The first day of Lior's move felt strangely quiet for Kaein.
He'd cleared a corner of his wardrobe, rearranged the shelves, even dusted the space above the headboard — all while telling himself it was just to make things easier for his guest.
By the time Lior arrived, dragging a modest suitcase and a battered duffel, the apartment already smelled faintly of freshly brewed coffee.
Kaein tried not to stare too openly, but he caught himself memorizing the way Lior's hair fell into his eyes, the way his gaze swept across the space like he was mapping a safe place in his mind.
"You travel light," Kaein remarked, leaning against the doorway.
Lior smirked, dropping the bag near the couch. "Or maybe I'm just not planning on leaving anytime soon."
The words hung between them for a heartbeat too long.
Kaein busied himself with helping unpack — books stacked by the window, a few shirts folded into the wardrobe, an old camera placed carefully on the desk.
When they finally sat down with steaming mugs, the city lights spilled through the window, casting them in a warm glow.
Neither spoke much, but in the pauses between sips, there was an unspoken comfort — the quiet thrill of knowing that, for the next two months, they wouldn't have to pretend they weren't looking for reasons to be in the same room.
---
Later that night, Kaein found Lior sitting on the balcony, legs drawn up, camera resting in his lap. The air was cool, the city hum softened by distance.
"You're going to get cold out here," Kaein said, stepping outside with two mugs of tea.
Lior glanced over, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You've been saying that since the mountains."
"And you've been ignoring me since the mountains," Kaein countered, setting the mug beside him.
Lior chuckled, looking back at the skyline. "You didn't have to let me stay here, you know. I could've found somewhere else."
Kaein leaned against the railing, watching him. "Maybe I didn't want you to find somewhere else."
The words came out softer than intended, but Lior didn't seem surprised. Instead, he shifted, his gaze settling on Kaein like he was reading a page he'd been saving for later.
"It's… nice," Lior said finally. "Knowing I'll wake up and you'll be there. Even if it's just for a while."
Kaein felt something tighten in his chest — that dangerous mixture of contentment and fear. He wanted to say it wasn't just for a while, but the words stuck. Instead, he reached for his tea, letting the silence say what neither dared put into sentences.
And in that quiet, the thought took root for both of them: maybe two months could be more than just two months.