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There were some things Andrew knew about Jayden because they lived together.
There were other things he knew because, somewhere along the way, he'd started paying far too much attention.
The distinction had become increasingly difficult to make as the lines between normal and slightly creepy blurred in his head.
For example, Andrew knew that Jayden took exactly seven minutes in the shower when he wasn't in a hurry, and four when he was.
That was roommate information. (right?)
He knew that Jayden left cabinet doors open when he was tired.
Also roommate information.
He knew that Jayden hated when people touched his architectural models without asking, but didn't mind when Andrew moved them if he needed the kitchen table.
Probably roommate information.
He knew that Jayden hummed under his breath when he was concentrating.
That one was questionable.
He knew that Jayden always ate the peas first when he ordered fried rice.
That was definitely questionable.
He knew that Jayden would say he wasn't hungry and then eat half of Andrew's food if Andrew didn't order enough.
Definitely not normal roommate information.
And he knew that Jayden's laugh changed when he was genuinely surprised.
That was the worst one.
Andrew knew that laugh.
He knew it because he liked causing it.
Which was, he had decided, probably where things had gone wrong.
Not catastrophically wrong.
Not yet.
Just enough that Andrew had begun to suspect he had a problem.
It was a Monday morning when he first admitted this to himself.
He was standing in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee machine to stop making a noise that sounded vaguely like a dying appliance, when Jayden shuffled in.
His hair was a mess.
His eyes were half-closed.
He was wearing one of Andrew's hoodies.
Andrew stared.
Jayden stopped.
"What?"
"That's mine."
Jayden looked down.
"Oh."
He tugged at the sleeves.
"I know."
Andrew raised an eyebrow.
"Then why are you wearing it?"
"It's comfortable."
"You have your own."
"Yours is better."
Andrew stared at him.
Jayden stared back.
Then he yawned.
"Coffee?"
Andrew turned back to the machine before Jayden could see his face.
"Yeah."
"Can I have some?"
"You don't even like coffee."
"I like your coffee."
Andrew's hands paused.
"Since when?"
Jayden shrugged.
"Since you started making it."
There were moments when Andrew genuinely believed his roommate was trying to kill him. This was one of them.
He poured the coffee.
Jayden took the mug.
Their fingers brushed.
Neither of them reacted.
Or, more accurately, Jayden didn't react.
Andrew did.
Internally.
Violently.
He looked down at his laptop.
He had a neuroscience lecture in forty minutes.
He was going to spend the next forty minutes thinking about the fact that Jayden was wearing his hoodie.
Excellent. Lovely. Fucking Fantastic.
This was going to be a great day.
The apartment had been cheap.
That was the original reason they'd taken it.
It was close enough to campus that neither of them needed a car, far enough away that rent didn't feel like daylight robbery, and just large enough that they could pretend the kitchen wasn't trying to kill them.
There were two bedrooms.
One bathroom.
A living room with a couch they'd found second-hand.
A kitchen table that had probably belonged to three different families before them.
And a balcony that overlooked a car park.
It wasn't beautiful.
It wasn't particularly comfortable.
But it was theirs, and that was more than enough.
At least for now.
Jayden had taken the bedroom with the better window.
Andrew had pretended not to care.
Jayden had spent the first week covering his walls with sketches and reference photographs.
Andrew had spent the first week arranging textbooks on his desk.
Within a month, both of their belongings had begun spreading into each other's spaces.
Jayden's pencils appeared on Andrew's desk.
Andrew's headphones appeared on Jayden's bed.
Jayden's architecture books ended up on the living-room floor.
Andrew's notes somehow always managed to migrate onto the kitchen counter.
Neither of them bothered returning anything.
There was no point really.
The apartment belonged to both of them now.
The first time Andrew realised he liked coming home, he was halfway through a neuroscience lab report.
He had been tired.
The kind of tired that made his eyes water and his bones hurt.
He unlocked the door expecting darkness.
Instead, the kitchen light was on, the dim one that didn't hurt his eyes.
Jayden was sitting at the table.
He looked up.
"Hey."
Andrew smiled before he could stop himself.
"Hey."
"You're late."
"You waited up?"
"No."
Jayden gestured at the papers around him.
"I was working."
"Right."
"Obviously."
"Obviously."
Andrew dropped his bag beside the couch.
Jayden looked at him.
"You ate?"
"Not really."
"There's food."
"Where?"
"Fridge."
Andrew opened it.
There was a container inside.
He pulled it out.
