Chapter 3: The Unexpected Morning
The first thing Leo registered was warmth. Not his own, but a residual heat lingering in the sheets and the dent in the mattress next to him. He opened his eyes to pale morning light filtering through the blinds. Ethan’s side of the bed was empty, the pillow still indented.
A strange, hollow feeling lodged in Leo’s chest for a second—irrational, but there. He pushed it down, listening. Quiet sounds came from downstairs: the low murmur of a podcast, the scrape of a pan, the gurgle of a coffee maker. The smells followed a moment later—buttered toast, brewing coffee—winding their way up the stairs and under the door.
He swung his legs out of bed, the floorboards cool under his feet. He pulled on the same gray sweats from last night, forgoing a shirt, and padded downstairs.
The kitchen was a study in soft, golden light and deep, quiet shadows. Ethan stood at the counter, his back to the room. He was already in loose gym shorts and a thin white tank, the muscles of his shoulders and back moving with a fluid economy as he spread butter on a second piece of toast. Two plates sat ready, two mugs steaming beside the coffee pot.
“Hey,” Leo said, his voice rough with sleep.
Ethan turned. In the dawn light, his hazel eyes looked more gray than green, the circles under them faint. “Morning. Sleep okay?”
“Like a dead man,” Leo said, leaning against the doorframe. “You?”
“Fine.” Ethan nodded toward the coffee. “It’s fresh. Help yourself.”
Leo pushed off the frame and moved to the pot. Their arms brushed as he reached for a mug—a casual, inevitable contact in the small space. Ethan didn’t flinch, but Leo felt the minute pause in his movement. He poured his coffee, black, then turned to take the toast Ethan was offering him on a plate.
“Thanks, man.” He reached for it. As his fingers closed on the plate’s edge, he let his hand graze over Ethan’s. It wasn’t an accident. It was a test, a question. A simple touch, skin on skin, warm from holding the hot plate.
Ethan’s gaze flicked down to their hands, then back up to Leo’s face. He didn’t pull away. He just handed the plate over, his expression unreadable. “Sure.”
They sat at the small kitchen table, shirts off, the morning air cool on their skin. They ate in a silence that felt less uneasy than the night before, punctuated by the crunch of toast and sips of coffee. Leo watched Ethan. He ate with a focused precision, his eyes on the window where the sky was turning from gold to pale blue. The similarity was still unnerving. Seeing their forearms resting on the same table, the same lean muscle, the same scatter of dark hair, it was like looking at a funhouse mirror that reflected truth instead of distortion.
“So,” Ethan said, finally breaking the quiet. He kept his eyes on his plate, pushing a crumb around with his finger. “I’m hitting the campus gym in about fifteen. Pre-class pump. I know you don’t have your car here yet, and you said you usually go after your morning skate.” He took a breath, then looked directly at Leo. “You can come with me. If you want. No pressure.”
The invitation hung in the air between them, simple but significant. It was a line being crossed, an itinerary being merged. Leo felt a grin spread across his face, genuine and unforced. “Yeah? You wouldn’t mind?”
Ethan shrugged, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “More spotting potential. Less waiting for squat racks.”
“Practical. I like it.” Leo took a last swig of coffee, the bitter heat waking him up fully.
Ethan stood and took their plates to the sink. He didn’t look back as he spoke, his voice lower, almost lost in the sound of running water. “Fifteen minutes. Front door.” Then he was gone, heading back upstairs with a quiet tread.
Leo sat for a moment, finishing his coffee. The spot on his hand where their skin had touched felt strangely alive. He thought of the text he’d sent in the dark last night, a quick reply to Mark: ‘It’s good. He’s… it’s good.’
Upstairs, he could hear the faint sounds of Ethan zipping a gym bag, the clink of weight clips. The house was waking up. Leo stood, stretched, feeling the pleasant ache from yesterday’s skate in his legs. He jogged upstairs, taking them two at a time.
He changed quickly into workout shorts and a loose tank, shoved his feet into beat-up trainers, and grabbed his own bag, stuffing a towel and a water bottle inside. When he came back down, Ethan was already at the front door, lacing his shoes. He had his headphones around his neck, his gym bag slung over one shoulder.
He glanced up as Leo approached. A silent assessment. Leo met it, holding up his bag in answer.
“Ready?” Ethan asked.
“Lead the way,” Leo said.
Ethan pushed the door open, and the cool morning air rushed in, crisp and clean, scouring away the last of the night’s closeness. They stepped out onto the front porch together, the sun just clearing the rooftops, casting their twin shadows long and tangled across the dew-wet lawn behind them. Ethan locked the door, and they walked side-by-side to his car, not speaking, the only sound the crunch of gravel under their shoes and the distant cry of a morning bird.