(Baby, come stay for a while, we’re agile together.
When we move it’s with trust, it’s with truth,
We’re fragile together.)

Hopefully, the map pointed him to the right place. It’s Blackbelly Street, after all, home of the famous Blackbelly Skatepark. And some streets right next to it, there's Rodi's apartment, on the fourth floor of a small block.

The low buildings are sandwiched between tiny streets, where only a bike can pass through. It's calm at this hour, it's as if everyone's taking their afternoon naps in their homes. This residential area is overshadowed by the taller, more modern buildings, and it is well known to be a haven for those who willingly moved into Inkopolis and left their hometowns behind. By coincidence, here is where his family was supposed to move, though mama Anthos opted for the more natural outskirts.

Fourth floor. Here goes nothing.

Olive reaches the front door, and keeps his hand hovering above the handle, to listen for any sounds coming from inside. It's quiet, he goes in, as instructed in yesterday’s text.

On his careful first step inside, he notices yesterday’s stranger, sprawled like a kitten on the opposite couch.

“Hey, you showed up.” The host chimes in.

“Yeah, sorry for not calling back. I got caught up with packing...” Olive rattles the luggage he’s been dragging around.

“Feel at home. Leave that in a corner. Any is fine... Yes, there."

The red inkling jumps off his spot to approach Olive and, with a hand on his broad shoulder, he kisses both of his cheeks. Olive’s greeted this friendly only by his aunt. However, Rodi doesn’t seem the old fashioned kind, his lips left a balmy mark on the cheeks, it’s more of a stylish act than anything. Then his head turns towards the bulky luggage in the corner.

“Is this all?”

Anthos wipes his cheeks, not fully realising where he's now. “You mean my stuff? It’s this and my backpack.”

“So, you’re expecting a long stay...?”

“Well, it’s up to whoever owns the place to decide it.”

“Risky to say that.”

From that reply, Olive’s expression betrays worry.

Of course, Rodi wants to explain himself. “Oops, don’t take it as menacing! I’m jeering myself here. I’m a busy man, I can’t afford hosting someone for too long.”

“I understand. Ah, thank you anyway for letting me stay.” Olive awkwardly scans the household, not moving from his spot. It’s small, though cozy enough to accommodate two people. “Do I have to pay a share of the rent?”

It’s as if Rodi never thought of this question. “I don’t know. It’ll complicate things. We’ll see.”

“I don’t want to be a freeloader, you know...” He kneads his shoulder bashfully.

“For now, as long as you don't trash the house, I’m happy.”

Since Olive’s not displaying a broad spectrum of expressions, only ones of excessive caution, Rodi sneaks behind and gives a nudge on his back.

“Okay, lemme show you around and settle some rules.”

He’ll walk as dictated by the palm resting on his lower back. Straight from the doormat, they enter the kitchen, a modest though well-equipped one, which acts an extension of the living room. Separating the living room and kitchen sides of the room, there's a glass door veiled by burgundy curtains, leading to a narrow balcony. The view overlooks Blackbelly Skatepark, hiding behind dense palm trees. An observant eye will see there’s a match currently taking place.

“Here’s where the smoking is done. No exceptions, don’t stink up my curtains.” Rodi establishes, then drags his flatmate with no hesitation.

The soft couch is colour-matched to said curtains, and above it is hanged a scenic painting, of foamy saltwater crashing into cliffs. The coffee table is a bit disorderly now: random trinkets, paper wristbands for various nightclubs and spare change are scattered around, above the three books that make up the pile’s base. Bookmarks are erratically spaced out in between pages, post-its could fly from the paperback books if anyone dares touch them, and they all seem to be non-fiction titles.

With that out of the way, with another nudge on the tattooed skin that still needs time to heal, he’s brought in front of the farthest room. Rodi finally goes silent and slightly opens the door, only the tiniest amount, enough for Olive to peek his head through.

The bedroom doesn’t have any distinguishing features, besides the fact that the bed isn’t made. The double-sized bed seems a bit too much for just one person. One of the nightstands is akin to the coffee table in the previous room, in terms of messiness. You probably need a very busy nightlife to gather so many tickets and wristbands.

Olive’s formed a good enough impression of the place. He walks back to the luggage he's left behind and settles it next to the couch. Rodi’s looking surprised from his spot.

“Why’re you leaving that there?”

“So it’ll be–...” Olive blinks and sharply turns his head to face the other. “Where do you want me to sleep?”

“The bedroom? Where else?”

Olive freezes. "Ah... I actually snore, so it'd be better to..."

"You don't want that couch, trust me. It's from the previous owner and it smells weird if you get your face too close to it."

Olive snickers at first, but his stiff stance isn’t changing.

“And you?”

“Also here.” Rodi’s no longer pushing the bedroom door a little bit, but opening it up fully. “Don’t tell me you’re squeamish with this kind of shit.”

Now Olive can’t take his eyes off the wrinkled bedsheets. “No, no... I just don’t want to be a bother.”

“I’ll probably be the bigger bother.” The host is kindly bringing the luggage to the bedroom for Olive. “90% of the time this room will be yours. I sleep very late, if I even get the chance to.”

Any further comments are unnecessary, it seems that formalities are of no interest for them. Olive's abandoning his shallow politeness, he enters the room so he'd start unpacking soon.

“Let’s do the technical bits now. You’re eager for them.”

The host sits himself down by the nightstand and picks up the wall calendar forgotten on it.

"No rent involved, just a solid condition." Rodi pulls at the drawers to get a marker, removes its cap with his beak, and sloppily circles a day, about a month after the current date. “That’s how much you have. At most. ...At most! Keep that in mind.” Eye-contact was crucial for this part.

Olive brings out the worst case scenario for anything. “What if I won’t be able to move out ‘till then?”

With no hesitation, “Good riddance.”

Cold.

