Connect Us ✔

Chapter 35

It's eight in the morning and I'm awake. Eight o'clock—and I don't even have to go to work or anywhere. Felix rings the doorbell shortly before eight, and I open the door for him, my eyes barely open. "Dude, it's eight in the morning."

"Time to wake up," he says, tapping me twice on the chest before stepping inside. And I definitely did not just feel my whole body vibrate because he tapped my chest. No, I didn't. "Morning hours are when people are most productive."

I yawn. "Well, I'm not people."

"Well," Felix says, lifting a cardboard box and almost tripping, making me wince. I jolt awake, but he catches himself and sets the box down. Hands on his hips, he looks around. "I am."

I lie back in my bed, snuggling under my cozy blanket. "Good for you," I mumble, closing my eyes. "Make yourself at home. I'm gonna sleep a little longer." Suddenly, he rips my blanket away. I jolt up, blinking at him. "What the fuck, man?"

Felix rolls up my blanket and sets it at the end of the bed. My heart skips when his cold fingers wrap around my arm and he gently tugs. "Come on," he says with that stupid smile. "Help me."

So that's how I end up sorting these fucking boxes at fucking eight in the morning. I don't know whether I love or hate him for that, but every time I glance at him, he looks so happy I almost forget it's eight in the morning and I've barely slept. Besides, he brought coffee—enough to make me forgive anything.

"Did you stay up late?"

"Mhm." I'm not very talkative at mornings, especially when I'm tired.

"Did Blair answer you?" I shake my head when I crush an empty cardboard box and feel a little lighter. One box less. Nice. "Hmm... That's odd. I'll ask him later to answer you."

"Don't bother."

He looks up at me, sitting cross-legged next to another cardboard box, sorting through something that looks like a mix of kitchen stuff and documents. His hair's less messy today, but a few strands still fall over his forehead. 

Also, his oversized T-shirt somehow makes him look younger than he is. It gives him this damn innocent vibe, and once again I find myself overthinking whether he's a virgin, and whether he always wears baggy clothes because he feels uncomfortable in his body, or if that's just his style. Because I'm pretty sure he's got nothing to hide.

"Don't you want him to answer?"

"I don't care. Can you hand me the cutter?"

Later that day, when I'm more awake and my one-room apartment finally starts to show some effort, I put on some music. Suddenly, I'm in a good mood. With music, it's almost fun. Felix hums along quietly, a little off-key and I grin. Not because he's a bad singer, but not exactly a good one either. It's kind of adorable.

By the afternoon, my apartment almost looks like a place a normal person could live in. It feels strangely liberating. Like a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. When evening falls, Felix and I take a break. I crack open a beer and hand him one too, though he only takes a few sips. 

I push the window open, light a cigarette, and watch the smoke drift through the room. The boxes look smaller now, less like chaos and more like progress. Felix kneels in front of the next one, tearing it open with that quiet determination of his. Then he glances up at me and grins.

"What?" I straighten up.

He closes it again and just grins up to me. "Nothing."

"Oh my god," I say and run over to him. "What's in there? Don't scare me. It's not food or a corpse, right?"