The walk back to the subway felt longer than Freddie expected. The city's edges were quiet now, dusk spilling across buildings in golden-orange, softening the harsh lines of streets and signs.
Riven's stride was steady, deliberate. Freddie fell into step beside him, hands in his pockets, moving easily through the streetlight glow.
After a long silence, Riven asked, low and even, "Hey… you ever… draw?"
Freddie blinked. "I… sometimes," he murmured. "Just sketches. Nothing serious."
"Sketches, huh?"
"Yeah." He looked at the ground. "It… helps me think."
Riven nodded faintly.
They walked on, the city stretching around them. Freddie kicked a small pebble. "…Riven?"
"Do… you ever regret things?"
Riven slowed. "…All the time."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Mistakes, choices… some you can't fix. Doesn't matter. You carry it—or it carries you. You just keep walking."
"…Do you ever feel like it's too much?"
"…Sometimes. But I learned you can't let it decide who you are. You let it teach you. Shape you. But never own you."
Freddie's shoulders stiffened slightly. "…I think I get that. Sometimes… what I've been through… it feels bigger than me."
Riven glanced at him. "…And yet, here you are. Walking n' talking. Not hiding in your little shell."
A shy half-smile tugged at Freddie's muzzle. "…I… try."
Riven let out a short, dry chuckle.
"Good answer, bub. That's all anyone can ask."
They walked on, quiet, but the pause didn't feel empty. It felt like understanding, small but real.
At the subway, Freddie hesitated.
"…Riven… do you ever feel… alone?"
Riven froze.
"…Yeah. All the time."
"…I think I understand, maybe not fully… but I know what it feels like. Scared of what's inside you. Feeling like it's bigger than you."
Riven's eyes softened fractionally.
"…You? Scared?"
"Yeah,"
Freddie admitted.
"…Confused. Unsure if I'd survive the night. But I kept going anyway."
Riven's lips twitched, almost a smirk.
"…Weirdly calm for someone who's been through… whatever you've been through."
"I guess I just… don't let it take me. You do the same, right?"
"…Maybe."
His voice was quiet. His eyes flicked along the platform, but his body shifted just slightly closer.
Freddie noticed, but said nothing. Silence settled. Shared, lighter than before.
"…Look, I don't know everything. I don't fully understand yours… or mine. But this moment… it counts, right?"
Riven's smirk grew faint.
"…Yeah. I guess it does."
The train rumbled in. Fluorescent lights flickered. Riven straightened.
"Looks like our ride's here."
Freddie rose. The city outside was calm—for now. Night waited. Patient.
The doors hissed open. They stepped in.
The walk back to the subway felt longer than Freddie expected. The city's edges were quiet now, dusk spilling across buildings in golden-orange, softening the harsh lines of streets and signs.
Riven's stride was steady, deliberate. Freddie fell into step beside him, hands in his pockets, moving easily through the streetlight glow.
The train hummed beneath the city, low and steady. The car was nearly empty, a few anthros scattered, lost in their own worlds, devices glowing dimly in the fading light.
Freddie slid onto a bench. He left a little space, enough to breathe, but close enough that Riven's presence pressed quietly against him.
Riven didn't sit. He leaned back slightly, arms crossed, eyes flicking to Freddie from the corner of his vision. Neither spoke. The only sound was the wheels clattering over the tracks.
"You… you act like you've got my back."
Riven's gaze narrowed.
"…Don't get used to it."
He paused. Then, softer. "…But yeah. For now."
Freddie's ears twitched. He gave a small nod and returned his gaze to the window. The city outside blurred into streaks of orange and white.
The train continued, humming, vibrating beneath their feet. Time felt slower here, safer. Freddie let himself breathe.
The digital sign blinked: Londville.
Riven's eyes followed it, sharp. He straightened.
"…Let's go."
They rose together. Side by side, steps measured. The streets outside seemed calm—too calm—but both knew it wouldn't last. Night waited.
The apartment building loomed. Riven's eyes scanned it, calculating, cautious. Freddie's hands stayed in his pockets, shoulders loose.
"Thanks… for walking me home."
Riven gave a short nod.
"…No problem, bub."
Freddie hesitated.
"…Do you… live nearby?"
Riven froze. A faint curse left his lips.
"…No. I'll have to take the train back."
Freddie had to reconsider his thoughts before asking something stupid.
"…Want to… hang here for tonight?"
Riven blinked. The faintest pink touched his ears.
"…Are you… sure?"
"…Yeah."
Riven exhaled, half disbelief, half reluctant acceptance. He followed Freddie through the lobby. The elevator ride was short. Silent.
Inside, the apartment felt different. Quiet. Safe, but alive. Riven's eyes roamed—furniture, lighting, small personal touches. He didn't sit. Didn't touch. Just observed.
Upstairs, water ran in the shower. Steam rose, blurring Freddie's silhouette behind the frosted glass. He leaned into the heat, letting the day's weight wash away.
Downstairs, Riven settled on the couch. The TV's glow reflected off his fur. He didn't turn it on. Didn't need to. He listened to the city, to the quiet of the apartment, to the sound of Freddie existing in his space.
His gaze drifted to a small plushie tucked on a shelf—a tiny bear, yellow fur, a miniature reflection of Freddie.