His bottom eyelid twitches more and more as he slides the monthly rent's price cursor lower. Alas, all he can find now for this measly budget is a garage. Maybe he can live in a garage, does it have a heater...? Olive shakes his head and closes the laptop’s lid in frustration. Looking over apartment listings killed off his drive. A sigh later, he accepts his fate and trains his psyche for the fact that he has to get employed as fast as possible. If only his recruiter would answer his damn emails.

He's not feeling quite at home yet. On his couch, he'd stretch and flop his legs with no trouble, though he's sitting neatly like on his first day of school. He doesn't enjoy it, and the laptop he's borrowed is starting to warm up his thighs.

“How’s the apartment hunting?” Rodi passes through the living room and notices a disgruntled flatmate.

Downplaying it, but not too much, Olive answers. “It’ll take time.” He dusts off the laptop and opens it once more.

The corner of Rodi’s mouth tugs to the side in apathy. The host continues his way to the bedroom. The green inkling cracks his index finger’s knuckle and begins scrolling again. Five listings later, Rodi comes back a little confused.

"Are those your plants?"

"Yes."
"Are they gonna sit there the whole time?" He references the small space in between the bed and the window, all taken up now by the flower pots.

"They need a lot of sunlight, so..." Olive explains with a nervous smile. "Should I move them?"

Shrug. "It's your side of the bed. I don't care."

He carefully places the laptop down. "I do have a few more, though. I need your advice on where to place them."

The host seemed unimpressed until he saw the luggage being opened, still well stuffed with rolls of newspaper. Plant after plant after plant, Olive lovingly unwraps the rolls to unveil them, which come in all shapes, shades of green and sizes. He even brought his own bag of soil, for repotting.

"How the hell did you fit so many in?" Rodi's shocked and shouting.

"Patience, care, unhealthy attachment," he articulates slowly.

"Is your luggage just plants?!"
"Oh, I've brought some shirts... I don't need much. I think I'm taking up only one shelf." Anthos brushes off some leaves, separates the stems, and keeps on unwrapping and repotting, not afraid to get his hands dirty.

The red inkling looks in the wardrobe to convince himself. "You're the first inkling I've seen to have that few clothes."

"...I left a lot behind, it wasn't so easy."
"And you brought your botanical garden instead." His carmine eyes narrow cynically.

"Now, these, I can’t leave these behind. They're more charming than some rags." Olive chants his appreciation with his face hidden between the greenery and crinkled paper.

Taking some interest in them, Rodi kneels besides Olive and pokes around the leaves. "Why didn't you sell them? Some look very unique, they'd make a good buck.

"I grew them all myself. This will sound lame, but I have some sort of bond with them," the confession leaves him a little embarrassed.

"They... don't do anything though."

"But they grow so beautiful." He reaches to unwrap the largest one, a small-sized palm. "It's not something instant, you need lots of patience, but it pays off."

Somewhat snarky, Rodi blows air through his nose. "Yeah, it'd get boring for me. But, if it's for the aesthetic, I can get the effort."

It's not that simple, it's not only for that, however, Olive won't bother himself with further clarifications. Through a bit of debate, Rodi agrees on setting the plants in the sunnier spots of the house, thus letting the collection extend outside the bedroom.

Soon enough, he slyly jokes around, acts like he might trip over one of them, making Anthos yelp and straighten his spine every time. It's not as funny for him, it was the first two or three times, though now he's grown incredibly tired of his trickster flatmate.

It's the first day only. First day. Exercising his self-control, he keeps himself from protesting.

Thankfully, Rodi gets a phone call. Shortly following it, he slips on a jacket in a rush and leaves the home hurriedly, leaving Olive alone. He didn't say anything, not even a greeting before leaving, that's how hasty he was. The green inkling is relieved about finally having his moment to relax, though he's left in an unknown place, with no indications, and he's desperately in need of them. What if he wants to open more windows? Will Rodi dislike the colder air? He won't even start thinking about needing to use the kitchen, anything he might do there can be wrong. He's left to his own devices, and he'll stick with the safest thing. Back to the laptop he goes.

It's funny how the world fools you into buying anything. Beautiful studio in a quiet, historical neighbourhood, ideal for students, battlers, and professionals. All these words for an apartment that's falling apart on itself, with no amenities in close reach. Here's another one. Cozy one-bedroom apartment with elegant interior, negotiable contract length, and the place smells of mould through the photos. Other agents are more deceitful and take their photos so strategically, that once you see the actual place, you wonder how it manages to be so small. That doesn't mean you can't find good places, there are a few that will offer what Olive needs, but they come with higher prices, unsuitable for his restrictive timeframe. ...He'll lower his standards. He can't wait for this ordeal to be done, for him to keep on his life peacefully, with no more ugly surprises.

Some time later, he moves from the couch to the bed, slams his back into it and starts dialling up landlords with disgust plastered on his face. He brings the phone to his ear, twirls his tufts of hair on the ringing sound.

"Hello, good day, I'd like to ask about the apartment on Sacoglossa Street..."

Pigeons gathered around the windowsill and cooed Olive until he woke up. It's a bit late for some to rise up now, the clock reveals noon, but by his standards, it’s a decent waking hour. He shoos the birds away. Even if he went to sleep sometime after midnight, he still slept like a log, forgetting about his disoriented mind.

However, he's still as disoriented as before. His flatmate hasn't returned. Rodi's been gone for nearly a day's worth of hours, with no explanation whatsoever. Staying at his place might turn out to be a scam, he should’ve known.

But assumptions were made too early, Olive does sight him upon opening the bedroom's door, spots him laying calmly on the couch as in the first day. He'd expect an explanation by now, though Rodi is completely unfazed, as nothing seems out of place for him.

"You're a late riser." The red inkling smugly remarks, and flips a page in his magazine.

Sighing in relief, Anthos ignores the jab and goes for a glass of tap water. "...Where did you sleep?"

"Wow, that's a forward question."

"I mean... You vanish with no warning, and then suddenly appear."

