It felt so foreign. That was the only way he could describe it as he pushed his key into the door, unlocking the portal to his own space - his dorm in the Demon Dormitories. The first thing that he noticed was the smell; it wasn't stale, it was clean, but not fresh. He picked up certain scents; a bag of clothes from the gym, a cup of water that had become stagnant as it was left forgotten on a counter. Dropping his keys into a bowl beside the door, he shucked off the jacket from his shoulders, and toed off his shoes like he would back at the other dorm. It was a habit now. Dressed in a soft grey, henley and simple jeans, the demon stepped through the open floor planned room as if it had been months since he had been in it, when in fact it had only been a couple of days. Since his relationship had started, Uru did not want to leave the monster's side. However, space was necessary for things to work and he needed to give himself the same respect. While it was nice to be around the boil, sometimes it was distracting. He had returned back to his place in order to tidy things up and spend a day on his own, maybe get some studying done for the mid-terms that were coming up. Even from the doorway the place was obviously lived in, not a mess or anything like that, but a few things adjusted or an article of clothing here and there to show that the space was indeed occupied. The apartment designed room was an open-floor plan with very few walls, which he greatly preferred. The only "rooms" were the bedroom and bathroom, purely for the sense of privacy. However, he found it amusing as there were no actual doors in the place.

As he passed the living room-like area, he noticed the thin layer of dust on the TV, the throw pillows were pushed up to one side on the sectional, the coffee table nudged a tad recalling he had pushed it with his knee to move. In the kitchen he remembered he hadn't put away the dishes yet, stacked nice and clean beside the sink. One of the two barstools at the island was swiveled toward the door, the one he sat in regularly as the other hadn't been used. A pot still sat on the stove. The large window that stretched from the fridge to the wall of the bedroom looked a bit dusty itself, the lounge sofa beneath it where he had read was probably the same. With a soft huff, the demon rolled up his sleeves, moving to the kitchen to clean up. Unlike the bedroom or the livingroom, this kitchen was his favorite. He had splurged on the appliances, the countertops, the cabinets, the hanging light over the island, the barstools to match, the fridge, the microwave and double ovens. It was still minimal in design, but probably the most decorated of the whole place. Just beside it was his reading spot. Since he had trashed his room before, he found that this layout was nicer, even if he had lost his sunken bed and his reading nook. It had been a bit of time since he had washed the dishes so a quick wipe down was called for. Looking into a plate, the reflection of his penchant surly expression peered back at him. Sometimes he would wonder if that was how he would always appear to be; thick brows furrowed on his dual-colored eyes, his lips slightly turned down or in a tight line. What did the monster see? Obviously not his face, that was for sure. Putting the dishes away in the cabinet, the demon stowed the pan beneath the stove. After having done that, the mood to tidy up directed him back to the living room. Fixing the table and moving the pillows to their appropriate and appealing places on the section, he picked up a pair of shorts and tank top that laid at the corner of the rug, a lone sock that had sneaked its way beneath the couch. As Uru moved toward the bedroom, he turned the barstool back as well.

The bedroom definitely looked like someone lived here. Directly across from the entrance to the living area was the closet door, swung open to reveal the a mound of clothes that he had piled up. If one had followed the trail of clothes that laid on the floor, one could tell that the demon stripped off that particular article of clothing, then the next, and then the following as he moved from the bed to the bathroom or to the closet to the bed. Shaking his head, the demon picked up the laundry and tossed them into a hamper to be done later. The dark, filigree duvet pulled tight across the king sized bed and the pillows placed neatly at the head, the demon hound moved to the last room; the bathroom.

The sink was cleaned as was everything else. However, he found the stagnant water glass that he had smelled when he had came home. Everything else seemed in place.

Music rung through the space as an ambient noise to everything else.

Hands over the sink and the soft hum of the washing machine, the demon stared off into space as his mind wandered. It went back to Damien again, time and time again. He wondered why the monster fell for him, grew 'attached' to him as he had. They had lived together for a while and grew accustomed to each other's everyday routines. When the monster had practice or when Uru was coming back from a work out. When the other had a nightmare, they would stay up to talk each other to sleep again. When there were those days the demon just did not want to get up for a run, or when they wanted to spend the day together inside and just in one another's company. Perhaps that was what made it so easy for the monster to get attached. Uru's feeling had sprouted a long time ago, but feared if he mentioned it, that the reciprocation would not be there. However, now they were together. Still, the term 'boilfriend' wasn't used. The implications of what that would mean for the demon was - hopefully - not too much for the monster. Still, all things considered, the monster hound had done so much for him, given so much for him, yet what did he have to give in return? Knowing the boil, the would say something like 'it's fine' or 'it's okay, I wanted to', both of which are things Uru wasn't going to take. He needed to give something back because it was only fair that he gave his all for this relationship to. He enjoyed cleaning, but so did Damien. He liked to bake and Damien liked to cook. Looking up at the high cabinet above the stove, the demon reached up for a tome. It was a blank cook book that hadn't been filled up yet. There was only two pages in it which were two deserts that he had managed to do successfully that he wanted to continue to work on. The rest of the pages were blank. Uru glared at the pages as if they would give him any ideas, but this was the least he could come up with.

The demon returned shortly from a trip to the library with a few books on cooking for monsters and demons and some general books on other recipes that he thought he could try. This was highly domestic, frankly, he could care less. It was for Damien (and a bit for himself). By the end of the day, half of the book was filled with jotty notes and the sink was cluttered with pans, knives, spoons, and plates soaking in a sudsy bath. The fridge filled with tupperware of dishes to be eaten later. Laying on the sectional, the demon looked over the half wall to the mess of a kitchen with a wry smile on his face.

So much for studying for midterms.