Chapter 13: Breakfast Diplomacy
The first thing Roha became aware of was the warmth. A solid, heavy weight pressed against his side, an arm draped across his chest like it belonged there, a face tucked into the curve of his shoulder. Kyle's breath came slow and even, a soft rhythm against Roha's skin.
Roha kept perfectly still. He could feel every point of contact, the heat of Kyle's body, the slight tickle of hair against his collarbone, the weight of a thigh hooked over his own. He'd spent three thousand years in darkness and silence. He'd never woken up next to anyone. He'd never had anyone want him to be there when he woke.
He turned his head just enough to look at Kyle properly. His hair was a mess, sticking up in about six different directions. His mouth hung open a little. A thin line of drool traced from the corner of his lips onto Roha's shoulder.
Roha felt his mouth curve involuntarily. He looked ridiculous. He looked human. He looked like someone who'd actually slept, actually trusted the space around him enough to let go.
The warmth spread through Roha's chest, and he let himself soak in it for a moment. Kyle had been the first one to fall asleep, curled up against him like a cat, muttering something about, "No, the DJ's better than that guy," before his eyes fluttered shut and his body went slack against Roha's. He'd stayed exactly where he was all night.
Then the thought crept in, quiet at first, like a cold draft under a door.
This ends.
The contract would pull him away after Kyle's final wish. And even if that never came, Kyle's life would continue. He'd find someone. He'd stop needing his weird genie friend around. He'd go back to the clubs and the dancing and the sunrise breakfasts, and Roha would be left alone again.
Roha's breath hitched. He could feel the lamp calling to him from wherever it was, a dark, hollow pull in the back of his mind. He hadn't felt it in days. Now it yawned wide and empty.
He couldn't go back.
He couldn't go back to the dark, to the silence, to no one knowing he existed. He'd had a taste of this, of warmth and laughter and someone's arm around him, and the thought of losing it felt worse than any prison.
A shudder ran through his body before he could stop it.
Kyle stirred against him, making a soft, sleepy noise. His arm tightened around Roha's chest, and he mumbled something incomprehensible into Roha's shoulder before lifting his head.
His eyes blinked open, unfocused at first, then landed on Roha's face.
A smile broke across Kyle's face like sunrise. "You stayed."
The words hit Roha somewhere deep in his chest, cracking through the dread. Kyle wasn't looking at him with suspicion or fear. There was no hint of askance in his sleepy eyes, just pure, uncomplicated joy.
"Of course I stayed," Roha said. The words came out rougher than he intended.
Kyle's smile widened, and he pushed himself up on one elbow, looking down at Roha. "I had a feeling you would. But, like, you know, it's nice to check." He ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier. "Did you sleep okay? Because I slept amazing. Like, top five sleeps of my life. Maybe top three."
Roha could feel the last of the dread loosening its grip, the weight of it lifting bit by bit under Kyle's relentless sunshine. "I slept well," he said, and meant it.
Kyle leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Roha's forehead, then bounced out of bed with the energy of someone who hadn't just been dead to the world thirty seconds ago. "Come on. I'm starving. Joaquin probably has something in the fridge."
Roha followed him out of the bedroom, still feeling the phantom warmth of Kyle's kiss on his forehead. The apartment was brighter than he expected, sunlight streaming in through the windows, washing out the clutter that had seemed so dim the night before.
Joaquin was sitting at the kitchen table. His chair was angled so he had a direct line of sight to Kyle's bedroom door. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and a grin on his face that could only be described as predatory.
"Good morning, boys!" His voice sang the words, dripping with meaning. He raised his coffee mug in a mock toast.
Kyle shot him a glare. "Don't start."
"Me? Start something? Never." Joaquin's grin didn't waver. "I'm just sitting here, drinking my coffee, enjoying the beautiful morning."
Kyle grabbed a towel from the back of the bathroom door. "I'm taking a shower," he announced, and pointed at Joaquin. "Be nice." Then he pointed at Roha. "Relax. Make yourself at home."
He gave Joaquin one more glare before shutting the bathroom door. A moment later, the shower sputtered to life, water hissing against tile.
Joaquin was on his feet the instant the water was running, his chair scraping against the floor. He crossed the kitchen in three quick strides and threw his arms around Roha.
Roha froze, arms stuck out awkwardly at his sides. Joaquin hugged like he meant it, like he had no reservations about wrapping himself around a person he'd only known for a few days.
"We don't have much time," Joaquin said into Roha's shoulder, pulling back just enough to look at him. His eyes were serious now, the playful mask dropped. "I just want you to know, I'm really glad you're around. Kyle, he's my best friend, okay? And the guys he brings home from clubs, they fucking suck. They use him and then they leave, and he acts like he doesn't care, but he does. He gets this look, this little thing in his eyes, and he pretends he didn't notice. But he's my bro. I see it."
