Before I can think it through, I drop the whisk. My hand grabs the front of his muscle shirt, pulling him toward me with more force than I meant to, but it's like I don't care. I need him close, and I need him now.
Noah's eyes widen for half a secon...
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Kairo spent the night, and now we're in my bathroom, brushing our teeth side by side. The morning sun streams through the high window, filling the space with a soft, natural glow, bright enough that we don't need the light on. Little stickers—a few faded stars, a peeling rainbow, a random strawberry—cling to the edge of the mirror, remnants from some past whim, slightly crooked and almost forgotten. Kairo, still half-asleep and grinning, playfully bumps his hip into mine.
I shove him back, the taste of mint in my mouth. "Fuck off," I grumble, toothbrush hanging from my lips.
"Wait..." Kairo's voice is a low hum, eyes locked on my reflection in the mirror.
I glare. "Don't fucking start."
He grins wider, then sings, off-key as ever, "They don't love you like I love you..."
Another shove, this time harder. Last night, he'd been scrolling TikTok non-stop, every other video that came up featuring that damn sound. I'd had to confiscate his phone just to get some peace. But even now, his teasing just picks right back up, that same obnoxious refrain echoing around us: Wait. They don't love you like I love you...
After we finish up, we stumble back into my room. The air feels warmer somehow with Kairo here, his presence filling the space in a way that the scattered sunlight only seems to enhance. He flops down on my unmade bed. Clothes from last night still lie crumpled on the floor, a trail of shirts and jeans kicked off in the rush to sleep. He doesn't have classes today, but I do, and he's meeting up with some guy he met at the autumn festival—someone who wants to learn how to use their camera.
Kairo pulls his long blond hair into a messy bun as he settles on the edge of the bed, looking effortlessly at home amid the chaos. Reaching for me, he pulls me between his legs, tilting his head back to meet my eyes. His fingers press into my bare waist, gently squeezing, his touch grounding and easy. Sunlight spills in from the window, catching his blue eyes, which glimmer like the ocean when the light hits it just right—bright, deep, and a little wild.
"You're so fucking annoying," I mumbled, cupping his face. Kairo melts into my touch like it's something he's been craving his whole life.
"But you like my annoying ass tho." Kairo smiles up at me. Soft. So warm.
"A little too damn much." We both shared a quiet little laugh.
My phone on the nightstand vibrates loudly, rattling against the wood. From where I'm standing, I can see the contact name flashing across the screen: Sperm Donor. Shit. I pull away from Kairo and pick up the call.
"Hey, son." My dad's voice filters through, casual, like it's just any day.
"Hi." It's forced, dry. I hope he catches the hint that I don't wanna talk.
