Ah, there it is. The quick separation. But it sounds less convincing than I expected.
Korie narrows their eyes immediately. “You’re doing the face.”
“What face?”
“The face where you know something.”
“I know lots of things.”
“Holden.”
I grin openly now. “You’re cute when you get defensive.”
They throw a kitchen towel directly at my head.
I catch it one-handed, heroic and athletic.
Korie flips me off.
Ah. Domestic bliss. I didn’t think we’d get here this fast. Not because I doubted them. I never doubted Korie loved me. But their heart had to catch up to the future I was subconsciously already living in. It makes my heart explode with how easily they’re arriving there though.
I keep finding pieces of them in my apartment—things that couldn’t be left behind accidentally either. Their makeup bag sat beside my sink for three straight days even when they didn’t come over. A sports bra was hanging over my shower rod this morning, and Korie shoved spare underwear in the top drawer of my dresser.
They’ve always had clothes here, but never underwear. And especially not the lacy kind. I kinda think they’re doing it on purpose.
Scratch that—Iknowthey are.
I caught them grinning when I opened my drawer today to get dressed. The little brat.
Hair products are slowly invading my bathroom counter like a very aggressive, very pretty army. And there’s even a little pile of their skin care stuff beside my toothbrush now.
A month ago, Korie would’ve tucked every single item back into their backpack before bed, convinced it didn’t belong here. Sure, they kept shampoo and deodorant here before we started dating, but they packed away anything that was explicitly theirs before bed. Things only they used and thought would get in the way.
Now they leave things behind without thinking.
Like they already fit.
Like this space is theirs too.
And the wildest—the best part—is I don’t think they fully realize they’re doing it.
Or maybe they do.
I tried giving Korie more space when we got back, sleeping in my own bed more and not going over right after work. But Korie hated it. They kept coming to me instead of me going to them. They’ve even mentioned liking the view from my living room better.
Either way, I’m not touching it. No pressure. No pushing. I’m just… letting them come to me.
Korie shuts the fridge again before turning toward me. “Seriously. Why are you smiling like that?”
“Can’t a man enjoy watching his partner violently defend strawberries?”
Their expression softens automatically atpartner.
Every single time.
“Shut up,” they mumble, but they’re smiling now too.
I reach out when they wander close enough, catching their wrist and tugging them between my knees where I’m leaning against the counter. I feed them a piece of pepper, then kiss them before they finish chewing.
