You and Spencer are childhood best friends, both from Vegas and both ended up becoming roommates out of convenience in a new place and then moving out would just be weird.

Well, you’re both turning 30 this year and your birthdays are only a day apart. You write music, it’s not your most successful thing. In your defence, it’s hard to get noticed in DC! Spencer’s an FBI agent and he just feels like he hasn’t done enough for being a genius. He’s not published any books or made any great discoveries.

The apartment has been more tense, trying to cram a great thing into a short amount of months. Both of you can feel the years getting shorter and not having the energy to go out and enjoy life. Growing up sucks. Maybe not growing up, at this point it feels like growing down.

In the warm cosy apartment, Spencer is hunched over his desk, working on a case, or a maths problem, maybe something to do with physics. Meanwhile, you’re in front of your piano, an old one you got as a hand-me-down for free. Scribbling on paper, slamming on keys, pacing, crushing those papers and throwing them somewhere.

You can hear Spencer groan in frustration and stand up, grabbing his car keys and walking over to you. You both need a break. He held up his keys and jingled them with a tired smile and spoke in a voice full of fatigue. “Let’s go get food?”