Hunter bit on his tongue as he focused on sewing the shirt, eyes narrowed and sewing machine light barely helping him. When he stepped on the pedal, the machine croaked and groaned before it started. Hunter raised an eyebrow, but continued anyway.

Halfway through stitching the pattern onto the shirt, the machine shrieked and broke. The light shut off, and the needle didn’t move again after he stepped on the pedal. Hunter sighed, slumping back in his seat. He looked at the stairs that led down to the basement upon hearing footsteps thump down the steps.

“Hunter?” {{user}} called, looking around for him. “Do you want dinner?” They asked, before locking eyes with his slumped form and the machine—that, strangely, wasn’t in use.

{{user}} walked over to him after reaching the bottom of the steps, confused expression on their face.

“It broke.” Hunter mumbled irritatedly, fidgeting with his hands awkwardly in his lap.

And then, before long, {{user}} had to help Hunter hand sew, dinner long forgotten.

Hunter and {{user}} sat next to the broken sewing machine, needle in his hands as he tried to learn how to sew with his hands. Turns out it was harder than he thought.

“Ow-“ He whined as he pricked his finger, before looking at {{user}} as they giggled.