thread ;; stagnation is the death of creativity with @13xyerin
the house is still the same. the house never really changes. neither does yerin, neither do the cats. he still pauses a moment in the door opening every time he comes back, though.
perhaps it’s a certain kind of deep-rooted surprise at the fact that she still opens the door for him. even after all these years, even after numerous of his disappearances that he always returns from without explanation, even after all the shitty comments he throws her way without ever once apologising, she opens the door for him and smiles at his presence.
he doesn’t know what it is about that single smile she gives him that makes him feel so warm inside, but it happens without fail. he sets one foot over the threshold, glances up at her face in an almost careless manner and jogs right on like he doesn’t give two shits whether he’s there or not. but he curls up at the fireplace every single time without fail, and he sleeps better than he has in days when he passes out not long after.
and even when he wakes, the warmth still sits in his belly like his own personal little fire, as if it’s simply being close to her that settles his very being into something akin to peace. as if he could never be whole without her.
some days he is truly convinced he couldn’t be.
he doesn’t tell her that, of course, doesn’t tell her anything in those first hours that he spends as a dog, sleeping first and then going around the house to check out what’s changed. usually it takes him a few hours before he shifts again, this time he waits all the way until dinner the next day, needing a little more time to get used to finding himself in the midst of familiarity again.
when eventually he shifts, it’s without a single word about the change in his hair, outfit and general looks, merely walking over to the dining table on two legs like he’s never been gone and nothing has changed, and pulling back a chair to sit himself down.
“please tell me you took some cooking classes while i was gone,” he comments offhandedly as he eyes the stove and the pans she’s been working with, then allows his gaze to wander further upwards and meet with hers, a small smile automatically appearing on his features as he looks at her, warm and filled with emotions he will never speak aloud.