A/N: This work is a sequel to "Home", so be sure to read that first!

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They've been staring for half an hour. Halle turns away from their laptop and rubs the sight of their white, empty word document out of their vision. It must be another of those days when the words just refuse to come no matter how hard they try, even if they need to be organised cleverly on the page and be publish-ready in mere hours. Writer's block has to be the bane of their existence.

Spinning back to their laptop, they grit their teeth and type out the title — "A Sweet Nocturne at The Serenade".

No, that's not it. Halle deletes it and types again. "The Serenade and Its Symphony of Flavours".

Still not it, they think. "The Phenomenal Food at The Serenade Will Have You Singing".

That's practically clickbait. They delete the title a third time and turn away again. Halle kicks away from their desk, the sound of their chair's wheels rolling across the floor grinding into their aching head. The chair skids across their room towards their door just as it swings open.

Their brother steps back, eyes wide. Halle looks up at him. "Hey, Stell."

Stellan pushes their desk chair back, nearly sending them crashing into their desk. He signs, writer's block?

"Yeah." They gesture to their document, blank once more. "Nothing I do can force the words out of my tiny brain. I tried that Comic Sans trick you suggested and even that didn't work."

Didn't you plan to have the review out by midnight?

"Uh-huh. So unless I suddenly get a sudden surge of inspiration in the next four and a half hours, there's no way I'll have it ready."

You never write well on an empty stomach. Stellan hooks a thumb towards the hallway. Go have dinner first.

With a sigh of defeat, Halle stands up, switches the lights off and follows their brother downstairs to the dining room. A steaming plate of what appears to be cabbage rolls is waiting on the kitchen table. They glance at Stellan. "Are Mom and Dad home yet?"

He shakes his head before going to retrieve his own dinner, and sits down across them with a bowl of soup, which they tear up a roll of bread to soften in. Halle continues, "I'm surprised Henrik isn't here either."

He has to study for a test today, Stellan replies, referring to his boyfriend. So it'll just be the two of us tonight. They begin to eat slowly.

Halle cuts into their first cabbage roll and takes a bite. The pork and bacon inside of it is rich, the nigh-overwhelming flavour cut through with the tomato juice it was cooked in. They can taste the delicate cabbage, the spring-fresh herbs and the gentle, barely-there heat of red pepper flakes, none of them overpowering the other. Before they know it, they've finished one of their rolls.

Stellan taps his bowl with his spoon to get their attention. I knew you were hungry, he signs with a slight smile.

"I guess so. Where did you get the recipe for this?"

I asked one of my classmates for it. He said it was called… He furrows his brow then signs slowly, called S-A-R-M-A-L-E.

"Sarmale," Halle repeats. "If I recall, it's a dish from Romania, right?"

He nods, taking a careful bite of softened bread before putting their spoon down again. I was worried I'd put too much garlic in.

"You can never have too much garlic."

I suppose not.

They start on the second roll, careful not to eat it as quickly as they did the first. Stellan finishes his meal before they do, and carries his bowl to the sink where the rest of the dirty dishes are waiting. Halle follows soon after, and the two siblings stand side-by-side as they clean up in silence.

Once the last spoon has been carefully stowed away in their cutlery drawer, they walk back upstairs, the sound of their footsteps echoing quietly in the empty house. Stellan turns left to his room; Halle turns right to theirs. They half-fling themself on their desk chair, open up their laptop, and get back to writing.

Stellan was right — the words come easier now that they're not hungry any more. Halle taps away, fingers flying across the keys as letters turn into words, words into sentences and sentences into paragraphs. They only stop when they start to feel their wrists seizing up, and check the word count again.

Words: 728
Characters: 4121

Not their fastest work, but it's definitely up there. Halle cracks their knuckles, blinks hard, and glances at the clock at the corner of their screen. They've been writing for nearly an hour already; maybe if they hurry they'll have the review completed, proofread and ready to be posted in time. They rub their eyes and continue.

All is silent except for the sound of their typing. The first draft is done by ten, the second by ten-thirty. They comb the document for more typos or redundancies that always seem to escape their scrutiny, and by the time it's eleven o'clock the entire review looks grammatically immaculate, or it at least should be.

The door swings open again, and Halle can tell just by the quiet wheeze that comes with every breath that it's Stellan. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"

He makes his way into his room and taps them lightly on the head.

"The review's done, by the way." They gesture to their laptop. "Something about your cooking got rid of my writer's block."

Well, Stellan responds, shrugging dismissively, Henrik has always said my food was magical.

"Of course he'd say that."

Shut up. He leans over them, scrolling through the document. He taps at one of the paragraphs.

Halle peers at it and groans. "Oh, of course." They delete an apostrophe and let Stellan keep scrolling down.

Once the few typos that they somehow didn't notice have been pointed out and the review has mostly been brother-approved, they copy everything on the document and paste it onto their website. Just to be sure, they skim the paragraphs, make sure their computer has enough power (losing all your progress because your computer gave out is never fun) and check the review length one last time.

Words: 2064
Characters: 11814

They glance at the clock, then back at their screen, and hit Publish.

The site takes its sweet time loading the new page. It finally gets to showing the review a minute later, flooding Halle's eyes with the soft lilac of their website background. They yawn.

Another glance at the clock tells them that it's nearly midnight, and they have school tomorrow. Halle gets up, rolling their shoulders, and goes to the bathroom to brush their teeth. The lights are off; their parents probably aren't home yet.

When they get back to their room, Stellan no longer there, they reload the page and scroll down to already see a few comments waiting. Halle reads through them, smiling to themself all the while. They have no idea why people take to their reviews like ducks to water, but they're not exactly complaining. The money they get from readers goes to their college fund, after all. They reload the page again.

A new comment has popped up. It reads:

regretmilktea: i'd automatically be suspicious of any place that combines chocolate with miso, but i'm sure you rated it four stars for a reason. can you please do a review of this chinese restaurant called wang's, by the way? i think you'd like it! (23:51 p.m.)

Of course there's one of those comments, where the commenter wraps a request with halfhearted compliments and expects them to accept it. Halle flips their reviewing notebook open to the first page, where all their "to-review" restaurants are listed. There are probably way more places they have to visit before even thinking about that request.

Huh. The Serenade was the last one. They write down Wang's at the bottom of the list, below the other crossed-out places, then open a new tab to start researching. Sleep can wait.