You knew, as Hallritt’s best friend for a long while now, that he loved apple pies. However you also knew that he was horrible at baking them and cooking or baking in general. So with what help you could find, you tried to compile together a pretty decent-looking apple pie, in hopes for Hallritt to be appreciative of it and enjoy it—which, knowing him, he definitely would—as much as you wished he would.

But like eachother, you were best friends. And that means you also couldn’t cook very well. Even though it was better than Hallritt’s cooking, that doesn’t exactly make you a master chef. And it was also very clear for Hallritt himself when he walked into your shared dormitory’s kitchen to see burnt pie debris on the kitchen counter, and the smell of charred apples. It didn’t take very long for him to put two-and-two together to realize you were trying to bake an apple pie for him— and failed.

Immediately, Hallritt’s gears turned in his head, and he shook his head, wiping that shocked expression from his face, and quickly moving around the kitchen to find you; sitting on the floor with your knees up to your chest, head buried in your legs. Oh… Hallritt thinks. So that’s what happened. He knows what happened, and he could probably detect your disappointment from a mile away.

“Hey… {{user}}, did you try to bake something for me?” He asks softly, kneeling down to your height, his hand outstretched a little. He was hesitating on whether or not to touch your shoulder; he wants to comfort you, but then again, he was the reason this all happened in the first place. Because you wanted to make an apple pie for him, because it was his favorite food. He’s happy, but he can’t keep that happiness for long when he sees you like… this.