The night pressed in, suffocating and still.
Setsuna opened his eyes to the darkness of his apartment. He had recently returned from the Taribia Republic, their attempt to lure the Celestial Being was still fresh in his mind. Though the mission had been successful, the walls around him felt distant, as if they had grown unfamiliar in those few days of his absence.
He sat at the edge of his bed, shoulders hunched under the weight of silence. Outside, the city was bathed in indifferent moonlight, a calmness that belied the chaos roiling in him. Shadows of the battlefield crept into his thoughts, like fragments too jagged to hold, sharp edges threatening to consume him. He pressed his hands against his face, the coolness of his palms grounding, preventing the memories to surface. Even so, the ghosts lingered, coiling like smoke.
Restless, he rose and drifted towards the window. The city stretched out below, its edges softened by the muted glow of the night. His gaze, however, wasn't drawn to the streets or the skyline. His eyes sought out a single building across the way, instinctively pulled toward it.
Her building.
He didn't decide to move - his body did. By the time his mind caught up, he was already climbing the fire escape outside her window. His movements were practiced, silenced, and automatic. The open crack of her window seemed to invite him in, with a pull he easily stepped inside, his motion fluid as if rehearsed, each step an echo of his life of training.
The faint hum of her desk lamp greeted him, casting a warm glow over the chaos of her workspace. The air was rich with the mingled scents of coffee and ink, remnants of late-night efforts. Hina was slumped over a kinematics applications book. Asleep, the soft rhythm of her breathing filled the room, a quiet counterpoint to his inner storm.
Setsuna's eyes scanned the mess of notes and doodles sprawled across the desk in organized disarray. However, amidst the clutter, a sketch caught his attention.
Exia.
The breath left him, sharp and sudden. Though simplified, the lines were unmistakable. His Gundam stared back at him, captured in pen strokes carrying an intimate fascination. For a moment, he debated the coincidence, but a newspaper beneath it grounded him again: Celestial Being Strikes Taribia.
Of course. Celestial Being's actions had shaken the world. For someone studying engineering, the Gundams were likely an endless source of fascination, puzzles to be solved, a masterpiece to be understood.
Still, seeing his Exia here, in her space, unnerved him, as if the veil he'd carefully maintained had been pierced through.
However, she didn't seem to pose a threat. In her sleep, she was stripped of the guarded strength she carried during the day, softened into something vulnerable, her features dulled by exhaustion. The curve of her scar trailing down her neck was caught by the lamplight, a quiet reminder that she, too, bore the weight of her battles.
He took a step back, ready to retreat the way he had come. He hadn't meant to stay this long. He hadn't even meant to come.
But her eyes fluttered open.
He froze, caught in the act, but there was no fear in her gaze. No startle or alarm. She blinked at him, her expression unbothered, just a quiet recognition as though she had been expecting him all along.
Then, she smiled.
A small, fleeting, and tired smile. Her expression disarming him entirely. He hadn't seen her smile before, he collected.
"Can't sleep?" she asked in her drowsy voice, as she stretched her back and brushed her long black hair away from her face.
He didn't give her an answer, but she didn't seem to expect one.
"Tea helps," she murmured, moving towards the kitchen.
The sound of water pouring into a kettle broke the stillness, followed by the quiet hum of the stove. He watched silently, unable, or maybe unwilling, to leave.
"Do you do this often?" her question caught him by surprise.
"What?"
"Climb into people's rooms in the middle of the night." Her tone was teasing, a soft edge of humor curling the words.
"No." He replied flatly, his voice more defensive than he intended.
She chuckled softly, a sound that seemed at odds with the stillness of the room. "Well, I'm honored, then."
As the water began to boil, she pulled two mugs from the cabinet. "You've been gone for a while," she asked, pouring him the tea. "Everything okay?"
"Work," he replied bluntly as she handed him the mug, the warmth of the ceramic blending into his fingers.
"What do you even work with?" She tilted her head as though trying to picture him in something mundane, yet failing to create the image in her mind.
"Enough to get by."
"Was it tiring?" She asked, her gaze softening as it lingered on the shadows under his eyes.
"Doesn't matter." His voice dropped. "It needed to be done."
She didn't push further, only nodded, her curiosity giving way to quiet understanding. She returned to her desk, cradling her mug as she settled into her chair.
The silence that followed was oddly comforting. It stretched between them, unspoken yet shared, like an invisible thread binding two frayed souls.
"... Thank you," he whispered after a long pause. The timing was off, the sound almost foreign on his tongue, yet it felt like he had climbed mountains in his mind to find those fragile yet genuine words.
She smiled again, gentle and unwavering. "Anytime."
When he left, slipping back through the open window into the night, the warmth of the tea lingered in his hands. The small actions that tethered him, a fleeting anchor in the chaos of his thoughts.