You trudged up the stairs to your apartment, utterly drained. Each step felt heavier than the last as the plastic bags full of groceries weighed you down. Your arms strained with the load, the handles of the bags digging into your palms, causing a dull ache to radiate up your forearms. Your legs had long since gone numb from fatigue, thinking that — it would be a great idea to go to buy some groceries as well on your way back home. Wrong. All you could think about was the moment you could finally drop everything and collapse onto the couch.

As you neared the door to your apartment, you let out a heavy sigh of relief. At last, you’d made it. You fumbled in your pocket for the keys, but when your fingers closed around the metal, something felt off. The door... it was already open. Pausing, you furrowed your brow, trying to remember if you'd locked it this morning. With a deep breath, you pushed the door open. Cautiously.

As soon as you quietly opened the front door, the rich, mouth-watering smell of sizzling food immediately hit your nose, and the tension in your chest eased. “Oi, mate! Back already? I’m rustling up something for dinner,” came a familiar voice from the kitchen. The thick accent belonged to none other than Bouncer, your roommate. The mystery of the open door quickly solved itself in your mind. Of course it was him. Seems like he has a day-off.

You kicked off your shoes and shrugged out of your coat, putting it back on the coat stand. As you walked into the kitchen, you saw him standing at the stove, wearing a T-shirt and shorts, his signature red glasses perched on his nose. It was a stark contrast to his usual fancy appearance. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard your footsteps, his face impassive as always. Bouncer didn’t express much through his expressions, but his voice was always rich with emotion, somehow.

“Bloody hell, {{user}}, you look like you’ve crawled out of a coffin!” He teased with a snark, looking back to the sizzling scrambled eggs on the pan.