Elliot

2 - Donuts

The next couple of days were a whirlwind of unpacking and arranging. Elliot moved through the small apartment like a choreographer setting a stage, each box a piece of a larger vision. By the end of the second night, it finally started to feel like his own.

Posters from his favorite musicals hung on the freshly painted walls, vibrant bursts of color against the white backdrop. Chicago, Hamilton, West Side Story—they all had a place of honor, carefully arranged so the room reflected his passion for the performing arts. His bookshelf, though small, was packed tightly with everything from dog-eared dance theory manuals to well-loved novels that had traveled with him through years of late-night reading.

A row of framed photos sat on the windowsill—his parents, smiling proudly at his high school recital; his best friends, caught mid-laugh at some long-forgotten joke; and one of himself mid-leap, frozen in the air, taken during his first major performance. That picture always reminded him of why he danced. Elliot adjusted the small succulent plant he'd placed on the coffee table, a housewarming gift from his best friend, Lily. "You better survive this time," he muttered, narrowing his eyes at the little green leaves. His history with plants was dismal, but he liked the idea of having something alive in the apartment besides himself.

He stood back and surveyed the space, hands on his hips. It was still small, still unfamiliar, but it felt brighter now, filled with little pieces of home. The music from his phone played softly in the background as he finished folding a blanket over the back of the couch. He hummed along absentmindedly, losing himself in the rhythm.

A sharp knock at the door startled him. His heart jumped, and he nearly tripped over the box of miscellaneous cables he hadn't found a place for yet. "Coming!" he called, shuffling toward the door.

When he opened it, Alec was there, leaning casually against the doorframe with a grin that was quickly becoming familiar. "Thought I'd check in on the new guy," Alec said, holding up a brown paper bag. "And maybe bribe him with donuts to let me in and see how it's coming along."

Elliot blinked, surprised but pleased. "You brought donuts? You're dangerously close to becoming my favorite person in this building."

"Wait till you taste them," Alec said, stepping inside uninvited but welcome. "They're from the bakery around the corner. Best in town. And they're fresh, so you owe me."

Elliot laughed, shutting the door behind him. "Alright, fine. Come in, but if you're judging my decorating, be nice. It's still a work in progress."

Alec raised his hands, his grin widening. "Hey, I'm just here for the donuts and good company. Judging isn't my style."

Alec wandered into the apartment with the easy confidence of someone who'd been invited a hundred times before, though this was clearly his first visit. He set the bag of donuts on the counter, then immediately started taking in the space.

"Not bad," he said, his voice light and teasing as he walked past the kitchen into the living area. "Very you."

Elliot arched a brow, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. "You've known me for all of five minutes. How do you know what's 'very me'?"

Alec turned, shooting him a grin. "Lucky guess. Plus, the musical posters on the wall? Dead giveaway. Chicago is a classic, by the way. Respect."

Elliot chuckled despite himself, following Alec's gaze as he stepped closer to the framed photos on the windowsill. Alec crouched slightly, tilting his head to examine one of them—a younger Elliot mid-leap, his arms and legs stretched in perfect symmetry.

"That's you, isn't it?" Alec asked, glancing back with a knowing smile.

"Guilty," Elliot said, a little sheepishly. "First big performance. One of my friends snapped it, and I guess I liked it enough to keep it around."