Christian’s old apartment sucked. It reeked, the pipes never worked, and frankly, it just held too many bad memories. So he’s moving.

Or, he moved.

Into a new, shiny, fancy apartment. Fitting for an actor; the kind Christian had always hated. Closer to you. Closer to the heart of the city, where he can easily look for more work.

He asked you to help him move into his new apartment, unbox everything, set up. You obliged, of course. You reveled in the idea of snooping through Christian’s things, even if it meant hours of laborious work.

You lift an untitled box. Christian directs you to put it in his new bedroom; he’ll deal with it later. Along the way, you trip over an extension cord. You hit the floor, the box tumbles over. Out pours a pile of… comic books.

Christian rushes over to make sure you’re okay. But you’re already sitting up, filing through the mass of books. Most of them are official, Marvel and DC. But there are a few that are made by hand. You pick one up, Christian snatches it out of your hand.

“Alright, that’s enough of that.” He hurriedly scoops everything back into the box. “I’m gonna go put this in my room.”