The shower was supposed to help.

Avi had no idea why he'd believed that.

He stood beneath the scalding spray with both palms braced flat against the cold tiled wall, his head bowed as water streamed down his face and dripped from his chin.

He'd made a decision.

That was supposed to count for something, wasn't it?

He was going to tell Nicholas the truth. He was going to stop treating the possibility of losing him as a reason to keep lying to him. He was going to take responsibility for the mess Shane had left behind, even if doing so meant watching the one good thing in his life fall apart in front of him.

Simple enough.

Except deciding to do something and actually doing it were two entirely different things, and Avi had always been remarkably talented at finding the space between them to make himself miserable.

He sighed, dragging a wet hand down his face.

God, I'm an idiot.

The notebook.

There it was. The entire problem, reduced to a single, unassuming object.

A notebook that had found its way into his life because a man named Elias Vernon had turned up with a message from the dead.

Avi could still remember meeting him. The strange, uncomfortable conversation. The way Elias had explained that Shane, in his last will, had specifically requested that a certain notebook be given to Avi. Not someone else. Not handed over to the authorities or left to gather dust among Shane's belongings.

Avi.

As though Shane had known exactly what he was doing. As though he'd anticipated that Avi would be the one left standing when everything else came crashing down.

At the time, Avi hadn't known what to make of it. He'd barely known what to make of Shane's death, let alone a final instruction that felt less like an inheritance and more like being handed a live grenade with absolutely no instructions on how to dispose of it.

He'd read it. The whole damn thing.

Each page he turned had made him realize how little he had known of his supposed best friend. He'd finished reading with a truth he couldn't simply put back where he'd found it. And he'd been trying to figure out what to do with it ever since.

Even though he had strictly refused to carry it back to the apartment—the distance had seemed necessary. So he could pretend, for a little while, that putting the thing out of sight might give him enough room to think.

It hadn't.

He'd thought about it while brushing his teeth. While trying to sleep. While sitting through lectures, staring at the same paragraph until the words stopped looking like words. He'd thought about it in the middle of conversations and during the quiet stretches of the night when there was nothing left to distract him from himself.

He'd thought about it while lying beside Nicholas.

Especially then.

Because if anyone deserved the truth, it was the man who had promised not to let go of him just this morning.

Avi's chest ached at the memory. As much as Nicholas's words had sent butterflies fluttering wildly beneath his ribs, Avi knew deep down he didn't quite deserve that promise. Not yet. True, he had decided to correct his mistakes, but he was prepared to accept whatever reaction Nicholas had once the truth was finally out. At the very least, now that he knew how deeply Nicholas cared, a fragile, desperate hope had taken root—a hope that Nicholas might eventually come around, even if the initial revelation enraged him.

Because God, Avi had tried. Why did it always have to fall on him? Why did he always end up caught in the center of everyone else's collateral damage?

Avi tipped his head back beneath the spray.

Shane had managed to die and still make Avi's life exponentially harder. Elias had delivered the message. The notebook had done what it was supposed to do, whatever Shane's twisted reasons had been for leaving it behind.

Avi shut off the water.

For a moment, he remained where he was, listening to the sudden, heavy silence. Water trickled from his curls and ran down his back. His palms were still pressed against the tiles, his shoulders aching from how long he'd been standing there.

He couldn't keep doing this.

Nicholas didn't know what Avi was hiding. He'd chosen to reach for Avi without knowing, and that choice belonged to him. Avi couldn't continue deciding what Nicholas would do with the truth before even giving him the chance to hear it.

Avi reached for his towel.

He'd have to get the notebook back from Elias first. He wasn't even sure if he'd be brave enough to sit across from Nicholas Damine and explain what Elias had told him, why he'd read it, and why he'd kept quiet for so long afterward. He knew he wouldn't handle it well when Nicholas started asking questions—especially the ones Avi couldn't bear to hear out loud.

Avi closed his eyes briefly, letting out a long, shuddering sigh.

"Well, shit."

He had a knack for making life harder for himself. That much was undeniable. Give him a single difficult choice, and he'd somehow find a way to turn it into six difficult choices, three sleepless nights, and a full-blown emotional crisis before breakfast.

