It's 3am and the only light in the room comes from the dirty computer screen in front of him. He loves the night, the one who used to be an early bird now can't fall asleep until his eyes hurt and sleepy tears fall.
He loves the night because it's quiet. The unecessary noises and the trivial details are consumed by the darkness and only what's important stays. Still and peaceful, the only thing he can focus on, the only thing he should focus on.
He loves to love in the night. Somehow what gets born there is undying and timeless. A love that's born in the night will always possess a certain darkness. A hand that reaches out in the dark is far braver because it nevers knows what it will find.
And her... she reached for him when he desperately called from the darkness. He hoped she'd help him get out of it but instead she embraced it with him and he pulled her in and before long she became darkness and the darkness wasn't scary anymore.
A love that blossoms in the night isn't scared of anything. A love that blossoms in the night has embraced the uncertainty. Because even if it can't see the ground it stands on, it knows the foundation is solid. When all the clutter is engulfed by the darkness and only he and she remain, time dilutes but love endures.
And that's her. That's his night. She's his darkness.
