𝐍𝐀𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎.

Naya bites her lip — refraining from giving unsolicited advice, especially when it comes from concern. They were friends, but they weren’t close friends. She only nods, even though he can’t physically see her. “As I’ve said before. . . What you’re going through is intense. I »

“I’m your friend, remember? Of course I worry about you.” A hand runs through her disheveled tresses, now halting her pace, standing near the window. Beneath her, the streets are surprisingly empty. “He’s asleep. Thankfully, he didn’t fight bedtime today.” It usually took an »

“Will you keep me updated?” Naya blurts, tone lower than usual——and if he were to listen closely, she 𝒊𝒔 apprehensive. At his question, however, her shoulders loosen. “Insomnia. . Melatonin doesn’t help, before you suggest.” A little quip to lighten up the mood. Or so she »

She would say he’s insane for answering, but he’s 𝑰𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒏. . Adam wouldn’t approve of her thinking he’s so damn reckless. He can handle anything, apparently. “At four in the morning, nonetheless..” Naya whispers, pacing around the living room. “Who’s threatening the »

FOUR AM and still wide awake.

The door closes shut gently —— its sound delicate, barely above a whisper. Naya turns to him fully now, arms crossed with one another—eyeing him with disapproval. “You know,” she begins, stifling a sigh. “I really wonder sometimes. . How you and I’ll be. . If you just stop »

“You know the answer to that, Frank,” Naya retorts, opening the aforementioned door 𝒘𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓. She’s rather impatient — Adam refused to finish his homework and eat dinner this evening, the entire night was spent attempting to reason with him until he complied.