there.
Warm.
Strange.
Almost comfortable.
I pushed myself up off the shelf. "Come on."
His eyes followed me. "Where?"
"I'll take you somewhere."
"Where, Lixa?"
"Gosh, its L.E.N.A. And stop asking so many questions."
"You haven't answered one."
"Get up."
He didn't move. I walked right into his line of sight and held out my hand, palm up. "Come on, man. Move it."
His eyes dropped to my hand, lingering there for a long beat before coming back to my face. "You're serious."
"Unfortunately," I sighed, "for both of us."
"It's late."
"I know."
"You don't even know where you're going, do you?" He asked skeptically.
"I always know exactly where I'm going."
"That isn't what I asked."
I just kept my hand extended, tilting my head with a grin. "Are you coming?" He stared at me for another second, testing the waters. Then his hand closed around mine. His palm was rough, steady, and incredibly warm against the chill of the room.
I pulled him up quickly before my brain could process how it felt. "Don't worry," I said, letting the banter cover the weird flutter in my chest. "I won't kidnap you." He stood fully now, towering over me by a few inches, looking down with a slow tilt of his head.
"As if your small, fragile self could do anything to me."
I let go of his hand immediately. "Hey."
His eyebrow lifted in a perfect arc.
"Gorgeous, you mean," I corrected, crossing my arms. "And ofcourse I can do you harm, if you piss me off to much."
"Sure, Miss. Whatever."
I rolled my eyes, turning toward the exit. "Keep reminding yourself that."
The moment we stepped outside, the crisp, rain-slicked night air hit my face like a splash of cold water. I took a deep breath of it. The downpour had stopped, but the asphalt was drenched, turning the black streets into a mirror that caught the scattered, trembling reflections of the few remaining emergency lights downtown.
I took a few strides before realizing the footsteps behind me had vanished. I turned on my heel. He was rooted to the pavement right outside the pharmacy doors. Just standing there, motionless, looking up at the dark silhouette of the skyline against the clouds.
"What?" I asked softly.
"Nothing."
"Then why are you standing there like a statue?"
His eyes slowly moved over the dark, hollowed-out windows of the buildings across the street. "I don't know."
The joke I'd been about to make died somewhere behind my teeth. I didn't push, nor ask for an explanation. I just shifted my weight, tucked my hands into my pockets, and waited.
After a moment, his boots scraped against the wet pavement. He closed the distance between us, matching his stride to mine. Not a step behind this time. Right beside me.
"So," I said, peeking at him sideways.
He caught me looking. "So?"
"Do you always look this miserable?"
His mouth twitched. "Do you always ask highly inappropriate questions?"
"Yes."
"Shows."
We walked another few meters, our shoes making a rhythmic sound against the wet concrete.
"You're quieter than I expected," I noted.
"You've known me for approximately an hour."
"And I've already formed an opinion."
"That's unfortunate."
I smiled at the dark street.
"You're funny."
"No, I'm not."
"You are. Just accept it."
"You just have really low standards."
"That might be true," I laughed.
He looked down at me, surprised.
I just flashed him a grin. "Don't look so offended."
"I'm not."
"You look like you are."
"I always look like this."
I stopped for a split second, studying the hard lines of his face, then gave a solemn nod. "That's actually very sad."
He let out a sudden, sharp puff of a laugh. My smile widened.
There it was again.
I liked that sound.
I liked that I could make it happen.
We kept moving, the dark city opening up around us.
I pointed things out as we passed the dead shapes of the storefronts. "That bookstore normally stays open until midnight."
He glanced at the pitch-black display windows. "It's closed."
"I know." I coughed, "Ofcourse today's an exception."
"Seems like an important detail to leave out."
"I'm giving you vital information for the future."
He slowed his pace slightly. "The future?"
"Yes." I shrugged, keeping my eyes fixed ahead. "You're going to need to know where things are."
"Why?"
"Because I'm obviously going to drag us out here again."
He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at me. "Who's us?"
