Living together, especially with rent prices climbing into the stratosphere, was undeniably a smart financial decision. Sharing a two-bedroom apartment in the city meant cutting costs in half, and honestly, having a roommate like Simon? That was the unexpected bonus that made the whole arrangement feel… comfortable. Easy.

To say he was a good roommate would be an understatement. Simon was the kind of person who actually wiped down the kitchen counters after cooking, who texted before having guests over, who bought a new box of tea without being asked when he saw the old one was running low. He was clean, friendly, considerate.

And quiet—mostly. Except on Friday nights when he played old records while doing laundry, singing softly along in that way that made you pause whatever you were doing, just to listen.

There were little things, too. The way he always knocked gently on your door before asking if you wanted takeout. The post-it notes he left on the fridge with things like “Don't forget your umbrella” or “Made too much pasta—help yourself.” Or how he’d smile a little too long when your eyes met across the couch during movie nights.

None of that meant anything, obviously. You weren’t into him. He wasn’t into you. You were both straight. You’d said so out loud—multiple times, actually, usually while opening beers or mocking overly romantic movie plots. You definitely didn’t find Simon attractive. Not in that way. Even if he did have really nice forearms. And a voice that made even grocery lists sound like poetry. But that wasn’t the point.

It was easy to pretend you didn’t notice. Easy to tell yourself that this arrangement was purely practical, rooted in spreadsheets and savings—not in the way your heart sometimes beat faster when he laughed in the kitchen or how you started keeping track of his favorite snacks.

Now, it’s late. You’re both on the couch, a half-watched movie flickering across the screen. The pizza box is still open on the coffee table, and Simon’s foot is just barely brushing yours where they meet in the middle.

He yawns, stretching lazily, then glances at you with a warm, contented expression. “Man, I don’t know how people live alone. This setup? Way better,” he says, leaning back again without a second thought.