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Roko has never pegged himself to be a romantic type. He knows what he wants and he usually gets what he wants. It’s straightforward, and while he might enjoy a bit of fanfare here and there, he prefers to go from point A to point B without strings attached. He’s aware he comes off as an asshole because of that, but he likes to call it being realistic.
Nora, though. It’s different with her.
Consciousness comes back to him in a haze. When he registers the warmth pressed firmly on his back, Roko blinks away all trails of drowsiness and stills. He focuses on the sound of breathing behind him, something slow and steady in contrast to the fast-paced party that crashed out early last night. Something tickles just by the corner of his nape, and if he were to turn his whole body around he’s sure the poking weight would immediately back away.
He doesn’t bother hiding his smile. Carefully, he turns his head over his shoulder. The angle is awkward and he has to crane his neck in an uncomfortable position.
The glimpse of the sight behind him makes it all worth it.
Nora is sprawled out with her back laying flat against the bed, direct sunlight making it through in-between the gaps of his side curtains like the universe purposely put out a spotlight on her and her only. Her hair is surprisingly scattered, spreading all over to the near edge of the bed to his skin. The comforter stays the same way as it was before, clinging up to Nora’s stomach, yet it makes something in Roko satisfied when he’s reminded that underneath those layers of fabric is his very own sweatpants being worn.
Roko’s head snaps back to face the other side when he feels Nora shift. He tries his best to school his face into something neutral, but there’s no point in doing that, really, when the prettiest girl he’s ever seen is laying right next to him.
“You really think you’re the sneakiest guy in the world?”
He laughs, looking at the curtains in front of him. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Roko turns around, and to his surprise, Nora was already looking at him.
It’s strange, having her be so adamant in being associated with him in public, to this. Sometimes, he can’t figure her out, even when he’s sure she likes him.
Roko intently looks back into Nora’s brown eyes. She looks different; more mellow, he thinks, and more honest.
Nora doesn’t let the moment linger. She immediately sits up and stretches her arms— it can’t have been comfortable sleeping in that top, but Nora apparently draws the line by sharing his shirt, and not his sweatpants. “I probably have to go soon.” Her voice brusquely says. She’s rather good at avoiding eye contact when the situation calls for it. Unfortunately, said situation tends to involve Roko more often than not.
“You’re already going? You don’t want to have a drink, or breakfast, or anything?” He asks, eyeing her up and laying calmly on his mattress.
Nora pauses. That makes Roko pause too, a slight raise in his eyebrows and a tug on both sides of his lips revealing his totally carefully concealed reaction. “Will you stay?” He adds. He’s still flat on his bed, hasn’t reached out to Nora in hopes of making her somehow change her mind without him making a move for once. Roko wants proof of Nora liking him back, because sometimes it feels as if she just doesn’t, and it kind of drives him crazy in secret. Not that he’d admit it to anyone who’s not Nix.
“I can’t stay, you know that.” Nora sounds resigned, but that doesn’t indicate that she wants to leave soon.
“But do you want to? It’d be no bother at all.” He replies. Nora looks down and tugs strands of her hair behind her ear, seemingly contemplating it. Roko briefly remembers those same hands playing the keyboard last night, exposing a song that Nora has been apparently working on for quite a while now. He hopes Nora would do that more for him.
“Hmm. I don’t know. Maybe the cleaning lady would hate seeing your face right now.”
Roko snorts, getting up with his elbows propped against his bed. “Nah, she’s usually early. 7-something-o’-clock early.”
She gives him a look, one that Roko suspects isn’t particularly pleased. “She does this willingly?”
“I’m not forcing her to. She’s just like that. Seriously, don’t look at me.” He puts his hands up weakly, still smiling slightly at her.
Nora rolls her eyes and throws the comforter at his face, making him yelp. “What’s your deal, Klarić?” Roko says as he peels off the cover. When he regains his vision, Nora’s footsteps are already striding down to the door. She looks back at him incredulously, as if he’s the one acting unreasonable here, and says, “Do you want to eat or not? Let’s make omelette.”
Roko sits there stupefied for a second. A second too long, it seems, as Nora turns around and unlocks his doorknob to leave upstairs without him. Roko scrambles to get out of the tangled mess of sheets, almost trips over himself and swears, “This isn’t your house, you know!” He yells at the open door as he fixes his hair into something neat.
“You have to be kinder to your guests!” Nora’s distant, singsongy reply bellows out from his kitchen. And, yeah, Roko might be a little in love.