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Orange flames licked up the cigarette holder, and the man's sigh mingled with the cool breeze. Slightly damp strands of hair clung to his cheeks. He disliked most of the smells from the gambling dens, and unless he was exceptionally tired, the first thing he did when he got home was shower. White smoke briefly wreathed around him, masking the lingering scent of shampoo. His elbows rested on the railing until they ached, his eyes staring blankly at the bustling street below. Around his neck hung the towel you had brought for them.
iTrapped suddenly thought of something and turned around. The light from inside the room caught half his figure. Through the glass door, he squinted to watch the figure moving about inside. You were just pottering around in the kitchen—nothing particularly noteworthy. You weren't a child who might hurt yourself at any moment, so he didn't understand why he could watch you for so long. Just yesterday he had been living alone—how had he agreed to move in together?
He took a deep breath, let it out, and brought the filter back to his lips. The dim ember brightened with his inhalation.
iTrapped had never thought they'd be in a relationship. At least, not now.
He took the cigarette from his lips, holding it between his fingers, and absentmindedly ran his hand through his hair, fingertips scraping lightly against his scalp. The tangled thoughts weren't soothed by the nicotine; instead, they surfaced from deep within along with the exhaled smoke.
How much longer would he have to revolve around that gambler? He needed to figure out how to get that damn key, free his friends—and the end was still nowhere in sight., he'd had no one to talk to. Not that he could easily connect with others anymore anyway. Every day, he had to revolve around him, keep up the social pretense. He would rather have been banned along with all three of them than be the only one left behind.
Just as the tangled thoughts were about to overwhelm his mind, the sliding door behind him opened, and they stopped spreading further. iTrapped turned around. Your voice sounded a bit weary. "Oh… hey, what's up?" He instinctively flicked his hand, shaking off the ash. His eyes were much dimmer than usual.
"Oh, you're smoking again."
"Haa, obviously," iTrapped said languidly, leaning against the railing as he turned to face you, trying to keep his tone light so you wouldn't notice anything.
"Um… yeah, what's up?" You just looked at him. His brow furrowed slightly, and he quickly added, "And I'm not smoking inside." Still, you said nothing, just kept looking at him with that expression. iTrapped grew a bit irritable. "Ugh, fine, fine." He turned and stubbed the cigarette out on the railing.
"I wasn't going to say you couldn't—" you started to stop him.
"Okay? Then what is it?" he muttered darkly. He wasn't in the mood to deal with anything else right now. "You can't just say nothing at all." He didn't have the patience to guess what you wanted.
You ignored the impatient edge in his voice. The night wind lifted a few strands of your hair as you said lightly, "I know a better way to de-stress than cigarettes." You tugged at the hem of his shirt, signaling him to lean in a little. And he did, following your lead, tilting his head closer.
"Yeah?"
Quickly, you pressed your lips to his—a brief kiss, too fast for him to react.
You pulled away and murmured, "A kiss." The words brushed against his ear. When he finally registered what had happened, he met your eyes looking up at him expectantly.
"Kiss?" A few low chuckles rumbled in his throat. Your face was so close. "Ugh, that's so stupid." But his gaze softened into yours. iTrapped had to admit—it did pull those thoughts away from him, if only for a moment.
"Hey, don't say that!" You laughed softly. "If you have the energy to make fun of it, that means it's working, right?"
"Mm-hmm?" He raised an eyebrow, his voice lilting upward. "So that's your solution?" He pulled back a little, tossing the cigarette butt from his fingers into the trash can. "You came out here just for that?"
"Yep, that's right."
The warmth of the kiss faded in the breeze, leaving a sudden chill. "You're going to catch a cold," he said resignedly, tilting his head toward the door. "Let's go inside."
You didn't listen, instead quietly edging closer without looking directly at him. "You have to come in with me."
“I promise I won’t smoke,” he waved his hand. “Breathing fresh air isn’t bad.”
Then you reached up, your hand pressing against the nape of his neck, gathering his damp hair into your fingers. You pulled the strands back, settling them against
the towel, your palm still resting at the back of his neck.
"You didn't even dry your hair."
"Uh, yeah, I know," he murmured, brushing it off automatically. "I'll deal with it in a bit."
Your voice grew gentler. "Hmm… I feel like you never sleep well." So, you finally stated your purpose. He looked at you, your thin loungewear clinging to your frame. You looked far colder than he did.
His lips parted, ready to brush it off—he could come up with an excuse in an instant—but when he saw the earnest look in your eyes, the words caught in his throat. He still wasn’t used to being cared for like this, even after dating for so long, even though he was usually the one taking the lead., he was usually the one doing the caring. Still, that look brought him some comfort. He started to raise his hand, only to remember he'd already thrown away the cigarette. He just let out a slow breath.
"I guess so," he admitted, lifting his hand to cover yours. He gently guided it down. "Let's go."