But he was done using that as an excuse.

He couldn't undo the time he'd wasted. He couldn't go back to the day Elias had found him and make a different choice, or return to the night he'd first read the notebook and somehow emerge with an easier answer.

All he could do was decide what happened next.

And in the name of everything he felt for Nicholas Damine—in the name of the warmth he'd been given, the trust he'd been allowed to mistake for something he could keep without consequence, and the future he'd discovered he wanted more than he'd ever admitted to himself—telling him the truth was the absolute least Avi could do.

Even if it cost him everything.

He dried himself off, pulled on his clothes, and took one last look at his reflection in the steamed-up mirror.

He looked utterly exhausted.

He felt infinitely worse.

Still, when he stepped out of the bathroom, he knew one thing with absolute clarity that he hadn't known when he'd walked in.

He wasn't going to run.

By the time he emerged from the steam of the bathroom, his damp hair was dripping onto his shoulders, and his brain had achieved a state of absolute emotional exhaustion.

Unfortunately, things immediately got worse.

Because Nicholas was in bed. Nicholas's bed, in Nicholas's room, sprawled diagonally across the mattress like he owned the entire square footage of the building.

He was scrolling through his phone with one hand, one ankle resting casually over the opposite knee. He glanced up as the door opened. His eyes stopped. Stayed there. Slowly travelled from Avi's damp, messy curls to his bare shoulders, and then lower.

He glanced up as the door opened. His eyes stopped. Stayed there. Slowly travelled from Avi's damp, messy curls to his bare shoulders, and then lower.

Avi stood perfectly still in the doorway.

A moment passed. Then another.

"...Are you done?"

"No?"

Avi raised a brow.

Nicholas lowered his phone completely, letting it drop onto the sheets with a soft thud. "Come a little closer."

"Why?"

"Better angle."

Avi stared at him, his expression one of pure, unadulterated exhaustion. "You have a serious problem."

"Several, actually." Nicholas's gaze wandered over him again, entirely without shame.

Avi sighed, rubbing his temples. "I'm changing."

"Noted."

"You need to leave."

Nicholas tilted his head. "Do I?"

"Yes, Nicholas. That's generally what people mean when they tell you to leave a room."

"Interesting. And here I thought you were informing me of your upcoming activities."

Avi narrowed his eyes. Nicholas smiled.

For a moment, they stared at each other, neither willing to surrender the last word.

Then Nicholas asked, quieter but no less amused, "Do you actually want me to go?"

The question caught Avi off guard. Nicholas was looking at him properly now. No teasing smile. No exaggerated innocence. Just a simple question, with room for an honest answer.

Avi glanced away first. "...Not really."

Nicholas's smile returned, slow and thoroughly insufferable. "Excellent."

"Don't look so pleased with yourself."

"I'm trying. It's a terrible struggle."

Avi rolled his eyes and turned away with a sigh that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his soul. He didn't have the energy for this. He'd spent the better part of his morning making peace with the possibility of losing the man standing behind him, and Nicholas, apparently, had decided that the best way to deal with Avi's emotional exhaustion was to make himself a problem of an entirely different kind.

Fine. Whatever.

Avi would change, retrieve the notebook, and tell Nicholas the truth. One problem at a time. He could manage that much, surely.

He spotted a neatly folded pair of boxers and a pair of trousers waiting on the chair beside the wardrobe. Avi paused, then looked over his shoulder.

Nicholas was watching him with a small, satisfied smile. "You prepared my clothes?"

"You're welcome."

Avi stared at him for another second before rolling his eyes for the second time in as many minutes. "You're unbelievable."

"And yet, here you are."

"Unfortunately."

He picked up the clothes and turned his back to Nicholas, doing his best to preserve whatever remained of his dignity. With one hand holding his towel securely in place, he managed to pull on the boxers and trousers without loosening the knot.

When he straightened, he caught Nicholas watching him with a rather pointed expression.

Avi frowned. "What?"

Nicholas looked almost offended. "I was expecting a bit of a show."

Avi scoffed. "Oh, you wish."

"You're very cruel to me, Avi."

