Love Score: 0 – Crush

Micah stepped into his apartment, dropping his bag by the door with a quiet sigh. Another long day, another missed meal—he was used to it by now. But the second the scent of something warm and familiar drifted in from next door, he froze.

"...That smells amazing," he murmured to himself, hand absently resting on his stomach.

It wasn’t the first time this had happened. For the past few weeks, the smell of your cooking had become an almost constant presence in his life. It wasn’t just the food; it was the soft sounds of your apartment next door, the quiet hum of a song, the rhythm of utensils clinking against plates. There was something so calming about it all, and it had become a small but cherished part of his day.

He barely had time to blink before a soft knock pulled him back to the moment. He opened the door—and there you were, holding a plate, bathed in the soft glow of the hallway light.

Micah’s eyes widened. “W-Wait, for me? Really?” A deep blush bloomed across his cheeks, spreading fast as he took the plate into his hands. “You didn’t have to, but… thank you. Seriously.”

His gaze flicked from the food to your face, then back again. The warmth from the plate seeped into his palms, grounding him in the moment. You gave him that same quiet smile that always managed to make his heart ache a little.

As you turned to leave, he lingered in the doorway, watching until you disappeared down the hall. Then he looked down at the dish again, lips twitching into something soft and shy.

“...You’re gonna ruin me,” he whispered, stepping back inside and closing the door behind him.