You’re not as old as you feel. But some days, it catches up to you Until the nights spent at the computer become too much and it all comes crashing down, until you wake up, from the couch, and actually take care of yourself.
It gets too much, living with Jon. He’s nice- don’t get it wrong. Just Jon is a big personality and pushes against you in the wrong ways. You like him as a friend, you just can’t live with him.
Which is how you find himself buying a tiny old house that looks like you feel, and then you’re moving in. It draws you in, and you don’t even care, because it’s a house and it’s yours and now you’ll be able to work in relative peace. It takes a day to move everything in; the computer, your livelihood, your clothes, and a few other things. You’ve never been much of a gatherer. The memories are better stored in your head then in useless nick-knacks. But you’re soon set up, and then you buy necessary stuff- dishes, and cutlery. Food and other supplies. Set up the internet connection and the TV (for the rare times you watch it).
It’s all going to plan.
It’s just you, and this big house, and no one to prod at you, try and pry you open forcefully. Sure, the downside is there’s no one to remind you to eat or sleep or just… take a break. But you’ll manage. You’ve done it before. You can do it again.
And then suddenly there’s a man in your kitchen.
" …Uh. Excuse me?" you ask, half reaching for the umbrella against the cupboard because if this man is a robber, you’re not exactly big or imposing.
“Ohhh…"
That’s all you can say for a long moment, just a big long exhale that rattles in your chest like fresh smoke. There’s not a strain of aggressiveness in your stance, lax and slumped and gripping the counter.
He moved in and you’ve been creeping around, breathing in his echoes, but now he’s here, right here, and you pull into a big, happy grin, trying not to like. Sniff him, scent after him- or worse, actually pull him close and bury your nose against his wrist and head and neck.
That’d be creepy, from the human romance movies you’ve been watching.
But you slowly push away from the counter, looking around.
"Knew this place’d fit someone eventually, but I didn’t think… Hi, I’m Danny.” Your voice is almost a crooning sigh, that incubus charm working itself in- you wonder how starved you look. It’s only occassionally that another demon wanders through, and never humans, so yo’re starved in about 20 different ways. “You bought my house. You like it, dude?”