(We’re thick as thieves, I’m on my knees.
My heart moves in a way I can’t explain.)

His head rolled back on the mattress during his reconstruction. His extremities are a tad tingly, but a shake gets rid of the pins and needles. The fan aired the room alright. Olive’s dried up eyes spot the calendar's pages, fluttering in mockery. Four weeks or so: he should make the most of them, or, even better, make use of less.

With a huff, he stretches and traces a beeline towards the kitchen. This day'll be less chaotic, he'll focus on his priorities. His flatmate's already up and settled at the table, and from there rings a warm voice.

"You a'ight?" Rodi shifts on his chair.

"Yeah, of course," Olive coos.

He’s floaty, he might look too zoned out, so he drags his feet to the coffeemaker. Olive seldom goes for coffee, he'd rather opt for a hearty breakfast, but a bit of caffeine feels just right for this morning. Or noon. He'll wordlessly help himself. The other doesn't seem to mind. Raised with good manners, he offers to refill the other's mug, though Rodi politely refuses. He’s still got a little left at the bottom of the mug.

For whatever innate reason, Olive takes some defensive distance from the other, he vaguely leans on the counter, after dusting the crumbs off. He can't quite bring himself to sit at the same table as his red inked flatmate, who's once more too preoccupied by his own matters, though Anthos will stare him down with squinty eyes.

His long-established ideals have suddenly fallen on themselves. His dreamy candlelit date turned out to be neon-lit. His old-fashioned love letters are now spontaneous confessions made in an urge for touch. And his hour that feels like a second became a day that lasted a week.

Oh no, where have you gone, he keeps kicking himself. He’s overly aware how much he liked spending the night with this man, and how he’d do it again. He’s oddly proud and pleased, even throughout his reticence towards a new infatuation. Love’s too taxing and time consuming for his current state, and he knows he could slip in and fall too hard. There’s a little fight going in between his ego and his eros, and neither sides show signs of letting from themselves. He's looking quite the slop, he obviously buttoned his shirt in the wrong spot and his puffy tentacles are tied wrong, fall all over the place, but he couldn't care less. He's serene in this state, he regards with satisfaction how he's nothing different from his flatmate, and they know very well they did this to each other.

They slip each other looks from under their mugs, very knowing, slightly longing. They’re done with repaying mistakes, they’re currently brewing some fancy for one another. For reassurance only, it probably won't be anything too serious, it’s still as shallow and indulgent as any hookup can get. That doesn't mean it's not inciting enough for his little mind, already burdened with more than it can handle. Speaking of...

“Do you need to go out today? ‘Cause I don’t know if I should leave the keys or not,” Rodi asks.

“I've arranged some house viewings, actually,” he swirls the mug in front of his chest.

“Great. ‘Till when?”

“Starts in an hour. Shouldn’t take too long, I suppose.”

“Okay, then you can take 'em,” Rodi twists the keyring and frees the house's keys from the motorcycle ones. He leaves them on the table. “Don’t lose them, or we'll cuddle for some warmth outside tonight,” he cheeks.

"Warmth? In the goddamn middle of the summer? Isn't there enough?" Olive's a bit stumped through his rebuttal.

Isandro does nothing more but grin even wider, he's glad that someone who's able to handle his playful scoff moved in.

It’s one of his mother’s stupid superstitions, but he thinks it’s unlucky to look behind when leaving from somewhere. Yet, Anthos meekly stretches his neck behind, as he walks away from the building where he’s had his last viewing. That apartment was the most promising one so far, and when he places it in the grander scheme, it's an attainable goal. Not perfect, but satisfactory, though there's one more to see and he won't draw conclusions yet. While he has to move fast, he doesn't want any more rushed decisions. He hates rush. Hates it so much, that everything that contains the word "rush" jerks a sour reaction out of him.

For example: it's rush hour, and everybody's sweating. It's smelling of canned fish and soggy gone off seaweed in the bus, and Olive tries his best not to gag in his transit. Remember when he said it shouldn't take long? He didn't take the traffic into account. As much as he appreciates Inkopolis and the advantages of living in the heart of the capital, he grows real tired real fast of the hubbub. Maybe his childhood home found on the outskirts is to blame, it was dozens decibels quieter and he'd get lost in the neighbours' gardens, not in between skyscrapers.

