(Graham's POV)

One week.

Damon has been living here for one full week. I wish I could say that it was wonderful and Damon and I get along perfectly, but we don't. I ask him to clean up after himself and he just throws more stuff around. Not only that, but he's been leaving me with all sorts of confusion when he walks around my apartment stark naked.

I've decided that I need to ask someone about what to do about this. I could go to Grace but she is far too keen on getting me in a relationship. Alex might be a good option, but he and Damon speak quite frequently and he would probably warn him about how I'm unsure about our living situation and I would rather not make Damon feel unwelcome even if he doesn't pick up after himself and makes me sexually frustrated. That leaves me with either Jamie or Dave. Both of them are level headed and would most likely be willing to listen so it's really up to who's available. I think I'll speak to Jamie though because I feel like we should be better friends since he's been picking up my groceries for the past three years.

I'm wiping down the counter tops and sweeping the kitchen when I find a small pile of shiny plastic wrappers. I swear this will be the death of me. I might leave an empty coffee mug or book lying around, but I don't wallow in my own garbage. I set off to the living room.

"You could at least throw out your garbage-" And there he is again. I stop myself and attempt cover my eyes with an annoyed sigh. He sits cross legged on the pullout couch with his head in a book just shy of covering himself as he looks up and tilts his head innocently. "Hmm?" My breathing hitches as I let my eyes roam over him again.

"Can you p-please put s-some clothes on?" My voice is small and weak as I try to keep my attention on anything but him. I hear him sigh and the sheets begin to rustle a bit. He has a pair of grey boxers on when I look at him again. He stuffs a bookmark in his book and raises his eyebrows at me. "What were you saying?"

"Oh- um just, please th-throw out your garbage instead of l-leaving granola bar wrappers a-all over the counters." I mumble and try to will away the blush. Damon scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"That wasn't me." He crosses his arms as he pouts slightly. I huff and start making my way back to my bedroom but turn around before I go in, telling him that no one else lives here. His bare chest grabs my attention again though and I suddenly can't look away. He has an amused smirk on his lips and I can suddenly feel something grow in my jeans. Fuck.

I shift awkwardly and rush through the door before basically slamming it. I can't believe I just got an awkward boner from Damon. This is the kind of stuff that I'm talking about. He knows what he's doing and he's enjoying it. He's enjoying watching me crumble in front of him and it's messing with me to no end. I sit down on my bed quietly and take deep breaths. In the beginning I thought this was just a mistake on Damon's part, but now I'm thinking it's a mistake on mine. All of this is so humiliating.

"Graham? Are you okay? You seemed rather choked." He's attempting to hide his laughs. He saw it. I know he did. My face feels hot and I almost think I might cry. All of this is just reminding me of why I tend not to speak to anyone other than Grace. I take off my glasses and rub furiously at my eyes as I ignore the persistent knocking and whining coming from Damon. "C'mon Gra."

"P-Piss off." I attempt to sound angry and intimidating, but my nerves fail me. Sometimes I wish I could just get a sentence out and sound like a normal human being. I nervously tug at my own hair and pull my knees up to my chest.

"I didn't mean to offend you, alright? Please let me in." His playful tone is dissipating and now he's beginning to sound worried and stern. Like hell I'm letting him in right now though. He can't see me like this. I won't let him.

"Please g-g-go away." I stumble over my words as I stare at my lap. It's like my body hates me or something. I don't know why shit like this somehow always happens to me of all people.

"I'm not going to leave until you let me in. I just want to talk. I-I'm sorry if I made fun of you. It wasn't funny. That kind of thing thing happens sometimes and I shouldn't have pointed it out." He sounds sincere yet defeated. I stay silent. I don't think I could face him, let alone have a full on conversation with him. I just want him to go away right now. A few tears slide down my cheeks and I'm quick to wipe them away. I feel more weak than I have in a while.

I can hear his body slide down the other side of the door and I can almost picture him sitting there. His knees must be bent and his head is most likely resting on the door. Then I remember that he's only wearing boxers and my problem grows. Looks like I'm stuck in my room for a while. I pull my sketch book from my night table drawer before doodling mindlessly on the rough paper.

My mind is stuck on the man outside my room though. I draw him. It's quite bad considering the only reference I have to go off is the picture I have of him in my brain I didn't know I had his face as memorized as I did. It fascinates and terrifies me. How much have I focused in on his features?

***

It had been nearly an hour of still silence and my pencil scratching the paper before I could hear Damon sigh from the other side of the door and get up. I almost forgot he was even there at this point.

