The soft hum of the kettle filled the air as Flo placed two mugs on the kitchen counter. He glanced at the clock: 8:13 PM. Dave was already here, lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone while the cats eyed him curiously from their perch on the armrest. Musica, the braver of the two, had already tried sniffing his hand, earning a cautious but warm smile from Dave.

  Flo ran a hand through his hair, trying to suppress the growing knot in his stomach. It wasn’t like Dave hadn’t been over before, but tonight was different. Tonight, he was staying.

  “Tea’s almost ready,” Flo called, his voice steady, though his hands fumbled slightly with the teabags.

  “Take your time,” Dave replied, his voice calm, the kind of calm that always seemed to settle Flo’s nerves. It wasn’t forced or overbearing—just there, like a steadying hand.

  Carrying the mugs into the living room, Flo set one down in front of Dave before settling into the armchair opposite him. The room was small but cozy, the kind of place that spoke of routine and comfort rather than extravagance. The scent of lavender lingered faintly from a candle burned earlier in the day.

  They talked easily, their conversation meandering from work stories to the antics of the cats, who eventually decided Dave was harmless enough to nap beside. Flo found himself laughing more than he expected, the sound both foreign and comforting in his ears. Dave had a way of drawing him out, of making the world feel just a little lighter.

  Still, moments of reflection crept in. Flo couldn’t help but compare this evening to nights he’d spent with Alex. Alex, who would have filled the room with her quick wit and sharp humor, her presence almost too big for the space to contain. Dave was different—quieter, more deliberate. Where Alex had been a storm, Dave was a gentle breeze. Flo wasn’t sure which one he needed more.

  “You okay?” Dave’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Flo realized he’d been staring into his mug.

  “Yeah,” Flo said, forcing a smile. “Just... thinking.”

  Dave didn’t press, didn’t ask what about. He simply nodded, letting the silence settle comfortably between them.

  After finishing their tea, Dave leaned back and stretched. “So, what’s the plan now? Movie? Board game? Staring contest?”

  Flo chuckled, feeling some of the tension in his chest ease. “I actually do have some old board games around, but fair warning, I’m terrible at losing gracefully.”

  “Oh, is that a challenge?” Dave grinned, his eyes lighting up.

  “You’re on,” Flo said, standing and heading to a small cabinet near the TV. He returned with a stack of games, eventually settling on one that involved bluffing and strategy. The game quickly devolved into lighthearted accusations and exaggerated outrage.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “There’s no way you’re telling the truth,” Dave said, narrowing his eyes at Flo.

  Flo smirked, leaning back in his chair. “You’ll have to take that risk.”

  Dave hesitated for a second before making his move, only to groan as Flo revealed his cards. “Unbelievable. I knew it.”

  “Told you I’m a sore winner,” Flo teased, earning a playful glare.

  By the time they finished the game, laughter had softened the edges of Flo’s earlier apprehension. The cats had repositioned themselves—Musica curled up on Dave’s lap and Munchkin sprawled out on the floor near Flo’s feet.

  “You know, this was really nice,” Dave said after a moment of comfortable silence. “It’s been a while since I’ve just... hung out like this.”

  “Yeah,” Flo agreed softly. “Me too.”

  As the evening stretched on, the question of sleeping arrangements loomed larger in Flo’s mind. When Dave finally yawned and stretched, Flo’s heart skipped a beat.

  “I guess I should head to bed soon,” Dave said, glancing at him.

  Flo hesitated. “You can take the couch,” he said quickly, then winced at how abrupt it sounded. Dave raised an eyebrow, but didn’t argue.

  Later, as Flo lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, he felt a pang of guilt. It wasn’t about the couch, not really. It was about what sharing the bed would mean—the vulnerability, the intimacy, the acknowledgment that this thing between them was real.

  Before he could overthink it further, he swung his legs out of bed and padded into the living room. Dave was still awake, scrolling through his phone under the dim light of the table lamp.

  “Hey,” Flo said, voice soft. “You can... you can come sleep in the bed if you want. It’s more comfortable than the couch.”

  Dave looked up, surprised, but he didn’t make a big deal of it. He just nodded, stood, and followed Flo back to the bedroom.

  Lying beside Dave, Flo’s thoughts churned. He noticed the way Dave’s breathing slowed as he drifted off, the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from his side of the bed. Flo turned to face him, their shoulders brushing. Dave stirred slightly, opening his eyes to meet Flo’s.

  There was no hesitation as Dave reached out, his hand brushing Flo’s. The space between them closed, unspoken words replaced by a shared understanding. The night unfolded quietly, a mix of tentative touches and soft murmurs, their connection deepening in the dark.

  Later, as Dave’s breathing evened out in sleep, Flo stayed awake, his mind spinning. It was comforting, but it also felt... wrong. Not because of Dave, but because Alex had once been in this space, had once filled it with her laughter and presence.

  For a moment, Flo closed his eyes and let himself remember. Alex’s voice, sharp and teasing. Her smile, crooked but disarming. The way she used to throw her arm over him in the middle of the night, claiming the entire bed as hers. She had been human, flawed and messy, but she had been his world. And now she was gone.

  But Dave was here. And Dave was better in some ways. More patient, more grounded. He didn’t overshadow; he fit. Flo hated himself a little for thinking it, but he also knew it was true.

  When Dave was fully asleep, Flo slipped out of bed and returned to the living room. He sat on the couch, head in his hands, and let the grief wash over him. Tears came quietly, unbidden but necessary, as he mourned the life he’d once had and the person who’d been part of it.

  Eventually, the tears slowed, leaving him hollow but a little lighter. Flo looked toward the bedroom, where Dave slept peacefully, and felt a flicker of hope for his future.