When he gets back, he realises a little scornful that none of those seen today could beat what Rodi's apartment already has to offer, and his sets the bar not that high. When you think about it, you probably can't cook chips in it without making the entire house smell of oil, and still, his flatmate manages to keep it breathable and welcoming. You start forgetting you're in those 25 square meters demo houses in Inkea, the ever-popular retail chain built on mass-produced furniture that will look 3 years old in 3 months.

After half an hour of loafing around, Anthos takes advantage of the fact that Rodi's gone for most of the day. It's not bothering him, it only means he’s able to fully concentrate on his final project. It’s something ongoing for a few months, he documents the growth of a plant of his choice.

The subject is a small-sized palm, which he carries in his arms with pride. This species is a fast grower, so his report should give a lot of insight. He settles the flowerpot on the coffee table, for the convenience the living room offers, and commences writing the last few pages of his report over a clipboard. Moving his leafy companion in between houses gave it some damage, some fronds bent and broke off in the process, however, he hopes the lecturer will understand the situation. Other than that, it’s as freshly green as ever, there are no dry or sunburnt spots, neither is it sagging or rotting from being overwatered.

He’s done his best, he’ll write the overview and conclusion at a later date. Besides, he lost the track of time. The next thing you know, his flatmate's at the door. He knocks a little tune, some beat from a Hightide Era song you always hear on the radio, and Olive lets him in. Rodi greets with a nod and settles his groceries on the table. Then he plays the stern host.

“Why is that there?”

“What?”

“The plant? Won't it leave dirt on the table?”

“It won’t. It has a dish below.” Olive points the obvious out.

Half convinced, Rodi switches his focus, goes back to the groceries.

“You're already moving 'em around?” The red inkling speaks from the fridge, while stuffing it.

“It's for my final project, I’ll move it back after writing,” he paces around the table. His stomach's suddenly grumbling.

“I thought you were done with studying.”

“With lectures, yes, for some while. I still have this due in a week. It’s nearly finished.”

His flatmate takes a seat at the kitchen table, while balancing a bowl of fruits. He plans to go through the entire thing, equipped with a knife and a half-full jar of honey. Anthos would love a light and healthy dinner like that, however, he should remember to eat in the first place. How can a foodie forget such a thing? With so many thoughts and cravings for food, his stomach starts rumbling even more. He curls his spine in a little, hoping it’d quiet down.

“You should get something too, it’s getting too noisy,” his flatmate’s making a subtle observation. It doesn’t amuse Olive much.

This'll be somewhat embarrassing, he stalled using it until the last moment. Takes a while to find it, but Olive resorts to that granola bar he kept for emergencies.

"Is that all your dinner? Some bird food?"

“...Maybe so,” he stubbornly holds on it.

A frown later, Rodi gets up, very set on getting something out the fridge. “I’m not hoarding my food, you know. You can have anything from here, these always go out of date.” He throws a ready meal in Olive’s direction. It nearly falls on the floor as Anthos fumbles with catching.

“You don't have to... I appreciate the generosity, but I feel like I should get my own food.”

"I'll share. Keep the cash for the house.”

Rather humbled, Olive hesitantly puts the box in the microwave and sets it on high, for 3 minutes. While that spins, with nothing better to watch, he’s getting pretty captivated about Rodi's perfect spirals made from fruit peels. He wields the sharpened knife with no stress. The fruity scent reaches the younger inkling, and he's getting some itches. His nose might've become too sensitive since Rodi dunked a whole bottle of perfume onto his clothes yesterday. And he got so close, he'd felt it the whole night, until he wouldn't notice other scents anymore.

All the goodness he's receiving from someone so foreign to him, he's still unable to make heads or tails of it, and whether he should believe there's merely an exchange of interests in this. He hopes it's something a bit more sincere. He only hopes there's something genuine behind Rodi's actions, and that his behaviour is truly what he makes to be. It wouldn't be fun to get sucker punched at the end and realise you've been lied to all the time, that all this forced kindness masks his complete apathy. He's already found this anecdote in June.