Rodi's pupils dance up and down, side to side, scanning his flatmate with a thoughtful expression. He inhales and gets up from his spot delicately.

"I didn't sleep," he snakes past Olive. "Might as well do now."

Olive glances at him sheepishly. "Ack. I'm sorry... You were waiting on me."

The host waves it off, does laid-back gestures with his hand, not making such a big deal out of it, and goes into hiding. Olive didn't get much cleared up. He spills whatever remained of his glass in the sink and realises, with a frown, that he didn't change out of his PJ shorts. He's the one waiting on Rodi now.

There's no better way of getting to know someone quickly than to just hang a few hours with them. When the time finds them both awake, in the same room and not directly interacting, Olive curiously inspects his flatmate. Rather nonchalant and caught up in his own matters, Rodi can't quite return the interest. He’s stuck to the laptop’s screen, with elbows glued on the kitchen table. Just to follow the model, Olive will flick through his lecture notes for the time being. Having someone else's presence in the room motivates him enough to not slack off after ten minutes.

Pleasantly enough, the hours they've spent in silence were cozy, shrouded in a mutual understanding that each is to their own. Olive managed to relax, to start stretching his legs on the couch and sit comfortably without a worry. He recapped the essential points for the next steps in his project, and the other finally garners the nosiness to ask about it.

The two begin conversing about occupations, more precisely, the way each makes themselves useful in the world. Anthos starts, as it's more likely for him to finish quicker. "Botany student in Inkopolis University", no additional frills.

On the flipside, his flatmate betrays a tangled history. He briefly goes through some of his past odd-jobs, before arriving to his current one. As something he described as an "intermission in his life", Rodi's handling deliveries for iShipIt, a new though fast-growing shipping company.

"It's just to fill the time, make myself useful until the next thing happens. The schedule's as flexible as I want, I can drive by the warehouse whenever and they pay me per delivery. It's not bad, honestly."

"I see," Olive nods. "Why not stick to it then?"

"It's so bland! Driving around the city when it's busy makes me want to poke my eyeballs out of boredom. Hell no. I have better things coming up."

Rodi continues clicking around. Once he seems informed enough, he passes the laptop to Olive. “I’ve found a good set of deliveries, they all seem to be in the north side of Inkopolis, hopefully nobody claims them until I get there.”

“Good luck,” Anthos switches to a new tab.

While Rodi readies himself to leave, Olive checks his emails again, to make sure no message slipped under the radar. Although he constantly checks his inbox on his phone, he believes a bigger screen is more trustworthy. Nevertheless, there’s still no word from the Kelp Dome recruiters. How long has it been? Three weeks? He's itching to send another friendly reminder, though he feels anything but friendly towards them. It's just a part-time, it shouldn't be so complicated! Olive can't make heads or tails of it. This is more than disappointing. He's stuck and, worst of all, dependant on their bullshit.

If it weren't for the possibility of Rodi walking back in, he'd get all heated up, cheeks blotted with ink from the frustration, with a good chance of tearing up. However, Olive keeps his cool, he closes his eyes and finds something to focus on. The wind, the gentle ring of the leaves and palm fronds; that should do. Thank goodness his flatmate left the balcony door open, 'cause if only one more second passed, Olive would have to resort to dunking his head under the running tap.

The carmine-eyed inkling joins his soundscape eventually, contributing with the shuffle of his light steps. Anthos opens his eyes and sees him ready to go. At least this time, the flatmate has the tact to say goodbye.

Staying in this house made him restless enough yesterday, he's restless enough now, so he will leave along with Rodi. Whereas the pomegranate inkling slots his keys into his motorbike, Olive walks to the nearest bus stop. The area's really peaceful, he appreciates it, though public transit comes around less often than in the centre.

All the wasted time spent on waiting and sitting down during his travels, it is filled with flighty thoughts. His eyes track the motion blur forming on the other side of the glass. While the streets and buildings come and go at each second, there is only one constant, one element that stays stubbornly unmoved, and that is the sky. As always, it’s taking its time. He missed the sun's highest point of the day while sleeping, though it's not late enough for it to set and create its snug and warm light. This hour feels like a filler, it's the one when everybody's either preparing for a big night or commuting after a hard day. In all honesty, most of his days felt like this time of the day, an awkward filler. Ever since he got struck by a handful of misfortunes, he’s stuck in a limbo. He should be anticipating something bigger, better, as Rodi expects his life to be after his insignificant errands. What should he be looking forwards to, anyway? His next apartment, bought in a rush with some money made in the same rush? Worst of all, there's the slight disappointing chance of going back to his childhood home, rendering his struggle for self sufficiency fruitless. When you think about where you are in life and where you could be, if only the paths you would've taken would've been better chosen, you sink deeper into the seat and wait for the next distraction to take your mind off it.

That would be his destination. He gets off and instinctively walks to the right. The path's as follows: straight up, next one to the left, right through the turnstile, down the stairs, and the sea is laying upon his sight.

Some families and couples are packing up their umbrellas and towels, and while the beach isn’t empty, it’s aired up enough.

Olive ditches the flip flops in favour of the coarse sand, getting to feel it become more fine-grained and pleasing towards the shore. A wave brushes the tips of his toes, he flinches. He leaves his shirt and shoes behind on the dry and braces himself. With each step forwards, he concentrates on keeping his solid state together, to not let any speck of ink dissolve into the infinite sea.

Swimming is dangerous for inklings, especially dangerous in the ocean, where any ink that might spread around will be gone for good. However, Anthos is well trained and conscious enough to keep it together. Younger inklings are completely off-limits when it comes to this, as they can involuntarily switch to their squiddy selves out of excitement or fear. During this transformation, the intermediate, liquified phase presents the greatest risk in large bodies of water. Thus, Olive’s earlier summers were mostly spent in a kiddie pool, from where his mother often recollected his guts.

