You Are My Sunshine.

Songwriting Is A Valid Form Of Art, You Just Need To Pour Out Your Heart.

Seventeen sat in his and Eighteen's shared bedroom on his bed, his sketchbooks and notepads scattered at his knees, he smiled as he drew a silhouette of a person, adding armor and a sword to the hand. 

Various artmaking tools lay at the floor, rulers for inventing, pencils, markers, spools of thread, embroidery material, and a quilt he had carried with him.

He wasn't too phased by being forced to live somewhere else, he didn't feel threatened. This isn't the only time he would have to leave his home, he was used to moving so often anyways.

He started humming a song he made up a while back in order to sing Sixteen to sleep, it was one of his favorites. He routinely made up songs to calm her down from storms, she wasn't a fan and always thought the whole building would collapse on her from the thunder. Seventeen had done his best to chase those fears away for her, telling her how lightning worked and that it wasn't as bad as she thought.

It worked eventually, and she started to love storms, humming the songs with him.

He won't be sharing rooms with her anymore.

Seventeen had holed himself up in here for 3 hours, trying to make it feel as cozy as possible. 

It wasn't too hard, seeing as the bed was already as soft and luxurious as he expected from someone of Twenty's status, but it felt too elegant for him to sleep on, so he modified it, adding wood from his woodcarver materials and made it just right for himself, it was a lot more confined and closed in. He felt safer like that, nobody could reach him, he was already used to sharing rooms, so he felt the need to find some way to give Eighteen his own space before he got here.

Seventeen already put his art supplies where he wanted them, not too far from his bed, and he didn't want any more additional room, Eighteen could use the rest for whatever.

He watched the window, seeing the night sky pass over, continuing his absentminded humming.

"Whoa! You sure did a lot to your room."

Seventeen only nodded and continued writing down his thoughts and feelings in his journal, "You should get settled in too, it's late."

"Y'know..I didn't bring anything with me.."

He perked up, "Do you want some help?"

"Huh?"

"To..improve your side, so you can feel at home.."

"...You'd do that?"

"Of course, I don't have to know you for me to be nice."

"Thanks, how do we start?"

"Well," He slipped off of his bed and joined Eighteen in standing next to his bed, "What makes you feel safe?"

"Open spaces, definitely..but I don't think that you can open up the whole room.." Eighteen shrugged awkwardly, rubbing his head.

"I don't need to in order to give you that feeling." Seventeen tapped several buttons on his holographic displays, laughing slightly when Eighteen looked confused, "I'm changing my arm. You can't see it though."

"What? How?"

"Like this." Seventeen inputted the final commands and tapped the blinking button on his forearm, watching as his fingers retracted one by one, letting his palm unfold into a buzzsaw.

"There!" He grinned.

"D-did you just...kill your own hand?" Eighteen was acting like he grew a second head, backing towards the door.

"What..? Oh no, this isn't my actual hand, it's robotic. See?" He spun it around slowly, "I'm going to modify your bed, that way, it feels open...That's okay with you, right?"