My heart pounded as I raised my fist to the door – knuckles to wood, a quick rat-tat and a weirdly distant "Enter" muttered from beyond. I pushed the door open with a squeak.

"Oh hey," Sebastian said from behind his computer monitor. He seemed relieved. "Gimme one sec."

I nodded, thankful that I could gather my bearings. This also gave me a chance to look around. Immediately to my left was an unplugged radio. Beside it was a black loveseat. Posters hung on nearly every bit of wall possible, depicting video games and movies, the majority of which I recognized. His bed lay in the far corner, his dark bedsheets carefully made. At the foot of his bed was a small TV. I envied him; my bed was unfortunately bolted to the floor and so it was impossible for me to recreate his design choice.

In the opposite corner, there was a table with a board game on it. Three stools were laid out around it, and it looked as though a game had been abandoned mid-play. Along the wall where his bed was, sat a bookshelf that was crammed full of books, comics, and collectibles. A few graphic novels were open, facedown on the floor and I was hit by a wave of homesickness. I was reminded of my own room back in the city. It had been a lot smaller than this, but there was a bold openness in the messiness of his room that felt like his heart was bared to me, and I identified with what I saw.

The focus of the room was the table in the other corner upon which there were two computers. Sebastian was using one of them currently, but the other sat unused. Unable to help myself, I approached the computer and gave a low whistle as I took it in. His second computer was fancy and sleek, with the logo of a well-known gaming brand glinting from the side of the jewel case. I might have salivated a little thinking about gaming on it.

Overall, his room was dark as it didn't have any windows, but it felt homey and indescribably like Sebastian. There was something about the stone bricks comprising the walls that were reminiscent of a castle. I wondered vaguely if Pierre stocked any wallpapers that I could put up to simulate the experience. The prince of darkness had some decent digs.

"Okay. Sorry about that, I just needed to finish what I was working on." He stretched and yawned. He wore a black t-shirt again today, and I could see that the cuts on his arms were still red and quite raw-looking. I felt sick looking at them. He must've noticed as he crossed his arms and did his best to hide them with his hands.

"What were you working on?" My curiosity was piqued, but my enthusiasm was deflated.

He shrugged. "I do freelance work as a programmer."

I blinked. He was a programmer? A number of things clicked for me as I digested this. But before I could say anything, his brow furrowed and he was focused on his screen once more. I heard a short, urgent alert sound.

"That was an instant message from Sam… I guess he wants to hang out." He grimaced. "Ugh, I don't really feel like going out today."

I knew exactly the feeling, but didn't get the chance to say so as there was a knock on the door and his mother poked her head in.

She could not help showing her surprise. "Oh, hi! I didn't know you were in here, too." A warm, hopeful smile spread across her face.

I waved and let out a nervous laugh. I didn't know what kinds of funny ideas she was getting, and I wasn't sure how I felt about being found in Sebastian's room myself. If this was anything like the parsnip situation, I was going to be having a very bad week coming up. I silently prayed that Robin was less of a gossip than Pierre was.

"Sebby," she addressed her son. "I know you don't like it when I come in here, but I ran into Abigail at the store and she said she was looking for you."

His face took on a hardness I hadn't seen before. "Did you tell her I'm working?" Irritation laced his words and his eyebrows knitted together. This was a side of him I didn't know.

"I did," Robin began, her eyes apologetic, "but she said she'd probably stop by anyway."

Sebastian sighed heavily, and I noted a sag in his shoulders. "No one takes my job seriously."

His mom shrugged and retreated, shutting the door behind her.

"No one ever bothers Maru when she's working at the clinic," he muttered. "Does everyone think I'm just surfing the web all day?" Sebastian wasn't looking at me, and I suspected that he was speaking more to himself than to me.

I cleared my throat. "I don't think you surf the web all day."

He frowned at me with disbelief, the glint of a challenge in his eyes.

I continued before he could protest. "Programming is a funny thing. Unless you do it, it's hard to really get it. It's not one of those jobs that is easy for people to understand. It's not visually distinctive – like, what makes programming look any different from someone typing out a novel or playing online poker? Just the screen in front of you, that people probably won't see."

His expression adjusted to a mix of surprise and confusion. I continued, "And I don't know about you, but I know that I have to surf the web to find documentation and example code a lot of the time. People don't get that surfing the web is such a vague and broad concept, and a lot of the time it's part of the job."

"That's true," he said simply, casting a curious glance at me. I knew what he wanted to know, though he didn't insinuate any amount of expectation. He was giving me space, leaving his question on the table to be pushed away or brought forth.

I sighed lightly. "I'd may as well tell you now," I said, biting my lower lip. My hands twisted together, my palms suddenly clammy. "I used to be a programmer. That's what I did at Joja Corp."

An understanding alit in his eyes, and he nodded slowly. I could sense that he regarded me somewhat differently now. I wondered if he had gone through what I had just moments ago – the revelation that this world of variables and algorithms could be shared with someone else in Stardew Valley. His demeanour remained cool, though the flicker of understanding warmed his gaze.

"So," I began, desperate to find a way to reroute the conversation, "do you have any plans for your programming work? Like, is doing freelance enough? I had entertained the idea of doing it myself at one point."

"Well, I'm trying to save up so I can move out of here." That wistful, distant look came into his dark eyes. "Probably to the city or something."

I nodded. Of course, that idea he had told me about when we'd first met. Knowing now that he was a programmer, the allure of the city became clearer.

"You know," he said, snapping me out of my thoughts, "if I'd gone to college I'd probably be making six figures right now… but I just don't want to be part of that corporate rat race, you know?"

"Trust me, I know." We exchanged a look that was weary and sad on both ends. Another jolt of understanding passed between us and my spine tingled.

"Well, and I guess I just feel more comfortable hidden behind the computer than dealing with people face-to-face." His face flushed and I longed to reach out and comfort him, but I didn't think we were there yet. As much as I wanted him to know that I understood those exact feelings he was talking about, I couldn't bring myself to say it, lest I betray myself.

Instead, I nodded in agreeance.

"Well, I should get back to work," he sighed again. "I need to get this module finished by tomorrow."

"Good luck. I hope the debugging is minimal. Oh, and I almost forgot again." I reached into my backpack and pulled out a bottle of coffee. I handed it to him.

"Thanks. This coffee delivery system you're doing – I like this." He smiled, a look of genuine appreciation on his face, with just a hint of mischief.

"Coffee delivery," I grumbled. "The invitation to come into your room – it was a ploy the whole time. You just wanted me to bring coffee to you."

He rolled his eyes, but grinned. "Is it so hard to believe that I legitimately granted you access to my room because I trust you?"

"Access to your lair? Yes."

"Lair," he snickered. "You're an interesting one." He grew pensive, eyeing me carefully. His elbows rested on his desk and his fingers entwined above them.

"I could say the same about you," I said moving towards the door, letting my fingers brush the surface of the desk.

Shit, did that come off as flirtatious? All I wanted was friendship, and yet our last words – there had been more behind them, I could've sworn. Perhaps it had been imagined by me, an emotion, a thought fashioned by the lonely beast in my heart. That accursed creature in its accursed home purred.

I felt my face flush a deep crimson. "Oh Yoba," I murmured, running my fingers through my hair. He continued to watch me, and I wondered how much he saw, felt. "I've gotta go," I said hastily.

He nodded, but his gaze never left me. "Alright, have a good day."

I nodded stiffly, my face still hot. "See you tomorrow."