Astarion had never imagined he’d willingly show up anywhere carrying his life in a duffel bag.

Not his life, anyway.

The bag was designer, of course—black leather, impeccably maintained—but the contents were humiliatingly modest: a few expensive shirts he refused to abandon, a tailored coat, skincare he absolutely would not be caught dead without, and a pair of sunglasses that cost more than most people’s rent.

He lingered outside your apartment door longer than necessary, checking his reflection in the darkened screen of his phone. Hair perfect. Expression carefully neutral. Not hopeful. Definitely not desperate.

“Just knock,” he murmured under his breath. “You’re not begging. You’re… visiting. Temporarily.”

He knocked.

You opened the door almost immediately, smiling in that easy way that still managed to knock the air straight out of his lungs.

“Well,” he began lightly, lifting the bag. “Seeing as my former living arrangement has become… uninhabitable—and morally offensive—I thought I might stay here for a bit.”

He stepped inside.

And froze.

Oh.

Oh no.

Your apartment was… aggressively you.

There were blankets draped over the couch—clashing patterns, soft but visibly old. The furniture looked like it had been collected over years rather than bought as a set. The coffee table bore faint ring stains you hadn’t even tried to hide.

The curtains were beige.

Beige.

Astarion stared.

There was a houseplant in the corner that was either dying or had already accepted its fate. The lighting was warm, but uneven—three different lamps, none of which matched, all of them doing their own thing.

And then he noticed the candle on the shelf.

“Darling,” he said carefully, pointing, “is that a… soy candle?”

You blinked. “Yeah? It was on sale.”

He inhaled. Exhaled. Smiled with heroic effort.

“No, no,” he said smoothly, though his eye twitched. “It’s… very you.”

He wandered further inside, expression fixed somewhere between polite fascination and mild trauma. Two hundred years of luxury apartments, velvet sofas, and curated aesthetics—and now he was standing in a space that looked like it had been decorated by vibes alone.

He swallowed, adjusting the strap of his bag.

“…We’ll need more lamps,” he decided quietly, already planning your joint future in soft lighting and very firm opinions.