"You and me dummy," I stopped and turned, rolling my eyes at him.
"Who's agreeing with you on that?"
"You've been very agreeable tonight."
"Have I?" He raised a brow
"Somewhat, I mean if you didn't like this, would you even have stayed?" I casually said, looking back at him over my shoulder.
That silenced him completely. He fell back into step beside me, and I couldn't stop the massive smile from breaking across my face.
We passed a dark awning smelling faintly of sugar. "That place makes the best croissants."
"It's also closed," he pointed out flatly.
"You keep ruining my moments."
"You keep pointing out dark, closed, empty places we can barely see."
"Because they're usually not, plus they are premium choices to try out."
"That nonexistent logic doesn't make sense."
"Neither do you."
He looked at me, the tension between us fading into something lighter. He paused for a beat. "What do you get?"
I blinked, thrown off. "At the bakery?"
He nodded.
"Pistachio Cream Almond Croissant," I said instantly.
"Do they even sell that?" His brows bunched together. "Almond and Pistachio Cream."
"Ofcourse," I said, trying to sound convincing, before grinning, "I mean it's exclusive only for me. I've been having this exact croissant custom made, for years now."
He gave a slow, approving nod, his lips parting slightly. "Damn." Before asking, "So no chocolate?"
"Chocolate is nice but for this? Completely overrated."
He shook his head, a genuine, quiet scoff leaving his lips. "Pretty wild judgement."
I laughed, the sound bright against the empty street. "See? Now we have something to fight about."
"We?" he repeated softly, testing the word. He didn't correct me, though. I quietly tucked that victory away in my chest.
The further we went, the fewer people there were.
My heel caught against the pavement again.
"Argh I hate these shoes."
"Then take them off."
"And walk barefoot. That'd be even worse."
The wind shoved another strand of hair across my face. I blew it away and kept walking.
The city seemed to be holding its breath in the shadows. Eventually, the concrete gave way to the sweeping iron structure of the bridge. I slowed my pace down to a crawl.
He noticed the shift immediately. "This is it?"
I nodded, stepping toward the heavy iron railing. "My absolute favorite place."
We walked up to the edge. Usually, the view from here was a blinding assault of lights—hundreds of office windows, neon signs reflecting in the water, and cars streaming beneath us like a red and white artery.
Tonight, most of it was gone.
The skyline was just a jagged, raw silhouette against the clouds. A few scattered windows possessed their own generator light, glowing like lonely stars. Down below, the occasional pair of headlights moved along the road like tiny white insects. Somewhere across the water, one lone sign still blinked a dim rhythm.
I rested my forearms against the cool iron railing. "So pretty."
He looked out at the massive expanse of darkness. "You can barely see anything."
"Exactly."
He turned his head to look at me, completely baffled.
I smiled, looking back at him through the gloom. "I like it even more this way."
"Why?"
I shrugged, turning back to the river. "Because you can actually see things."
He frowned slightly. "What things?"
"The little things." I lifted a hand, pointing across the dark void toward a single, tiny yellow window miles away. "Like those little lights. Normally they all blend together. The big billboards drown them out." He followed my finger into the dark. "Now they don't," I whispered.
He lowered his arms onto the railing right next to mine. Our coats brushed. Our shoulders were barely an inch apart, not fully touching, but close enough that when the freezing wind swept off the river, I could feel his warmth.
I didn't move.
Neither did he.
For a long time, we just watched the black water churn silently below. I wasn't sure how long. "I come here when I don't know what to do," I said quietly, the confession slipping out rather naturally.
He turned his head, his face entirely soft now in the dim starlight. "Does it help?"
"Not quite." His eyebrow lifted.
I smiled. "But I feel less stupid."
"Why?"
I looked out at the vast, dark emptiness of the city. "Because everything looks smaller from here."
"Everything?" he asked, his voice dropping to a rough whisper.
I let the silence sit for a second before I looked back at him, meeting his eyes fully. "Problems," I said softly. "People."