The microwave's ding makes him flinch a little, it pulls him back into the current moment. Olive settles at the table, and begins poking around the meal. It’s too steamy for now, he’ll wait some more.

“Did you get any updates on work?” Rodi asks in a monotone voice.

“I’m waiting. And waiting...” Before sighing out of exasperation, Olive circles his fingers over his temples. "Fuck's sake. I shouldn't be wasting anymore time.”

His flatmate sighs in sympathy. “Look... I know you can’t get much from it, but try battling.”

“I’m horrid at that, if I go all alone. I’ll need someone with me.”

Isandro takes his eyes off the knife and looks up at Olive. “...Do you want me to join you?”

“Well, if you could... That’d be nice.” His face lightens up.

“One small condition, I’m not turning green. You turn red.”

Olive hadn’t changed his ink so drastically for a very, very long time. He was always in between the spectrum of greens and yellows, with his signature dulled green always on display. It’ll be a tad awkward to adjust to the new look for the day, though it’s a negligible request.

“Okay, I guess. Odd condition."

Thus, they find themselves warming up in the lobby, ready for a best-of-3 Tower Control. The duo has been paired up with another lovely one, which catered to Rodi’s ink colour, to his content.

Coming from a high school that promotes turf battles up to the point of shoving them down their students’ throats, Olive’s accustomed to the pre- and post-match jitters, they're negligible. It’s the battle itself that unnerves him, especially when he's in the frontline and can’t have a squid watching his back. And when he wants to stay behind and support, he’s often scolded for not being involved enough. He wonders how Isandro would act during battle, and it turns out he’s less chaotic than Pepper, though less orderly than himself. A spot-on midpoint.

The good thing is that his flatmate has a clue about his weapon’s and his own weaknesses, and would rather avoid commencing a face-on confrontation with anyone, unless he's confident he’ll win or it's the final stretch of the match. He’s sneaky. Whenever Olive has someone cornered, Rodi shows up by luck and finishes the guy off. Strength comes in numbers, both know that well. They develop their own flow, Olive will strategically bait out and distract any opponents to be wiped out by his teammate, whilst the other pair handles the objective.

All in all, it goes well, with nothing out of the ordinary happening. Up until Olive gets himself baited by a stray patch of ink. His poor Nozzlenose can’t be as quick as the Carbon Roller that’s now after him. They’re successfully throwing his aim off with a dizzying swimming pattern. He should run.

Avoiding all dubious ink ripples, he manages to swim and shoot away, though during the chase he’s left with an empty tank in a dead end. He submerges his bottom half in ink to regenerate. Bummer, he won’t be quick enough to shoot. Watching his rival flick ink everywhere and swim lightning-fast towards him, he braces himself for the painful splat. Little did the roller know that Rodi is on his tracks, but Olive already shut his eyes. He kept them sealed for too long already. A bit confused, Olive opens his eyes to see a hand stretched in front of his face. His puddle dissolves and he freezes in surprise.

“Come on, quicker. That was the last guy alive. We’re winning.” Rodi talks whilst looking at the moving tower in the distance. “Jump with me there.”

Anthos does as told, he grips Rodi’s whole arm and they shift into their inky selves. Their arms stay well locked even as tentacles. Rodi shoots off in the air, pulling Olive behind, and both land onto the unsupervised tower.

Knockout.

It wasn’t a bad idea. They’re counting their winnings for the day from the couch, and it’s a respectable amount. Considering their average mid-tier ranks, they’ve done well enough to earn like a mid-high rank. All in all, turf war still leaves them shortchanged, especially at their level. He can't rely solely on this.

Anthos will take better care of his finances. He puts his share away in an envelope, clearly and boldly labeled apartment. He hides it in between t-shirts. He closes the closet's door, and spends some time in front of its mirror. Although he's tired from today's matches, he's looking way better than a week ago, clearly he's getting back on track. His face reflects his feelings with fidelity, so it's relieving to see there's some progress made. And something curious, although not so significant, made Olive look and feel renewed. Rodi's also brought it to his attention.

“Huh,” the older inkling tilts his head. ”You’re still red-inked.”

“Um..." He pats his tentacles. "I forgot about that.”

