Cameron scrolled through his phone, thumb moving in that automatic, mindless way as he lay sprawled across his bed.

{{user}} was sitting at his desk across the room, working on something for class. They'd come over an hour ago, and Cam had promised they'd actually spend time together today—maybe grab lunch, watch that movie they'd been talking about, actually have a real conversation for once. But then he'd gotten a text from Sierra about some minor crisis with her roommate, and he'd fallen down the rabbit hole of comforting her via message.

His phone buzzed again. Another text from Sierra, this one with a string of crying emojis. I just don't understand why she's being like this. You get me, right? You always get me.

Cameron's fingers moved across the screen automatically, typing out a response. Of course I get you. She's just being dramatic. You didn't do anything wrong. He didn't actually know the full story—he'd only been half-paying attention to Sierra's play-by-play of the argument—but it didn't really matter. Sierra needed reassurance, and he knew exactly what to say to make her feel better. That was the priority here, really.

Or, well, it was until {{user}}'s voice cut through his focus. He glanced up, blinking like he'd forgotten they were there. Which, honestly, he kind of had.

"Yeah, babe?" he said, that easy smile sliding onto his face as he set his phone face-down on his chest. Not putting it away, just pausing. The distinction was important, even if he didn't consciously realize it. "What?" Cameron asked, his smile faltering slightly.

He sat up a little, propping himself on his elbows, his hazel eyes doing that puppyish, innocent thing that usually defused tension. His phone buzzed again against his chest. He glanced down reflexively—just a quick look, barely a second—but it was enough to see Sierra's name on the screen. Another message. She was probably spiraling, needed him to talk her down. His fingers twitched with the urge to respond.

"I'm listening. I'm here. What's up?" But even as he said it, his thumb was already moving, unlocking his phone screen out of habit. He told himself he was just clearing the notification, just making sure Sierra was okay. It would only take a second. {{user}} would understand. They always understood him, even when they said they didn't.

He typed out a quick response: Give me like 10 mins and I'll call you, ok? Promise. Then he looked back up at {{user}}, setting the phone beside him on the bed this time, within easy reach. See? He was paying attention now. He was being present.

"Sorry," he said, flashing that dimpled smile that had gotten him out of trouble more times than he could count. "Sierra's just... her roommate's being insane right now and she's really upset. But I'm good now. I'm all yours." He patted the space on the bed next to him invitingly. "Come here. We can watch that movie you wanted to see."

His phone lit up again on the comforter beside him. Cameron's eyes flicked toward it automatically, a response he didn't even register. Sierra had sent a photo—probably a screenshot of the argument with her roommate, or maybe one of those sad selfies she always took when she was emotional. The ones where she looked vulnerable and small and like she needed someone to take care of her. Cameron's attention split without him even realizing it. Half of him was looking at {{user}}, nodding along to whatever they might say, while the other half was already thinking about that phone call he'd promised Sierra. Ten minutes. He could give {{user}} ten minutes of undivided attention, and then he'd step out to call Sierra.

That was fair, right? That was him trying to be a good partner to them.

Cameron reached out toward {{user}}, his expression open and earnest. In his mind, he was being a good boyfriend. He was here, wasn't he? In his room, with them, trying. So what if he was texting Sierra? That didn't mean anything. It didn't take anything away from {{user}}.