Traversing as a squid would've been more efficient, unlike as a humanoid, but he always opts for the safer methods. He’s heading like an arrow towards a black rock, seemingly floating in the middle of the sea. Once there, he exercises his arms’ strength and raises himself upon it. Saltwater snakes off his oily skin in perfectly curved lines, along his shoulders, back and hands. It reaches the rock, and its path becomes jagged, geometrical. Olive unwinds and lays himself on the sun-warmed rock.

It’s widely known that most water is too polluted for anyone's safety. Nevertheless, this little gulf in Inkopolis still contains crystalline waters, of which Anthos learned about during his courses. The bright corals found at the bottom of the sea, pretty observable from where he sits, survived the toxicity and kept the waters clear enough for them to spread. It is quite the miracle, as very few spots like this still exist around the world.

Right here's his quiet haven, where he retreats to do some peacemaking with himself. Outside the university’s greenhouse, away from the responsibility of his own plants and the people he stretched some nerves with, there’s no care in the world so far from the others. He's smiling to himself.

His earlier thread of thought picks up again. There's nothing exciting in particular to look forwards to, indeed, but that's okay. Anything he lives through, it’s no filler. He's simply living for the sake of living, and that's a gift from the heavens. The sole fact that he's chosen to be on this random rock in the middle of the ocean, seeking a happier state, it proves that he's doing alright, and he's not such a lost cause. He can get back on his feet. Furthermore, he should be grateful for the opportunity he's been given. Rodi's forcing out a trace of kindness through his favour.

And then, when the world is dearest to you, those oh so familiar squawks make their appearance. His nemeses, the ones that disturb his sleep at dawn, the seagulls. They're flying all over the place.

Fuck the seagulls. They cackle at his laughable state, they sweep and circle around his claimed spot, and they make him raise in caution. How dare those seagulls.

It takes a hot minute for the birds to stop making such a ruckus and settle down, either next to Olive or on the water. He would've loved that without all the noise, thank you.

By late evening, there’s a slight stir caused by his flatmate’s fast pacing around the house.

Planting himself in the kitchenette, where the only adequately-sized table is found, Anthos decided to fill in some more pages of his notebook. This patterned notebook is a gift from Pepper, from about two years ago, from when he turned sixteen. He's been reluctant to write in it until recently. It has a very nice, sturdy cover, that feels like suede under his fingers, and he wanted to keep it for something special. Afterwards, uni rolled by, and he needed something to write into, so it didn't end up as special as he thought. Even so, it's his handy all-in-one item, for anything from shopping lists to passages of pretty words.

It's getting harder to concentrate on his scribbling with the persistent come-and-go happening besides. Rodi’s readying himself for a night out, presumably, as he’s changed out of his earlier outfit. He leaves a strong, citrusy scent trail behind, making Olive sneeze every time he passes him. His fine sense of smell throws him off.

The pomegranate inkling neatens the collar of his jacket in the hallway mirror, though, as if remembering something, he turns to face Olive.

“You wanna tag along?”

Anthos raises his head out of his notebook. “What? Where?”

“Downtown. We can chat, have a drink, whatever. Come with me.”

“Err. You can go alone.” Olive says as he keeps scratching the pencil on the paper. The lead breaks. He sighs.

He didn’t bring a sharpener. And considering how dull it would also be to stay all alone in this unfamiliar house, again, for another whole night, he changes his answer. Today's trip to the beach helped, and by assumption, this can also be worth a shot. Rodi’s still pacing around the house. Warming up shouldn’t cause harm. Right before Rodi jingles his keys, he raises his voice.

“Actually... never mind. Do I have time to get ready?”

As expected, Rodi smiles wide, before returning to his characteristic grin. “Yeah. Don’t make me wait for too long.”

Four floors downstairs later, Olive’s willingness diminishes. They’re not going to have a pleasant walk or take public transportation, contrary to his belief. Instead, his flatmate’s powerhouse of a bike will take them there.

“Hold tight.” Rodi warns before warming up the motorbike’s engine.

Olive’s been stressing about the idea ever since he had the fuchsia bike in his sight.

“Please go slow. Super slow.”

“I can’t go too slow, then it won’t move!” The red inkling twists his wrist and the engine purrs.

Olive’s already getting higher ink pressure from the motor’s rumble, but his fears paralyse him when Rodi budges from the parking spot and begins accelerating through the narrow street, and so suddenly.

This is how he dies, two idiots on a speeding chunk of aluminium. And if not now, probably on the way back. He grips onto Rodi like onto his life, though, surprisingly, through his closed eyes, the experience isn’t as extreme as he thought. He feels the wind somewhat brush his tentacles, so he dares to open his eyes. Then panic settles, his sight isn’t used to the fast movement, the situation amplifies in his brain, and he sticks his head into the driver’s back, shutting his lids even tighter. Olive knows he’s a bit of a scaredy cat when it comes to new experiences. He’s not looking forwards to the headache at the place of arrival. If he weren’t terrified, he’d pay attention to how pleasantly earthy Rodi’s leather jacket smelled. It's a shame he’s soiling it with his sweating forehead.

Cherry on top, at the end of it all, Rodi parks with a slight skid. That’s when Olive yelps, and keeps himself from further distressed noises, as they stopped moving.

“Sorry for the last bit. Habit.”

“I should’ve asked if you could drive first.” Olive spews a tad angry.

“Duh! I even went smoothly for you. Look! Do you want me to show the incredible speed you’ve been subjected to?”

To prove his point, Rodi clicks on a button next to the speed dials, to display the average speed of his journey.

Olive looks over his shoulder and hesitates. “...That’s not much. Is it broken?”

“No. You just need two more spins and you’ll start liking it.”

Rodi dismounts and pulls the keys from his bright pink steed.

“Look around next time, and admire the lights and shadows, in all their colourful glory.”

