𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙊𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙐𝙥.

Belonging.

The next morning felt lighter somehow. It wasn't sunny, though. Michigan apparently had a personal vendetta against sunlight, but lighter. West stood outside the café with his guitar case leaning against his leg, cold fingers curled around the sleeve of his coat while traffic hissed over rain-slick roads nearby.

The sky hung low and grey over Ann Arbor. It was the kind of weather that warranted sipping coffee or drinking soup next to a fireplace, blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Alas, West was outside. His friends had invited him to an outdoor café before rehearsals.

The outdoor seating area smelled like espresso and wet concrete. Steam curled from mugs on nearby tables while people shuffled past dressed in scarves and oversized hoodies. A customer opened the door to the café and inside, he could hear some music playing. West caught a few muffled notes of Fleetwood Mac before the sound disappeared with the door closing.

A pigeon landed on a street lamp above him.

West narrowed his eyes at it suspiciously.

The pigeon stared back. Then promptly shit on his sleeve.

West blinked.

"...Nice. Thanks for that."

He looked down at the smear on his coat with a grimace before letting out a quiet laugh under his breath. Somewhere, years ago, he remembered hearing that bird shit was lucky, so he'd take it. Especially after yesterday's phone call with Killian.

They'd talked again briefly that morning before Killian left for work. Nothing serious. Just sleepy teasing and West listening to Killian complain about nearly slipping on ice outside his house. It had felt normal, maybe even good. And West was clinging to that feeling with both hands. Maybe things really were okay, or at least fixable.

He was still staring thoughtfully at the bird shit on his sleeve when a familiar voice cut through the noise around him.

"Wow." Lia exclaimed, eyeing his sleeve. "Even the birds in Michigan hate you."

West looked up flatly. "Good morning to you too."

Franny snorted behind her while adjusting the strap of her keyboard bag. "Wait, is that actually bird poop?"

"It's lucky." West informed them seriously, before wiping it off with napkin.

That made Lia laugh, "You sound insane."

West opened his mouth to respond, then stopped... because Roy had stepped around the corner behind them, and he looked really, really good. His curls were shorter now, freshly cut, the dark strands sitting softer around his face instead of falling into his eyes every five seconds. It's amazing what a haircut could do for a person.

He was also wearing an oversized coat hung open just enough for West to catch sight of the black cropped shirt underneath... and the strip of toned stomach visible above his jeans. West's eyes flicked there automatically. Then immediately away again.

Jesus Christ.

Roy noticed, and a slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he walked up beside them.

"Careful..." He drawled. "At least buy me dinner first."

West nearly choked on air.

Lia's eyes narrowed instantly between them like a shark scenting blood in water.

"Interesting..."

"There is nothing interesting happening." West said quickly.

"Mhm."

Franny clapped her hands once before Lia could start. "Okay, enough of that. Roy, West, you're getting coffees."

West frowned, "We are?"