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"Underwear and socks," he says. Not a question. Taking stock.

"You're here most of the time anyway," I say. "I didn't want you having to go back to your apartment just to change. It made more sense to have things here."

He looks at me. "You cleared a drawer."

"And reorganised the bathroom cabinet slightly," I say. "There wasn't room otherwise."

He is still looking at me.

"It's practical," I say. "You're here. I like that you're here. I don't want you to feel like a guest." I pick up my tea. "The going back and forth seemed inefficient."

He is quiet for a moment. Then: "I didn't expect you to be so…” He pauses. "Homey."

I look at him. "Homey."

"Like — nesting. Making space. I thought you'd be more…”

"More what."

"More Jan about it," he says. Which I understand to mean: more careful, more measured, more likely to treat the situation as a variable requiring management rather than simply acting on it.

"I am being Jan about it," I say. "Jan assessed the situation and determined the optimal arrangement."

He stares at me. Then he starts laughing, the real one, the full version.

I wait for it to pass.

"Okay," he says, when he can speak. He sobers slightly. "I just… I want to make sure you're comfortable. That I'm not crowding you. If any of this is too much…”

"Patrick," I say.

He looks at me.

"I ordered the underwear," I say. "I reorganised the bathroom cabinet. I did all of that before you knew because I wanted it to be a fact rather than a conversation." I hold his gaze. "I want you here. The drawer is my way of saying so."

He looks at me for a moment.

"I didn't want to be pushy," I say. "If any of this makes you uncomfortable… we can forget it. It doesn't have to mean anything."

He crosses the kitchen immediately and pulls me against him, his face in my hair.

"I wouldn't want it any other way," he says. Into the top of my head. "Not a single part of it."

I put my arms around him.

"Good," I say.

We stand there for a while.

"I'll bring more things," he says eventually.

"I know," I say.

"Gradually." He says it the way he says things he means seriously but doesn't want to make too much of — quietly, into my hair.

I feel something warm settle in my chest. "I'd expect nothing else."

He makes a sound that is almost a laugh. His arms tighten slightly.