"Tragic. I'll try to find it in my heart to care."

Nicholas grinned. Avi turned back to the wardrobe before the conversation could deteriorate any further. "I need a T-shirt."

"Open the wardrobe."

Avi pulled the wardrobe open. Black. Black. More black.

He stared. There were black T-shirts. Black long-sleeved button-downs. A dark charcoal sweater that was apparently Nicholas's idea of dramatic colour variety.

Avi reached in and pulled one out by the hanger. "Do you own anything that isn't black?"

"Obviously."

Avi glanced over his shoulder. Nicholas was still watching him from the bed. "Where?"

"In there."

Avi looked back into the abyss of the wardrobe. "There are approximately thirty-seven shades of dark grey and black in here."

"Exactly."

"That isn't variety."

"It is to me."

Avi rolled his eyes and continued rummaging through the hangers. He was almost tempted to give up and take the first black shirt he found. He didn't have the energy to argue about colours, and he certainly didn't have the energy to wonder why Nicholas's wardrobe looked like it belonged to a man who had personally declared war on the visible spectrum.

He reached farther into the wardrobe, pushing a row of hangers aside. Behind him, the mattress creaked.

Avi barely registered the sound before two arms wrapped around his middle. He startled, his hand closing around a hanger as a solid chest pressed flush against his back. Nicholas drew him close, his arms settling around Avi's waist, and rested his chin on his shoulder as though he'd simply found an empty space in the room and decided it belonged to him.

Avi froze.

"What are you doing?"

"Hugging you."

"I gathered that."

"Then why did you ask?"

Avi closed his eyes.

God, give me strength.

He'd asked for a little peace. A shower. Five minutes to dress himself and get on with the business of dismantling his own life. Instead, he had Nicholas Damine wrapped around him like a particularly affectionate parasite.

And the worst part was that Avi didn't want him to let go.

That was the problem with Nicholas. He made it so damn easy to forget what Avi had promised himself in the shower. One minute, Avi was preparing to confess a truth that might ruin everything, and the next, Nicholas was holding him from behind, warm and solid and infuriatingly real.

Avi swallowed the lump in his throat and reached for another hanger.

Nicholas made no attempt to move. Instead, he tightened his arms a fraction, pressing his cheek briefly against Avi's damp hair.

Avi exhaled through his nose. "You're doing this on purpose."

"Doing what?"

"Being annoying."

"I thought I was being affectionate."

"You're being both."

"Multitalented."

Avi made a small, exhausted noise and resumed his search for a shirt. Nicholas went with him.

When Avi shifted to the left, Nicholas shifted with him. When Avi leaned forward to inspect the clothes hanging near the back, Nicholas bent with him, keeping his arms around his waist. When Avi straightened again, Nicholas straightened too, his chin returning to its place near Avi's shoulder.

It was like trying to get dressed while being haunted by a very handsome ghost with absolutely no respect for personal space.

"Can you stop following my movements?"

"I'm not following you."

"You are literally moving every time I move."

"Coincidence."

"Nick."

"Avi."

Avi gave up on reasoning with him and pulled another shirt from the wardrobe. Black. Of course. He shoved it back.

Nicholas hummed thoughtfully against his shoulder. "You know, most people would be delighted to have me this close."

"Most people haven't had to live with you."

"That's fair."

"And most people aren't trying to get dressed."

"I can think of several ways to help with that."

Avi turned his head just enough to give him a warning look. Nicholas smiled innocently.

Avi turned back to the wardrobe before his own face could betray him. He was too tired for this. Too tired to keep up the performance, too tired to pretend Nicholas's attention didn't make something in him ache, too tired to reconcile the warmth of these arms with the truth he still had to tell.

The notebook was waiting at Elias's place. The truth was waiting with it. And Nicholas was here, holding him as if Avi had nowhere else to be.

Avi forced himself to look at the clothes. "You're going to make me late."

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Very informative."

"Thank you."

"Would you like to elaborate?"

"No."

Nicholas sighed dramatically into his shoulder. "You're so secretive."

The words were teasing. Harmless, even.

