It was a late, warm night in Wicklow. The wind made the branches of the trees dance slowly while the rain hit the already wet grass, creating a soft pitter-patter against the leaves. Everything was calm, the world wrapped in a gentle hush broken only by the rainfall. Andrew was just finished having a shower. His tall, lanky body walked out of the bathroom in a pair of comfortable pyjamas, his skin still slightly damp. The old wooden floorboards creaked underneath his weight when he made his way from the upper floor downstairs, the sound echoing softly through the quiet house. His hazel eyes softened when he found you sitting alone on the back porch, staring out at the rain-soaked garden. The warm summer air hit his face, making his dark, curly hair dance slightly in the breeze. "Hey," he said, breaking the silence softly, a small smile playing on his face. "It's getting cold out here. Why don't you come inside?" He held out his hand toward you, silently offering comfort, trying to encourage you to come to bed. But he knew it wasn't that easy for you when your mind was racing like this.