From Mine to Ours

37: A Few Steps Forward

My fingers tap mindlessly on their sleek kitchen counter top, my eyes roam along their carefully painted cabinets and my ears listen to the calm quiet of the early Saturday morning.

We came back from the beach a few days ago and the taut tension in the air has clearly lessoned thanks to that spontaneous trip. I'm glad I got to listen to Asher's experience in their relationship as well. It's been on mind too: How I'll act and feel in this new dynamic. A dynamic all too similar to the one I had to leave.

Although, they're not similar at all. Thankfully.

Now, I can solely focus on actually figuring everything else out. I, obviously, can't just sit here and let someone steal our privacy like that. If they think they'll get away with this, they've got another thing coming.

I'm definitely ready to focus on fixing this issue if it weren't for the fact that I'm so exhausted...

One other thing that's been on my mind for a while now is the reason why I'm always up at the crack of dawn every day, even on the weekends or our days off.

Regardless if he's had a late-night or has a free day the next day, Asher never fails to set the same ringtone that rings in our ears, without fail, every single morning.

Sure, on the weekends the other two will lull him back to sleep while I attempt to turn it off without throwing the phone on the floor, but still...

Why is the 5:30 A.M alarm so important to him?

He hasn't turned it off once, but I remember the one time he didn't use it.

When I had a cold...

That was the one time none of us got up early. I distinctly remember everyone still getting ready for the day at around 10 when I finally woke up and we ate breakfast and enjoyed tea the rest of the morning. None of them were up before the sun. At least, I don't think they were...

Even in my bleary state at the time, I would've heard that loud and now very familiar alarm.

I don't particularly mind. I mean the sound definitely gets on my nerves some mornings, but I'm never actually annoyed at the man setting them.

I'm just... curious.

"Morning..." the man of the hour's muffled voice brings me back to Earth. I end up staring at his baggy t-shirt and pant-less legs while he wanders to the empty seat beside me. Without a word, I get up to grab the extra cup of hot chocolate I made for him, knowing he'd come down after me, like he usually does since I can't get back to sleep when I wake up.

Looking at his bed-ridden state: Ruffled hair, red cheeks, markings from the crinkling sheets all over his temple and heavily darkened eyes; that curiosity only increases tenfold. If he's so exhausted, why couldn't he let himself sleep in at least over the weekend?

All these questions left unanswered because I simply can't bring myself to flat out ask them. But apparently, I don't have to:

"I'm sorry..."

If it weren't for the continuous silence of this morning, I probably wouldn't have caught it.

"I woke you up..." he pauses for a long breath. "Again," his fingers wring together and lay lazily on his lap. He looks really sad, but not at all tense, which is good. I want him, all of them, to feel comfortable enough around me to tell me anything without fear. Just like I'm trying to do with them. Be as open as possible.

Babysteps...

Despite my strenuous effort, I end up yawning before I can even utter a word and my cheeks flush at my own rudeness. "No, seriously, don't even worry about it," I try, my elbows bumping his before leaning onto his shoulder. "It helps me be more productive anyways,"