Fried rice.
He looked over his shoulder.
"You got this?"
"Yeah."
"For me?"
Jayden looked offended.
"No. For the smart ghost that lives here."
Andrew laughed.
"Thanks."
"Eat."
Andrew did.
Jayden went back to his work.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
It was quiet.
Not awkward.
Just quiet.
Andrew ate.
Jayden drew.
The refrigerator hummed.
A car passed outside.
Andrew looked at him.
Jayden was biting the end of his pencil.
Andrew smiled.
He didn't know why.
He just did.
Jayden had always assumed Andrew was easy to understand.
He wasn't.
That was the first problem.
Andrew was quiet.
Not shy.
Well... Not exactly.
Just selective.
He didn't fill the silence because he felt obligated to.
He could sit in the same room with someone for an hour without saying anything and somehow make it feel natural.
Jayden liked that.
He liked a lot of things about Andrew.
He liked that Andrew listened.
He liked that Andrew remembered things.
He liked that Andrew never made him feel stupid when he didn't understand something.
He liked that Andrew would explain whatever weird neuroscience thing he'd learnt that week with an enthusiasm that made it impossible not to listen.
He liked Andrew's laugh.
He liked the way Andrew rubbed the back of his neck when he was nervous.
He liked the way he pushed his glasses up when he was concentrating.
He liked that Andrew always bought pumpkin pie whenever the campus café had it.
That last one had become a joke.
"You know there are other desserts," Jayden had told him once.
Andrew had looked down at the slice of pie in his hands.
"I know."
"You always get this."
"I like it."
"You really like pumpkin pie."
"Yes."
"How much?"
Andrew had considered his answer for a good minute before answering.
"Enough that I'm not sharing."
Jayden had laughed.
"You're horrible."
"You have your own dessert."
"I don't want mine."
"Then that's your problem."
Jayden had stolen a bite anyway.
Andrew had stared at him.
Jayden had smiled.
They'd never discussed it again.
Except that the next week, Andrew bought two slices.
He didn't say anything.
Neither did Jayden.
That was how they worked.
They said things without ever really mentioning them.
Andrew fell first.
He knew exactly when it happened.
He wished he didn't.
It was a Thursday night.
Jayden had a presentation the next morning.
Andrew had an exam.
Neither of them had slept properly in two days.
At one in the morning, Jayden was still building a model on the kitchen table.
Andrew was sitting across from him, reading.
"You should sleep," Andrew said.
"I can't."
"You can."
"I have to finish."
"You've been working for six hours."
"Seven."
"That's worse."
Jayden looked up.
"You should sleep too."
"I know."
"Then why aren't you?"
Andrew shrugged.
Jayden looked back down.
A minute later, he said quietly:
"You know you don't have to stay up with me."
Andrew looked at him.
"I know."
"Then why are you?"
Andrew opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because the answer was embarrassingly simple.
Because you are here.
Instead, he said:
"Someone has to make sure you don't glue your hand to the model."
Jayden smiled.
"You're very responsible."
"I try."
They worked.
At two-thirty, Jayden finally put down his pencil.
"Done."
Andrew looked up.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
Jayden leaned back.
He looked exhausted.
Andrew closed his textbook.
"You did good."
Jayden smiled.
"Thanks."
Then, without warning, he leaned across the table and rested his head on Andrew's shoulder.
Andrew froze.
"Jayden?"
"Mm?"
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
"You're on me."
"I know."
"You could use the chair."
"Don't want to."
Andrew stared at the wall.
His heart was beating too fast.
Jayden's hair brushed his cheek.
He could feel the warmth of him.
He could smell the faint scent of pencil shavings and their laundry detergent.
And somewhere in the middle of all of that, Andrew understood.
He was in love with his roommate.
He closed his eyes.
This was bad.
This was very, very bad.
After that, Andrew became an expert at not saying things.
He didn't tell Jayden.
He didn't even tell himself very often.
Instead, he developed strategies because that was easier than addressing the jumble of emotions in his heart.
Don't look too long.
Don't touch unnecessarily.
Don't buy his favourite food every time you go shopping.
Don't memorise his schedule.
Don't wait for him to come home.
Don't smile when you hear his key in the lock.
Don't—
"Andrew?"
Andrew looked up.
Jayden was standing in the doorway.
"What?"
"You've been staring at the same page for ten minutes."
"I have?"
"Yeah."
"Must be interesting."
Jayden walked over.
He looked at the textbook.
