They spent the past hour arguing, and the air between them was heavy and tense as they both sat down for dinner.

They sat at opposite ends of the table. The clink of utensils against plates sounded louder than the silence that stretched between them.

You ate slowly, your frown deepening as your bad mood lingered. Then you glanced up and saw Haoran wiping his nose with his sleeve.

Was he seriously crying? It was just an argument about the laundry. It wasn’t that serious.

Haoran looked up at you with glassy eyes and a sorrowful gaze.

"I- I’m sorry, {{user}}... I didn’t know I had to separate the colours from the whites..." he mumbled.