Roommates With Benefits [BL]

There are certain weeks when you glance at your calendar and think the universe has it out for you. This was one of those weeks.

I was juggling trips to the hospital, classes, studying, shifts at Joy’s Café, and the occasional desperate attempt to sneak in more than four hours of sleep without waking up in a panic, convinced I’d forgotten something crucial.

At this point, my body was just going through the motions out of sheer stubbornness.

The flower shop shift was supposed to be a breeze. At least that’s what I told myself when I agreed to cover the afternoon.

But it wasn’t...sure, it was quieter than the café, but quiet can be dangerous when you’re running on fumes because it gives your mind too much time to wander.

And my mind, it turns out, could be a real troublemaker when it had the chance.

As I stood behind the counter trimming the stems of some roses, I tried not to yawn into the bouquet. The scissors were moving on autopilot, courtesy of my tired brain’s muscle memory.

The shop smelled like damp earth, fresh blooms, and that faint sweetness of floral spray the owner used to keep the place smelling like spring, even though winter seemed determined to stick around.

Buckets of flowers lined the walls, ribbons hung from hooks behind the counter, and somewhere in the back, a soft tune played on the radio, just quiet enough that I could barely catch the lyrics.

It felt peaceful. Almost too peaceful.

I stole a glance at the clock. Another forty minutes until I had to rush off to Joy’s.

Forty minutes, I could manage that. Probably.

I’d been through worse, after all. Finals. The apartment fire. Moving in with Damien Lockwood, who somehow made sharing a space with him feel like a competitive sport. Learning my dad needed a liver transplant.

So sure, forty minutes of arranging flowers felt like a vacation in comparison.

Suddenly, the bell above the door chimed. I looked up and froze.

For a moment, I couldn’t wrap my head around what I was seeing.

Then it clicked...Melanie?

What was she doing here?

She stood there just inside the door, one hand resting against it. For a fleeting moment, she looked almost exactly like the girl I remembered...well almost.

Her blonde hair was shorter now, grazing her shoulders instead of cascading down her back, and there was something different about her demeanor.

She looked nervous, nearly hesitant, like she wasn’t so sure she’d made the right choice by stepping inside. Given our history, that was probably a solid instinct.

I hadn’t seen her since I caught her with that another guy.

Months had gone by since then. Enough time that the memory wasn’t as sharp, but apparently not enough for seeing her in front of me to feel entirely normal.

Strangely, my first thought was, What was his name again? Trevor? Trent? Something starting with T?

My brain seemed to think recalling the name of the guy who’d helped wreck my relationship wasn’t worth the effort. Fair enough.

I set down the scissors. ”Hey, Melanie.”

She gave me a nervous smile. ”Hey, Oliver.”

An awkward silence hung in the air, stretching out and filling the shop. She glanced around, then back at me, then at the flowers.

I raised an eyebrow. ”You wanna buy some flowers or something?”

She let out a tiny laugh. ”No.”

”Good.”

Her eyebrows shot up, I gestured around the shop. ”I wasn’t sure if you knew what kind of business this was.”

She managed a smile, but it faded quickly, nervousness creeping back into her expression. ”I...um, I actually just wanted to talk to you, and you know...check up on you as well.”

The tone of her voice made me stand a little straighter. ”Oh.”

She nodded. ”Yeah.”

I studied her for a moment. She seemed uncomfortable, not angry or defensive...just nervous. ”Are you okay?”

Her eyes flicked to mine. ”Yeah.”

I waited, and after a sigh, she added, ”No.”

That made more sense, I stepped away from the counter. ”Come sit down.”

There was a small bench near the front window for customers waiting on arrangements.

Melanie walked over slowly and sat down, smoothing her hands over her jeans, a gesture I recalled from countless dinners and study sessions. I joined her shortly after.

For several seconds, neither of us said anything. It was odd. This was the girl I had once dated, the one I knew so well...what she liked to eat, the movies that made her tear up, how she absolutely hated thunderstorms, and the way she’d steal fries off my plate when she insisted she wasn’t hungry.

And yet, sitting next to her now, I felt completely at a loss for words. Finally, she broke the silence. ”How’s your dad?”

I was caught off guard by the question. I looked at her. ”He’s...”

I hesitated. ”He’s still fighting.”

She nodded slowly. ”I heard.”

That made me frown. ”You heard?”

”Yeah.”

”How?”

She looked down at her hands. ”Well...uh, a friend of mine works part-time at the hospital, she mentioned she’d seen my ex boyfriend at the hospital.”

”Oh.”

That explained it, mostly. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t feel like grilling her about it. ”He’s getting ready for surgery; they finally set a date.”

Her expression softened. ”That’s good.”

”Yeah.” I rubbed my hands together. ”At least it’s something.”

She nodded. ”You look tired.”

I chuckled softly. ”That’s because I am tired.”

”I mean really tired.”

”Well, thanks for noticing.”

She smiled. ”You haven’t changed.”

”Oh, I’ve definitely changed.”

”Nope, you haven’t.”

”Well, I’ve become more attractive.”

She laughed gently. ”Still ridiculous.”

”That too.”

For a moment, the tension eased, sliding into a rhythm that felt more comfortable. Then she looked at me again. ”How are you holding up?”

I almost gave her the automatic response: I’m fine. It was practically instinct by now, so worn down from overuse. But something held me back. Maybe it was her gaze, maybe the exhaustion, or maybe I just didn’t have the energy to lie.

”Honestly?”

She nodded. ”Yeah.”

”It’s been hard.”

My voice was quieter than I’d expected.

”Seeing my dad like this... it’s just...” I looked down at my hands. ”He’s basically all I have.”

Melanie didn’t interrupt, so I kept going.

”Sometimes I feel completely hopeless. Then I feel guilty for feeling hopeless because I know I’ve got to keep pushing through. I have to work, go to class, show up at the hospital, and make sure he’s okay.”

My words hung between us, heavier than I intended, Melanie’s expression softened. ”You shouldn’t have to carry all that by yourself.”

I almost smiled. ”Apparently, I have a friend who thinks I can’t do anything without supervision.”

She chuckled softly. ”Damien?”

”Yeah.”

”He’s still around?”

I raised an eyebrow. ”Last time I checked.”

She smiled. ”I’m glad.”

I stared at her. ”Really?”

She nodded. ”Yeah. I think you deserve someone who stays.”

That caught me off guard. I didn’t know how to respond. So, of course, I said the first ridiculous thing that popped into my head.

As we fell into quiet again, she took a deep breath. ”I’m glad you’re okay.”

I nodded. ”Thanks.”

”I mean it.”

”I know.”

She looked down again. ”I wasn’t sure if you’d even want to talk to me.”

I thought about that. ”I wasn’t sure either.”

She winced. ”Fair.”