Roommates With Benefits [BL]

There was something comforting about that, the routine, the small acts of care that had become second nature.

”He always asks if I remembered the orange candies,” I said, grabbing a bag, then reflexively picking up a second one. ”Every visit. Even when things were tough, he’d still ask.”

Damien reached over and placed both bags into the basket silently.

He didn’t say anything more about it, moving ahead slightly to check out something on the display near the end of the aisle.

My chest did that thing it had been doing more lately, the warm swell, like something was being cradled gently rather than just held. ”...Thank you.”

”You don’t need to thank me.”

”You keep saying that while doing things that make me want to thank you.”

”I suppose that’s a little awkward.”

”Deeply.”

He gave a small, genuine smile, and I looked at the basket, not wanting to say anything else because I was now on the verge of embarrassment in the snack aisle.

At the checkout, I reached for my wallet.

A hand appeared in front of me. ”No.”

I looked up. ”Excuse me?”

”No.”

”I can fucking pay for my dad’s supplies, Damien—”

”I know.”

”I have a bunch of money now—”

”I know.”

”Then let me—”

”No.”

The cashier, a woman in her forties with the calm demeanor of someone who’s seen it all, continued ringing up our items while we were in the middle of our little standoff.

”Very handsome boys you are. Are you too dating?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

My stupid mind went blank, and I struggled to find the words to say after being taken aback by such a question. We weren’t official dating per-say, but...

I began, ”I...uh, I mean we’re not exactly–”

”Yes we are.” Damien interrupted with that dumb sexy smirk of his... catching me off guard.

The woman beamed, ”Well that’s a relief, isn’t it? Explains why you too argue like a married couple.”

I flushed so hard I nearly saw stars, we did NOT argue like a married couple. What was she talking about?!

Damien and the woman beamed at eachother as if they suddenly became besties at my expense.

Damien thinking I was distracted due to embarrassment made to go and pay for the goods.

I tried to sidestep him. He moved with me. I shifted the other way. He mirrored me, blocking the card reader with the calm efficiency of someone who had planned for this.

”Are you really body-blocking me at checkout?”

”Yes!”

”In public.”

”Yes.”

”In front of a witness?!”

The cashier, still keeping her expression steady as she smiled, chimed in, ”I’ve seen worse.”

She scanned a box of crackers.

I tried to reach around Damien’s arm, but he caught my wrist as if he’d predicted my next move and already knew how to counter it.

”You are the most stubborn—”

”So are you.”

”That’s not—” I turned to the cashier. ”Can you please explain to him that this is unreasonable?”

She regarded us with the kind of calm smile that suggested she’d been asked to mediate these things before. ”The one who insists on paying usually wins.”

She scanned the mystery novel I had picked out for my dad.

”I’ve got this part,” I said firmly, pulling out my card. ”You’ve already done enough with the hospital bills. This is just snacks.”

‎

‎Damien’s hand playfully but effectively blocked mine, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he slid his own card forward. ”No way. I’m paying for everything today. Consider it part of the introduction package...snacks included.”

‎

‎I huffed, trying to maneuver around him, which led to more playful bickering in line.

”Damien, come on. This isn’t necessary. I can handle a few groceries without you swooping in like some knight with an unlimited credit line.”

My voice had that exasperated fondness to it, the kind of tone that came from knowing his generosity was rooted in love rather than showmanship.

‎

‎He grinned but didn’t budge, even as the cashier, a middle-aged woman with a perpetually tired expression...watched us with the deadpan stare of someone who’d seen a thousand couples argue over little things.

”Too late, Oliver. Victory is mine,” he declared dramatically, tapping his card on the reader with a triumphant flourish that made me roll my eyes, even as a reluctant smile tugged at my lips.

He picked up the bags with the ease of someone who’d succeeded in their goal, looking completely unbothered. I muttered ’thanks’ under my breath, and he laughed all the way to the car.

The drive was quieter.

Not awkward, just that thoughtful atmosphere that comes when you’re about to face something important. The city shifted around us, familiar streets replacing the campus routes I usually took, and I focused on the traffic lights, coffee stands, and intersections that each held their own memories of hard visits, tough calls, late-night drives trying to stay calm.

”I used to hate this drive,” I said, mostly talking to the window.

Damien glanced at me briefly. ”I know.”

”It always felt like I was heading toward whatever the latest bad news was going to be.” I paused. ”Like just driving there was part of the problem.”

He stayed quiet, simply reaching across the center console to take my hand, his fingers wrapping around mine with the easy confidence of something familiar that was going to keep happening.

No speeches. No attempts to redirect the mood. Just, being there, and holding on.

I turned my hand over, intertwining our fingers.

”...Thanks.”

”You don’t have to—”

”I know, I know,” I said. ”You keep saying that. But I keep saying it anyway. Because I mean it every time.”

He squeezed my hand gently. The hospital loomed ahead through the windshield.

He parked and turned off the engine. We didn’t move immediately.

”...I’m still nervous,” I finally admitted, looking at the windshield. ”What if this goes south?”

”It won’t.” He squeezed my hand again. ”I’ve got you.”

Three words. Short. Simple. Not dressed up in anything.

Every anxious thought I’d been having for the last couple of hours quieted down.

I grabbed the bags from the back seat. Together, we stepped through the automatic doors, into that unmistakable scent of antiseptic and artificial warmth I’d come to know all too well over the past months, making our way down the corridor toward Room 417.

At the door, I paused.

My hand hovered over the handle.

I just stood there for a moment, breathing and trying to figure out if I was ready for this.

Then I looked beside me.

Damien’s expression was different from his usual ones—not the composed public face, not the playful teasing look, not even the warm private gaze that appeared at home when he thought I wasn’t looking. This was something quieter, more patient, genuinely sincere and completely without pretense.

The smile he gave me then was one that showed he truly meant it, not just because the situation called for it.

Standing outside my dad’s hospital room, grocery bags in hand and my heart doing somersaults, I realized that every other time I’d come here, I’d pushed through that door alone and handled whatever came next by myself.

Today was the first time that wasn’t the case. I took a breath, reached for the handle and opened the door.

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here’s a bonus Chapter because we hit tier 2 of win-win 🥳! thank you all so much for all of your continued support and comments.

I’ll keep trying my best to keep making this book worth it🥰

let’s keep for next month as well 💪💕