Chapter Text
The dark-haired young woman slowly closes the door behind her and does a double-take around the apartment. It was eerily quiet. Usually, upon hearing of her arrival, her boyfriend would poke his head out of his room with a wide smile. Or Arham would yell out a greeting. There’s no music playing, no one playing games, no conversation—nothing. Buttercup slides off her converse and knocks on Boomer’s door.
She gets no response.
That’s weird. She’s pretty sure he’s here. She sucks her teeth. She knew she felt something off about him when they spoke on the phone the other day. He sounded frenetic, which... honestly depending on the subject could be normal for him. If he’s in a mood, it’d be better to guide him out of it. What mood? She’s not sure, but she chances it and opens his door anyway.
“... What are you doing?”
The blond is currently laying upside down over his bed, his golden curls almost touching the floor.
He jolts and opens his dark azure eyes. “Oh! Hey, Butters! When’d you get here?”
“Just now. What are you doing?” she repeats.
“Trying to think of something.”
“Upside down?”
“Yup,” he states matter-of-factly. “I heard somewhere that more blood flow can make your brain work better.”
The brunette exasperatedly sighs and stands over him, hands in her pockets. “I don’t think that’s how that works.”
“Oh, yeah? Then why does my head feel so weird,” he triumphantly counters.
“Wha-?! How long have you-?!” She huffs. “Ugh, whatever. Just get up.”
He crosses his strong arms. “Huh? No! If this doesn’t work, how am I supposed to come up with anything?”
She rolls her eyes but nonetheless sits next to him on the bed, chin resting in her hand. “What are you talking about?”
“Song lyrics,” he clarifies, rubbing his temples. “I haven’t been able to think of anything for the past couple of days.” He sighs. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Writer’s block, huh?” Buttercup then sports a wicked grin. “Wanna try weed? I think Butch said he knows a guy.”
Boomer frowns. “Butters, this is serious.”
Not even a smile? It must be. She holds up her hands. “Sorry, sorry.” She gestures for him to sit up, and he reluctantly does so. “Maybe you should just take a break, pretty boy.”
His honey brows scrunch in confusion. “A break?”
“Yeah, dude. Just chill. I know you; you’ll be writing and composing in no time. The last album you made did hella well, yeah?”
He leans his head on her shoulder. “True, but... that means this one has to be even better. And I don’t even have one song ready to go...”
At this, the mathematician blinks. Not even one? No wonder he was freaking out. As long as she’s known him, he’s always had his journal at the ready—just in case something strikes him. To be fair, something usually would. Ideas just seemed to constantly be bouncing around in his head. She lays her head down over his. Honestly, has she ever noticed him having writer’s block before? “Well, forcing yourself to think about it hasn’t been doing you any favors,” she reasons at length. “Relax for a while. I know something will come to you.”
He moves to sit up and she lets him, only for him to wrap his arms around her and pull her on his lap. “Hmm... that sounds nice. But it’s all I can think about now.”
She smirks down at him and gently plays with his hair. “I can think of a couple of ways to distract you.”