The city’s centre turns anew in the night. Dim alleyways are livened up by glaring neons and advertisements. Street fashion is on display on every passer-by. Sequins and satin are in trend now, they keep glittering over the countless lights. The flashiness of the street they’re on doesn’t help with the nauseating feeling Olive got from the scare, but it takes his mind off it. The two spend a moment looking at the lively motion and commotion of the street, which brings a bit more energy in Olive’s heart. Creatures are scurrying from one pub to another, either in large, loudmouthed groups or by themselves.

Rodi doesn’t distance himself until his flatmate gets on his shaky feet, and a warm pat on his back gets him walking normal again.

“If there’s a place that strikes you fancy, tell me. Otherwise, I’ll lead.” Rodi keeps the same pace Olive has. He looks straight forwards whilst talking.

“I haven’t been on this street before. You know best.”

Anthos is wordlessly led by Rodi. They do pass some questionable businesses with intimidating creatures loitering outside them, though they don’t mean trouble. Once you emphasise even in the slightest with the nightlife crowd, nothing comes off as unnerving anymore. Olive got into that habit lately, it does help with some of his walks at night.

Rodi’s shortcuts are clever, they reach their destination in short time.

He thought he’d be dragged to a low end bar. In fact, they enter a chic cocktail lounge, with set-back music and lighting. The path was rather confusing to get here, though it’s rewarding. It’s like a gem hidden in between rubble. It’s not as lively as the main street, though it has a fair share of clientele. Olive unexpectedly relaxes his shoulders. He gets a peculiar feeling upon walking further into the room, as if he was already acquainted to the place. It’s paradoxically familiar, even if it's the first time he sets foot here. He enjoys that. Part of him is selfish enough to make him slowly walk like he's owning the place.

They briefly stop their aimless walk, for Rodi to present their sitting choices. “Table, bar? I always like bar.”

“Then let’s sit there.”

So be it. The bar itself is bang in the middle of the room, in a circular format. With no corners to separate them, the folks surrounding the counter are predisposed to mingling. The two flatmates twist around the leather stools, to rest their arms on the black, glittery counter. Rodi’s digging his pockets for his wallet, meanwhile, Olive takes in the surroundings. Everything's so neat and thoughtfully placed, all the furniture is carefully crafted. It’s elegant, though not totally blinged out. Is this what they call high living? He wouldn’t mind a life like this.

Olive's zoned out, a soft elbow brings him back. The pomegranate inkling drags a menu closer.

"Have you decided on something?" Rodi pushes onto the counter to turn the stool.

"...Just get me what you'll get."

"My, you're giving me a lot of choices to handle tonight." After flipping the cardstock menu twice, he starts pointing insistently at a cocktail. “Ohhh, check this out. Look. Mimosa. You seem obsessed with flowers. That’s kinda also a flower, you know.”

He attempts to woo Olive, but it falls rather short. The green inkling shoots a very deadpan look.

“I go to university to fucking study plants.”

“Don’t say you don’t appreciate a mortal for knowing his flowers.”

“If you know more than a common name, maybe.”

“Well, you see...” Rodi’s fingers do a little walk to Olive’s arm. “When you want to touch one of its leaves...” The fingers reach higher and higher up on his arm. “it wants to scrunch up on itself...”

He keeps on his charade until his fingers give a little tickle on Olive’s neck. Olive backs off giggling.

“...Just like you did now!”

Anthos hides his ticklish spot with his hand, looking amused. “Not too scientific, but I like the presentation.”

Seeing he managed to turn the situation to his advantage, Rodi turns to the bar and orders a Mimosa for Olive. In a few strategic twirls of the bartender’s fingers around the bottles, the drink takes shape. A tall flute, garnished with orange slices, glows before the two.

“I like to call that fancy orange juice.”

“Fancy, definitely.” Olive lightly holds his champagne flute, loving its sparkly, golden-orange shine, and gives it a small sip. "You're not getting anything?"

"Nah. I'm driving anyway."

Olive bashfully nods, how could he forget? He was cursing at him for his driving after all. He tries changing the subject.

“This isn't a bad place, I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve gotten to know a bunch of bars by heart, but I always treat myself to this one. Not too often, though, It’s got some stupid prices.”

“And... Is this how you spend your nights?” He places the flute down.

“There’s another one where I’m good friends with the owner, that’s my first pick, but it's not as impressive. You should still see it, I’ll show you another day–”

“No, no, like, always out in the night? Because I feel like I’ll have to sit at home alone for more than one evening.”

Rodi kneads his knuckles. “Mostly...? It turned into a little ritual over time. If I don’t feel up to it, then I don’t. But I get bored easily at home, being all alone, I’d rather have company.”

That doesn't hold anymore. "And now, that I invaded your place..."

"Yeah, I have your presence, for the time being. I might end up happy enough with just your company, that'd be impressive."

Olive checks the time, Rodi doesn’t cease pinning his stare on him. When Anthos turns to face him, he suddenly looks at his hands. Which is odd, his eyes are always set in place when he converses, but Rodi felt he needed to avert his look. After a pause of fiddling with his fingers and nails, he speaks.

“I should say this. I feel bad for my fuck up, back then in the tourney. I don’t usually act like this. I don’t like stirring up a fight, but I get cranky when I’m stressed.” There’s a brief pause. “I’ve been lately.”

Oh, he can sympathise. In hopes to bring the other up, Olive turns cheeky. “Well, I’m over it by now. I can take some punches, but no more squelchers in the head.”

Rodi picks up the banter and blows air through his nose. Though, he picks up more than that.

“Of course you’re over it. You’re acting nice so you won't sleep on the streets.”

"...So you think?” Olive's ink goes a bit cold. ”Do you feel taken advantage of?"

"Not at all. I would've also taken the opportunity in your place. Besides, you're not the only opportunist, I'm also gaining something here."

That response didn't rub him the right way. Olive goes back to his glass with no hesitation. What was in it, anyway? It's gone now.

"Could I ask what?" He chuckles with his leafy eyes in the ground.

Rodi props his head in one hand. "Again, it's your good company. Don't sweat."

