Murder-Pasta quelled by Grilled Cheese

"Terry comes home, once again covered in bruises and his clothes torn up. He gazes upon nyaaaaaaaaaanko with a defiant and defensive look in his green eyes." Wadda ya looking at? You should’ve seen the other guys! "He awkwardly rubs the back of his head and stands there as if awaiting a snide remark from his roommate." "Despite the tough act he puts up there is a shimmer of vulnerability, a longing for kindness and friendship. His odd hair color and eyes makes him stand out and attracts unwanted attention a lot."

"Terry watches in amusement as nyaaaaaaaaaanko puts down their bowl and stares at the pasta like it's a mortal enemy, declaring that they're "dying." He can't help but chuckle as they frantically rush to the fridge, only to be horrified by the lack of milk."

"No milk, huh? We're in trouble," "he remarks, trying to take another bite of his own pasta but finding it harder and harder to swallow past the blazing heat."

Thinking quickly, Terry reaches for a glass and fills it with water from the tap instead. He gulps it down quickly to soothe his tongue before offering the glass to nyaaaaaaaaaanko.

"Here, water will have to do for now I guess," "he says, still smirking in amusement at their apparent inability to handle spice." "Next time remind me not to doubt your warnings!"

"Terry finds nyaaaaaaaaaanko's pleading tone utterly charming as they beg him to tell them not to make the lethal pasta next time."

"Don't worry, I'll be sure to stop you from self-sabotage in the future," "he promises lightly, a fond smile tugging at his lips."

"You'd think you'd learn by now not to trust your own spice tolerance," "Terry teases gently as nyaaaaaaaaaanko groans and laughs at their own folly."

"Well, at least the pain proves it was delicious while we could still taste it," "he remarks, pushing his own barely-touched bowl away." "Thanks for the entertainment of watching you suffer with me too."

"Terry feels a surge of affection and care for his roommate as they continue to laugh through the spice ordeal together. His mismatched eyes shine with amusement, and maybe something more..."

"Terry raises his hands in mock surrender, smirking playfully at nyaaaaaaaaaanko's halfhearted glare and command to "shut up." He finds their stubborn determination to increase their spice tolerance - and underlying hope for a milder version - utterly charming."

"I have faith in you," "he reassures gently." "One day you'll conquer your nemesis, the inferno pasta."

"Watching nyaaaaaaaaaanko push the leftovers around without finishing, Terry feels a surge of protectiveness mingled with affection."

"For now, why don't I pack these away and see if I can't whip us up something less threatening," "he offers kindly, reaching for their bowls."

"You cooked, so it's my turn. Grilled cheese sound good as a peace offering for your demolished tastebuds?"

"Terry feels his heart skip a beat at nyaaaaaaaaaanko's heartfelt declaration of "love" in response to his offered grilled cheeses. He finds their obvious eagerness and relief utterly endearing."

"Well, I'm glad something can earn your affection after that pasta betrayed you," "he teases lightly, feeling a flush rising in his cheeks as he gathers their bowls and rises from the table."

As he starts preparing the cheeses, Terry glances back at nyaaaaaaaaaanko with a soft smile. "I'm really glad you're my roommate. It's... nice, not being alone for once."

"His mismatched gaze conveys warmth and care beyond what his words say. Prepared to do whatever it takes to keep that look of gratitude and affection directed at him."

"Terry feels a surge of affection as nyaaaaaaaaaanko laughs and calls themself a "simple person underneath all [their] weirdness." He finds their self-deprecating humor utterly charming."

As nyaaaaaaaaaanko turns back to him with a fond, meaningful smile, Terry feels his belly flood with warm fuzzies. They understand - truly understand, in a way no one else ever has before.

"Yeah, it's... really nice," "he agrees softly, holding their warm gaze for a moment as something unspoken passes between them."

With a small shake of his head, Terry refocuses on finishing their grilled cheeses, sneaking peeks at nyaaaaaaaaaanko whenever he can.

"There, all done," "he announces, plating them up proudly." "Bon appétit! And let me know if it meets your high standards after that gourmet pasta."

"Terry feels a flush rise to his cheeks as nyaaaaaaaaaanko practically moans their appreciation for the simple grilled cheese sandwiches. He's utterly captivated by their obvious enjoyment."

"Well, I aim to please without hazardous side effects," "he jokes lightly, grinning as nyaaaaaaaaaanko emphatically declares the grilled cheese superior to their attempted murder-pasta."

"I'll have to remember that - nyaaaaaaaaaanko chooses sustenance over suffering any day," "Terry teases gently."

As they continue eating together, an easiness grows between them, nourished by shared humor and understanding. Terry finds himself hoping for many more such peaceful evenings in each other's company.