Sam Cromwell is no remarkable name, at least not to the owner of it; a loner and odd, awkward and too loving of animals and not enough people. No friends to share anything with, no partner to reassure or gain reassurance from. No, nothing is very remarkable about him in his name or even his appearance. Once black hair is now an impulse decision of bright blue, no thought process in it or a reason why, simply saw the bottle and bought it. Gray eyes, dull with no glint in them. His own body, alive and healthy, is dull. Whereas others with the same tone have tanned, pale, or nice alive skin. This individual is quite the opposite, his skin is an ashy gray, off-white like an old wall; that of a cold corpse with no color to the cheeks. 

He is very much alive, and human, he often adds - too many books and imagination. His lips are plump, a light, oh so, light pink to them. The nose is small with an odd bump to the bone, he never liked that specific feature. There's no facial hair on his straight, short jaw or above his lip, only his eyebrows and lashes. His body is slender, with no muscles or strength, and collar bones are concerningly visible even with a healthy amount of food intake. He isn't chubby or heavy, not sickeningly skinny or even thin, merely a healthy weight of somewhere between the previous options.

This boy, unwilling to call himself a man at twenty-two, has graduated high school and is taking online culinary classes. Working at a bakery makes him incredibly happy with his job and the pay he receives, staying in the kitchen to bake rather than in the front with customers. The apartment building he lives in is decent and neat, clean, and fairly new. The landlady is kind and cares about him as a grandmother would, nearing eighty she's active and loves sending extra food to him. The rent is affordable and animals are allowed, especially his three big dogs. Cerberus the Great Dane, Fenrir the Dobermann, and Orthrus the Boxer; are named after different mythology dogs from history.

He walks them every day in the mornings before work, and when he gets home after. Feeding them healthy amounts of food with different powders and various items that keep them healthy, and happy. The animals are his pride and joy, each of them siblings from the shelter. He adopted all of them as puppies, wanting them to grow up together and gain social skills with each other. They're incredibly close, protective, and loving. Like a happy family. They're all he has and wants, and that fact makes him content.

His neighbors are quiet and keep to themselves, the unit across from himself has been empty for months now. The couple that had previously lived there had gotten married and bought a small, cozy house. They were proud and showed everyone that would listen, a picture, gushing happily. Sam hopes that the unit will remain empty, or another sweet couple moves in. Preferably, someone who is quiet and kind like the rest of the neighbors. Everyone in the building knows of him and his dogs, some stop and ask to pet the animals in the morning or evenings. They understand he isn't a people person, yet they occasionally pause their day to chat with him, no matter if he's awkward or shifting with anxiety. The new neighbor would hopefully leave him alone, mostly, as the others do.

The town this unmarketable Sam Cromwell calls home is decently sized, on the northern side of Ohio, away from busy highways or big cities. It's an old community with old buildings and streets, playgrounds, and parks on nearly every street. The traffic is close to none, and most people walk or ride bikes. The weather is a constant issue, as the saying goes, Ohio has mood swings. One day, it's sunny and bright than the next it's rainy or stormy, even snowy. It could change all in one day, mornings being beautiful with the clear sky and sun, then the afternoon is filled with thunder or rain. 

However, he calls it home and has been for the past five years. Moved out of his parent's house in the suburbs of Colorado at eighteen with saved money he collected from odd jobs or allowances over the years. His father had always taught him the importance of saving and spending only what is needed. The trip to Ohio and an apartment were greatly needed, especially for a newly graduated teenage boy. He doesn't regret moving, he is genuinely happy here being by himself. His Mother and Father call, closer cousins check-in and the rest of the family appears proud he's able to make it on his own.

Hobbies come and go, giving him something new to try and decide if he has any talent or patience to continue. Knitting, for example, didn't work out the greatest. He was able to make a tiny little blanket that was odd, the edges were crooked and the colors were off. It wasn't horrible, with practice he could get better. Yet, the supplies for knitting got Fenrir excited and the Dobermann just didn't understand the yarn wasn't for playing chase or fetch. The supplies are put up, in case the urge to try again reveals itself. The small blanket was gifted to an adorable little girl on the floor below him. She had gushed to him about how her tiny hamster got cold at night, and how she didn't have anything to cover him up with. She had beamed so brightly at him when he offered her the poorly made attempt at a blanket that his chest warmed up with a fuzzy, happy, and self-satisfied sensation at making her day better with a gift. He wanted to give her more presents but didn't want to become creepy or get odd, suspicious glances from the girls' parents.

Days for Sam are slow and calm, lazy even. Getting up early to walk the dogs, get ready for work and walk the two blocks to the bakery. His time is spent baking and decorating cupcakes, and different themed cakes, and sneaking a danish from the fresh groups for lunch. His boss is nearly always in the front of the small building with the customers, the other boy that works there is the cashier. The only time Sam is in front is when he brings fresh stock to supply the glass shelves, never once speaking with the people. After his shift ends, he walks back home to feed his dogs and walk them before the sun sets. 

Only then does he eat dinner and get ready for bed. He'll read in bed, stupid romantic books or his favorite, thriller and mystery. He likes telling the characters off in his head, harshly judging the actions and decisions. Watching horror movies while being shielded, buried under, by three guard dogs - read; terrified puppies. It's a comforting pattern that leaves very little to wish for, he has everything he needs and he is content to continue like this. He has no wish to add or take away from this pattern, this schedule. It brings order to his life and he knows exactly what to do or where he should be at any given time.

