Lloyd woke with Javier already in his head.
It irritated him more than it should have.
He lay there staring at the ceiling, letting the awareness settle like grit he couldn't brush away. When he finally pushed himself out of bed, he went straight to the bathroom and turned on the tap, not because he needed it, but because he needed the noise. Water thundered into the sink, loud enough to crowd out his thoughts. Almost.
When he shut it off, the silence snapped back into place, and Javier was still there. Lingering. Uninvited.
Lloyd studied his reflection longer than necessary. He looked the same as always—eyes dulled by sleep, mouth already set in irritation—but something behind his gaze felt off, like furniture shifted in a room he knew by heart. Through the wall, he heard movement. Javier was awake. Of course he was.
He splashed water on his face, harder than necessary, then wiped it away and pretended it helped. He left the bathroom without looking again.
The kitchen smelled like coffee.
He noticed Javier before he noticed the mess.
Javier stood at the counter with his sleeves rolled up, hair still faintly dishevelled, the coffee machine humming beside him. He looked settled. Comfortable. Like he belonged there in a way that made Lloyd bristle on instinct.
Lloyd's gaze slid past him to the sink, stacked with dirty dishes.
His jaw tightened.
Of course.
He opened his mouth, the start of a lecture already lining up something about shared responsibility, about not leaving things overnight—when something brushed his lips.
Sweet. Crumbly.
A cookie.
Lloyd froze.He glared up, cookie still half in his mouth, and found Javier standing closer than he'd realized, grinning like he'd won something.
"How is it?" Javier asked, entirely too pleased.
Lloyd chewed slowly, eyes locked on his. He swallowed, exhaled through his nose, and turned toward the sink instead. Arguing would take more energy than it was worth, and he hated that Javier seemed to know that.
He rolled up his sleeves and turned on the tap. Cold water bit into his hands, sharp enough to keep him grounded. The rhythm—scrub, rinse, stack—smoothed his breathing. By the time the dishes were done, his irritation had dulled into something quieter, harder to name.
Something that didn't demand distance.
He reached for the coffee machine, then stopped.
A cup waited on the table.
His table.
Lloyd picked it up, frowning. "You know how I like it," he said, and it almost sounded like a complaint. "Strong. Milky. No sugar."
"Why don't you taste it first?" Javier said.Lloyd hesitated—just a beat too long. Then he lifted the cup and took a cautious sip.
Bitter. Warm. Exactly right.
He glanced up despite himself.
Javier was watching him—not smug, not teasing. Just attentive, like the moment mattered.
Lloyd rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him, lifting almost imperceptibly. He pulled out a chair and sat.
That was when Javier spoke again.
"Don't you feel like the atmosphere's kind of… husband and wife?"
Lloyd nearly choked.
"W—what?"Javier laughed and waved it off. "You wash dishes, and I make your coffee. Like my parents."
Lloyd shot him a glare and turned away too quickly, fixing his attention on the cup in his hands. "Shut up, asshole," he muttered.
Heat crept up his neck anyway, unwelcome and unmistakable. He told himself it was stupid. A joke. Nothing more.
Except—Something about the way Javier had said it lingered. It didn't sound wrong.
Not strangers. Not just friends. Not quite roommates.
Closer.
The thought tightened Lloyd's chest, sharp and aching. The kitchen felt different now—smaller, warmer. Familiar in a way that unsettled him, in a way that made him want to stay exactly where he was.
Almost like home.
And even if Javier was annoying—*especially* because he was—Lloyd realized he didn't hate his company.
He liked it.
The realization sat quietly between them, unspoken but solid enough that Lloyd didn't try to push it away.
Not yet.