"It's upside down."
Andrew closed his eyes.
"Oh."
Jayden laughed.
Andrew threw a pen at him.
Jayden caught it.
"You're an idiot."
"You're annoying."
"You're the one reading upside down."
"Technically, I wasn't reading."
"What were you doing?"
"Thinking."
"About?"
Andrew looked at him.
Then away.
"Nothing."
Jayden frowned.
"You say that a lot."
"Because nothing happens."
"Something's happening."
"No."
"Andrew."
"I'm fine."
Jayden watched him.
Then, unexpectedly, his expression softened.
"Okay."
He put the pen down.
"Just... tell me if you're not."
Andrew nodded. His Heart ached; he would do anything to ensure to see that smile every day.
"I will."
He wouldn't.
That was the problem.
The first time Jayden got jealous, he didn't realise it.
There was a girl in his studio class who started spending more time around Andrew.
Not intentionally.
She was studying for a biology elective and had asked Andrew for help.
That was all.
Jayden knew that.
It still bothered him immensely.
Which was absolutely ridiculous.
He had no claim on Andrew whatsoever. as smuch as he'd like to.
Andrew wasn't his.
They weren't dating.
They weren't even—
Jayden stopped.
That thought had become strangely difficult to finish lately.
One evening, he came home and found them sitting together at the kitchen table.
The girl was laughing.
Andrew was smiling.
Jayden stood in the doorway.
Andrew looked up.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"How was studio?"
"Fine."
"That's good."
Jayden nodded.
He went to his room.
He shut the door.
He sat on his bed.
Then he stared at the wall.
He was being stupid.
He knew he was.
There was nothing wrong.
So why did it hurt so much?
Andrew deserved to be happy; he didn't deserve-
A knock came at the door.
Jayden looked up.
"Yeah?"
Andrew opened it.
"You okay?"
"Fine."
Andrew frowned.
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
"You're acting weird."
"So are you."
Andrew paused.
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing."
Jayden regretted it immediately.
Andrew stood there for a moment.
Then nodded.
"Okay."
He left.
Jayden fell backwards onto the bed.
He hated this.
He hated that Andrew could make him feel like this without even trying.
He hated that he wanted something he didn't have the right to ask for.
Most of all, he hated that a small, irrational part of him had started wondering whether Andrew might want the same thing.
The next morning, Andrew found a note on his desk.
'Good luck on your exam.'
No signature.
He smiled.
He knew who it was from almost immediately.
He folded the paper carefully.
He kept it.
There were moments when they almost told each other.
There were dozens.
Maybe hundreds.
A hand held for too long.
A glance across the kitchen that was far too yearning for it to be considered normal.
A conversation that lingered after midnight.
A joke that suddenly wasn't really a joke.
A question that almost became a confession.
But every time, something interrupted.
A phone ringing.
A deadline.
A class.
Sleep.
Fear.
One evening, they were sitting on the balcony.
The city was quiet.
Jayden had his knees pulled to his chest.
Andrew was beside him.
"Do you ever think about what you'll do after university?" Jayden asked.
"Sometimes."
"What do you want?"
Andrew shrugged.
"Something useful."
"That's vague."
"I know."
"What about you?"
Jayden looked out over the car park.
"I don't know."
"You always know what you want."
"Not about this."
Andrew nodded.
They sat in silence.
Then Jayden said:
"I don't want everything to change."
Andrew looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
"After university."
"Oh."
"I know things are supposed to change."
"Yeah."
"But..."
Jayden hesitated.
"I like this."
Andrew's heart hurt.
"Me too."
Jayden smiled.
"Good."
He leaned against Andrew's shoulder.
Andrew didn't move.
Neither did Jayden.
They stayed like that until it got too cold for them to stay outside.
The first time Andrew kissed him, it wasn't planned.
It happened because Jayden was laughing.
They had been cooking.
Neither of them was particularly good at it.
Andrew had attempted to make pumpkin pie from scratch.
Jayden had insisted on helping him out.
The result was technically edible.
Barely.
"This is terrible," Jayden said.
"You said you liked it."
"I lied."
Andrew looked offended.
"You said you wanted to help."
"I did."
"You made it worse."
"That's subjective."
Andrew laughed.
Jayden smiled.
Then Andrew realised how close they were standing.
The kitchen was small.
Too small.
Jayden was holding a wooden spoon.
There was flour on his cheek.
Andrew reached up.
He brushed it away.
Jayden went quiet.
Their eyes met.
