Aiden pushes open the door, rainwater streaming from his jacket as the tiny bell above tinkles, muffled by the storm outside. The scent of roasted coffee beans lingers heavy in the air, mingling with the waxy aroma of melting candles scattered across tables and counters. Behind the bar, Elina, with dark hair loosely tied back and sleeves rolled, shields a match from a draft, coaxing another candle to life. She looks up, surprise etched across her features. "Oh. I didn’t think anyone else would come in." "Everything else was closed. And I figured… coffee survives the apocalypse."

"I’m Elina," she says, passing a steaming mug to Aiden, their fingers brushing briefly in the candlelight. "Aiden. I’ll take whatever’s hot. And… real." They settle at separate tables at first, the hush between them filled only by the rhythmic drumming of rain and the gentle hiss of steam rising from their cups.

"So," she ventures, eyes flicking to the ink-black world beyond the window, "You scared of blackouts?" "Not the dark itself. More what happens when everything stops. Makes you hear your own thoughts." "Yeah. Same." They slide into conversation with ease, as if drawn together by the strangeness of the night and the comfort of shared vulnerability.

Aiden speaks of highways and horizons, confessing his longing to escape the city’s endless press of noise and light. Elina reveals her own tangle of doubts, the way she’s always needed the city’s clamor to muffle her own questions. She admits she works too much, that she fears what silence might force her to confront. "And what do you want?" "I don’t know. Something that feels… steady. Something that stays."

Aiden admits his fear of being forgettable, of living a life without leaving a mark. He’s never spoken it aloud before, but Elina listens as if every word matters. She leans forward to adjust a candle sputtering between them, and her hand lingers against his, the touch gentle and deliberate. Neither moves away. "I’m glad the power went out." "Me too."

Elina blinks, startled by the change. Aiden feels the magic slipping away, uncertainty knotting in his chest. He stands, voice hesitant but urgent. "Elina… before this ends. I didn’t come in here expecting anything, but tonight—talking to you—it felt like I wasn’t alone in my head for the first time in a long while. I know this sounds ridiculous, but I feel like I’ve been holding onto something I didn’t know I was waiting for. And now that the lights are back on, I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen."

"I was thinking the same thing," she admits, her smile soft and a little shaky. "I was afraid if the power came back, you’d disappear with the night." Aiden laughs quietly, relief and hope mingling in his eyes. "Coffee tomorrow?" "Definitely. Preferably with the lights on." They step out together into the damp street, the blackout already receding into memory—a story of the night the world went dark, and something bright found them anyway.