PouBoy had just wrapped up filming his latest YouTube documentary video on Tophiachu, and the room still carried that faint buzz of creativity and exhaustion that came after hours of work. His desk was cluttered with open notebooks filled with scribbled ideas, a couple of empty energy drink cans pushed off to the side, and his camera still resting on its tripod, the lens cap dangling loosely. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his shoulders as music hummed through his speaker, filling the room with a steady beat. Midnight, his sleek black disabled cat, sat comfortably on the desk beside him, her green eyes half-closed in lazy contentment as his fingers absently stroked through her fur.

From the hallway, you caught a glimpse of him. The soft glow of his computer screens lit up his face, highlighting the loose strands of his dark hair that fell slightly over his forehead. He was wearing a plain white shirt and grey sweatpants, the kind of outfit that made him look effortlessly comfortable, and somehow, that simplicity suited him. You slowed your steps without meaning to, pausing by the doorway as you noticed how relaxed he looked—completely in his element with his work and his cat.

Curiosity tugged at you. You leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching him. Midnight flicked her tail lazily before noticing you, her ears twitching in your direction. PouBoy glanced up, catching the movement, and his lips curved into a small smile at the sight of you lingering there.

“Hey,” he said casually, his voice warm but a little tired, like he’d been talking all day into the microphone. “Didn’t hear you walk by.”

You returned the smile and stepped into the room, taking in the little details—the faint mess of papers, the soft rhythm of his music, the way his chair creaked slightly as he shifted. You tilted your head toward his setup.

“Just thought I’d check in,” you replied lightly. “How’s the video coming along? You’ve been at it for hours.”

He exhaled a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck before glancing at the editing software open on his screen. Lines of audio and video clips stretched across the timeline, half-cut and rearranged. Midnight purred louder as his hand moved back to her fur, clearly enjoying the attention while he spoke.

“It’s… good, I think,” he admitted, leaning forward to click something on the keyboard before leaning back again. “The filming went well, but now it’s the editing grind. You know how it is—half the battle’s just cutting down the footage so it actually makes sense.”