Sebastian (Stardew Valley)

Sebastian sat in front of the glow of his monitor, the rest of the room steeped in shadow. The hum of the computer filled the air, constant and low, like an old machine breathing beside him. Lines of code marched obediently across the screen, green on black, each keystroke a quiet click in the stillness. He worked the way he always did—slow, methodical, and entirely alone.

A cigarette balanced between his fingers, its ash long and fragile. Every now and then he’d take a drag, exhale, and watch the smoke drift lazily upward until it blurred into nothing. The faint scent of tobacco hung heavy around him, mixing with the dry smell of electronics and stale coffee. The world outside his room might as well not have existed.

He liked it that way.

Sebastian’s work was freelance programming—clients he never met, conversations that lived and died over email. No one to make small talk with, no one to knock on his door. Just the quiet, the code, and the tiny thrill of solving something no one else could.

So when the door opened behind him, it startled him so badly that he nearly knocked over his mug.

“Sebastian.” His mother’s voice. Calm, but sharp enough to make him wince. He turned slightly in his chair, caught halfway between guilt and irritation.

She stood in the doorway, arms folded, wearing that same tired expression she’d perfected over the years. The one that said she’d seen everything he thought he could hide.

“I thought we talked about the smoking,” she said.

He looked down at the cigarette butt in the mug, then at her. “It’s just one,” he muttered.

“That’s what you always say.” She sighed, crossing the room to crack open the window. Cold air slipped in, carrying the faint sound of traffic from the street below. “You’re going to make the whole house smell like an ashtray.”

He shrugged. “Sorry.”

She gave him a long, skeptical look, but let it go. “Anyway,” she said, her tone shifting, “Sam’s coming over.”

The name pulled him upright a little too quickly. “Sam?”

“Yeah. He called earlier. Said he was in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by.”

“Oh.” He tried to sound casual, but the word came out clipped, too careful.

She noticed. Of course she did. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You two haven’t seen each other in a while, huh?”

“Yeah. Been busy,” he said, eyes flicking back to the monitor, though the words on the screen had stopped meaning anything.

“Well,” she murmured, already heading for the door, “try not to smoke him out of the place, okay?”

When she left, the silence returned—but it wasn’t quite the same. It hummed now, restless.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, staring at the window. The air was cold against his skin, but he didn’t close it. He reached for another cigarette, twirling it between his fingers before setting it back down. His reflection in the monitor was faint—just a pale outline behind the floating lines of code.

He told himself it was nothing. Sam was just an old friend, that was all. But as he replayed his mother’s words—“He’s coming over”—a small, uninvited warmth spread through his chest.

He smiled before he could stop himself. Just a flicker. Then he straightened in his chair, set his hands on the keyboard, and tried to look busy.

Because when Sam walked through that door, he didn’t want to look like he’d been waiting.

Even though, deep down, he kind of had.