“You’re gonna stay like this?”

“Should I not?”

Isandro's shrugging off. “Do what you want.”

He just discovered red ink looks good on him. However, he's not gonna keep it on for long, it feels weird to hold onto another's ink colour. It's something more suited for settled couples, professional teams or families, and people might get the wrong idea.

"I'll keep it until I start Kelp Dome."

Rodi ditched his gig at iShipIt, to his content. It didn't last long, all it took was Olive asking for a teammate a few more times, and he found the winnings to be enough for now. Even if the deliveries were starting to pay better, since the company's growing soaringly fast, Isandro cares as much about what he does, not only about how much he gets. It wasn’t too interesting.

Now, Olive isn't doing something he doesn't like, per se, but his excitement sizzled out when he found out his job around Kelp Dome's greenhouse is to pretty much be the waterboy. First day in, he barely got time to tend to the plants surrounding him, as he was running from corner to corner, carrying sacks of dirt, seeds, fertiliser and planters. He's been a busy worker bee, catering to whatever requests for the day, and it looks like he doesn't really have a chance to apply his knowledge and passion too soon.

Though, for those short moments when he could look around, and see greenery surrounding him, walking from one end to another started becoming a bit more enjoyable. It's the middle of the season, fruits and veggies are already turning plump and mouthwatering. Plucking one for himself is completely out of discussion, but he'll be tempted all the time to grab one as a snack for home.

Once people stop stumbling upon him only to put him on the chase, Olive finds a corner to sit in. His legs burn from all the walking, and especially from the warmer air in the workplace. He picked the wrong shoes for the job, and he's eager to let the day finish and avoid wearing them for as long as he'll work.

While circling his ankles around, he looks straight ahead. A rather untended corner of the greenhouse is right here, left to time's mercy, gathering dust and dried up roots for god knows how long. Nothing grows in this small patch, except for one plant. Anthos has some strong doubts that it's still living: it's a thick vine messily twisted on a trellis, that's neither showing signs of life or rot. It must've been impressive at its time, if you'd straighten it up it's actually taller than most of the ones Kelp Dome currently grows.

A co-worker passes around, with a bucket in her arms. She's a spider crab with a carefree step, and she tied the uniform's white coat around her waist. He's seen her around for a few times today, and he figured she might work on plant propagation.

She notices Olive. "You're looking at this? 'Atta shame," she’s making her country girl vibe more obvious.

"Yeah. Since when's it been like this?" He stretches out to engage in the conversation better.

"Lordy, longer than I've been here. This used to be a fine trellis, I've heard, but it's been so long nobody knows what grew on it."

"And they just let it like that?" he furrows his eyebrows and gestures to the sorry state of the corner.

"Not fer long, they're destroying the corner by the end of summer."

Upon hearing that, Olive's heart throbs harder. This is unjust, it's as if you're executing an innocent man. He wants to give this little patch a second chance, to see what mysterious fruits this vine once gave, but he knows he won't be able to be its saviour. This isn't part of his job, this isn't why he came here, and nobody will bat an eye at his request. Though, his head burns from how determined he's become.

The co-worker keeps on her way, and he's too stunned to stop the spider crab from leaving. Her keycard dangles behind, and Olive at least gets a chance to look at her name. Desi, she'll help for sure once she hears his idea.

However, there's no time for a random dried-out vine. Days fly by, and still...

Anthos' shifts are a lot of lifting and carrying sacks of soil, pouring out said soil, and dusting up any that may fall out. That's all there is, but done over and over again. The business decided to change out the unfavourable soil found in the leguminous sector for a fancier one. And if he finishes that early, he's also responsible for planting back whatever was there, giving him little wiggle room to ask about the forgotten corner of the greenhouse.

He can't ask in passing either, Desi's working as hard on the opposite end, and he has no idea who else would listen to him or even know about the situation. While he might’ve lost hope for asking nicely to not bulldoze that corner, it’s not enough to stop him from giving it the love it needs.

