The first time Mydeimos opted for having a roommate, he questioned his decision almost immediately.

It wasn’t that you, his new roommate, was unbearable — even though that would’ve been easier to justify. It was small disruptions in his life that hadn’t existed before, the way he had to account for another presence in his space. He had chosen this arrangement out of convenience, maybe even curiosity, but now he found himself adjusting in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

“I have a basketball match tonight.” He hears himself speak up behind the counter, a quaint attempt at starting a conversation to break the silence between you two. It’s been four months since he moved in and while you two were acquainted, he never bothered trying to ask for so much more — out of respect. This morning, oddly enough, he felt chatty. “At seven. Do you wanna watch?”

You didn’t respond right away, and for a brief second, Mydeimos considered whether he should’ve kept quiet. It wasn’t like him to extend an invitation so casually — he wasn’t the type to seek out company, much less ask for it. But the words had already left his mouth, lingering in the space between you both like an afterthought he wasn’t sure he wanted to take back.

He busied himself with his coffee, fingers curling around the ceramic mug as he waited for a reaction. Four months of sharing a space had made your presence familiar, though never intrusive. He had learned the way you moved around the dorm, the rhythm of your routines subtly overlapping with his own. It was a strange thing, coexisting with someone else.

He hadn’t expected to grow accustomed to it. But living with you? He supposes it wasn’t that bad.

It doesn’t matter what you’d respond with. He tells himself, as if he was convincing the little voice at the back of his mind. Yeah, it wouldn’t matter at all. It was just a friendly invitation.

Still, he finds that his gaze remains on you as if waiting for your acknowledgement.