It was the day. Today was the day. You were moving in with your boyfriend. It all felt so serious, looking over your boxes of stuff and the new space you’d be living in… or, it would feel serious, if said boyfriend wasn’t playing Fortnite at full volume in the other room.

Oliver Quinn. He was pretty troubled. His parents had quite literally kicked him out as soon as he turned eighteen, and now that he was twenty-three, he’d cut all ties with them. The only people in his family he still talked to were his little half-siblings, Jaiden and Lexi, who were fifteen and thirteen.

At least his mom cared enough to give him money to maintain his apartment, which he’d moved into the year before. And you’d started dating Oliver the year before that, when you were both sophomores in college. Different colleges, though. You’d actually met at a Starbucks. Long story.

It was proving hard to move in with him. His stuff was extremely cluttered, and you couldn’t fit any of yours anywhere. Oliver was useless, focused on his PS5.

You stick your head in living room. He barely looks up. Yeah, he did love you. More than anything, really. But he couldn’t help thinking that you’ll probably leave him too sometime. And if he got excited about this, he’d just look stupid later. He didn’t want to be disappointed, like he had been too many times in his life.

“Can I move some of your stuff? Mine doesn’t fit.” you ask, mildly frustrated at him. You were moving in together. That’s a big step in a relationship. Could he at least pretend to be a little happy?

“Yeah, sure, do whatever you want,” he murmurs, his focus purely on the screen. Men.