"You seem to have company, or so I guess. You ran off last night and didn't say anything about it in the morning."

"That? I helped a buddy set up a stage, it was for a show at some other place. I got to stay after, it wasn't that great, I got kinda bored and ended up alone after everyone got drunk or left."

Olive nods in understanding, a little forlorn himself. "That's bad."

They paused on a rather bleak note, and they're looking around, as if to see if anything interesting's around them. Now Rodi’s changing the subject towards his curiosities.

“How did you end up with no place to stay anyway? Got kicked out by your parents?”

“No, God no. I’m just dumb. I wasn’t wise with my spending, I applied way too late for jobs, and everything that’s bad happened at the same time. The apartment deal was a disaster. The guy who owned the apartment, he called for rent on random days and, obviously, I couldn't readily serve that on a platter whenever he felt like it.”

"How the hell?"

Olive drags his palm over his face, embarrassed of his shitty decisions. "I haven't done any contract, or anything legit, which I really should've."

“And how come you’d stay at a stranger, and not a friend or family?”

“I would've been on short notice. Besides, they’re not so available.”

Rodi drawls with a tinge of sadness. "You can't really rely on anyone, can you?"

"No, it's not about that..." He cools down and shifts on his seat. "Right now, I can try relying on you, but, that's a lot to ask for someone I just met."

"That’s not a big deal, I've had people asking for bigger things after just meeting me." Rodi casually admits. "I have an idea, but I need your input."

"Go on."

"Shouldn't we just rely on each other? For a little while?"

On a light-hearted tone, Olive contradicts. “At this point, I wouldn’t mind. But can I trust you, after what happened? Who knows when you'll get cranky again."

The other pauses to think and look away, and you can see his tongue sliding on his fangs through his closed mouth. He returns to the discussion with a bit of nerve. "Right. I get it. Do you want to settle peace? Truce?"

The deeper voice rings with utmost confusion: "...Truce??"

And, in an instant, Olive sees Rodi stretch up to his pair of lips, without leaving his seat. There’s contact. Rodi's own lips were pleasingly smooth and velvety, sending off subtle warmth through the taller inkling's. That shows how at peace he decides to get with Olive. It's rather quick, but he knows how to kiss.

Wide-eyed and in surprise, Olive vocalises some vowels before stringing actual words. “Is this your idea of truce?!”

“Yes. I don’t know better.” Rodi utters with brutal honesty.

Things are getting uncomfortably quiet again. Neither know what to say anymore. All Olive does is hover his fingers lightly over his lips, as they’ve strangely got pins and needles. That's a first. What should he even feel? What does the other feel? Probably from acting too brash, Rodi goes a little pouty and starts scanning through the drinks menu again, avoiding any eye contact whilst Olive stays quiet. Anthos can’t even be mad, even if his intonation betrayed irritation. He’s only left in awe.

Rodi's impatient for a reaction, anything, knowing that he might've pushed it too far. He stays wry, nevertheless. "So? Did I blow your socks off?"

“I’ve never met someone as assertive,” is the first thing that comes out of his mind.

“Uh huh. I’m a little too much. I end up overbearing.”

There’s a dormant overbearingness in Olive’s heart too. He doesn’t see it as a flaw, it’s a challenging strength.

Very aware of his impulsiveness, and noticing so much holding back from Olive, he starts rambling. "Say what you honestly think, I really don't care. Either way, I'll be oh so fine. You'll either find me an appalling fuckboy and move out faster, which is good, or we're getting a thing going, which is also good."

Olive stutters, with a rather hopeless gaze. “I wish I had your guts.”

Finally, the red eyes shoot upwards curiously, suddenly, and they could put Anthos on flames. "They're there, who's stopping you?"

"Nothing. No one." A spark of realisation glows in Olive's own eyes. He never thought of being more gutsy until seeing this man.

What a refreshing, scary change of pace would that be. Stepping his sole a bit harder on the ground? Biting the forbidden apple? Gone would be his days of being put on the back burner, simply because he was comfortable being so passive, and so fearful of conflict. Conflict sounds inciting, conflict sounds alluring, and conflict is the man in front of him, in his entirety.

They turn their faces to one another, presenting serious expressions, as if a bigger decision is awaiting its resolution. Olive's not backing off, and he's intrigued where all of it will go, if it's okay with him being a bit of a slow burner.

"I'll try to get used to it." Olive warmly intonates.

Rodi's unwinding his shoulders. He appears slightly more at peace. “Whatever you get out of this entire night, I need you to remember one thing. You don’t owe me anything, and I don’t owe you anything more besides a place to sleep, all because of my stupid mistake.”

Olive rubs the stem of his empty glass with his fingers, staring at it from the side. “I’ll owe you at least some thanks.”

They can't let the entire night become absolutely unbearable after one awkward bump, the conversations eventually wind along after a few more glasses and bring them to certain common points. Olive also learns a bit more about his flatmate. Rodi's last name is Isandro, there's nearly a year difference in between them. He went to the same festival as Olive did last summer, where he was forcefully dragged in by Pepper. They have similar taste in both music and food, things that are very close to Olive’s heart. Though the other, in a weird twist of fate, is not fond of ice cream. More for Olive, then.

All in all, Rodi's warming up to vaguely personal questions, though he will be more tempted to ramble on forever about a bunch of random topics. That's pretty much what Olive can take from their discussions, as he's been a bit overloaded with information for some hours.

They find themselves outside the bar, as it was quite hot inside. It got crowded as the night went on. Olive's perching himself on the brick wall's protruding base, Rodi's circling in front of him, scanning the passing crowds and his shoes in boredom. He digs at his pockets and takes out a pack of slim cigarettes. He rattles it for the lighter inside and slips a cig in between his lips.

He cups his hand around its free end as he tries to light it. "Need one?"

"Thanks, not now, I'm trying my best to keep it light. I found out I smoke only when I'm stressed."