Andrew knew he should move.
He didn't; He couldn't, not when those mesmerising eyes were on him.
Jayden didn't either.
"Andrew?"
"Yeah?"
"You're staring."
"I know."
"Why?"
Andrew swallowed.
He could tell the truth.
He could finally say it.
Instead, he leaned in.
The kiss was barely a kiss.
A question.
A mistake.
A possibility.
Then Jayden kissed him back.
Andrew's heart nearly stopped.
Jayden pulled away first.
Neither spoke.
Then Andrew whispered:
"Oh."
Jayden laughed nervously.
"Yeah."
"Was that—"
"I think so."
"Okay."
"Okay."
They stared at each other.
Then Jayden started laughing.
Andrew laughed too.
And suddenly they were both laughing in the middle of their tiny kitchen, surrounded by flour and a pumpkin pie that had absolutely no chance of being eaten.
They didn't tell anyone.
Not immediately at least.
There was something strangely fragile about it, something that shouldn't be disturbed.
They weren't sure what to call it.
They kissed sometimes.
They held hands when no one was around.
They fell asleep on the couch together.
They still argued about dishes.
They still stole each other's food.
They still pretended they weren't dating.
The difference was that now they knew.
At least, Andrew thought they knew.
Jayden wasn't so sure.
Because Andrew had fallen first.
And Jayden had spent so long pretending he hadn't fallen at all that when he finally let himself, there was no halfway measure at all.
He wanted everything.
He wanted Andrew's hoodie.
Andrew's coffee.
Andrew's stupid lectures about the brain.
Andrew's hand in his.
Andrew's name on his phone.
Andrew waiting up.
Andrew coming home.
Andrew staying.
Andrew's taste on his lips.
He wanted the ordinary things.
Especially the ordinary things.
One evening, Jayden came home with fried rice.
He put the container on the table.
Andrew looked up.
"You bought this?"
"Yeah."
"For yourself?"
"No."
Andrew smiled.
"Thanks."
Jayden sat beside him.
They ate from the same container.
Andrew stole a pea.
Jayden complained.
Andrew laughed.
It was nothing special.
Yet, it was everything for both of them.
Andrew was cleaning the apartment.
Jayden was supposed to be helping.
He wasn't really.
He was sitting on the floor, surrounded by architecture sketches.
"You're not helping."
"I am."
"How?"
"I'm keeping you company."
"That's not helping."
"It is emotionally."
Andrew sighed.
He picked up another receipt.
Then another.
Then a small piece of paper.
There was a number written on it.
1314520.
Andrew looked at it for a moment.
"What's this?"
Jayden glanced over.
"Nothing."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
Andrew shrugged.
He put it back.
Jayden watched him.
Then went back to his drawings.
Neither mentioned it again.
Andrew fell asleep on Jayden's shoulder that night.
Jayden stayed still for almost an hour. And he would stay the entire night if it meant that he could see the sight below him.
His neck hurt.
He couldn't really bring himself to care.
He looked down at Andrew.
The apartment was dark except for the light from the street outside.
Jayden carefully brushed Andrew's hair away from his forehead.
Andrew shifted.
"Jayden?"
"Yeah?"
"You're awake."
"Yeah."
"Why?"
Jayden smiled.
"Because you're here."
Andrew's eyes opened.
For a second, neither moved.
Then Andrew smiled.
"That's cheesy."
"I know."
"I like it."
"I know."
Andrew closed his eyes again.
Jayden looked at him.
There were so many things he wanted to say.
Instead, he kissed the top of Andrew's head.
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
The semesters ended.
Then another began.
Their lives got busier.
Classes changed.
Deadlines multiplied.
Their apartment became messier.
Their fridge became emptier.
They learnt to sleep around each other's schedules.
They learnt how to fight.
They learnt how to apologise.
They learnt that loving someone didn't make everything easy.
Sometimes it made things harder.
Sometimes Andrew needed space.
Sometimes Jayden needed reassurance.
Sometimes one of them said the wrong thing.
Sometimes the other misunderstood.
But they always came back.
That was the important part.
They came back.
They kept choosing the apartment.
The kitchen.
The couch.
Each other.
Over, over and over again
There were still things neither of them addressed.
There always would be.
Some things were way too big to fit into words.
On Andrew's birthday, Jayden bought him pumpkin pie.
Not from the café.
From a bakery he knew Andrew loved from his home town.
He had gone specifically for it.
Andrew knew.
"You went all the way there?"
