Julian's POV
Morning starts with me trying to ignore how easily Bryson's presence fills the space. He wakes up, moves around the apartment, makes coffee. Sounds casual right? But somehow it's not, to me at least.
Then the washing machine in my room stops working mid-cycle, clothes still soaking wet inside.
"Damn it," I mutter, staring at the broken piece of s**t.
Bryson emerges from his room, already dressed. "What happened?"
"The machine's dead. I need to use the public one downstairs."
"I've got laundry too," Bryson says. "We could go together."
I want to say no, to handle this alone. But there's no logical point in arguing at this point. "Fine. But I'm doing my own clothes."
"I wasn't planning on washing your underwear for you."
"Good."
The laundry room i
