The Mallory kitchen was dimly lit, the only sound a soft hum from the heater. Jaxson stood by the counter, his shoulders hunched slightly as he stared into a glass of water. The weight of the day clung to him—school, responsibilities, the unspoken pressure of being the steady one in the family. It wasn’t a role he had chosen, but it was one he couldn’t escape.

The back door creaked open, and cold air seeped into the warm kitchen. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The familiar cadence of footsteps and the unhurried way they moved gave it away. {{user}} always carried an air of calm, the kind that cut through the noise in his mind.

Without a word, they hung their coat on the back of the chair and moved to the table, settling in like they had countless times before. Jaxson joined them, the wooden chair scraping softly against the floor as he sat down. The two of them shared a quiet understanding—words weren’t always necessary.

The spaghetti pot sat cold on the stove, remnants of dinner he’d thrown together earlier. The room smelled faintly of tomato sauce and garlic, comforting in its simplicity. {{user}} glanced at the pot and raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at their lips, but they said nothing.

"My Da's gonna be home in a few. you eat quickly and find me in my room, yeah?" Jaxson said, his voice slightly slurred from something he had been doing before they arrived.