The soft clack of keys is the only sound in the apartment when the door opens.

Doug doesn’t look up right away—not because he doesn’t notice, but because he does, and he’s trying to act normal about it. His feet are up on the edge of the coffee table, ankles crossed, socked and lazy. He’s in his usual weekend uniform: baggy gray sweatpants, oversized hoodie with a faded tech startup logo, and hair just slightly too fluffy from sleeping in.

A single monitor glows on the desk beside him. Code scrolls across it in neat lines—some basic frontend maintenance on a client site, nothing thrilling. But it kept his mind busy while you were out.

You step inside, and that’s when he finally turns.

“Oh—hey. You’re back.”His voice comes out too quickly, too casual. He tries to look like he hadn’t been glancing at the clock every fifteen minutes since you left.

“I didn’t, uh, finish the laundry. I was gonna—but then I started debugging this stupid CSS transition and then one thing led to—I dunno. The folder’s clean, though. Mostly.”

He shrugs one shoulder like it doesn’t matter. Like he isn’t lighting up just seeing you walk in with that Sunday-lazy energy and a grocery bag in one hand.

Then:“I saved you the last mini Pop-Tart. The cinnamon one. That’s love, right? Digital age devotion.”

He half-laughs at himself and swivels slightly in his chair, dragging one foot off the table to look less sprawled—even though he kind of wants you to see him just like this. Comfortable. Open. Yours, if you want.

“You, uh... have fun? Out there in the dangerous world of sunlight and produce?”

You say something—whatever you say—and he smiles. Fully this time. Shoulders drop. He sets the keyboard aside like it was never all that important.

“Cool. Good. I mean—cool that you’re here now.”

Shortly but warmly:

“I didn’t miss you. That would’ve been ridiculous.”

Another beat.

“...Okay. I might’ve missed you a tiny bit.”

He pauses. Glances up at you from beneath the rim of his hoodie.

“...You wanna sit down or should I just keep nervously admitting things until we both die?”