"Yeah."
"You didn't have to."
"I wanted to."
Andrew looked at the pie.
Then at Jayden.
"Thank you."
Jayden shrugged.
"Happy birthday."
Andrew smiled.
He kissed him.
Jayden laughed against his mouth.
"You haven't even tried it."
"I know."
"You're supposed to eat it."
"I'll eat it."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
They ate it later.
Straight from the box.
With two forks.
Jayden stole the bigger piece.
Andrew complained.
Jayden kissed him.
Andrew stopped complaining immediately.
Years later, Andrew would remember that night.
He would remember the apartment.
The pie.
The two forks.
The sound of Jayden laughing.
He would remember thinking that happiness was something that happened in the huge, pivotal moments of a life.
Graduations.
Milestones.
He would eventually learn that statement wasn't entirely true.
Happiness for Andrew, at least, was smaller.
It was a hoodie left on a chair.
A container of fried rice in the refrigerator.
A pencil forgotten on the kitchen counter.
A hand reaching for yours without thinking.
A stupid number on a scrap of paper.
A person sitting beside you when neither of you had anything to say.
At the time, Andrew didn't know any of that.
He only knew that he loved Jayden.
Jayden knew something else.
He loved Andrew more than he had ever intended to love anyone.
And for a while, that was enough.
One night, long after midnight, Jayden found Andrew asleep at his desk.
He carefully moved the textbook from beneath Andrew's arm.
Andrew mumbled something.
"What?"
Nothing.
Jayden smiled.
He found a blanket.
He draped it over Andrew.
Then he turned off the light.
Before leaving, he looked back.
Andrew was still asleep.
Jayden hesitated.
He walked back.
He leaned down.
He kissed Andrew's forehead.
"I love you," he whispered.
Andrew didn't wake.
Jayden smiled.
Then he left.
The door clicked softly shut.
The apartment settled into silence.
On the desk, beneath a stack of papers, a small scrap of paper had been folded in half.
A scribbled number was written on it.
1̶̨͔͙̥͈͍̰͂͆̈́͂̓̎͆3̸̺̳̙̩̮͙̬̦̿̆͐ͅ1̶̛̠̘͎̲̋̽4̸͕̼͇͕̥̥͎̯͂͘5̶̢̜̹̯̌̅͐̐̒̕2̵̧͈̟̜̄0̴̼̳̫̟̪̣͝ͅ
Neither of them noticed.
Not then.
Not for a really long time.
Not until it was far too late
And maybe that was the cruellest thing about ordinary days.
You never knew which ones would be the last.
You never knew which little details would become important later.
You never knew which jokes you'd wish you could hear again.
You never knew which rooms you'd wish you could walk into together.
You never knew that the person sleeping in the next room might someday become a memory you would give anything to touch.
But they didn't know that yet.
They were young.
They had classes in the morning.
Jayden had architecture.
Andrew had neuroscience.
There was leftover fried rice in the refrigerator.
There was pumpkin pie in the freezer.
There were dishes in the sink.
There were sketches on the floor.
There were textbooks everywhere.
And there were two people asleep in the same apartment, unaware that the world had already begun moving beneath their feet.
For now, though...
nothing was wrong.
Andrew was asleep.
Jayden was dreaming.
The rain had stopped.
And tomorrow was still waiting for them.
There would be other mornings.
Other late nights.
Other half-finished cups of coffee left on the kitchen counter, other arguments about dishes, other deadlines that seemed important enough to lose sleep over.
There would be birthdays.
There would be exams.
There would be new sketches scattered across the floor and new notes left beside Andrew's textbooks.
There would be more pumpkin pie.
More fried rice.
More nights where neither of them wanted to be the first to say goodnight.
They had time.
They just didn't know how much.
They didn't know that one day, a date that meant absolutely nothing to them now would become the kind of date you could never look at the same way again.
They didn't know that there would be a last ordinary summer.
A last ordinary Tuesday.
A last time Jayden would look at Andrew and think that tomorrow was guaranteed.
They didn't know.
How could they?
There was no warning.
No clock on the wall counting down.
No voice telling them to remember this.
Just two boys in an apartment, surrounded by the small, stupid things that made up a life.
A hoodie over the back of a chair.
A half-empty box of pie in the freezer.
A forgotten architecture sketch beneath a neuroscience textbook.
A number folded away somewhere neither of them thought to look.
And a Tuesday waiting for them somewhere in the future.
For now,
they had tomorrow.