Avi's fingers tightened around the hanger. For one awful second, the urge to turn around and tell him everything rose so sharply that it almost hurt. There's something you need to know. Something I should have told you already. Something that might change how you look at me.

He could do it now. He could turn in Nicholas's arms, look him in the eye, and finally stop carrying this alone.

But his throat closed around the words. Not yet.

He hated himself a little for it.

Then his fingers brushed against a fabric that felt different from the rest. Wine-red.

Avi drew it out from the back of the wardrobe. The colour looked almost offensively out of place among the blacks and greys. He held it up, turning his head slightly to show Nicholas.

"This?"

Nicholas's attention shifted to the shirt. His arms remained around Avi's waist, but his expression changed. His eyes moved over the rich colour, then returned to Avi's face.

"Would look good on you."

"No, thanks."

Avi started to return it to the hanger. Nicholas's hand slipped from his waist and caught his wrist.

"Put it on, Avi."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to."

Nicholas considered that for a moment. Then he leaned back just far enough to look at Avi properly. "Please?"

Avi turned his head, craning his neck to meet Nicholas's eyes. "No."

"Come on."

"No."

"You'd look good in it."

"I look good in black."

"You look good in everything."

Avi stared at him. The shamelessness of it. The absolute, catastrophic shamelessness.

For a moment, he forgot the shirt, the wardrobe, the notebook, and the entire carefully constructed plan he'd made in the shower. Nicholas Damine was going to be the death of him.

"You can't just say things like that," Avi muttered.

"Why not?"

"Because—"

He stopped. Because what? Because it made him want to believe Nicholas meant every word? Because he was already in too deep, and Nicholas kept making the bottom look farther away? Because Avi had spent so long preparing himself for the worst that he didn't know what to do with the possibility of being wanted?

Nicholas waited.

Avi looked away. "Just stop talking."

Nicholas's mouth curved. "Make me."

Avi's eyes widened. "You're unbelievable."

"I've heard."

Nicholas released Avi's wrist, took the wine-red shirt from his hand, and held it against his own broad chest. Then he gave Avi the most absurdly exaggerated approximation of a pleading expression he'd ever seen.

"Pleeeaase."

It wasn't remotely convincing. Which somehow made it entirely impossible to resist.

Avi pointed at him sternly. "You're not winning."

"I haven't even started trying yet."

"You're insufferable."

Nicholas smiled, offering the shirt forward like a peace sacrifice.

Avi rolled his eyes with a long, dramatic sigh. "Fine." He snatched it back.

Nicholas's smile widened instantly. "Good boy."

Avi went completely still.

Oh. Oh, absolutely not.

He turned his head very slowly. Nicholas looked delighted with himself.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"You know what."

"I really don't."

Avi stared at him for another second, trying to decide whether strangling his roommate would count as a reasonable response to the circumstances.

Nicholas kissed his cheek.

Avi's brain promptly abandoned him. He turned away before Nicholas could see the full extent of the damage and reached for the wardrobe door, pulling it shut.

The door revealed the full-length mirror attached to its exterior. Avi stared at their reflection.

Nicholas stood behind him, arms once again comfortably wrapped around his waist, his chin settling near Avi's shoulder as though he'd been born there. Avi could almost pretend that nothing was waiting for him beyond this room.

Almost.

"You're in the way," he muttered.

Nicholas rested his chin on his shoulder. "Am I?"

"Yes."

"Should I move?"

Avi glanced at their reflection again. Nicholas's arms were still comfortably secured around his waist. His expression was unbearably pleased, but there was something softer beneath the teasing, too. He wasn't holding Avi tightly enough to trap him. If Avi wanted to move, he could. The choice was his.

Avi swallowed. "...No."

Nicholas's smile appeared in the mirror. "Excellent."

"Stop saying that."

"Noted."

"You're not even listening to me."

"I'm listening very carefully."

"Then why are you still here?"

"Because you told me not to move."

Avi had no answer to that. He hated that Nicholas was right. He hated even more that the warmth spreading through his chest had nothing to do with the bathroom's lingering steam.

Nicholas's hands shifted slightly against his waist, settling more comfortably. He pressed a brief kiss to Avi's shoulder.

