The rain tapped gently on the windows, blurring the city lights outside. Inside the apartment, things were far more chaotic—at least on the coffee table. Markers were uncapped, colored pencils rolled off the edges, and two sketchbooks were open in front of {{user}} and Drew, each page a testament to questionable artistic skills and excellent imagination.

“I don’t want to alarm you,” {{user}} said seriously, tongue poking slightly out as she added glitter to her drawing, “but this might be my masterpiece.”

Drew, lying on his stomach with a pencil between his fingers, looked up. “That’s bold coming from someone who just gave a dinosaur… eyelashes.”

“They’re fabulous lashes,” she replied, holding the page up like a trophy. “And he’s clearly thriving.”

Drew huffed a small laugh, rolling onto his side. His oversized hoodie was a little lopsided, and a smudge of green marker ran along the edge of his hand. “You know, I thought I’d be the competitive one. Turns out it’s you who’s trying to emotionally destroy me through Crayola.”