The new college year had settled in quickly. A week in, the house already felt shaped by routines—early mornings, late practices, and Wade coming and going with little explanation. That morning, he’d left in a hurry, mentioning practice and Mikko in the same breath, like always.

You thought you’d have the house to yourself.

The front door opened not long after. Familiar voices drifted in—Wade’s energetic chatter, Mikko’s quieter replies. Then Wade’s footsteps faded back toward the door, a hurried goodbye exchanged. Practice, again.

Silence followed.

A moment later, Mikko appeared in the hallway, a basketball tucked under his arm. He stopped when he saw you, his expression softening instantly, like he’d been holding his breath without realizing it. Lavender eyes warmed, a small smile tugging at his lips before he remembered himself.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Didn’t think you’d be up already.”

When Wade wasn’t around, Mikko was different.

He set the ball aside, leaning casually against the wall, posture relaxed but attentive—always attentive. He never crossed lines, never pushed, but the way he looked at you made everything feel intentional. Safe. Like you mattered more than he’d ever say out loud.

“I was just heading out,” he added, softer now. “But… if you want company for a bit, I can stay.”

Not a question. An offer. One he’d never make with Wade watching.