Avi's fingers tightened around the wine-red shirt.

"You're distracting me."

"From what?"

"Getting dressed."

"Tragic."

"Nicholas."

"Yes, baby?"

Avi shuddered. Actually shuddered. He stared at himself in the mirror, momentarily horrified by his own body's treachery.

Nicholas's head lifted. "Oh?"

"Don't."

"I haven't done anything."

"You called me—" Avi stopped, his ears warming. "You know what you called me."

"Baby?"

Avi squeezed his eyes shut. Nicholas sounded far too pleased with himself.

"Don't call me that."

"Would you prefer sweetheart?"

"No."

"Darling?"

"Nicholas."

"Love?"

Avi tipped his head back just enough to bump it lightly against Nicholas's shoulder. "You're going to make me commit a crime."

Nicholas laughed, the sound warm against Avi's ear. "Noted. I'll try to keep the terms of endearment to a legally acceptable minimum."

"Please do."

"Anything for you, baby."

Avi made a strangled sound. Nicholas's laughter followed him as he tried, unsuccessfully, to wriggle out of the embrace.

"You're impossible."

"But you like me."

Avi went quiet. The words were casual, teasing. Nicholas probably expected a sarcastic retort, something sharp enough to keep the conversation moving. But Avi had no answer ready.

Because he did like him. God help him, he liked him so much that even the thought of losing him had become something he carried around in his chest.

Nicholas's smile softened in the mirror. Avi looked away first.

"I'm getting late."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"That's unfortunate."

"Can you let go of me, then?"

Nicholas considered it. Instead of releasing him, he turned Avi gently within the circle of his arms until they were facing each other. Avi had to tilt his head back to look up at him.

Nicholas smiled as though he'd been given something precious. He reached for the wine-red shirt in Avi's hand. "Arms up."

Avi blinked. "What?"

"Arms. Up."

"Why?"

"So I can put your shirt on."

Avi looked at the shirt, then at Nicholas. "I know how to dress myself."

"I have no doubt."

"Then—"

"Humour me."

There was something so ridiculously earnest about the request that Avi couldn't quite bring himself to refuse. With a muttered complaint, he lifted his arms.

Nicholas helped him into the shirt, guiding the fabric over his shoulders and easing it down without catching Avi's damp curls in the collar. His fingers brushed Avi's sides as he straightened the hem, and Avi found himself standing very still, watching him.

Nicholas took his time. He smoothed the fabric over Avi's shoulders, his hands lingering just long enough for the touch to register.

Avi's expression softened before he could stop it.

He couldn't keep this. Not like this. Not if he continued to let Nicholas believe that there was nothing between them but the messiness of new feelings and the usual chaos of sharing an apartment.

Nicholas was treating him with a tenderness Avi hadn't known what to do with even before the notebook came into his life. And now, with everything he knew, every affectionate touch felt like something he had no right to accept without offering the truth in return.

The thought pressed against him, quiet but persistent. Soon, he reminded himself. He would get the notebook back. He would find the words. He would tell Nicholas.

"There."

Avi swallowed. "Happy?"

Nicholas looked him over, his expression thoughtful. "Very."

"Good. Can I have my personal space back now?"

"No."

Avi stared at him. Nicholas smiled.

Then his hands slid down, resting securely on Avi's waist again.

"Will you be late?"

"No."

Nicholas's eyes narrowed slightly, dark and observant. "Will you be at Maya's?"

"No."

"Kai's?"

"No."

"You have other friends?"

"Apparently."

Nicholas stared at him for another second. "...Since when?"

Avi shrugged, though the motion was restricted by Nicholas's grip. "Since apparently I have a life."

"That's concerning."

"Why?"

"I've been living with you for months," Nicholas said mildly, his thumbs stroking slow arcs over the fabric at Avi's waist. "You having a life outside this apartment feels statistically unlikely."

Avi gave him a flat look. "I'm getting late." He tried to wriggle out of the hands pinned to his waist, attempting to step away. But Nicholas wasn't even remotely thinking of letting him go.

"Be careful," he said softly, his voice dropping into that quiet, serious register that always made Avi's pulse jump.

