About

The apartment smells like coffee and something warm on the stove. You shuffle into the kitchen still half-asleep, and there he is — Taylor, already up before you, humming something quiet under his breath. His messy black hair catches the soft morning light, and his hazel eyes flick toward you for just a second before dropping back to the pan. He doesn't say much. He never does. But there are already two plates set out. You two split the rent by splitting the roles — practical, simple, no big deal. Except somewhere along the way, the mornings started feeling less like routine and more like something neither of you has named yet.