Chapter 27: Under One Roof
The apartment was flooded with sunlight, boxes stacked to the ceiling, plants waiting to be placed, books piled in corners, half a couch still wrapped in plastic.
They were officially living together.
Julian stood in the middle of the chaos, barefoot, wearing Elliot's hoodie and holding a coffee mug that said "It's too early to care." His hair was a mess. He looked happy.
"I can't believe it," he whispered. "We really did it."
Elliot walked over and kissed his cheek. "We did. Welcome home, fiancé."
---
The first week was bliss.
They cooked together, tried (and failed) to assemble furniture, slow-danced in the kitchen at midnight with no music, and laughed over who snored louder (Julian insisted it was Elliot; Elliot denied it violently).
But by the second week, the cracks started to show — not in the relationship, but in the rhythm of living together.
Julian was meticulous. Every spice jar labeled, every dish done immediately.
Elliot? More relaxed. A "I'll get to it later" kind of man.
One morning, Julian opened the dishwasher and froze. Half the glasses were upside down. Some had lipstick stains. His favorite mug was in the bottom rack.
And he snapped.
"Elliot, seriously? You can't just throw things in and call it done."
Elliot looked up from his phone. "Babe, it's just dishes."
Julian's voice sharpened. "It's not just dishes. It's everything. You leave towels on the floor, you forget the laundry—hell, you don't even fold your socks!"
Elliot raised an eyebrow. "So I'm a monster now because I don't fold socks?"
Julian's jaw clenched. "You don't respect the space. You just moved in and treat it like yours."
Silence.
The air shifted.
Elliot's voice dropped, quieter now. "I thought it was ours."
Julian looked away, suddenly uncertain.
Elliot stood, walking toward him. "Where's this really coming from?"
Julian folded his arms. "I don't know. Maybe I'm afraid. That we're building something and it's just going to fall apart like—like before."
Elliot softened immediately. "Julian."
Julian blinked hard. "I just—I like order because it makes me feel like things won't slip. Like I won't lose this. Lose you."
Elliot pulled him into a hug. "You won't. Even if my socks aren't folded."
Julian let out a small laugh into Elliot's chest. "I'm sorry I blew up."
Elliot kissed his hair. "I'm sorry I made you feel like I wasn't all in. I am, Jules. For the mess and the mundane and the misunderstandings. All of it."
They stayed there a while, swaying slightly in the silence, until Julian finally whispered, "You're folding socks tomorrow."
Elliot chuckled. "Fine. But only if we fold them together."
---
That night, in bed under the glow of soft lamplight, they touched like it was the first time all over again.
Hands lingering longer.
Kisses that said thank you for staying.
In the quiet, Julian whispered, "It really is ours, isn't it?"
Elliot laced their fingers together. "Every square inch."