"I-I'm gonna Do out for a few hours." He mumbles. "I want to talk when I get home though." I find myself wanting to open the door and invite him in. He sounds like he feels bad about making me feel embarrassed, but then I remember why it happened in the first place and I know that I'm not ready to look him in the eyes.

As soon as the door to the apartment closes, I'm peaking my head out the door and assessing my surroundings. Not much has changed other than Damon's bed being made neatly and a pile of his clothes being folded. I smile lightly to myself. He must have done it before he left.

There's a folded piece of paper by the phone that has most of the phone numbers I'll ever need. Jamie's is on there. I call him. He picks up after four rings. "Hello?"

"Uhh, hi Jamie." I mumble. This was stupid. I shouldn't have called. He's going to think I'm weird and overly dramatic and he's going to stop picking up my groceries because of it.

"Graham? Is that you?" He asks and I calm my breathing enough to tell him yes. "How are you love? I haven't seen you since that day in the lobby." He sounds somewhat... happy to hear from me? That's definitely a first.

"I-I'm good. How a-are you?" I won't lie and say I'm not relieved that he's carrying out a conversation instead of sitting there and waiting for me to ask him what I need. I don't mind Jamie. The few conversations I've had with him were very pleasant.

"That's good. I've been wonderful. Why might you be calling on this fine evening?" His voice is calm and quite soothing. My breathing has slowed and I can't feel my heart beat against my ribcage as much anymore.

"About th-that. I-um was actually wondering if you might be able to give me some advice o-on a situation I'm in." I feel bad asking this of him, but I need someone to speak to.

"Of course. What is it?" I can hear the polite smile in his voice and I wonder why I waited so long to speak to Jamie. I never knew he was so nice. Well, I did know he was nice, but he's willing to listen to my mess of thoughts right now. He's practically a saint in my books.

"Oh, well um, I-I have a flat mate now a-and he's not picking up after h-himself and-" I stop myself from rambling on any further as I think of the consequences of telling him that Damon is making me question my sexuality. What if he's homophobic? I doubt he is considering the comic he told me he was writing when I had first met him, but there's still fear bubbling deep in my chest.

"And?" He pushes. It's not in a prying way, he just sounds like he wants me to finish my sentence. My eyes focus on the folded clothes and now I also realize that Damon's put away a few of my books. I do have to admit that he can be sweet when he wants to be. Even if that was only twice out of our whole week spent living together.

"He's making me f-feel things..." I trail off and squeeze my eyes shut tightly in anticipation.

"Hmm. Have you tried talking to him? About the garbage and the way he makes you feel, I mean." He's so nonchalant about it, as if I didn't just basically come out for the first time ever. I think back on my life and realize that I haven't really liked many women and the one's that I have liked always had masculine qualities about them. Maybe Damon was right with his assumption when we were at the bar.

"I tried to bring it up to him today b-but I got a little- um side tracked?" It comes out as more of a question than I intend it to and he laughs from his side of the line. I think I might be beginning to regret calling him for this, but this could also be one of the best decisions I've ever made because now I have someone to speak to other than Grace.

"Graham dear, how on earth do you get side tracked while confronting someone about garbage?" He asks and I roll my eyes and play with the cord that's connected to the phone.

"I-I just did, okay?" I heave out a sigh to show that I'm getting slightly annoyed. I don't think he cares all that much that I'm irritated with him, but I can do as I want.

"Strange, but okay." He chuckles. "The only advice I can really give you is to be assertive and make him know what you want and when you want it. If you like him though, tell him when you feel comfortable enough to."

I give myself a moment to think of what would happen if I were to ever be considered assertive and I laugh. Even though Jamie is probably right, I know I will never take charge with anything. It's just not who I am.

"Thank you, Jamie." I say timidly. "I really didn't know who to go to." I know I've definitely made the right decision with him now though.

"Any time. I'm serious Graham, if you need anything don't hesitate to call. I'm always here." I'm nearly in tears by the time he finishes his last sentence. I think he truly is here for me.

"I will." I promise before we exchange our goodbyes and hang up our phones. Now all I have to do is wait for Damon and then my life might have some order in it once again. I hope it can at least. Damon doesn't seem like the most orderly person and he absolutely terrifies me because of it.

I sit on the pull out bed and turn on the tv. Usually I can sit and watch until my eyes are bleary and red, but I can't sit still right now. I'm anxious and nervous about what's going to happen when my flatmate comes home. I hope it won't end in a fight. I hate being yelled at with a burning passion. I settle myself by picking at my cuticles.

I can do this. I have to do this.