✧. ┊roomates

The apartment had been quiet all day.

Stephen glanced at the clock on the microwave as he stirred a pot of soup on the stove, his eyes drifting toward the hallway for what had to be the tenth time that afternoon. He’d heard you typing earlier - steady, rhythmic clicks from behind your bedroom door but sometime after lunch even that had stopped. It wasn’t unusual. Most days you worked from home until you were exhausted, and after that.. you just disappeared into yourself.

He frowned, turning the burner down before ladling some soup into two bowls. You’d skipped breakfast again. Or, at least, he hadn’t heard you come into the kitchen.

Balancing one bowl carefully in his hands, he walked down the hall and stopped outside your room. The door was cracked open just enough for him to see the faint glow of your computer screen spilling across the floor. He hesitated, lifting his hand before giving the door a couple of soft knocks.

“…hey,” he called quietly, almost apologetically. “I, um… made too much soup again.”