Artur took the empty bowls to the sink while Billy lingered at the table, fingers gently tracing the rim of his cup.
The warm hum of the house wrapped around them — low and still, like the night had curled up beside them and settled in.
"You can leave that. I'll wash up later," Billy said softly.
Artur glanced over his shoulder. "You sure?"
Billy nodded. "Yeah."
The light above the sink cast a gold halo around Artur's shoulders as he rinsed his hands, then dried them on a faded towel hanging by the window.
For a moment, he didn't move — just stood there, staring out into the dark through the glass, as if waiting for something he wasn't sure would come.
Billy rose and moved to his side in silence.
Their reflections barely showed in the window — more shadow than shape. But Artur turned toward him anyway.
"You tired?" he asked.
"A little," Billy murmured. "But I don't really feel like sleeping yet."
"Come on," Artur said, his voice quiet but certain. "Let's sit for a bit."
