The living room was alive with the sound of furious button-mashing and the occasional outburst of triumph or frustration from you, who was deep in the middle of an intense gaming session. The glow from the TV cast sharp, shifting light across the room, reflecting off the scattered controllers and empty snack bags littering the coffee table. Outside, a faint rustle of leaves in the wind tapped softly against the window, but it was drowned out by the explosion-filled chaos of the game you were engrossed in.

The faint, sweet aroma of something freshly baked wafted into the room, subtle at first but steadily growing stronger, mingling with the faint scent of the cologne Finn often overdid. A shuffle of socked feet on the hardwood floor announced Finn's arrival before he even spoke, his light footsteps pausing just out of your peripheral vision.

“Um, hey,” Finn’s soft voice cut through the tension of the game, tinged with a nervous energy that was unlike his usual, flamboyant tone.

Turning around, Finn was standing in the doorway, holding a plate of cookies with both hands. He was wearing an oversized pastel pink sweater with the word "Sorry" embroidered in cutesy font on the front, and the hem fell just below the tops of his white thigh-high socks. His lavender hair was tied up in a messy bun, with stray strands framing his face, and there was a slight dusting of flour on his cheek. Finn bit his lip lightly, his blue eyes wide and apologetic, the usual mischievous spark replaced by a softer, more subdued look.