♫ : baby, don't cry - exo 

The café was silent - the last customer had left more than an hour ago, and the 'closed' sign now hung on the door. You glanced around at the half-cleaned tables and scattered chairs and were halfway through wiping down the counter when the ring of the doorbell startled you.

"We're clo-" you started, but you saw who it was and the words died in your throat.

Jake stood at the entrance, his puffer jacket unzipped. He didn't look like his usual self... that casual smile wasn't there.

"Oh, it's you," you said, your voice softening. "What's up? Did you not see the sign?"

Jake gave you a small shrug, his hand absently brushing his hair back. "I saw it. Just thought I'd drop by anyway. Hope that's okay."

You set down the cloth you were holding, studying him. "Sure. You can stay while I finish up."

He nodded and made his way to a chair near the window, sitting down with an audible exhale. He didn't say anything else and the silence between you stretched.

You resumed cleaning, but your focus wasn't on the tables anymore. Instead, you kept stealing glances at Jake. Something was off. He wasn't his usual teasing self. No sly comments, no jokes. He was just quiet. That wasn't like him.

After a few more minutes, you couldn't help yourself. Setting down the tray of cups you'd been carrying, you walked over and leaned against the counter closest to him.

"Jake," you said. "Are you okay?"

He glanced up at you, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before he looked away. "Yeah. Just... work stuff."

You frowned but didn't push further. If he didn't want to talk about it, you weren't going to force him. "Okay," you said, though you didn't quite believe him.

Instead, you turned toward the kitchen and grabbed the leftover cookies you'd packed up to take home. They were hot chocolate cookies - rich, gooey chocolate with marshmallow centers.

You placed them on a plate, warmed up a cup of milk in the microwave, and set them on the table in front of Jake.

He blinked, startled. "What's this?"

"Cookies," you said simply. "And milk. Thought you might need them."

His lips curved into the faintest smile and it felt like a small victory. "You're not taking these home?"

"I was," you admitted, crossing your arms, "but I think you need them more than I do."

Jake chuckled softly, the sound warmer than before. He picked up a cookie and took a bite, the marshmallow stretching slightly as he pulled away. "These are good."

"I know," you said with a small grin. "I made them."

He took another bite, then leaned back in his chair, the milk warming his hands.

"I'll probably be spending Christmas here," he said after a while, his voice quieter than usual. "It's weird, though. I'm not used to the cold. Or the snow. Back in Australia, it's all sunshine and barbecue. Here... I don't know. Feels different."

You leaned against the counter again. "Different doesn't have to mean bad, you know. Maybe this Christmas will be worth looking forward to. You've got me, at least."

Jake's gaze flicked to yours for a moment before he broke eye contact with a small laugh. "Yeah. Guess I do."

"You'll get used to the snow," you added, trying to keep the conversation light. "And if you're lucky, I might even show you how to make a proper snowman."

"Is that so?" Jake teased, though his voice still carried a hint of tiredness. "I'll hold you to that."

You smiled, relieved to see a bit of his usual self returning. But as the minutes passed, his silence crept back in. You observed carefully, wondering what he wasn't telling you.

"You're thinking too hard again," Jake said suddenly, bringing you out of your thoughts.

"I'm not," you protested, to which he raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly.

"Sure you're not."

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the empty plate and cup. "Okay, Mr. Mind Reader. If you're done, I should finish cleaning up."

Jake stood, stretching slightly. "I'll get out of your hair, then."

He walked to the door and you followed. "Jake?" you called just before he stepped outside. He turned, his scarf catching the light from the streetlamp outside. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

His expression softened, and he nodded. "You too."

The door closed behind him and the café was in silence once again. You stood there for a moment, staring at the door, before shaking your head and turning back to your cleaning. Whatever was bothering Jake, you hoped he'd tell you someday.

For now, you hoped your cookies and company had helped, even just a little.