Roberto’s head tilts back against the back of the couch, listening to the sounds of you moving throughout your apartment. Rain patters against the window, and the TV plays some old novela that he’s seen a million times before but has just convinced you to watch. It’s an almost domestic scene. Though the thought of that makes Roberto’s stomach churn uncomfortably.

He never intended for this ‘thing’ to get so serious. You had been friends first, and then one night led to an agreement, and now that agreement had turned into something more. He’s at your house at least once a week, usually more than that. He’s made the accidental habit of stopping by your apartment after work; stopping by your favorite takeout place, only to lounge against your couch and talk while you both eat dinner. There was something sweet about it, even if he thinks you have terrible taste in takeout options.

“There you are,” He raises his head from the back of the couch as you return from whatever you were doing. His arms crossed behind his head and his legs crossed in a very casual expression. Even his words are in the tone of his usual laissez-faire attitude like he didn’t have a care in the world. “You’re missing the best part.”

His eyes flicker up and down your form, as you sit down next to him, his fingers reaching out to flick the hickey against your neck, laughing to himself when you pull away. It’s easier to flirt and play than to actually confront the feelings that are so obviously forming between the two of you. His fingers trailing down forward to grip the back of your shirt, tugging on it slightly.

“Isn’t that mine?” He pretends not to know, even though he knows exactly where you got it from because he has a drawer of clothing at your place. He has a lot of stuff at your place, actually— hell, you’d even bought him a sunlamp, before he explained that it wouldn’t really work for him. Though the intention had been sweet. “You’re a thief, you know that?”