"Haven't I stressed you enough?" Rodi grins with the filter in between his teeth. Content of amusing Olive, finding himself taking pleasure in his laugh more and more, he turns with satisfaction and slightly distances himself to detour the smoke from his flatmate’s face.

Whatever witty comment Isandro has, Olive breaks out in a short burst of laughter, and he's finally taking notice of that. He feels a bit dumb, though happiness makes anyone dumb down. It wasn't a mistake going out, even with the tangled moments, because Anthos is enjoying himself more than he thought he would. His preconception held that a night out gets less interesting, or fun, with less people in the group, and he's now convinced otherwise. Rodi’s an entertainer.

There's something flickering above their heads. The pomegranate inkling looks up with irked eyebrows. The neon sign above them is starting to give up. It's buzzing, it doesn't shine its hot pink light as vividly as a few minutes ago and it keeps strobing. Through its annoyance, it lets Olive zone out again. His subconscious didn't brush off what happened earlier. He’s been constantly weighting in the wins and losses of this, the advantages and disadvantages, though he always reaches an unrelated conclusion. What’s the point of it? This is blatant overthinking. He never got the chance to go outside the lines, this is his chance. And a single question itches his mind, what if he were to do it again? He likes a clean start.

He waits for Rodi to squish the stub and face him in his pacing. The neon seems to have come back to life. He swallows his pride and asks peculiarly, out of the blue:

“Could you kiss me?”

And Rodi gladly complies.

It comes back again, the velvety feeling he had earlier feels a little bit warmer, surer, more calculated. When it’s not a weird surprise, Anthos loves it. He’s an earthy creature, no wonder he’s more at home when it comes to tangible matters.

When their lips part, with his eyes still closed, Olive whispers: “...Again.”

This time, Rodi returns to his mouth more determined to impress, takes Olive’s head in his hands and tilts it for a deeper kiss. Their fangs hit a bit, Olive’s glad the kiss is no longer calculated, but instinctual. He gives back as much as he gets, his heart suddenly loves exploring someone new.

There might be chemistry. Conversations are great, but Olive feels he can get way more up close and personal through their kiss. It communicates so much more through the little motions and pacing, and the end never leaves him more confused than in the beginning. As much as Rodi insists on the fact that Olive's stay will be very short, the way he's invested in the kiss might tell otherwise. Whenever Rodi decides for it to be done, he backs off slowly, to let the warmer air rest between the two for a little longer.

Isandro can read off the ecstasy on the other’s face. “That was sweet. What for?”

Olive unintentionally bursts into laughter as soon as he tries to speak. He’s prompted to answer too soon after a long smooch. “Sorry! I kinda wanted to redo that, I got flustered before. Now we’re on a good foot.”

The red inkling nods. “If we’re on a good foot, then we can keep walking.”

He remains seated, as Rodi takes a few bouncy steps back, looking to his side and behind, as if he’s planning his next route.

“Will you walk alongside me?”

Olive hasn’t had a long night in a while. “I can try.”

Rodi stretches his arms for Olive to grab while he gets up. Anthos doesn’t know where he will be lead to, but, yes, he will walk.

The two did wander the city with no specific destination. They were both set in the mood for new sights, tastes and sounds, and the night was teeming with these. Points of interest include late-night food shacks, night clubs with distinctive musical preferences and intricate bars with diabetes-inducing cocktails.

Hours and hours later, with their legs sore and eyes unaccommodated to the bright interior lightbulbs, they find retreat back in the apartment. Olive was hit by drowsiness on the way back home, so he wasn't as vocal about the motorbike ride. However, his flatmate also mellowed down by the end, and was especially careful not to make any noise with locking the door. He seems mindful of his neighbours.

Behold, Anthos woke up late again.

He's slithering languidly out the bed, the sheets cling on his feet for a little longer, he pulls the wardrobe’s door for a shirt and lazily buttons in one spot. The unbreathable temperatures got him out of bed, and he soon enough discovers that somebody closed the windows during the night, a fatal mistake in the hottest days of the year. He opens them back and lets the air circulate again.

He drags the fan out from hiding and plugs it in. As soon as it’s on, Olive plants himself in front of it and vegetates away. He’s cooling down, things get comfortable again, and he closes his eyes, for only a few more drowsy minutes in front of the fan.

With nothing to see or do, his mind’s sensors go haywire with images from yesterday, played in perfect chronological order. And the sequence reaches that point, past their arrival. And the scalding ink rushes to his extremities. The heat comes around again, it creeps in his cheeks and collarbones, and he has to turn the fan a step higher.

Shit.

The rest of the night went something like this.

Nothing interesting at first, Rodi gets his solitary quality time, Olive does his nightly routine, skin care and all. "Don't wait on me," Rodi says. He's tucking in way later. Fair, Olive thinks. He can fall asleep in peace when alone.

That is not the case. It's sort of weird when his flatmate joins him in bed, at hours that reveal neither night or dawn, and Olive has to act asleep. To add even more to the effect, to the point of overblowing it, he tosses when Isandro tilts the mattress under his weight. The cheeky facade worked on the red inkling. He's looking apologetic through his surprise, he did not expect Olive to "awake_"_ from his feathery movements in the dark.

Though, he's no idiot.

"You said you snored."

Olive opens his shutters instantly. "...Huh?"

"I can hear everything on the balcony from here. You said you snored, and I don't think you do."

"My girlfriend used to complain about it..." He mindlessly scratches his eyebrow, then jolts on his elbows. "Wait, you heard shit?"

"But there was no snoring." Rodi smirks widely.

This is terrible. He heard him talk to himself for a good hour. He swears he's no lunatic, it's something he picked up while living alone. It made him extra self-conscious.

"That's creepy, man! Don't listen on me!"

"I'm not listening on you! It just so happens my left ear's next to this window when I'm outside."

Resembling a child, Olive pouts in annoyance and specifically gets up to shut the window. (He finally remembers who closed the window, it was him and his stupidity.)