The green inkling finally sneaks past working hours along the aisles. All the equipment, including watering cans and hoses have been placed in the sheds, but he's still got a mug of water. He'll use that mug wisely. It's laborious, but it works: he'll use the leftover water from the cooler. Olive pours full cups onto the plant's base. He could use some water himself, though, one mug at a time, he's giving it to these helpless roots. No matter how many times he'd have to go from the cooler to the crop, he won't leave until there's no water left.

Short of a week in his job, Olive's batteries run dangerously low. His head rests on his pillow.

In an excess of ambition, he's taking way more shifts than initially agreed, basically turning his part-time into a full-time, sometimes with the overzealous overtime. Besides, he burdened himself with babysitting a plant with little chances to survive. His hands were once baby-soft all over, now they're roughed up by the dirt and gardening tools. He's really pushing it, all in an effort to satisfy Rodi's burning need to have the house to himself again, and, not to forget, tickle his own ego in the right place.

There's some serious mental workout he has to do to prove the world he's so self-made, a towering boulder, but he's falling a length short of that. He shuts down after his shifts, and his eyes still get diverted to the puny, barely over five feet silhouette of his flatmate. That's how far Anthos' willpower goes, it stops at his attempts to use Rodi's height as a distraction from how captivating he's become under his sight.

If only he didn't do everything so much like himself. Rodi has a tendency to drag the tip of his toes on the floor whilst walking slowly around, and not raise his leg fully. In front of the closet’s mirrors, he keeps on his small back and forth, and he takes off his outdoor clothes. Olive’s dozing off, though he keeps a watchful eye.

That gait stirs up his curiosity, it's relaxed, though so full of itself, as if raising his knee a little more just isn't worth it after the miles and miles he might've walked before. Cocky bastard, where might've he stepped before?

It was supposed to die down, but it's getting worse. Olive though he'd keep himself in check with the occasional night spent with his red-inked flatmate, spent to relief boredom and quiet down some of his intrusive thoughts. On a second thought, it might've backfired. While there's no better way to make your mind shut up about what-ifs and what-nots, the way they've handled it created more questions as such. They've got a fair share of happy endings, with little added value from how casually they've looked down on them, but soon enough they've grown more invested into their time while the lights are down low. It's still on casual terms, however, rather than having one of them ask for a snog, for lack of the better things they could do, they know it's becoming an unspoken expectation. They at least expect to ditch the shirts when they're in bed. The difference is that Olive's starting to take it more seriously. Rodi still won't bother with thinking what comes ahead of an orgasm.

It’s been a few days, and long ones, for that matter, since they last slept together. And he'll admit that seeing the sun-kissed skin for this brief moment makes Olive yearn for another caress. There's also a restless feeling mixed around this yearning, predicting how Rodi's lost the interest in whatever they've started, but it could be a stretch. It's never sure when he'll get to see his red-inked lover again to ask some burning questions, so he blinks the tiredness away from his eyes.

Though, this is Isandro he’s looking at, he’s got no intentions to turn the lights down so early. He slips on a satin night robe and ties it loosely. As loosely, he holds a cigarette in his mouth and heads for the balcony.

Without much thought behind it, Olive follows his trail, including the come and go in front of the mirrors. Replicating Isandro's sort of special steps ends up to be pretty embarrassing, he trips over his own toes. Nobody saw that, so it was worth a try.

But enough of that, he bites the bullet and heads for the balcony. It's the first time he gets to hang with Rodi in here, in this little retreat, though he's feeling restrained from being self-invited. He sits on the free chair. It’s uncomfortable and kinda cold, since it’s cheap and metal, but he’ll bear with it. Upon his arrival, Rodi shifted higher up on his chair, and tightened his robe.

“Hi babe. Didn’t you go to bed?” Rodi turns his head a little to his right.

Anthos shortly realises he might be a bother. “We didn’t get a chance to talk lately. I finally saw you in, so...”

“Mmm,” it’s as if he’s trailing off to his previous thoughts, and postponing them for this conversation. “How’s life going in that greenhouse?”

Olive sits himself better and hums. “It's not what I've thought, it takes some time getting used to.”

As he thinks of what to say next, his flatmate’s been looking at him silently, attentive, but not at his cigarette. The hand-rolled cigarette goes out in his hands from a stronger breeze, and his annoyance was clear as day when he tried taking a drag from it. He couldn’t feel any smoke come out. Olive didn’t notice it going off, as he initially took the swears under Rodi’s breath personal, but once he figures what happened, he keeps himself from snorting loudly.

