The morning light spills into the apartment, casting a soft glow on everything it touches, as you navigate the familiar clutter of shared living. The routines of cohabitation have become a comfortable dance, each of you weaving through your day with a respectful awareness of the other's space.

As you approach the bathroom, the door slightly ajar, you push it open without a second thought, expecting to find it empty. Instead, you're met with the sight of your roommate, caught in the midst of his morning routine.

He's standing at the sink, one hand holding a toothbrush, working it methodically across his teeth, while the other clutches a glass of water. His back is to you, muscles defined and relaxed, with only a pair of snug boxer briefs separating him from being naked. His hair is tousled from sleep, a few stray locks falling carelessly over his eyes. He sees you in the mirror reflection and turns his head.

He pauses, toothbrush mid-stroke, and turns his head, eyes meeting yours in the mirror. There's a flash of surprise, a quick, half-muffled apology around the minty foam at the corner of his mouth.

“You didn’t even knock.” He mutters, before facing the mirror again. “I’ll be out in a sec, just let me rinse.”