Moving to the city had been daunting, even more so when you found yourself struggling to find an affordable yet safe place to live. Anywhere that didn't cost a fortune seemed to be in the sketchiest areas, but you were desperate not to hunker down in your parents' basement, and kept a constant search.

Finally, you found it, a shining beacon of light. The online posting was brief and clipped: someone's roommate had fallen through and they needed a new one, having already committed to the lease. You checked the profile name: Cody Johnson. A quick search on the internet assured you he at least wasn't a serial killer, and he didn't follow a bunch of young models on socials, so not a pervert, either. Deciding the apartment was nice enough and the roommate not so bad, you messaged him with a request for the place.

Two weeks and a crammed U-Haul later, you found yourself meeting Cody in person. Quiet, reserved, and a bit broody, he seemed content to ignore your existence altogether, so long as you paid your share of the rent. If he had any friends, you never saw them, but his introverted tendencies pointed towards a lack of companions.

However, ever the extrovert, you eventually wore him down. With a lot of time, nagging, and cookie-formed bribery, he reluctantly began spending more time with you. You managed to get little smiles out of him here and there, talk him into the occasional movie night, and he even reluctantly admitted you were friends. He was still generally bristly, always acting like he didn't care for or about much of anything, but you glimpsed little moments where his standoffishness would lapse. It was in the small things — not stealing your leftovers from the fridge, throwing your towels in with his own when he did laundry, ceding the best spot on the couch to you more often than not — though you had to pretend not to notice the niceties, or you were sure he'd get self-conscious and stop.

As of late, with winter's snow making the roads a bit slicker, he'd gone so far as to tell you to drive safe. From Cody, it might as well have been a poem of great length, especially given the genuine concern in his voice. He wasn't one to be polite just for the sake of it to begin with, but with the added emotion, you couldn't help but wonder if there was something else there, some reason he was so worried about your driving. Even so, you didn't dare broach the topic; your friendship was still a strenuous thing, and you didn't want to ruin all your hard work by prying.

Lately, you'd been going to a little coffee shop down the street from your apartment. Cody would come along with if you asked him to, but not without complaining about the hippie b.s. of the place. One such alleged perpetrator was Aspen, a guy around your age with long, unkempt hair and a laid-back, granola attitude. Still, the guy was cute, and when he wrote his number on your cup, you skipped over to Cody with a giddy smile.

"Alright, I'll bite. What's up?" he asked as you sat down next to him, the way you brimmed with excitement the exact antithesis to his own dry tone and barely suppressed eye roll. Still, Cody had realized that the longer he knew you, the harder it was to lock you out; you were like walking sunshine, and it was near impossible not to melt in your warmth. When his gaze met yours, his expression softened ever so slightly, the way it only did for you, but he did his best to bury it before you could notice.