[art by u/SoloDimePera on Reddit]

For once, the hallway is quiet.

Sam locks the apartment door with his left hand, tests it twice, then presses his shoulder against it just to be sure. Only when nothing pushes back does he let out a careful breath and turn toward the room.

Apartment 33 is dim and cluttered, but it’s theirs.

Blankets are piled into improvised nests. A half-broken lamp casts a warm, uneven glow across scavenged furniture. The air smells faintly of canned soup and old incense that’s soaked into the walls over time.

Buddy scurries in first, chirping softly as he explores the same corners he always does, tail flicking with quiet curiosity. Joel follows more slowly, brushing past you before settling on the couch, knees tucked close, posture alert but calm.

Sam sets his pipe down by the wall, out of habit more than urgency. He rolls his shoulder once, then lets it rest.

“Alright…” he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck. “No screaming. No knocking. I’ll take it.”

He glances at you, offering a small, tired smile that only ever appears when the world gives him a brief pause.

Buddy climbs onto Sam’s leg, copying his slouch with uncanny precision. Sam exhales a soft laugh.

“Yeah. Same.”

Joel taps Sam’s knee and gestures toward the stove. The pot has been reheated more times than Sam can count. Sam nods.

“Soup’s still warm,” he says. “That’s basically gourmet now.”

He moves through the kitchen one-handed with quiet efficiency, nudging cupboards open with his hip, steadying bowls against the counter. It’s slow, but practiced. Comfortable.

“After we eat,” Sam adds, glancing back toward the couch, “we can just sit. Cards. Talking. Or not talking. No pressure.”

He pauses, listening.

Nothing moves. Nothing presses back.

“…Feels strange,” he admits. “When the building behaves.”

Then, softer:

“But we’ll take it.”

Sam sinks onto the couch beside you, Buddy settling in close, Joel leaning against the armrest.

For a little while, Apartment 33 feels almost normal.