Something warm and annoyingly tender bloomed in Avi's chest before he could raise a defence against it. "I'll try not to get stabbed."

"That would be appreciated."

"And if I do?"

"I'll be very worried."

"Good to know your priorities."

Nicholas's mouth twitched into a faint, devastating smile. Avi smiled back, unable to stop himself.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Avi wanted to stay. The realization arrived quietly, without the usual panic that accompanied his feelings for Nicholas. He wanted to stay in this room, in the circle of Nicholas's arms, and let himself believe that the life he was beginning to imagine might actually be possible.

But he couldn't let himself mistake a good morning for a clean slate. There was still a notebook waiting at Elias's place. There was still a truth Nicholas deserved to know. And Avi had already spent too long letting fear make his decisions for him.

He drew a breath, then cleared his throat, trying to break the heavy spell between them. "I need socks."

"Second drawer."

Avi managed to break away, crossing the room to pull the wooden drawer open. He stopped dead in his tracks.

Rows. Perfect, immaculate, deeply unsettling rows. Every single pair was folded identically into tight, uniform squares. Light colours were arranged strictly to the left, dark colours to the right, athletic socks strictly segregated from dress socks, and even the black ones appeared to follow a terrifying, manic gradient system known only to Nicholas and whatever pathological part of his brain genuinely enjoyed this sort of thing.

A wave of vivid memory suddenly washed over Avi—specifically, a memory from the night he'd picked Nicholas's lock while the man was passed out. A memory in which Avi had taken petty, quiet revenge on Nicholas's terrifying domestic order by violently mixing up the blue, white, grey, and black pairs, staging a full-blown underwear coup.

A sudden, scorching hot flush crept right up the back of his neck. A sheepish, hopelessly guilty smile tugged at the corner of his lips before he could stop it. He tried to smooth his face into something resembling innocence, darting a subtle glance over his shoulder to check if Nicholas was watching.

Nicholas was tracking his every move from across the room, one dark brow arched high. His gaze drifted past Avi to the pristine drawer, then flicked right back to Avi's guilty face. A knowing, dangerous little glint appeared in his eyes.

"Why?" Nicholas asked dryly. "Feeling like messing that up too?"

Avi didn't even attempt a defence. He quickly reached into the drawer, snatched the first plain black pair he could grab, and slammed the dresser shut with a heavy THUD that rattled the lampshade. He shoved the borrowed socks deep into his jeans pocket as if hiding contraband.

"I'll take these," Avi announced loudly, taking a long step away to put maximum physical distance between the drawer and himself.

"Okay," Nicholas nodded smoothly, looking immensely pleased with himself as his mouth twitched into a faint, insufferable smirk.

Avi cleared his throat, his ears still burning as his eyes darted frantically around the room for a distraction. "...You got an umbrella I can steal?"

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "I believe the word you're looking for is borrow."

Avi looked back at him. "...Right." A beat. "So, you got one?"

Nicholas gestured toward the corner of the room, where several umbrellas leaned neatly inside a woven stand. Avi walked over and slid his hand along the curved handles, pulling out a dark blue one.

"That one leaks," Nicholas noted dryly.

Avi immediately shoved it back into the stand and reached for a plain grey one instead. "This one?"

Nicholas glanced over. "That'll survive."

"Good enough."

Avi tucked the umbrella beneath his arm, the borrowed socks bulging awkwardly in his pocket. He reached for the bedroom doorknob.

He lingered there for half a second longer than necessary. Neither of them seemed to know what came next. Yesterday, they hadn't been... this. This morning, Nicholas had laid his cards completely on the table, and Avi had—well, Avi had surrendered to the madness, too. Now they were standing there looking at each other like two people who had accidentally wandered into a relationship without receiving the instruction manual.

Avi's eyes flicked briefly down toward Nicholas's mouth, then snapped back up to his eyes. He took a quiet, deep breath.

Before his nerve could fail him, Avi closed the distance between them in three quick strides. He leaned in, pressing a soft, deliberate peck straight to Nicholas's lips—catching the older man entirely by surprise.

Without giving Nicholas a single second to react, recover, or pull him back, Avi spun on his heel and darted straight out the door.