"…You made this?"
Riven let out a humorless chuckle. The cheeks of his face grew pinker the more he stared; he really like it.
"…Of course."
The plushie was simple. Innocent. Naïve. Yet it made Riven realize something: he wasn't alone. Not entirely.
Water stopped. Silence settled. Riven stayed, leaning back, letting the couch cradle him. Fatigue pressed down, heavier than he expected. His sharp gaze softened. Sleep claimed him quietly.
Freddie stepped out of the shower, steam curling behind him. The tile was warm under his feet. He wrapped a towel around his waist, the room glowing faintly from the bathroom light.
Downstairs, Riven's ears twitched. He didn't look up. But he felt the subtle shift—the air, the sound, the presence moving above him.
Freddie moved to the dresser, pulling on fresh clothes. Every motion careful, deliberate, unhurried.
Riven's gaze drifted back to the living room. The apartment felt smaller somehow, more intimate. The plushie on the shelf caught his eye again. A tiny bear. A reflection of someone he was just beginning to notice.
He reached out, picked it up. Fingers brushing the soft fabric.
"…You really are something else," he muttered. Not a question. Not a compliment. Just an observation.
Freddie's muffled voice came from upstairs.
"…Hmm?"
Riven tilted his head. He placed the plushie back. Quietly. Carefully.
The hum of the city pressed against the walls. Outside, night deepened. Somewhere, distant, the city breathed. Inside, silence wrapped around them both.
Freddie descended slowly. Towel now replaced by clothing, damp hair sticking to his neck. He carried a small mug of tea, steam curling upward.
Riven's eyes followed him. Not intrusive. Observant. Waiting.
Freddie sat on the edge of the couch, careful not to crowd him. He offered the mug.
"…Tea?"
Riven shook his head, but his gaze softened.
"…Thanks."
They sat in silence, letting the warmth of the tea and the quiet of the apartment settle them. No words. No pressure. Just presence.
Somewhere in the pause, the city seemed to fade. Outside still existed, but here, in this small space, the night hadn't reached them yet.
Freddie sipped, eyes half-closed. Riven leaned back, arms crossed, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.
"…You're quiet for someone who talks a lot,"
Riven's lips twitched, almost a smirk.
"…I know when to shut up."
Freddie smiled faintly.
"…Good."
Freddie sipped his tea, letting the warmth spread through his hands.
"…Do you… ever miss it?"
he asked, voice low. Riven tilted his head.
"…Miss what?"
"The quiet. Before… everything changed. Before night felt like it was waiting outside every door."
Riven's eyes narrowed, thinking.
"…Sometimes. Not in the way you mean, though."
Freddie blinked.
"…Oh?"
"Back then, I didn't care. I didn't notice. Life just… happened. Now, I notice every shadow. Every sound. Every wrong turn."
A pause. The kind that isn't empty. Freddie set his mug down, leaning slightly forward.
"…Does it get easier?"
Riven let out a humorless chuckle.
"…No. Not really. You just… get used to carrying it."
Freddie nodded slowly, processing.
"…Carrying it." He paused, then added, "…I think I understand that."
Riven's gaze softened, almost imperceptibly.
"…Yeah. I guessed you would."
They lapsed into silence again. But now it was warmer, less tense.
Freddie traced the rim of his mug. Riven stared at the floor, letting the quiet settle over them like a shared shield.
"…You ever wonder what it would be like… to not have to think about it all the time?"
Riven's eyes flicked to him.
"…Every day."
Freddie allowed a faint smile.
"…Me too."
Another long pause. Then, almost without thinking, Riven added,
"…You're… different from most. You don't act scared, even when you probably should be."
Freddie shrugged, small and quiet.
"…I try. I've learned it doesn't help to hide."
Riven looked at him, really looked, as if seeing something new.
"…Huh."
"…Huh," Freddie echoed.
And for the first time that night, neither felt the need to fill the silence. It was enough just to be there, side by side, the night waiting—but not pressing.
Freddie's eyes were starting to droop, the weight of the day pulling his eyelids down.
"Alright, well… I'm tired. I should go upstairs and sleep."
Riven set the cup down on the table, his movements deliberate. He didn't speak, only nodded, watching Freddie's retreating figure as he made his way upstairs.
"Go for it. Imma just sleep as well. Take care."
Freddie gave a small, quiet smile and disappeared into the hallway.
The apartment settled around Riven, the faint hum of the city drifting through the slightly open window. The soft patter of rain began somewhere in the distance, tapping gently against the glass, a reminder of the night beyond these walls.
He curled into the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around him, but the room didn't feel empty. Freddie's presence lingered, subtle yet grounding, as if he had left a small imprint in the air itself.
Riven let his gaze drift to the faint glow of the city through the window. The streets were calm now, but he knew the night was patient, waiting just beyond the walls. For the first time in a long while, though, the weight pressing down on him felt a little lighter.
Minutes passed, or maybe hours—time had lost meaning in the quiet. Riven's sharp instincts softened, and the tension in his muscles began to ebb. The apartment felt small, but it felt safe.
And somewhere beneath that simple warmth, he realized something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time: he wasn't entirely alone.
Outside, the night waited, patient and inevitable…
Although… something is about to "reign."