The darker it gets, the louder it seems to get. Like the darkness stands echoing all the voices that were meant to be hidden. The earlier it gets, the stuffier the room gets. The deeper the breaths and the bigger the monsters get. But sometimes, the darker it gets, the more easy it is to suppress your worries. It requires a lot of courage, but you eventually speak a little bit and suddenly a lot. Like there is no self restrain. And during this time, you feel like you're free yet very vulnerable.
There is something special about those talks that happen in the midst of darkness. When you're not sure if you should be scared or worried. But somehow the darkness is able to slowly mask all those confusing feelings. The thing about pillow talks is that they're pure. Straight from the centre of all worries, whether the mind or heart. Those talks are neither sugar coated nor artificial. They are as raw as anything could be. And as you start speaking, the darkness somehow becomes the light that brightens the route of your thoughts. And that same light sparks a bond like no other, one thats caring and comforting. A bond only those who stay up late could understand.
And although you're exhausted from the vulnerability and all the energy and courage needed to start the first sentence, you keep fighting sleep. You keep fighting because you're worried the next pillow talk wont be anytime soon. Then the guilt of keeping someone up somehow wakes up, despite the darkness covering it with a duvet of soft talking. And when guilt wakes up, that special bond slowly fades away to a normal conversation without you understanding how it woke up in the first place.
And then it ends.