PRETTY BOY - sapnap.

VII. REAL LIFE & TWITTER.

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THE COLD AIR FROM the fridge spilled out onto him, making goosebumps rise up on his arm. 

Grocery bags were carefully placed on the countertop, and the door shut behind Nick as he stepped in. The next few moments were silent as they unloaded the food from the bags, the silence only disrupted by the rustling of paper bags and the footsteps of the two roommates as they put the groceries away.

Cabinet doors were opened, only to be shut when it was filled. They creaked on their hinges, which was no surprise to either of the two. It was peaceful. It was calm. They worked carefully and quietly, not saying a word to each other or even paying that close of attention to each other.

And then Morgan hit his burned hand on a cabinet handle. A hiss of pain escaped his mouth, making Nick jump from where he stood. As soon as their eyes connected, Nick knew what had happened. And so, he grabbed the tube of Neosporin and took Morgan hand gently. 

He twisted the cap off the tube, before squeezing a small amount of the medicine onto his pointer finger and rubbing it onto Morgan's burn. 

"I can do it myself-" Morgan began, moving his hand to do it himself, but was cut off when Nick slapped it away.

"I don't trust you. Not after, well," he paused and gestured towards the burn, "that happened." 

Morgan hummed in agreement, allowing Nick to finish his work. The black haired boy avoided looking at his roommate, both to avoid creating more tension and also to hide the blush that had arisen on his cheeks. 

Nick looked up at his slightly taller roommate, letting out a soft chuckle. His hand pulled away from Morgan's and a feeling of slight emptiness arose within the latter. 

The brunet rubbed his eyes, as if he was tired. "There." 

"Thanks."

Nick hummed in response, before he walked back into his room, the door clicking behind him as it closed. 

Morgan sat silently for a moment, stunned. The Neosporin was set down neatly on the counter, capped. Slowly, he pulled out his phone and checked his messages, not prepared for what was about to greet his eyes.

And boy oh boy, did he wish he was prepared.

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