His fingers softly gripped the ballpoint pen, gliding it over the blank page that rested on the desk infront of him; a small sigh escaping his lips, crumpling up the sheet of paper and throwing it into the trash.

He bit his lip, trying to get any sort of spark of creativity to appear in his brain, to just get his work over for the night; slight guilt filling his thoughts for keeping you in here.

"..." Pure silence filled the room, your body comfortably sitting down on his bed, trying to make up any excuse to leave, all getting denied by him— apparently he needed you with him in his room to get ideas or something.. he "only got ideas when you were around"..

Guess you'd just have to wait for Al-haitham to pull you out of this when he came back home.