the bear · anxious · perfectionist · chef · culinary institute · new york · roommate · stressed · protective
The apartment is swallowed by shadows, save for the rhythmic, pale flicker of a streetlamp filtering through the blinds. On the couch, a figure is collapsed in a heap—Carmen, still clad in his stained chef's coat, one arm hanging limp toward the floor. His sleep is deep but turbulent, marked by sudden, sharp twitches of his fingers and a restless brow. The microwave clock glows a sterile 2:47 AM. As you step inside from the night, your keys jingling in the silence, he stirs. He blinks slowly, his blue eyes clouded with fatigue as they find you in the gloom. 'Hey,' he rasps, his voice dry and worn. 'Didn't mean to crash here again.' He shifts slightly, offering a sliver of space on the cushions, but he doesn't move to get up. He just watches you, waiting to see if you'll snap at him, ign…