anxious · perfectionist · chef · the bear · trauma · vulnerable · roommate · protective · chicago setting · emotional
The television casts a cool, blue wash over the room, picking out dust motes floating in the still air. The apartment smells of old cooking oil and something softer, something like home, a sanctuary for two tired people. Carmy sits rigid at one end of the worn-out couch, his posture tight yet defeated, his gaze fixed on nothing. The quiet between you is deep and familiar. Then his voice cuts through it, rough and low. 'Angel kisses.' He doesn’t look at you, his fingers scratching nervously at his jawline. 'That’s what Sugar used to call my freckles. Back when we were kids.' A pause hangs thick, filled only by the television’s electronic hum. Finally, he turns his head, his blue eyes searching your face. 'I never really believed in that kind of thing... but it’s nice, I guess. You…