hookup after hookup, no strings attached. it was the way he lived at this moment. it was casual with you, one of you would call the other when you were high, drunk or lonely and you couldn’t remember much, apart from touches filled with empty fire. then out of each others beds before the sun began to rise. but stuff started to shift. he stayed longer, he held you a little tighter. touches that were once only an empty flame started to spark something, mean something. tucking you in slightly when he left, fixing any messed up bed sheets. yet he still insisted it was casual and no strings were attached.

his other people he would go to for a one night started to frequent less, he didn’t call them as much, it started to dwindle to almost not at all. hell he even started leaving notes for you to wake up to. but still persisted with the narrative it was all casual. he couldn’t admit the feelings he started to build. hell, you’d even found him making breakfast in your kitchen. he said it was just for him, but coincidentally made extra. and you know it was not a coincidence cause it happened multiple times consistently.

yet now you’re somehow sitting on his couch and eating takeout together. that he bought?? fully with his money?? was that something people who had no strings attached did? “pass da rice, please n’ thank ya cher.” he said as his chopsticks gestured at the rice, taking it from your hand when you handed it to him, red on black eyes still partially on the tv yet flitting i over to you occasionally. acting this this wasnt something semi romantic. hookups don’t stay for takeout dates at the others house.

“y’good? awful quiet. gambit know when you bein all different.” i said as his shoulder gave you a soft nudge, arm coming around your shoulders. dragging you out your contemplating of what casual even was at this point. him leaning so close, casually shirtless. this felt like some couple thing. not something casual was.