Their Roommate

Episode 2: Home

“So… what’s the plan?”

The words slipped out between sips of coffee, casual but heavy with meaning. I sat curled up in a hoodie that didn’t belong to me — probably Daniel’s, based on how it swallowed my frame and smelled faintly like cedar and something warm and spicy. I stared down into my mug like it might contain answers I hadn’t found anywhere else, the ceramic warm in my hands, grounding me in the weird, uncertain present that had become my life.

Edward was the first to respond. He set his cup down with a soft clink, leaned forward with that calm, unshakeable confidence he always seemed to carry like armor. “We’ll go with you. Get your stuff, keep it civil. Just tell us when.”

I blinked. “You mean like… all of you?”

Daniel leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, and shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You think we’re gonna let you walk into that house alone after everything that went down? Not a chance.”

“And definitely not letting him intimidate you,” Thomas added, flipping a pancake in the pan with practiced ease. His tone was light, almost playful, but there was steel beneath it. “Besides, I’ve always wondered how fast I could move a couch if I’m feeling extra petty.”

That made me laugh — an actual laugh, short and surprised. The sound felt strange and unfamiliar, like dusting off a part of myself I hadn’t used in weeks. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously loyal,” Daniel corrected with a wink.

I curled tighter into the hoodie, pulling my knees to my chest on the couch, feeling small and safe all at once. Their confidence, their ease — it was like being wrapped in more than fabric. It was safety I hadn’t known I’d been craving. “Thank you. I mean it. I can’t believe I’m even here right now, and you’re already helping me pick up the pieces.”

Thomas grinned as he plated breakfast with a flair that would’ve made a diner chef proud. “We’ll text him, set a time, and get in and out. You grab what you need. We’ll handle the heavy lifting. You don’t have to talk to him unless you want to — and if you do want to, we’ll be right there.”

The thought of seeing my ex again made my stomach twist into something cold and anxious. But knowing I wouldn’t be walking in alone? That helped more than I could say. Still, guilt crept in like smoke under a door. “I hate just... staying here like this. I’m taking up space. And you guys — this is your place. I don’t want to freeload.”

Daniel, now sprawled across one end of the couch like he’d grown roots there, raised an eyebrow. “You think we care about that?”

“I do,” I said softly. “At least let me help out around here. Groceries, cleaning, laundry — I don’t know, something. I can’t pay rent right now, but I can still do things. I need to feel useful.”

Edward opened his mouth to respond, but Thomas beat him to it — with that trademark smirk and a glint in his eye that could only mean trouble.

“Well,” he said, drawing the word out dramatically, “if you’re gonna be our live-in housekeeper, I feel like we should at least invest in a proper uniform. You know, for the aesthetic.”

I blinked, already suspicious. “What kind of uniform?”

He grinned wider, clearly pleased with himself. “You know — cute little maid dress. Frilly apron. Maybe one of those feathery dusters.”

My jaw dropped. “Thomas!”

Daniel burst out laughing, nearly spilling his coffee over the side of the couch. “Oh no. You’ve unleashed the beast.”

Edward sighed like a long-suffering older brother, but his lips twitched with amusement. “You’ve been sitting on that one since breakfast, haven’t you?”

Thomas held up his hands, feigning innocence. “What can I say? Chores are always more fun when you dress the part.”

I grabbed a throw pillow and launched it at him. He ducked with a practiced dodge, still laughing, and Edward caught the pillow in mid-air, tossing it neatly back onto the couch like this was just another regular morning.

“Okay, okay,” I said, shaking my head but smiling despite myself. “I’ll help out — but if I see so much as a single ruffle or thigh-high stocking in this house, I’m using it to strangle you in your sleep.”

“Noted,” Thomas said, still grinning. “But for the record, you would look amazing in one.”

“You’re impossible,” I muttered, though my cheeks warmed at the tease.

“And you’re family,” Daniel said gently, the teasing fading from his voice, replaced with something quieter and more sincere. “You’re not freeloading. You’re healing. But if helping around the house helps you feel more grounded? We’re all for it.”

Edward nodded in agreement. “We don’t need rent. You’ve got enough going on without that on your plate. We’ve got your back — no matter how long it takes.”

Thomas set the last plate down, then leaned his hip against the counter, giving me a soft smile that didn’t come with a punchline. “Seriously. We want you here. You’re not a burden. You’re not some guest we’re waiting to usher out. You’re family. And we protect our own.”

The lump in my throat returned, thick and stubborn. I swallowed hard, blinking back tears before they could fall. The warmth in their voices, the way they treated me like I belonged here — it chipped away at the loneliness I hadn’t even realized I’d been carrying.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Deal.”

I reached for my fork as Daniel passed me a plate, and the four of us settled into an easy rhythm — passing syrup, swapping stories about terrible landlords and bizarre Craigslist roommates. There was laughter. There were jokes. At some point, Thomas even managed to sneak a maid apron image onto my phone background, which I promptly vowed to get revenge for.

And just like that, between ridiculous jokes, quiet reassurances, and the kind of gentle loyalty that didn’t ask for anything in return, I realized something important.

I hadn’t just found a temporary place to crash.

I’d found something far more unexpected.

I’d found home — messy, loud, full of terrible jokes and breakfast pancakes and boys who refused to let me fall apart alone.

But home, nonetheless.