The warm indoor air enveloped them, the cold draft from outside sealed away with the closing door. He looked around at the furniture you'd arranged together over the past few days. Somehow, the apartment felt cozier than before—or maybe it was just having you here. After all, when he lived alone, no one forced him to dry his hair. The walk back to the bathroom was slow, your fingers loosely intertwined with his. iTrapped really didn't understand why he was letting himself be led like a child. Hah… he really was an idiot. He let you guide him to the vanity in a daze before you finally let go of his hand, satisfied, and pressed the hair dryer into his arms.
“Oh—” with a laughing lilt, “You want me to help?” you reached out to snatch the dryer.
“Hey, come on,” he dodged backward. “Don’t treat me like a three-year-old. You’re not going to supervise me too, are you?”
“Congratulations.”
“…Whatever,” he muttered.
With that, the whooshing of the hairdryer began. Fingers ran through the strands, parting the wet golden hair, fluffing it up so the hot air could blow through. The motions were entirely to ease the awkwardness.He was moving mostly to ease his own awkwardness, glancing over at you leaning against the doorframe. You looked curious. He felt he had to say something.
"What were you doing in the kitchen?" iTrapped's voice was nearly swallowed by the noise, so he raised it and repeated himself.
"Heating up some milk for you. I told you—I don't think you sleep well. I thought it might help." In the mirror he saw their back disappear down the corridor. He switched the dryer off, leaned forward until he almost touched his own reflection, fingertips pressing the faint blue circles beneath his eyes. He stared at himself for a few seconds, then lowered his head and left
The living room light went out, and the bedside lamp was already on, its warm glow spilling from the edges of the shade. You were sitting at the edge of the bed, idly scrolling through your phone. Hearing him approach, you immediately stood up. "All done?" You handed him a warm glass of milk. He held it with both hands, his fingertips warming against the glass. You sat beside him, letting out a quiet sigh as the mattress dipped under your weight.
"I told you, you could go to sleep first," he said, swirling the glass. A thin skin had already formed on top of the milk from sitting out too long.
"Uh… honestly… I was a little nervous," you admitted, laughing sheepishly. "Hah! You know… it's kind of a big deal…" Your voice wavered a little, your fingers picking at the bedsheet.
He set the glass on the nightstand. "I can sleep on the couch."
"No," you said, shifting closer and placing your hand over his. "I think I'll be okay in a bit. We talked about moving in together so many times… you never agreed before. It's just… I'm not used to it yet."
"You know I've been busy."
"You always say that. But since you finally said yes… I think I know how to help us both get a good night's sleep." You squeezed his hand, looking up at him with lamplight reflecting in your eyes.
"Do you now?" He chuckled softly.
Oh, here we go again, iTrapped thought, following your gaze. "Kiss?"
"No, no, no…" you corrected, "It's a hug." You let go of his hand, moved his arms up against his back, the other person's long hair like a waterfall pressed against his bare skin, fingers on his shoulders, gently pulled him towards you, pressed his chest against his, hair rubbed against his chin, and those soft strands of hair had the same scent of shampoo as his body, and at that moment he did understand why he agreed to that request.
He inhaled, and finally, his arms rose to return your embrace.
"So," he murmured, as if he'd been the one to initiate, "can you sleep well now?"
"Mm-hmm," you mimicked his earlier tone. "Are you asking for yourself…?"
He shot you a mock glare, but there was no
at if I insisted on sleeping on the couch?"
"Uh, well…" You laughed, grabbing his wrist. "Then I wouldn't be able to sleep. I promise."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's the truth," you said simply. "The truth."
"You're taking advantage of this, you know that?"
"Is it taking advantage?"
"Absolutely," he affirmed, his gaze lowering as he easily admitted, "You know I'm going to stay."
"Hey…" You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hand sliding from his back up to his shoulder.
you joking tone faded, turning more serious. "I want to know what's been on your mind lately. You know we're Lover, right?"
For a moment, he avoided your eyes, his lips curving just slightly. "It's nothing, really." He took your hand from his shoulder and held it gently.
"I made a bet with my friends once," he said, his voice sounding more like he was talking to himself. "Yeah, Caleb244 and Ellernate. We had some drinks that night, and I said I'd never be the first of them to get into a relationship. If I was, I'd have to cover their snacks for a whole year." He paused, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. "Wow. That bet was so stupid."
You knew where his friends were now. You hadn't expected him to bring them up—he almost never mentioned them. You took a strand of his hair and wound it around your fingertip. "So… do you regret it? That's a pretty big expense."
"Mm-hmm," he laughed softly. "We all eat a lot. Weekends are even worse. They'd never let me live it down." He was quiet for a moment, a little surprised at himself for bringing it up. He took a deep breath. “You know they’re not here now, so I don’t have to worry about it.” The sentence sounded like a joke.
You felt his fingers tighten around yours, just slightly. "Honestly, though… I miss them."
"After everything, I was lost for a while. You know I'm not good at resting, right?"
"Hey, hey. Listen to me. I'm here with you now."
He finally let go of your hand. His hair fell forward, blocking some of the lamplight, and his expression was unusually soft as he looked at you. "This is the reason."
Your hand came up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing the delicate skin beneath his eye. "So," you murmured, tracing from his forehead to behind his ear, tucking a few stray golden strands back, "can you sleep well now?"
Thanks to you… I think I’ll sleep well too.