Six Things Before Breakfast

2

if there are any thai readers, please let me know if the terms used here are incorrect! i'd be happy to change them. i did my research but it may be wrong (i'm not thai, so please correct me)! thank you!

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When did Sanders know he was in love with Becks?

The first few months they lived together, Sanders will admit—he made every effort possible to stay away from Becks. He'd wake up extra early to go for his run and to shower, just so he could leave before Becks wakes up. He'd return home nearing midnight so he didn't have to run into her. Sanders's allowance the first few months at Bellevue was spent on food from the convenience store—he didn't want to cook in his own kitchen for fear of his roommate. Rosen complained about him crashing in his dorm room so often, and Sanders would say, "There's a lunatic in my house. She's going to kill me in my sleep."

The few times they actually did run into each other, they spoke less than five words each.

(Sanders was doing his laundry. Becks came in. "I'll come back later," Becks mumbled.

"It's fine, I'm done," Sanders said. Rushed out the door. He wasn't done with his laundry.)

But what broke the ice—Sanders went home early one day. He was pissed he was tiptoeing around his own space, that he couldn't use his own kitchen or television. So instead of hanging with Rosen and the rest of his friends from volleyball, Sanders headed home, took a shower, plopped on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table.

Becks came home about an hour later, and instinctively, Sanders turned his head, jaw almost dropping.

There are gloves hanging on the side of her sports bag.

Becks's eyes were wide. She scrambled to toss her bag behind her. "You—you're here."

"I live here," Sanders said.

"I know that," Becks said, flustered, jaw tightening. "You don't—come home this early."

"I'm allowed to. Are those boxing gloves?"

"No." Becks kicked her bag.

Sanders stood up. "Oh." A smile spread across his face. "You box."

"No, I'm in table tennis."

Sanders snorted. "You're a terrible liar. What, you punch people for fun? That why you choked me when we first met?"

"It's not for fun," Becks snapped, grabbing her bag and turning away from him. "It's a sport. Dumbass."

Sanders grinned and followed her. "You any good?"

"Shut up."

Sanders was laughing. He didn't know why. "That's so cool. When's your next match? Can I watch?"

How did Sanders know he was in love with Becks?

It could've been when she was scolding him after a volleyball game, when he had a huge, red gash open on his knee, and he was limping, and Becks had to carry him home on her back. She was yelling at him.

"You should've been more careful!" she snapped, eyebrows furrowing, dabbing at his wound with a cotton ball.

It hurt, but Sanders was smiling.

"Stupid, stupid boys," Becks muttered. Put more force in her actions. "Such big babies."

"Ow!"

"Sorry!" Becks squeaked. Blew on his wound gently.

Sanders sucked in a deep breath and watched her while she bandaged it carefully, a soft smile gracing his lips.

But when did he know he was in love?