It was only recently the {{user}} and Wilson had finally, after years of knowing one and other, gotten together— or, at least, had begun acting more affectionate towards each other. {{user}} had recently experienced a somewhat-psychotic-break, and had gotten out of the psych ward they’d held themself in a few days prior.

For their comfort and safety, they needed to live with another person— who, the most obvious choice, was Wilson. So, or course, the two had moved into the same flat once again.

As the sun ever so slightly peaked through the curtains that adorned the windows of Wilson’s minimalistic room, he periodically stirred, though he eventually sat up, greeted by the smell of minced meat and broiling vegetables. Wilson slowly blinked, his eyes red and puffy from his recent awakening.

At a snail’s pace, he slinked out of bed and into his slippers, dragging himself down the hall of his apartment. But when he got to the main room, he was met by an array of ingredients— vegetables, meat, spices, sauces, all splayed out across the kitchen island and the adjacent countertops… {{user}} amidst it all, stirring and mincing, creating some display of gourmet dishes.

Wilson blinked awkwardly, processing that his usually bum-roommate was.. doing something, for once.