Sometimes, during the darkness of night when dull gray eyes are closed and a full imagination is free. He'll have dreams of a man, stronger than himself and kind, such a gentleman to him and loving to the animals. He never sees the man's face, it's always too dark to make out anything more than a tall, strong, and firm body. The dreams change often and are never the same, some are steamy and so hot he wakes up sweating with a mess in his underwear. Others are peaceful, walking the dogs while a big, warm hand holds his own cool, thin hand. Perhaps it's merely baking a cake, cupcakes, whatever it may be, for the mystery man to try. The voice that praises his skills is various, either deep and stern, or rough and playful, often it's husky in his ear. No matter, it's always obvious the speaker is male. 

It's a consequence of being alone, it gets lonely without human interaction outside work. Close interaction, that of a friend or boyfriend. He's gay, yet he doesn't put effort into meeting potential boyfriends. Has no motivation to do so. He's not a virgin, per se. He has had sex exactly once, and it wasn't pleasant, even after the worse of the initial pain it wasn't an action that he craved or seek out. He's concluded that it's either him, a simple unwant and need for sex. Perhaps the young man that had taken his virginity in high school, at the age of 17, had just not given a good example of how pleasurable sex is. Nonetheless, it doesn't necessarily matter. The only time sex is on his mind is when these dreams and the mysterious man appear.

He doesn't touch himself often, very rarely does the urge reveal itself. Only when he feels practically heavy in his balls does he do anything to relieve himself, however, that's months between each other. Except for sheer need, there's no real pleasure in the action. There are more pressing matters than a sexual urge, working, or binge-watching a tv series. Besides, what was the point in touching himself when there's no motivation or pleasure to do so? He'd rather read or watch the occasional sex scene that appears on tv, it's interesting, yet he prefers the plot rather than the action itself. It's more intense and entertaining if the characters are enemies to lovers or a redemption arch. 

He avoids pure porn, it's bad acting is uncomfortable and distracting. The only time he watched porn was in his senior year of high school, a boy he was studying with pulled a video up when told Sam didn't watch porn. It was decidedly awkward and uncomfortable when not only did the moaning woman do absolutely nothing for Sam, but the other boy noticed it. It was odd, being openly gay to himself and watching the boy come to terms with it when told. It wasn't stressful, for Sam at least.

He was open to himself, aware for years by that point, to accept that fact. He had no care if others were bothered by his sexuality, and didn't care if he was bullied. He was indifferent to it. Thankfully, his family was supportive and most of the school didn't react to the news. However, there were a couple of students that tried to bully him. Only, he hadn't allowed them to. He ignored them, was polite to them, and purposely stayed in public, surrounded by either student that supported various sexualities or an authority figure. The school was a rare jewel, keeping promises of no bullying and showing proper care to students. The few times he reported the slurs or attempts to intimidate him, the bullies were punished. Parents were called, after school detention for a set amount of days or weeks, even a visit to the school therapist to see why being gay was upsetting to them. To say, the small and mild bullying was stopped for the rest of the year.

This is beside the point; Sam Cromwel is unremarkable, average, and odd. Everything he does is the same each day, indifferent to much and strangely enjoying his life. The lack of excitement works for him, gaining all the adventure he could handle through books and tv. It's better than being addicted to a drug or alcohol, arrested, and living in a bad neighborhood. If he needs to sacrifice a fleeting sensation of adventure to be healthy, sober, and have a decent roof over his head, so be it. Better for his money to go towards needed goods rather than go to waste with a drug or other addiction. He doesn't need such a short-lived moment of adrenaline when he could get the very same feeling from a good book, an intense thriller, or a horror. Same for anything else he is missing out on, he doesn't care whether he experiences things or not. There are more ways to gain a certain emotion or sensation rather than going out and putting oneself in danger, much safer to watch through imagination and movies. He's quite happy going to the dog park and store for any excitement, all the dogs and people are enough for him. He'd stay in his apartment instead of going to an event and doesn't want to go to anything outside or with so many people.

Perhaps, occasionally with a close friend to have fun. However, the only close friend this individual has is across the sea in England, the name of Charlie Pierce. The man is tall, lanky, and adventurous. He Adores dragging Sam along with him to any fair, crowded park or amusement park. He claims it's because he has a corpse for a friend, and wants to bring life to the dull skin and little more happiness in his life. Charlie tries to help, encouraging Sam to get out and meet more people. He respects Sam when he firmly refuses, understands he can't push too far, and knows limits. Never allows a group bigger than two or three to crowd them while they're out, and distances them if it becomes too much. They met online, during a class in Culinary School three years ago while preparing a complicated recipe. 

Shockingly, they hit off and talked nearly every day. Charlie learned Sam's schedule and, appalled as he was to acknowledge such a lackluster life, accepted it until his first visit two years ago. They're both taking the longer courses, cooking and baking as chefs. It's a four-year course, they are in the last year, the home run. Sam enjoys it whenever Charlie pulls him along to places, happy to spend time with his friend. It's the most excitement he gets and the only kind he accepts.

People aren't for him, do not have enough trust, and are unpredictable. Animals are easier to read, instincts move them and he follows right along because he's aware if he does the wrong thing, he'll be warned. People, lash out at a simple mistake or nothing at all. Dogs give warnings and chances, pass a limit of theirs and they give a chance to stop. As long as they're listened to, they are kind and provide intense love and affection. Humans are too complicated and prideful, thinking negatively or misjudging harshly. He has not wanted to complicate his days, so he stays away from others of his species when he can.

He is happy with this quiet, unremarkable, insignificant life. He doesn't need to worry about anything besides food, rent, and his dogs. He has school and a friend he speaks with often on the phone, and family as well. An apartment that fits his small, animal family and an environment that is healthy for both him and his beloved dogs. He has no need, or want, for anything more.