Rodi's back to his neutral face, he rests his head on his propped hand. "Dunno if that does much, I'm already here. Also, I only said I haven't heard you snore. In fact, I didn't hear anything."

"Dammit," he whispered under his breath. Why did he do that, anyway? In defeat, he flops back in bed. With his face buried in the sheets, he admits. "I do snore, when I do fall asleep." His voice is nasal from squishing his nose.

The red-inked man briefly raises an eyebrow. His eyes are a tad more open than usual, they inspect Olive's figure, veiled in an airy summer shirt. It's not one that screams "dad shirt" for once. As much as Olive ponders and wonders over Rodi, it's also happening in vice-versa.

"You also had trouble sleeping last night?"

Anthos simply rolls his face to the side, regaining his appreciation for fresh air. "No, surprisingly. I'm acting all weird."

"That's fine. If you're sleepless, I can hang around more," Rodi reassures, so that his flatmate won't feel bad for keeping him up.

An approving hum sounds from below.

He toys with his long nails, and his often loud voice is quieter and warmer. "Thanks for coming with me. You're a great presence."

Olive keeps himself from asking "Am I?"; Of course you are, you clown. That's exactly why he has exactly one close friend, one that stirs up all the action, just as...

"Oh, no, you brought the ideas, I rolled. I had lots of fun, I really needed this," Olive gets on his bum and gestures very descriptively with his hands.

"Me too."

His dull sight meets a kinder expression, he smiles briefly. "Thank you."

"Thank you." Rodi pronounces harder.

This quickly turned into gratitude olympics.

"No, I thank you. You literally saved my dumb ass. I'm no longer in my sorry state, that's amazing. Not only that, but I feel like I'm in a better space. I can concentrate on getting back on track without worrying about the rest. Like, come on, I haven't done as much for you."

The carmine eyes narrow even more. "If only you knew!"

Isandro gets on his knees, to maintain the same eye-level as he speaks. The streetlights outside do enough for them to see each other.

"You won't believe, I'm finally seeing some light at the end of the crappy tunnel I've been walking in for months. I'm doing something for someone, and not only for myself. If I have a real purpose, even if it's only hosting you for a while, it's enough to get me to better times."

The younger inkling listens attentively, waits for the other to express something he's visibly keeping himself from saying. Rodi's looking down, slightly giggly and displaying a wry expression for himself.

"...And, if I'm gonna be honest all the way, I've fallen a bit for you. I've met lots of guys, and you're alluring! Effortlessly alluring!" he's quite thrilled through his tone.

The most intense flush runs along Olive's cheeks. He hides it behind cupped hands, which rub along his eyes. He shushes through his fangs: "Oh my god..."

They both start laughing. They laugh at themselves, at how, from all that could've happened, this happened. It's all clumsy and left-handed. Through the snorts, Rodi gently pulls Olive's hands away, to see his ever twinkling eyes, which can't stay open. The laughs are anything but dainty, and Olive lets his back fall behind, dragging the other along. All the cackling was quite the workout, they're not steering away from laying one over the other. Rodi's smaller figure fits well over Olive's.

"Oh man, is that so?" is Olive's half-hearted tease.

"I don't even know why you're acting surprised! Who kissed me twice tonight?" the red inkling slides his hands higher, on the other's shoulders.

Make that thrice, Anthos goes for the lips again. The feedback's instant, the pomegranate inkling eagerly pushes back. Their giddiness tones down and a more enamoured state finds its place, for as long as their pause after the kiss takes.

Funny enough, from the nonchalant creature that he is, Isandro's now melted onto Olive. He's aware of his weakness. "...Need I say more?"

"Ah, I guess that's how it'll go," he settles. Olive's dug his hands under his buddy's shirt, it's a joy for him to glide his fingers on uncharted territory.

And the more time he spends learning the new silhouette, the more he rolls into divergent thoughts. It's all good fun for now, but in his search for independence, he's budding a dependence on a new person. He agreed on no more dilly-dally infatuations, but there's nothing more beautiful and curious than two beings dancing around a feeling. His familiar worry boils up to the surface, and Rodi notices how the hand on his back stopped sailing and started tensing. He raises his puzzled head to look into Olive's eyes.

The deeper voice's less confident. “You see, Rodi, I don’t need only a roof above my head. It does solve a big issue, sure, but it won’t solve my biggest issue. I do... I need someone besides me. Even just a little, because I get so lost, I end up in these situations, and I’m trying to be less of a bother for the people around me.”

He doesn’t say a word. He blinks slowly, before the heavy lids slide shut. He dives into Olive’s chest head first, lips first, wherever the shirt exposes some bare skin. Let him be bothered, he'd love it. Olive indulges into the affection. However, as sweet as it is, he can’t enjoy the lips on his skin fully, his brow is furrowed from the doubts that itch his tongue.

“When I think of this down the road... You want something fleeting, while I can’t guarantee it.”

Rodi speaks through his dragging lips. “I have nothing to lose.”

But does Olive also have nothing to lose? While his material state leaves a lot to desire, he’s still tied to some few, though very important people in his life, and this sole fact makes his intuition click. No wonder he’d bring strangers in his home with little afterthought, Rodi’s likely lonely, even lonelier than a post-breakup Anthos.

Olive’s not a lesser, unlike any preconceptions. It’s not like he’s getting used here. On the contrary, these two men will help (a nicer way to say use) each other to resolve whatever inconveniences they’ve had. As he heard before, shyness only brings starvation.

“Let me ask something forward, for real now.”

Rodi stops sailing his lips on the skin.

"You also needed someone to sleep with, didn't you?" Olive's been sniffing Rodi's intentions since the start, however, he couldn't muster the confidence to bet on it.

His fangs hit the skin in a complacent smirk, before he puffs his nose. "I can’t deny."

A breathy laughter later, Olive rolls his head back in ease. They finally know something concrete. "Fuck it. Good to finally know."

“Should I go on?”

“Please.”