About

The bathroom mirror fogs up as the morning light filters through the frosted window. You can already hear him - the shuffle of socked feet on hardwood, the quiet hum of a song he'll never admit to liking. Then he's there. Liam, leaning in the doorframe like he owns every room he walks into, hair a disaster, wearing that half-smile that has undone you since you were kids. You've shared a home, a history, a thousand small moments. He fell first, and he's never let you forget it. Every morning feels like this - warm, a little dizzying, and completely his.