Roha's chest tightened. He knew exactly what Joaquin was describing. Being used and tossed aside. Being an object, a convenience, a means to an end. For a moment, he saw Kyle's face without the always-on smile, saw the flicker of loneliness behind the brightness, and it felt achingly familiar.
"So I need to know." Joaquin's voice dropped, serious and steady. "Do you actually like him? Like, really like him? Or are you just passing through?"
Roha didn't have to think. "I like him. I like him more than I expected to."
Joaquin's face split into another grin. "Good. That's really good." He clapped Roha on the shoulder. "So how long are you in town? Like, for real?"
Roha hesitated. He glanced toward the bathroom door. "My current case is... indecisive about his wish," he said carefully. "So I don't know exactly when I'll be moving on."
Joaquin nodded like that made perfect sense. "Well, whatever happens, you're still coming out with us tonight, right? The opening at Pulse? Kyle's been talking about it all week, it's supposed to be huge."
"I'll be there," Roha said. The words felt like a promise, a small anchor against the dark.
"Good." Joaquin squeezed his shoulder once more, then dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Look, I know we've only known each other for like, two days. But Kyle clearly likes you. Like, a lot. And I like you too. So I'm just gonna say it: I hope we get to spend as much time together as possible. Whatever that looks like."
Roha felt something warm bloom in his chest. He opened his mouth to respond, but the bathroom door swung open.
Kyle emerged, dripping wet with a towel around his waist, his hair plastered to his forehead. His eyes narrowed.
"You guys are talking about me."
"Obviously," Joaquin said, completely unbothered. He was already at the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs. "That's all we ever do. Who's going to make breakfast? Me, that's who."
"You want a shower?" Kyle asked, towel still wrapped around his waist, water dripping down his chest. "You know, before we do the whole breakfast thing."
Roha considered it. He'd never bathed. The lamp kept him clean, preserved him in a state of suspended perfection. Water had touched him before, rain and sea spray, but never like this. Never as something deliberate.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll take one."
Kyle grinned and gestured toward the bathroom. "Towels are on the rack. Use whatever you want. Shampoo's the one with the green label, don't touch the red one, that's Joaquin's fancy stuff."
"Hey," Joaquin called from the stove, "the red one is expensive."
Roha walked into the bathroom and shut the door. The room was small and steamy, Kyle's last shower still clinging to the air. He turned the knob until hot water burst from the showerhead, filling the space with steam.
He undressed slowly, folding his clothes on the edge of the sink. The first step under the water made him suck in a breath. It was hot, almost too hot, but then his body adjusted and the heat settled into his muscles like a weight being lifted. He stood there for a long moment, letting it run over his shoulders, down his back, tracing the lines of his body.
This was what it felt like to be clean through effort. He'd never known.
He found the green bottle and worked the shampoo through his hair, the smell of something sweet, coconut and vanilla, wrapping around him. The water sluiced the suds away, and he felt something in his chest loosen.
Kyle didn't seem to want anything. That was the thing. He'd had two wishes available, and he'd spent his days buying tacos and showing Roha the city and kissing him like he was a person, not a service. He hadn't asked for money or power or anything that would have ended this.
Maybe he'd never make another wish at all.
The thought was dangerous, so he let it settle anyway. He could feel the old obligation pulling at the back of his mind, the ancient imperative that a genie exists to grant wishes, that a wish unfulfilled is a failure of purpose. He pushed it down. He wasn't going to nudge Kyle toward anything. He wasn't going to rush this.
He needed to figure out his own life. That was the thing he'd never done, in all those centuries. He'd always been a function, a means to someone else's end. If he wanted to stay, really stay, he'd need to know how to exist. A job. Money. A place in the world that didn't depend on magic and lamps and ancient contracts.
He turned off the water and stood in the steam, listening to the drip of the tap.
He had time. Kyle hadn't wished for anything, and Roha could stretch that out for as long as he needed. He grabbed a towel and dried off, the fabric rough against his skin, then pulled his clothes back on. His hair was still wet, dripping down his collar, but he didn't bother with the fancy stuff.
Tonight would be good. The club opening, the lights, the music. Kyle's hand in his. He could learn to live like this.
He opened the bathroom door and stepped into the kitchen, where the smell of eggs and toast filled the air. Joaquin was sliding a pan off the stove, and Kyle was at the table, setting out plates.
Kyle looked up and smiled at the sight of him, this warm, uncomplicated smile that made Roha's chest ache in the best way. "You look clean," he said. "Very fresh. Very hydrated."
"Very fancy," Joaquin added, dropping the pan onto the table with a flourish. "Sit down. Breakfast is served."
Roha sat down across from Kyle, and for the first time that morning, the dread was nowhere in sight.