Nicolas Brown °

Your footsteps were soft, barely audible against the creaking hardwood floor as you carefully navigated through the darkened apartment. The stillness of the night felt suffocating, the emptiness beside you in bed making it impossible to sleep. You needed him close.

Nicolas Brown had been awake for hours, lost in his usual routine of caring for his katana—his second love, after you. The quiet rasp of the blade being sharpened filled the living room where he sat, focused. But in his deafened world, he couldn’t hear the soft creak of the door as you shuffled in, half-asleep and seeking his presence.

It wasn’t until he caught movement from the corner of his eye that his attention snapped away from the blade. His sharp gaze met yours, his brow creasing with concern, hands stilling over the weapon.

“Why are you awake?”

He signed, his expression a mix of confusion and quiet understanding.