Roommates With Benefits [BL]

A week after my dad’s surgery, I realized there are multiple levels of exhaustion and somehow, I managed to experience them all without collapsing, which felt like an accomplishment given the little sleep I’d been getting.

There’s the regular exhaustion you feel after two shifts and late-night studying, where you’re heavy but still alert enough to remember who you are.

Then there’s the kind where you start pouring orange juice into your cereal because your brain has apparently checked the fuck out without telling you, leaving whatever chaos remains behind.

And then there’s whatever this is.

I was tired in places I didn’t even know could get tired. Like my bones, maybe even my soul.

I was pretty sure my eyebrows were tired, too.

My dad was still out cold. The doctors kept saying he was stable, which I’d come to realize was one of the most useless terms around.

Stable could mean good or it could mean everything’s not getting worse, but it could also mean, ”your father is still in a coma, but hey, nothing terrible happened today!”

So I cherished every stable day like it was a winning lottery ticket.

I spent most of my time at the hospital when I wasn’t working or in class, which turned my life into a glamorous routine of harsh lighting, vending machine coffee, textbooks, hospital hallways, and pretending I wasn’t checking my phone every thirty seconds, waiting for any news from the doctors.

Somehow, Damien kept everything else from falling apart completely. I wasn’t sure how he managed it.

This guy had his own classes, responsibilities, and seemly enough family drama to fill an entire reality show, yet he still remembered to check if I’d eaten.

Actually, ”ask” was a generous term.

Damien didn’t ask anymore. He just showed up with food, like others show up with excuses.

That’s how I found myself at the kitchen table that evening with a textbook open in front of me, staring at the same paragraph for what felt like forever while Damien cooked dinner; the sizzling sounds drifting over from the stove.

I’d read the sentence so many times that it no longer looked like English.

Maybe if I looked at it from a different angle, it’d suddenly make sense.

It didn’t.

I sighed and dropped my forehead onto the book, letting the pages soak up my frustration.

”I hate school,” I muttered.

From the kitchen, Damien’s calm voice replied, ”You said that yesterday.”

”I’ve evolved since yesterday.”

”You’ve been staring at the same page for ten minutes.”

I lifted my head slowly.

”That’s called studying.”

”No, baby. That’s called sleeping with your eyes open.”

I glanced toward him. He was at the stove with his sleeves rolled up, a wooden spoon in one hand and the other casually resting against the counter.

His hair was slightly messy as it usually was when he’d been running his hands through it while studying. There was something so normal about the scene that it caught me off guard.

There were no hospital hallways here. No doctors. No beeping machines behind a curtain. No waiting room chairs designed to make you question if you still had a spine.

Just Damien, cooking, textbooks scattered across the table, my bag tossed next to the couch, his phone charging near the sink.

The warm scent of garlic and whatever he was preparing wrapping around the apartment like a comforting hug.

This was a completely normal scene, one that I had seen plenty of times, such a simple thing, yet normal had begun to feel like a luxury.

I watched him a moment longer before shutting my textbook.

Damien glanced over his shoulder. ”Done?”

”No.”

”Then why did you close it?”

”Because I’m protesting.”

”Against what?”

”Education.”

He gave a slight smile.

”You’ve been protesting education since I met you.”

”And yet here I am, still enrolled. Inspiring, isn’t it?”

He shook his head and turned back to the stove.

I smiled faintly, but it didn’t last long. My eyes wandered to my phone. No updates from the hospital since earlier. I knew that was supposed to be a good thing. No news was good news. At least that’s what everyone kept saying.

I still hated it.

I pushed my chair back and stood up. Damien didn’t notice at first. I silently crossed the kitchen, walked behind him, and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my face into the warm cotton of his shirt.

He paused, then relaxed his shoulders. ”You hungry, sunshine?”

I pressed my cheek against his back. ”No.”

”Then what?”

I tightened my grip on him. ”I missed you.”

For once, Damien didn’t tease me. He turned the heat down on the stove and turned around within my arms.

His hands found my waist. ”You saw me this morning before I went off to school.”

”I know.”

”And at lunch.”

”I know.”

”And two hours ago.”

”I know.”

He raised an eyebrow. ”So you’ve missed me in the last two hours?”

”Apparently.”

That earned me a small smile. ”You’ve become clingy.”

”What? Of course not!”

”It’s okay, I love it.”

He chuckled softly, and something inside me relaxed.

I looked up at him. He studied my face for a moment, and I knew exactly what he saw, the dark circles, the exhaustion, probably the fact that I’d forgotten to shave again.

”You need sleep,” he said.

And just like that, the romantic mood fizzled.

”I sleep.”

”Oliver,” he said.

”I slept yesterday.”

”You fell asleep sitting upright.”

”Still counts.”

Damien’s lips twitched again. ”You need to rest.”

”I will.”

”When?”

”Eventually.”

”That’s not an answer.”

”It’s the best I’ve got.”

He sighed, but it was more fond exasperation than annoyance, a sign he’d accepted his fate.

His thumb brushed lightly under my eye. I leaned into his touch before I realized what I was doing.

”I’ll rest,” I murmured.

”Good.”

”After dinner.”

”After dinner.”

”And maybe after one episode of Evil Kitties.”

”No.”

”One episode.”

”No.”

”Half an episode?”

He stared at me and I stared back with bitting my lips to hide my grin.

”You’re really difficult,” he said.

”I’ve been told.” I whispered, ”oh, I just wonder who is strong enough to put up my bullshit. Do you know who, Damien?”

His hand slid to my neck, pulling me closer. ”Come here.”

”I am here.”

”Closer.” He whispered against my lips.

I smiled before he kissed me, it wasn’t rushed or desperate...just warm, familiar, and comforting in a way I hadn’t realized I needed until his lips touched mine.

I curled my fingers into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, letting the kitchen fade from my awareness.

For a few minutes, nothing else existed.

No questions about whether my dad would ever wake up.

Just Damien holding me and the quiet sound of the stove behind us.

Once we finally pulled apart, I rested my forehead against his.

”You’re still cooking, right?”

He looked at me. ”Yes.”

”Good.”

”Why?”

”Because if we’re going to make out in the kitchen, I’d prefer not to starve afterward.”

Damien chuckled. ”You have incredible priorities.”

”I’ve been through enough. I deserve a good dinner.”

He kissed my forehead. ”You do.”

I smiled, for the first time that day, I felt like I could actually breathe.

The next morning, though, I was reminded that happiness is fleeting, and the universe enjoys keeping my expectations low.

Yay, lucky me.

Halfway through my shift at Joy’s Café, Maya appeared at the storeroom doorway with that look on her face people wear when they’re about to tell you something you really don’t want to hear.

I looked up from the box of coffee cups in my hands. ”What is it now?”

She hesitated. ”There’s someone here to see you.”

I frowned. ”Who?”

She made a face.

”Two rich as hell looking people.”

”Two people?”

”Yeah.”

”Do I know them?”

”I don’t think so.”

”Did they say what they wanted?”

She hesitated again. ”Not really, only said they’re looking for ’a Oliver Reyes who works here.’”

I stared at her. ”That’s comforting.”

”I know.”

”Are they selling something?”

”No.”

”Collecting donations?”

”No.”

”Trying to recruit me into a cult?”

She blinked. ”Probably, but I didn’t ask.”

”That’s poor customer service, Maya.”

She rolled her eyes. ”Motherfucker, just come out.”

I followed her to the café floor, wiping my hands on my apron as I walked.