Six Things Before Breakfast

3

Sanders showers for a pretty long time, but after his morning prayer, he hears water running. The bathroom is already occupied.

Gritting his teeth, he slams open the door. "Man, come on!"

Maxon slides the curtain back to peek his head out. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and he's grinning, eyes shining with humor. "Good morning, Rush."

"I shower at this time."

The soccer player's eyes widen. "Oh, shit, man. I'm sorry. I didn't know. My training starts earlier than you guys because we have more laps to run."

Sanders groans loudly. "You're messing up fucking everything!" His hands go to his hair, and his fingers itch to pull the strands out. Before he can do so, he catches sight of Maxon's briefs on the floor, and his head throbs with irritation. "Don't leave your briefs around, too. I know we're both guys, but toss it in the hamper or some shit. Becks comes in here sometimes if the hot water's not running in the other bathroom."

To his surprise, Maxon grins wider. "Cal won't care. I'm pretty sure she wears the same thing. But, ah, noted on that, it's unhygienic, sorry."

Sanders blinks. "I'm sorry, what—"

Maxon looks apologetic. "I'll be done in five, I promise. Sorry, man. I won't take your shower hour anymore."

Sanders is—he's being childish. He's being childish and stupid, and his roommate is trying. He's—he's trying. Sanders sighs. "No, it's fine. You can shower before me, you said you have an earlier training time. I'll, uh, wait for you to finish."

He leaves the bathroom and lies back down on his bed, face on his pillow. He screams at it.

When Sanders comes back from his run, Becks is already sitting up on her bed, frowning at him. She has sleep in her eyes, and her mouth is pressed into a thin line. There's drool on her chin, and Sanders, despite his shitty morning, manages a small smile. Her curls are all over her face. "Huh. That's weird. You're late."

Sanders sighs and pulls his hood down, making a beeline to her, handing her the opened almond milk. "I know. Some asshole took my shower hour."

"Thanks for this." Becks takes a sip and pulls her knees up to her chest. "You're angry at Maxon?" she asks quietly, shaking the hair out of her eyes.

Sanders hangs his head and stands up. "No. No, it's nothing. Come on, wash your face and let's eat, I bought breakfast—"

He spares a glance around her room.

Her hand wraps are gone. The gloves are gone, too. The jump ropes, punch mitts, head gear. They're nowhere in sight.

"Oh, I cleaned up a bit," Becks says, standing up and sliding her eyeglasses on.

"It looks empty," Sanders says. "You put them inside your closet?"

"Yeah." She shrugs. "Figured it would be neater to keep all my equipment in one place. Wait for me, okay? I'm going to wash up and we can eat."

Sanders barely manages a nod.

He looks around the room one more time. It's bare. Empty.

He closes the door with a clenched jaw and heads to the kitchen.

"Hey!" Maxon beams at him. He turns off the stove. "I cooked breakfast. It's an apology for taking your shower time this morning."

It smells like eggs. Sanders didn't even notice he was in the kitchen when he came back from his run, too flustered and annoyed to care.

"Oh, thanks." Sanders tosses the macaroni he bought in the refrigerator and sits down. "And it's fine," he grumbles. "It's fine, you can take it. You need to shower before training."