*Unedited*
—————
Callan, for once, found himself making breakfast long before the birds outside his window tended to wake him up. It was strange. The entire neighborhood was eerily quiet, and the entire room was flooded with blue light leaking from the sunrise.

But, it was also refreshing, and just the thing he needed to get his mind off of last night's occurrences. If he were to be honest, he felt awful for intruding in Ollivander's privacy. Yet, on the other hand, he was bewildered by the male's sudden exit.

"Speaking of the devil, where is he?" Callan mumbled to himself, glancing through the rooms in hope of finding his roommate.

Not that he cared, of course, but, the lack of broodiness in the house was new. Was he so angry last night that he left? He's not that dramatic, right?

Callan wouldn't put it past him.

He ceded, instead of returning to his original goal of food. He had a big date tonight with Emina, his girlfriend, which he was both excited for and dreading. She'd called him early yesterday to complain about their lack of "quality time together", which Callan dreaded admitting was true. He'd been... preoccupied, lately. Emmie was understanding, of course, and gave him nearly two weeks, which was much more time than he deserved. Unfortunately, the final straw was him bailing on their date a couple of days ago, to which she did not respond happily.

Callan planned to make it up to her any way possible and had already texted Bradley about his plans. Pulling out his phone, Callan decided to double-check that everything was working out. There was no way he was about to let anything go wrong.

Callan: Heyyyy
Callan: so everything good w the vaca?

Braddd: Hey! Yeah, everything is going great! You better be damn ready!

Callan chuckled at his enthusiasm. Brad's parents lived in Colorado, and every year he, along with a few friends, would go up to the mountains over winter break. This year, they planned on doing couples; Brad and Sophia, some dude named Anthony with his girlfriend, and him and Emmie.  Excited, Callan was planning on surprising Emina with the idea tonight. It was a sure way to keep her happy. The outing was only in a couple of months, after all.

Callan: yup

Braddd: Very excited I see

Callan: I am! It's just this whole date thing with her tonight

Braddd: Dramaaaaaa

Callan: shut up
Callan: it'll be fine

He sighed, putting away his phone. It will be fine, it's just a date, and he's had plenty of those with her. Callan should be excited, not scared. It will be fine.

Ever the worrier, Callan took his newly made breakfast, which consisted of an apple grabbed while texting, outside to walk over to the coffee shop across the street. It had way better WiFi, plus the coffee itself wasn't awful, he supposed. What he didn't expect to come across on his mini trek, though, was Ollivander passed out next to the front door. He was comfortably curled up where the railing met the wall, a peculiar position that prompted the idea that sleeping had been unintentional.

"What the absolute fuck happened to you..." Callan took a bite of his apple, amused while watching the peaceful figure. The lack of furrowed eyebrows, or lips pursed in a frown, was a rare occurrence, which smoothed the lines of Ollivander's face. He looks like a teenage boy, not the old man he surely acts like.

After a couple of minutes, he realized it was creepy to be staring at someone while he slept. Embarrassed, he glanced away while crouching beside Ollivander with a pleased smirk, hands grasping his shoulders to shake him awake.

"Ollivander. Come on, even I'm up before you. Granted, I woke up way earlier than usual, but that doesn't matter. Hellooooo, wakey wakey time." He drawled in a sing-song manner. When Ollivander didn't budge, he tried again.

"Ollie, come on, I'm getting cold just looking at you... Holy shit, dude, you're freezing." Callan withdrew his hand with a flinch when his fingers accidentally brushed Ollie's neck, disbelieving of how cold the male was.

Ollivander jolted awake when he felt the brush of skin, eyes frighteningly wide as he blinked at Callan. The look was almost... fearful. Releasing a shaky breath, he seemed to calm down slightly.

"Er- sorry, didn't mean to scare you... did you seriously sleep here all night?" Callan watched as the creasing frown stretched across Ollivander's face again-- much to the disappointment of Callan.

The dark-haired boy sat up, stretching his broad back and shifting away from Callan with a grunt. Ollivander, still somewhat dazed, ran a hand through his rakishly shaggy hair. Flyaways wildly jutted out from the lustrous and abundant mop of dark curls, seemingly much more natural than the usual uniformness.

But, again, it's not like Callan was paying attention to those details. Definitely not.

Ollivander cleared his throat, "Uh... I suppose..."

With a deep breath, Callan stood and offered a hand.
"Come on, let's get you inside. You do know that it was literally freezing last night, right? You should've at least passed out on the couch." Berated Callan.

Ollivander stared at the hand with a clenched jaw, getting up without using help. Apparently, something was up with him today.

Callan tried again, "Well, I'm going to the coffee shop right there, want anything? Maybe a dark roast to match your soul?" He joked, sending a wink towards Ollivander.

No response.

"Um...okay, then... I'll be back in a minute, I guess..." Callan awkwardly shuffled away, leaving Ollivander at the door.

—
Ollivander immediately went inside, skin prickled and fingers numb. All he wanted to do was take a hot shower and never get out. Perhaps drown himself, that would be a nice way to go.

All-in-all, Ollivander was absolutely miserable.

He plugged in his long-dead phone—which was almost as cold as he was—and hurriedly showered. Despite his extreme hatred towards morning showers, it was the first step in reaching a normal body heat again.

