He lines up his meds on the counter, counting them twice, then pours two bowls of cereal without asking what I want. I know the drill. I’ve seen it before, years ago, and something about watching him do it now makes my heart ache in the best possible way. It’s all muscle memory for him—order in the chaos, comfort in repetition. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t fidget, just moves from step to step with a calm that feels hard-won.
I have my ass perched on a stool at the island, elbows on the counter, chin in my hand. I can’t stop staring, and I don’t care how obvious I am. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “For not making me feel weird about this. For… for staying.”
“It’s not weird,” I say. “It’s you. And I like you just the way you are.”
He ducks his head, but he’s smiling, a small private thing just for me. “You say that now. Wait until you see my sock drawer.”
“I’ve seen it. Color-coded. Still the most impressive thing in this apartment.”
He laughs, a bright sound that makes my chest go tight. “That’s a lie. The most impressive thing is how you managed to sleep through me getting up twice to check the front door.”
I grin, leaning across the counter. “You could set off a fire alarm, and I’d sleep through it, as long as you’re next to me.”
He chuckles and hands me a mug of coffee, shaking his head, but I see the way his hands tremble just a little as he lines up hispill case, the way his eyes flick to me for reassurance before he swallows them down.
I don’t say anything about it. He’s always been private about this part of his life, and I’m not here to make him feel watched. But I’m here. I’m present. If he needs me, I’ll be there.
He leans against the counter next to me, both of us holding our mugs, and lets out a slow sigh. “Practice is gonna suck today,” he says, finally breaking the quiet. “I didn’t sleep much.”
I can’t help but grin at that. “Hmm, I wonder why.”
Noah blushes but doesn’t look away. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m happy,” I say, suddenly serious. “I haven’t been in a long time.”
He looks at me for a long moment, then nods. “Me too.”
I can see the hesitation in the way he bites his lip, eyes lingering on the rim of his coffee cup as if he’s still trying to settle into his own skin after everything that happened last night. There’s a tentative kind of peace to this morning, but also a question hanging between us—one that’s more than just what happens next. It’s what happens now, with the truth out in the open, with the boundary between friendship and everything else demolished in the best possible way.
I sip my coffee and nudge his shoulder with mine, keeping it gentle. “You want to talk about last night?”
He glances up at me, blinking through the steam curling off his mug, and nods. “Yeah,” he says, quieter than before. “I mean—if you want to.”
“Only if you do,” I say, setting my mug on the counter and turning so I’m fully facing him. “If you want to process, or ask anything, or if you just want to forget I ever said‘Babygirl’out loud, I’ll go scrub myself with bleach right now.”
That gets a snort out of him, the smile I’ve been chasing since the second I woke up. “No bleach,” he says, shaking his head.“Not unless you want to explain that to Ryan and Luca when they find your body.”
I laugh, relieved to see some of his nerves ease. “Alright. No bleach. But seriously, Blue… was it too much? Did I cross a line?”
His fingers drum on the countertop for a second, his shoulders drawing in a little. “It wasn’t too much.” He looks at me then, dead on, no flinching. “I… I wanted it. I wanted all of it. I was just scared I’d mess it up, or—” He swallows, the words tangled. “Or that you’d change your mind.”
I reach for his free hand, curling my fingers through his. “Not a chance. I’m not going anywhere, Noah. Not after last night. Not after everything.”
His shoulders slump in relief. He glances away, jaw working, but there’s something softer in the lines of his body now. “I was scared,” he admits. “Not just about the sex stuff. I mean… all of it. I thought I’d never get to have you. I thought you’d always be something I wanted, but never got to keep.”
My chest tightens, and I give his hand a squeeze. “You’ve always had me,” I tell him. “Even when I was too much of a coward to admit it.”
He lets out a shaky breath and nods, squeezing my hand back. “I know that now,” he whispers.
We stand there for a moment, just holding on, letting the morning wrap around us. He’s the first to break the silence, voice tentative but open.
“I… Do you ever worry you’re going to ruin it?” he asks. “Like, what if I’m not what you wanted? What if it’s too hard?”
I shake my head, reaching up to tuck a piece of his hair behind his ear. “You’re exactly what I want. All of you. The routines, the rules, the bossy little general you turn into when you’re behind a camera, the way you blush when I say something filthy.” My lips twitch at his glare. “The way you care about people. How honest you are, even when it scares you.”
He huffs, but his cheeks are pink again. “You’re the only one I want, too. Even if I don’t know what I’m doing. Even if I’m a mess sometimes.”
“Messy’s good,” I say, bumping his shoulder. “Messy’s honest. I’ll take messy over perfect any day.”
