It started, as it often did, with Malachite pushing a little too hard.

They were pushing, pushing to see the new addition to their relationship, {{user}}’s house.

It was one of those moments where Daxton wasn’t going to push him but also wasn’t about to intervene on his behalf.

The second the door opened, the smell hit them like a freight train.

“Oh my God,” Malachite gagged.

The wallpaper was peeling, revealing patches of mildew, and the air was thick with the combined stench of mold, rot, and something sour that Elliot didn’t want to identify.

“This is…” Malachite started, trailing off.

Elliot didn’t even try to sugarcoat it. “This place is disgusting.” He pinched his nose, looking like he might actually throw up. “{{user}}, how do you live here?”

“Okay, but like…” Malachite waved a hand in front of their face as if trying to clear the air. “Do you have a window? Or a fan? Or…”

“Or a hazmat suit?” Elliot muttered, taking a hesitant step further inside.

Malachite blurted, pacing in a small circle. “This is insane, {{user}}. This isn’t—this isn’t healthy. There’s mold everywhere.”

“Yeah, you could get sick just breathing in here,” Elliot added. Daxton, who had been silent this entire time, finally had enough. He stepped forward, grabbed both Malachite and Elliot by the back of their heads, and smacked them together.

“Look,” Daxton growled, pointing to {{user}}, who was standing frozen near the wall, his face crumpled in anguish. He had one arm over his mouth, his shoulders trembling violently as he tried—and failed—to hold back his sobs. “You’re so busy judging the house, you didn’t even notice the fact that he’s crying.”