this one idea i had for a while

the part where şımarık tells him what happened.

Soon enough, he's out, wearing a soft pink "oversized" hoodie that barely reaches his hipbones and black sweatpants that are a bit too short on his legs. He doesn't inform her of any discomfort, and instead focuses on drying his hair with the towel she gave him. His nose picks up on the scent of it - something floral again. He idly wonders what her favorite flower is.

Şımarık suddenly appears in the hallway and approaches him, taking the wet clothes out of his hand quickly before he can react. "I'll wash these, then dry them. Okay?"

He nods in response, looking at her timidly. "So, what should I..."

"Just go chill, I had a dating show on. I have snacks and everything, go have some," Şımarık urges, walking away to another door at the end of the hallway, probably where the washing machine was.

An awkward smile appears on his face as he looks at her walking away, until he decides to make his way to the front of the TV. He looks at it for a while as he continues drying his hair - two women are arguing in a living room of sorts. It's a reality TV show or something, Nankör figures. The type where they place a few people in the same environment and expect them to love each other, like some sort of breeding lab for humans. He had always thought it was an odd setting. Why would she watch this, he asks himself, unable to come up with an answer. She's quite the free spirit, wouldn't she say something like, 'it's weird to expect to find the love of your life in an enclosed space'?

He settles down on the couch filled with pillows, noticing a few blankets curled and scattered around. He folds the now-damp towel in his hands, deciding to wait for her to come back and ask for one of the blankets - he's already an unexpected and probably unwanted guest, it would be better to ask first.

That thought itself suddenly starts the spiral.

Isn't it weird?

From the moment she opened the door, everything was... Off.

He recalls his steps for the moment - knocking on her door, her opening it, walking in... Every single step he recalls colored themselves melancholic, tired and commanded, suddenly. Like some sort of boring stageplay - a script being acted out without his knowledge. Something is off, but what?

He finally hears something being closed, of what he guesses is the washing machine, and the main actress of the night appears once again, walking in front of him to throw herself at the pillows settled near him on the couch, now laying on her stomach. His ears pick up a sigh, and it's confirmed.

Something is off.

"You can take a blanket, if you like."

Unnervingly dismissive, he notes. She quickly gets to staring at the screen, like a child looking into an empty, colorless aquarium. Disappointed that there's no goldfish. He decides not to take the offer.

Something at his heart tugs, pulls and distorts itself, creating a heavy, uncomfortable feeling. His heart thumps against his chest stronger. Making it harder to breathe. Maybe he shouldn't have dropped by, but it's too late now. He can already hear the washing machine faintly running, drowned out by the dating show he's too uninterested in to follow. He's unwanted, and too far in this script to leave the stage graciously. He shifts uncomfortably, taking in a deep breath.

Unfortunately for him, she's still as observant as ever. "You doing okay over there?"

"Ah, yeah, why?" he responds almost immediately.

"You look uncomfortable. Sorry for the sweats," she says indifferently. It pushes him more and more to the edge, making his skin crawl. He mutters something about it being fine, and she doesn't press further.