Roommates With Benefits [BL] Chapter 15: A Non-Existent Love Life

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By the ti I wrapped up my shift at the flower shop after my classes, my feet were seriously feeling it, like they were really trying to complain.

They weren’t hurting enough to stop from walking, nor so bad that I could justify taking a long break, but just enough to let know I’d been on them for hours, smiling at custors who agonized over picking between roses and lilies as if their choice would change their lives.

anwhile, I was doing so ntal math on how much my ti was worth each hour and whether it was actually sufficient. Spoiler: it never really was, but that was a worry for another ti.

I slipped out the back door with a relieved sigh, adjusting the strap of my small bag on my shoulder. The evening air hit my face, cooler and gentler than earlier when it felt like it was trying to suffocate everyone.

The sun was already dipping down, casting that lovely golden hue that made even the most ordinary streets seem a bit more forgiving, like the city was trying to apologize for whatever stress it had thrown my way and was offering a nice visual as a peace offering.

For just a mont, I stood there, not moving, not overthinking...just existing in the space between one responsibility and the next, which honestly felt like my only break these days.

Then my stomach loudly reminded I hadn’t eaten a proper al since the morning, and reality crashed back in like it always did.

"Right," I muttered to myself, forcing my legs to move. "No ti for breaks when you’re financially strapped."

I had already swung by a small grocery store on my way out, grabbing whatever I could afford without overthinking it too much, sothing I’d learned to do out of necessity though I wasn’t proud of it.

A few sandwiches I knew my dad liked, a small bag of chips, so fruit that looked fresh enough under the flickering lights, and a cheap pair of socks I’d spent way too long picking out because they had little anchors on them, which for so reason felt like sothing he’d appreciate. I had debated it for a solid three minutes. The anchors won.

It wasn’t much.

It never was.

But it was sothing, and that counted for more than nothing. It was a motto I had adopted early and clung onto with both hands.

The walk to the hospital was so familiar that it felt automatic, my body moving through the streets while my mind drifted to quieter places. The buildings got taller, the traffic got thicker, and the city shifted to that special rush-hour rhythm when everyone was trying to be sowhere at the sa ti.

Eventually, I saw the soft, distant glow of the hospital, standing right where it always was, unchanged and undeniable, which felt either reassuring or unsettling, depending on my mood that day.

As soon as I stepped inside, everything felt different.

The air had a distinct quality.

Cleaner. Colder. Sterile, in a way that never sat right with , no matter how many tis I walked through those doors. It was like my body always had a fresh objection to being there.

The sll of disinfectant mingled with sothing else I could never quite place, and the halls stretched out, lined with stark white walls and hushed footsteps. Nurses moved efficiently past while machines beeped softly from behind closed doors, like the building itself had a heartbeat.

I tightened my hold on the bag and headed straight to the billing counter first. Because that was the way it worked.

It always was, money stuff first, then you got to be a person again.

The woman at the desk barely glanced up when I approached, her fingers dancing over the keyboard. She probably knew why I was there without even needing to ask; after all, I’d been here more tis than I could count, likely categorized as a regular in their system.

"Monthly paynt?" she asked with a neutral tone and it was efficient, like the words were the verbal equivalent of a form letter.

I nodded, reaching into my pocket to pull out what I had set aside, my fingers tightening around the cash for a mont before handing it over. There’s always that awkward mont where passing it over feels heavier than the rest of the day put together, like letting go of it made everything more real.

She processed it quickly, like it was nothing more than just another transaction, with no connection to whatsoever. True, but still.

"Paynt received," she said matter-of-factly, sliding the receipt across the counter.

I took it, glancing down at the numbers before folding it neatly and tucking it into my bag. I didn’t need to linger over them; I had that entire breakdown committed to mory at this point, a skill I wished I hadn’t developed.

Not much was left after that.

Not enough to feel comfortable. Not enough to deceive myself into thinking I had life in control like they do on TV, with their spotless kitchens and savings accounts and complete absence of billing reminders.

I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair as I stepped away from the counter, doing the money math instinctively because I just couldn’t help it. It was automatic now, like breathing.

Rent...well, not rent anymore, technically, which was the one small win in my current situation.

Food, transportation and everything else that dared to cost money.

"...Guess it’s instant ran again," I muttered to myself, a tired smile creeping onto my face despite everything. "Living that gourt lifestyle. Truly thriving."

Shaking my head slightly, I made my way down the hall toward his room, the familiar route unfolding ahead of like muscle mory.

Because no matter how heavy everything else felt, this part was always different.

Lighter. More important than anything else, the kind of important that didn’t need to announce itself because it just was.

I gently pushed the door open, not wanting to startle him as I stepped inside.

He was sitting up in bed, just as I expected, the small TV mounted on the wall playing so old cody show that filled the room with laughter from a live audience, slightly outdated but still oddly comforting, like a warm backdrop. Soone had clearly thought to leave the lights on.

The mont he spotted , his face lit up. And just like that, everything else faded away. The billing counter, the numbers, the ran...all of it vanished.

"There’s my superstar!" he exclaid, grinning wide, his eyes sparkling in a way that released a weight in my chest, like a knot that had tightened all day finally unraveling. "Look at you, still handso after grinding away at that café. Co here, kid."

"Hey, Dad," I replied, laughing softly as I crossed the room to hug him, careful of the tubes and how his body had grown thinner over ti, even if he pretended it hadn’t, and I acted like I didn’t notice. We were both skilled at pretending.

I pulled back after a mont, setting the bag down on the small table beside him. "You’re looking good."

"Of course I am," he said, with a confidence that suggested this was simply true, no need for alternative interpretations. "I’ve got the best-looking son in this hospital visiting . It’s good for my health. Better than half the ds, I’d say."

"Don’t tell the nurses that," I warned.

"I already told one of them," he replied, completely unbothered. "She agreed."

I snorted, shaking my head as I started unpacking the bag, arranging everything in the typical order I’d developed over many visits. Sandwiches first, since he always reached for those right away.

"Brought you the good stuff to make staying here less depressing," I said, placing them in front of him. "No mystery at today."

He leaned forward, inspecting each sandwich like he was making a serious evaluation. Then he broke into a satisfied grin, and I felt a sense of relief wash over .

"You spoil , Ollie," he said, picking one up with evident enjoynt. "Ham and cheese? You really want to keep alive."

"Soone has to," I said lightly, reaching into the bag again to pull out the chips, the fruit, and finally, with slight hesitation, the socks.

He paused, his expression softening as he picked them up and turned them over in his hands, examining them like they mattered more than they really did.

"These got little anchors on them?" he asked, glancing up at with warmth in his eyes.

I shrugged, feeling a bit self-conscious about the ti I spent in that grocery store aisle. "They were on sale."

He chuckled softly, genuinely amused. "You know too well."

He was my dad, I grew up with no one else but him. Of course I was aware of his obsession with anything ocean related.

After that, we fell into an easy rhythm, one that didn’t require any effort, just the comfort of familiarity and the kind of silence that didn’t need filling. We ate the sandwiches and he chatted about the show he’d been watching, making exaggerated comnts about the jokes, so of which were genuinely not funny, sohow making him enjoy them even more. I laughed along, rolled my eyes when he got too silly, which was often.

At so point, he decided to tease .

Naturally. That was his specialty, and he was pretty good at it.

"So," he said casually in that tone that ant he was completely constructed, "any girls from that fancy school of yours catching your eye?"

I nearly choked on thin air.