𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒔

thirty nine

"you're turning into the person you've always wanted to be"

The evening was uncharacteristically quiet for a Friday night in the neighborhood. The winter chill hung outside like a forgotten guest, while the inside of Cato's house radiated warmth. I stood at his door, my breath fogging in the cold air, and knocked.

"Hey," Cato greeted, opening the door and letting me step inside.

"Hey," I replied, shaking off the chill. As I entered, I was welcomed by the inviting scent of something sweet wafting through the air. Cato had set up his living room for a relaxed evening, the couch piled with soft blankets and a few snacks laid out on the coffee table—popcorn, chips, and an assortment of sodas.

"Nice setup," I remarked, taking a moment to appreciate the cozy atmosphere.

"Thanks. Thought we could start with some games," he said casually, grabbing a box of Monopoly from the shelf.

"Sure," I said, feeling a flicker of excitement. Monopoly had been a childhood staple, but I had a feeling this time would be different—more relaxed.

He spread the board across the coffee table, arranging the pieces with care. "You can pick your token first."

I scanned the options, finally choosing the thimble. "I'm going for Boardwalk," I said, stacking my money in neat piles.

"Good luck with that," he chuckled, rolling the dice.

As we played, I couldn't help but notice how easy it was to be with Cato. We fell into a rhythm, casually teasing each other as we landed on properties and counted money. "You're going to mortgage everything just to avoid paying rent?" I laughed, watching him shuffle his bills.

"Hey, it's a strategy," he replied, unbothered. "Besides, I can afford it. Just wait until I land on your Boardwalk."

"Not if I bankrupt you first," I shot back, a playful grin on my face.

The game moved slowly but steadily. We exchanged light banter, and I enjoyed the way we could tease each other without any pressure to keep the conversation flowing nonstop. Eventually, we decided to take a break from Monopoly and switch to something a bit more active.

"Ready to lose at Mario Kart?" I asked, my competitive spirit sparking.

"I'll see about that," he replied with a laid-back confidence, setting up the game.

As the races began, I focused intently on the screen, fingers flying over the buttons. Cato was surprisingly good, drifting through corners with an ease that made me feel competitive.

"Seriously? How are you so good?" I asked, half-amused, half-annoyed at my own failures.

"Just practice," he said, not looking away from the screen, his concentration evident.

We spent a while racing, the room filled with the sounds of engine roars and our laughter as we bumped each other off the track or narrowly avoided obstacles. I felt myself relaxing more with every laugh, enjoying the simplicity of the moment.

After a few intense races, I leaned back against the couch, catching my breath. "Okay, my turn to pick a movie. What do you want to watch?"

"Your pick," he said, stretching out comfortably.

"How about The Grinch?" I suggested, feeling the warmth of nostalgia creep in. It was a classic I loved.

"Sounds good to me," he replied, and I quickly navigated to the movie, the festive spirit suddenly enveloping me as the familiar theme began to play.

As the opening scenes unfolded, I settled deeper into the couch, pulling a soft blanket around my legs.

The flickering light from the screen illuminated the room, and I caught glimpses of Cato glancing at the movie as the story began to unfold.

"Always liked this one," I commented quietly, more to myself than to him.

"Yeah, it's a classic," he agreed, his voice low as we both focused on the screen.

Throughout the film, I felt comfortable, letting the holiday spirit wash over me as the Grinch plotted his mischief. Occasionally, I glanced at Cato, who seemed engrossed in the antics on screen, his expressions shifting with the plot.

We exchanged quiet comments during the movie, pointing out the ridiculous moments or sharing bits of our own holiday traditions, but we also fell into comfortable silences, enjoying the ease of just being together without the need for constant chatter.

As the Grinch slowly began to understand the spirit of Christmas, I couldn't help but smile. "I think I relate to him more every year," I joked, causing Cato to chuckle softly.

"Yeah, he gets it in the end, though," Cato replied, his gaze still fixed on the screen.

As the movie neared its end, I let myself sink further into the couch, reveling in the warmth of the blanket and the cozy atmosphere. The world outside felt miles away, a distant memory compared to the comfort of Cato's living room.

When the credits started to roll, I turned to him. "This is a solid choice for a winter movie."

"Definitely," he said, glancing over at me with a relaxed smile.

"I'm glad we did this," I added, feeling a warmth in my chest.

"Me too," he replied, looking content as he leaned back, a comfortable silence settling over us.

"Want to play something else?" I suggested, not quite ready for the night to end.

"Sure," he said, sitting up and gathering the remnants of our game night. "How about some cards?"

"Sounds good," I said, following him to grab a deck from a drawer in the kitchen.

We returned to the living room, where he shuffled the cards with a practiced ease. I leaned back on the couch, watching him, feeling a sense of gratitude for how well the evening had gone.

Once he finished shuffling, he dealt the cards, and we dove into the game.

Time passed easily as we played, the comfortable atmosphere allowing us to enjoy each other's company without the pressure of deep conversations. I appreciated how relaxed we both were, no forced laughter or awkward pauses—just a simple enjoyment of the moment.

As the evening wore on, I felt the warmth of the blankets wrapping around me, the soft glow of the TV illuminating the space as we played. I glanced at Cato occasionally, noting how easy it was to fall into this rhythm with him.

At one point, I set down my cards, leaning back against the couch. "This has been nice."

"Yeah, it has," he agreed, meeting my gaze for a moment.

There was something comforting about being here with him, in this space that felt safe and familiar. I could feel my eyelids growing heavier, and I let out a soft yawn, relaxing into the moment.

"Feeling tired?" Cato asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"A little," I admitted, letting myself sink deeper into the cushions.

"Get some rest, then," he said quietly, his gaze returning to the game.

I nodded, allowing my eyes to drift shut for just a moment, savoring the warmth and comfort surrounding me. It felt good to let go of everything else, to simply exist here with him.

As I leaned back, the soft sounds of the game and the flickering light of the TV slowly lulled me into a gentle state of relaxation.

In this moment, I didn't want to think about anything else. I just wanted to be here, enjoying the simple pleasure of a cozy night in with Cato.