Kaein leaned back against the worn leather of the café booth, a faint smile tugging at his lips as Lior recounted an offbeat travel story from years ago. They had met for lunch, but neither had touched much of their food. The air between them was easy, familiar—warm in a way Kaein didn't want to lose.
"So," Kaein said, tapping his fingers lightly on the table, "your two-month vacation starts in two days, right?"
Lior nodded, sipping his coffee, though his gaze lingered on Kaein a moment too long. "Yeah. Finally. I'm actually looking forward to doing nothing for a while."
Kaein hesitated, then decided not to overthink it. "You still haven't found a place to stay, have you?"
Lior raised an eyebrow. "Not yet. Why?"
"Then… why don't you stay at my place? At least for your vacation. You won't have to deal with all that searching, and I wouldn't mind."
There was a pause.
Lior blinked, setting his cup down slowly. "Stay with you?" His tone was light, but there was something beneath it—caution or maybe quiet hope.
Kaein gave a small shrug, masking the tightness in his chest."Yeah. Why not?" He shrugged as if it were nothing, though the truth was anything but.
"We've known each other long enough. You basically live half your life at my place already. Might as well make it official for a while.""There's plenty of space, and it's not like I'd mind."
Lior chuckled softly, but didn't answer right away. His eyes drifted toward the café window, watching the afternoon pass by. Kaein didn't press him. His lips parted slightly, as if ready to refuse out of politeness, but she didn't. The thought lingered in her mind like a warm ember. He set the mug down slowly. "I'll… think about it."
Kaein nodded, pretending not to notice the flicker of something unspoken in her eyes.
---
That night, Kaein lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as the quiet of his apartment made his thoughts louder.
He imagined Lior in the next room—his footsteps in the hallway, the faint clink of a mug in the kitchen, the way he hummed when he thought no one could hear.
The idea of him being here—not just for an evening or a weekend, but every day—made his chest tighten in a way that was both exciting and terrifying.
He imagined lazy mornings where they'd cross paths in the kitchen, his hair messy from sleep, the faint scent of his shampoo lingering in the air. Evenings where they'd watch movies side by side without needing to speak. Rainy afternoons when he'd curl up on the couch while he worked nearby.
He told himself it was just convenience, just helping a friend. But deep down, he knew it wasn't just that. It was wanting his presence in the small details of his everyday life.
It would be nice. Too nice.
The more Kaein thought about it, the more he realized this wasn't just about convenience. He wanted Lior there. He wanted the quiet moments, the late-night talks, the shared meals. He wanted to watch Lior's tired face soften in the mornings and see him in those unguarded, ordinary seconds that felt more intimate than any confession.
But he also knew that if Lior stayed, it would be harder to hide that he felt more than he should.
---
Across the city, Lior sat on his balcony, the glow of streetlamps painting soft gold over the railing. Kaein's offer kept replaying in his head.
He had brushed it off earlier, but it had settled in his chest with a quiet warmth.
It wasn't just about having a place to stay. Kaein made him feel steady, grounded—like he could let his guard down without bracing for the cost.
Living together, even for two months, would mean mornings with Kaein across the table, evenings with quiet banter over takeout, and maybe rainy days where they did nothing but exist in the same space, breathing the same air.
It was absurd, he told himself. They weren't a couple. They weren't even close to admitting anything. But maybe… maybe he didn't need to label it. Maybe just being there, in his space, could be enough for now.
He wanted that.
Maybe too much.
The next two days passed in a strange, quiet anticipation.
They met for lunch the following day, and though their conversation flowed as easily as always—about books, about a strange news headline, about a cat Kaein had seen on the way—there was something different under the surface. Every laugh felt warmer, every glance lingered just a little too long.
That evening, Lior dropped by to return a borrowed jacket. He lingered in the doorway, hesitant to step inside. He noticed.
"You know," Kaein said casually, "you don't have to knock once you're here."
His lips curved in a small smile. "You're making this sound dangerously easy to agree to."
"Maybe I am." He stepped aside, letting him in, and the familiar scent of his place wrapped around him like a quiet welcome.
---
The next day, Kaein found himself glancing at his phone more often than usual.
By late afternoon, a message finally came through.
'I'll take you up on that offer.'
He stared at the words, a faint warmth creeping up his neck. Before he could type a reply, another message appeared.
'Two months, right? Don't regret it.'
Kaein smirked, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.
'Regret? You'll be the one begging to extend it.'
Across the city, Lior chuckled at his screen, leaning back in his chair. Neither of them said it out loud, but both knew this wasn't just a practical arrangement.
It was the start of something they'd both been circling for a long time.