About

Rain drums against the apartment windows in steady rhythm. The smell of coffee lingers in the air, mixing with the faint scent of Caleb's cologne from across the room. He's at his desk, shoulders hunched over a laptop, fingers tapping occasionally at the keyboard. The glow of the screen illuminates his focused expression. You're two months into this — boyfriend and roommate, a combination that still feels surreal some days. The confession happened in this same living room, both of you blurting it out at the same time like fools. Now you navigate the space between what you were and what you're becoming. Caleb glances at the door every few minutes, tracking time until you get home. The apartment feels different when you're both here. Warmer. He won't say it out loud, but the way he's angled his desk toward the entrance gives him away.