Ollivander's body ached with every step he took, his neck and back so taught with knots that he contemplated the idea of getting a massage. As ridiculous the thought sounded, his body agreed. But, of course, his pride would never allow it.

He didn't remember much from after his call with Brad, only bits and pieces of thoughts that still haunted him in the background. ' "Talking about things helps; you'll feel so much better!" Lies. Complete and total lies. All I got in return was more stupid, stupid demons and a sore back.'

Ollivander got out of the shower, towel drying his hair and changing into long sleeves. Despite how much he yearned to relax, it was necessary for him to do work.

A couple of minutes later, he was seated on the couch, wrapped in two blankets, with his computer resting on his lap. Thick, black-rimmed glasses—which he'd always found quite dorky—were nestled on the bridge of his nose.

Ollivander had barely logged in when the front door opened, the familiar steps of Callan echoing throughout the kitchen.

"Hey, Ollie, I got you coffee to-" Callan gaped at him, blinking repeatedly. Like any sane person who was being stared at, Ollivander shrunk deeper into the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and turned his head so damp curls flopped onto his forehead, blocking his face.

It was a solid minute before Callan finally said something, in which he struggled immensely.
"Umm... you look... different... You look different... Are... Are those reading glasses?"

Ollivander's neck flared with heat, and he kept his face downward. Despite his want for Callan to do something—anything—else, his awkwardness and own nerves were preventing him to speed up the process.
"Er- yeah... I'm sorry, am I bothering you or something?" Ollivander finally met Callan's eyes, raising an eyebrow. "I can take them off, I didn't realize needing to see would be a problem."

The dirty-blonde seemed to realize his mistake and began fulsomely waving his hands.
"Oh, crap, my bad, I didn't mean to, uh, stare... It's just that you look like a dork... I mean, a good dork! I mean, a nice looking due with glasses! Crap... You look like a normal human being... Wait! That's not what I meant, you just seem more approachable." Callan rambled, which Ollivander realized was something of a nervous habit, unlike people such as Brad, who just speak like that.

Ollivander tilted his head, a ghost of a smile playing with the corners of his mouth. It was entertaining to watch Callan dig himself deeper, and was definitely Ollivander's preferred way to beguile some time.

Callan finally realized that he seemed to be regaling Ollivander, and paused, finding a spectacle of the situation. Oh, how things have changed in near two weeks.

"Anyway, you were saying?" Ollivander prompted, setting aside his laptop to lead towards Callan.

"Erm... I got you coffee, I figured you could use it to warm up?" Callan queried, obviously unsure of his decision. Hesitantly, he offered the cup to Ollivander, who immediately took hold of it.

"Mhmm... Warm." Ollivander hummed, placing his cheek on the side of the cup and closing his eyes in satisfaction. Callan sat on the opposite couch, drinking from his own cup while watching the spectacle.

Ollivander took a small sip of the drink, only to barely hold back a grimace in time. Callan, true to his word, had gotten a black coffee. No sugar, no cream.

Of course, his roommate seemed to notice the wince of disgust and grinned with sudden understanding.
"Does Ollie not like black coffee? Does he have... A sweet tooth?" He gasped, mocking the scowling male.

Ollivander pulled a face at him. If only for show, he took a large gulp of the coffee, maintaining direct eye contact.
"No. This is perfect." He glowered.

With a disbelieving eyebrow raise, Callan chuckled.
"Are you sure you don't like, I don't know, frappucinos? Perhaps the caramel one?"

Ollivander's eyes bugged as he glanced away, suddenly embarrassed. How had he guessed it? Was Ollivander that easy to read?

But, Callan enjoyed the situation much more when he realized he had been correct.
"Wait a second- Ollis really does like sweets? I was just giving you a hard time, but this is so funny!"

Ollivander trudged into the kitchen to get sugar for his coffee, leaving Callan laughing on the couch.
He is definitely a dork, glasses, awkwardness, and all. It's a little—only a little, tiny, bit—cute.

———————
A/N
Hey, everyone! How are you?
This chapter isn't super long, and isn't the most fun, but here ya go.

Anyway, onto the INTERVIEW!!

(Please only comment questions in their specific area below!)

Information recap:
- As celebration for getting over 200 votes, I've decided to do something fun for this book!
- May 1st, I will be posting an interview for the characters of YRMC (this book).
^That gives everyone two weeks to post questions they'd like to ask ANY of the characters!
- There is no limit (just no spams please) to the amount of questions you'd like to ask, but I will tell you now that I will reveal NO spoilers, haha.
- If there are too many questions (which I doubt will happen), I will post another interview a week later!

- Additionally: please comment what you'd like me to do when we hit the next goal (1k views, 500 votes, or 400 comments, whatever comes soonest!)!!
- For example, I could write some fluff scenes, do another interview, gender switch, etc.!!

Anyways, please comment your questions for any characters in this book here!!
>>>>>>>>>>>

And comment suggestions for when we hit the next goal here!!
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Also, please, please like, it means the world to me!!

Welp, everyone have a wonderful day, stay safe, and I'll see you Wednesday!!

Word count (excluding Author's note): 1777 words