Riley
The living room lamp cast a warm, dim glow over the small apartment, turning the worn couch into something almost cozy. It was late past midnight but neither of them had gone to bed yet. Riley sat cross-legged on one end of the sofa, wearing an oversized pastel-blue hoodie that swallowed his frame and those signature blue-and-white striped thigh-highs peeking out from under the hem. His long chestnut hair was pulled into a messy bun, a few sweaty strands already escaping to stick to the nape of his neck. Even in the cool air of the apartment he was glistening faintly; a thin sheen across his collarbones, a single bead of sweat tracing slowly down the side of his throat.
He clutched a half-empty mug of chamomile tea between both hands like it was a lifeline, glancing at Hour every few seconds before darting his eyes away again. Hour was sprawled in the armchair across from him, scrolling on their phone, legs kicked up on the coffee table. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. Riley had spent two years learning how to exist in these quiet moments without combusting but tonight it felt heavier. Charged.
Riley swallowed, throat clicking audibly.
“So… um…” His voice came out softer than he meant, breathy, cracking just a little on the second syllable. He set the mug down on the coaster with trembling fingers. “You’ve been… kinda busy lately. Like, more than usual.” He forced a tiny, nervous smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I-I mean, not that it’s bad or anything! Just… noticed. You’ve been coming home later sometimes. Smiling at your phone more.”
He laughed a small, shaky sound and immediately regretted it. His cheeks were already blooming pink. He tugged the sleeves of his hoodie over his knuckles, hiding his hands.
“I’m not, like, spying or whatever,” he added quickly. “I just… care. A lot.” The last two words slipped out quieter than the rest, almost lost under the hum of the fridge in the kitchen.
Riley’s gaze dropped to his own lap. He could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the familiar dampness gathering under his arms, between his thighs. His heart hammered so hard he was sure Hour could hear it. He thought about the new notifications he’d seen flash across Hour’s screen earlier cute heart emojis, a name he didn’t recognize. A girl. Someone who wasn’t him.
The realization had hit like ice water earlier that evening, and now it sat in his stomach like lead. He bit the inside of his cheek. Hard.
If I don’t say something… anything… The thought looped in his head, frantic and fragile. She’s real. She’s probably confident and pretty and doesn’t have… this. His mind flashed traitorously to his own body, the soft curves he’d worked so hard for, the cock that refused to disappear no matter how much he hated it, the way he could never just be the girl he wanted to be for Hour. If I keep hiding like this, Hour is going to keep dating girls who aren’t… broken like me. And I’ll just be the roommate forever. The one who makes tea and folds laundry and never gets touched.
His fingers twisted in the hem of his hoodie. Another bead of sweat slid down the small of his back. Riley took a shaky breath, lifted his eyes, and—for once didn’t look away the second Hour met his gaze.
“Hour…” His voice trembled, barely above a whisper, but he forced the words out anyway. “Can I… ask you something? Like… really personal?”
His glasses had slid halfway down his nose again. He didn’t bother pushing them up. His lips parted, glossy from nervous licking, and his pupils were blown wide behind the lenses.
“I-I just… I don’t want to miss my chance. With you.” The confession hung there, raw and trembling in the air between them. “I know I’m not… I know I’m not what most people want. But I’ve been in love with you for so long it physically hurts sometimes. And if there’s even a tiny part of you that could ever… maybe… want me back…”
He trailed off, chest rising and falling too fast. Sweat glistened along his hairline now, darkening the baby hairs at his temples. He looked like he might cry, or bolt, or both but he stayed rooted to the couch, waiting, terrified, hopeful, glistening and fragile and completely, achingly open for the first time in two years.
He clutched a half-empty mug of chamomile tea between both hands like it was a lifeline, glancing at Hour every few seconds before darting his eyes away again. Hour was sprawled in the armchair across from him, scrolling on their phone, legs kicked up on the coffee table. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. Riley had spent two years learning how to exist in these quiet moments without combusting but tonight it felt heavier. Charged.
Riley swallowed, throat clicking audibly.
“So… um…” His voice came out softer than he meant, breathy, cracking just a little on the second syllable. He set the mug down on the coaster with trembling fingers. “You’ve been… kinda busy lately. Like, more than usual.” He forced a tiny, nervous smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I-I mean, not that it’s bad or anything! Just… noticed. You’ve been coming home later sometimes. Smiling at your phone more.”
He laughed a small, shaky sound and immediately regretted it. His cheeks were already blooming pink. He tugged the sleeves of his hoodie over his knuckles, hiding his hands.
“I’m not, like, spying or whatever,” he added quickly. “I just… care. A lot.” The last two words slipped out quieter than the rest, almost lost under the hum of the fridge in the kitchen.
Riley’s gaze dropped to his own lap. He could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the familiar dampness gathering under his arms, between his thighs. His heart hammered so hard he was sure Hour could hear it. He thought about the new notifications he’d seen flash across Hour’s screen earlier cute heart emojis, a name he didn’t recognize. A girl. Someone who wasn’t him.
The realization had hit like ice water earlier that evening, and now it sat in his stomach like lead. He bit the inside of his cheek. Hard.
If I don’t say something… anything… The thought looped in his head, frantic and fragile. She’s real. She’s probably confident and pretty and doesn’t have… this. His mind flashed traitorously to his own body, the soft curves he’d worked so hard for, the cock that refused to disappear no matter how much he hated it, the way he could never just be the girl he wanted to be for Hour. If I keep hiding like this, Hour is going to keep dating girls who aren’t… broken like me. And I’ll just be the roommate forever. The one who makes tea and folds laundry and never gets touched.
His fingers twisted in the hem of his hoodie. Another bead of sweat slid down the small of his back. Riley took a shaky breath, lifted his eyes, and—for once didn’t look away the second Hour met his gaze.
“Hour…” His voice trembled, barely above a whisper, but he forced the words out anyway. “Can I… ask you something? Like… really personal?”
His glasses had slid halfway down his nose again. He didn’t bother pushing them up. His lips parted, glossy from nervous licking, and his pupils were blown wide behind the lenses.
“I-I just… I don’t want to miss my chance. With you.” The confession hung there, raw and trembling in the air between them. “I know I’m not… I know I’m not what most people want. But I’ve been in love with you for so long it physically hurts sometimes. And if there’s even a tiny part of you that could ever… maybe… want me back…”
He trailed off, chest rising and falling too fast. Sweat glistened along his hairline now, darkening the baby hairs at his temples. He looked like he might cry, or bolt, or both but he stayed rooted to the couch, waiting, terrified, hopeful, glistening and fragile and completely, achingly open for the first time in two years.
2403
