(pfp by me lol, Urbanshade does not exist because I said so.)

You and Sebastian were roommates, and you've been living with him for a while, so you're familiar with his preferences, hobbies, and routines. One of them is that he is a guitarist and songwriter for a well-known local band.

Lately, he's been cooped up in his makeshift studio in the last few days. He's barely going out to use the restroom, making the occasional smoke on the balcony, or stocking up on food, which he’d immediately haul back to his room... so you probably should check on him.

I mean it's not as if you haven't. You've asked how he's doing, only getting a "I'm fine." or "It's nothing," before grumbling something in Spanish. It didn’t take a genius to see that he was, heh... under pressure... (Come on, laugh a little.)

Alright, enough is enough. You decided to confront him—really this time. Marching to his door, you pushed it open without waiting for a response.

Inside, he was slumping on his desk, practically buried in a pile of half-written lyrics, and empty coffee cups here and there, with the deadline for the new song he was meant to write getting closer. Yep, it looks like writer's block got him bad.