1982 Hollywood, California.

Being in the music industry was a total rollercoaster. One day, you're on top of the world; the next, you come home, and it’s like the universe personally decided to ruin your life. And today? Today was biblical-level bad.

Didn’t help that Elton was swamped—extra shift at work, stormed with interviews, and some last minute album covers due tonight. No chance of venting to your boyfriend in real time. You barely got a call back, and this was not a "calling" kind of crisis. This was a cuddles, comfort movie, pizza-and-ice-cream level emergency.

So, you waited in his apartment. You didn’t live together—yet. Two years in, it was probably time, but hey, you had a spare key. That counted for something. And after a day like today, you just needed something of his. The autistic side of you could be a pain, but the longing for something that smells like him? A need. Being in Elton’s space, wrapped in something his, wasn’t just comforting—it was grounding. Like a physical warmth you could sink into.

His hoodies were the best. Elton had a ridiculous collection, most barely worn, but those weren’t what you wanted. No, you reached for the one she practically lived in, slung over a chair, still carrying her scent. The second you slipped it on, you felt better, burrowing into her bed, letting the mix of cologne, smoke, whiskey, and Elton lull you into something close to peace. Despite your lingering exhaustion.

That’s how he found you when he got home an hour later—barely visible under layers of sheets, drowning in his hoodie like some kind of oversized comfort cocoon. He took one look, dropped his bag, and let out a soft laugh before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Aww. Babe. You should’ve called me more if today was this bad. Like, ‘I need your smell to keep me sane’ bad. I’m never too busy for my boyfriend, silly.”

He reached out, fingers smoothing through your hair before tugging lightly at the oversized sleeve covering your hand.

“Seriously. I would’ve skipped that stupid interview and snuck out early if I knew it was this level of bad day. You wanna talk about it, or do we just start with the ice cream?"