Rodi’s talking through his beak while lighting it back. “Haven’t you seen this sorta deal before? You told me you fucked around the University’s greenhouses.”

“Oh man, it’s a different vibe,” Olive hopelessly laughs.

There are still sunset traces on the navy sky. Summer’s going to come to an end quicker than they’ll realise, so they’re taking in any nice sight while they can. Along the pink and yellow clouds dances a dash of smoke, disturbing the pretty sights. Trailing back its origin reveals a stylish hand, recognisable by its pointy, black fingernails. Their owner’s so oddly reserved.

At the risk of being even more bothersome, Olive asks: “How about your day?”

“Let’s see. Went to the gym, then put all the burned calories back in at the bar,” he's scolding himself.

“Leg day, huh,” Olive muses.

But Rodi scowls in confusion. “...What?”

“You’re dragging your legs around, so I guess you’ve done legs?” Olive’s not an expert in gym jargon.

“That’s not it, honey,” he blurts out, and neither will he detail.

There's one more unsolicited thought, one that struck Anthos odd. "I see you didn't hang much at that bar either."

"Mmhm."

Obviously, anything related to Rodi's quirks is nobody’s business, so you take them as they are. When it comes about others, he can yap so much, but he will never squeak about himself without some ruffling.

Anthos might've took enough chances. “Tell me if you need some quiet.”

“Don’t need it.”

“I know you like to hang here alone, so I’m pretty much invading your space.”

In such a cunning way, Rodi’s catching possible pretences. “Oh, then, if you already know this, you should have a reason to be here,” he’s not giving up the questioning stare without an answer.

How to make it sound more tactful than it is? Olive's never as good with words. “I was wondering when you’d join me.”

Isandro's expression didn’t change, it never changes with such questions, but he gradually eases off his stare. It takes a long inhale and a slow blink to break the suspense. “Maybe after I finish this,” he gestures with the cigarette-holding hand, then taps the ashes off.

Only after that sentence, he allows himself to smile ever so slightly. His mouth doesn’t curve much, but his cheeks raise and soften his glowing eyes. On the other end, Olive’s dull and tired eyes catch a flame, their irises are blooming. He stays steady tempered, but he's a step away from boiling inside.

There’s no such wild spark in the pomegranate eyes. He's happy the feeling is mutual, he’s getting something risen out of him, though, where's the fun for the other one? Rodi's too jaded for anymore excitement, and Olive's relapsing for the taste of it. As much as he loves that warm gaze of his, this is not where and when he wants it. He wants those looks after a night of loving. Olive wishes his desires wouldn't seem so trivial, perhaps comfortable for his partner, he wishes that his smug mug would become woozy, be surprised for once. The same tired thought keeps running around his mind. I want you to want me the same. He'd never ever admit it, and the simple realisation of it pisses him off, for how ridiculous it is, but Olive's suddenly teetering close to frustration. He's not even sure where the hell this stems from, the man did nothing wrong. He’s taken aback by himself from how capricious he turned.

Meanwhile, it seems that Rodi noticed how intense the stare turned on the other end.

Sensing how his lover stiffened up, Isandro goes back to his "serious business" expression. With the smooth flow he always showcases, he puts off the cigarette way earlier than needed, then gets up. Just before getting back in, he trails his hand behind his walk, to tell Olive to follow him. Rodi handles it all a bit too professionally, though it still leaves Olive's body to melt.

He shouldn't give him the satisfaction to be tossed around like that, at least not so early. But it's so hard, he just got what he wanted, so why ruin it with these caprices? He already knows his pride would be the first thing to give in when faced with such a treat for his senses. Don’t let it slip. Once he sees the situation from the other end, it's a completely different state of mind. It's pure joy, it's what he wanted.

Everything Olive would want is in an arm's, a grab's, and a tug's reach. The sequences carry on, and it's all in the best light. There's the green light, in the shape of a kiss with a lot to say. He’s desired, there’s nothing more that he could ask for. It seems that Olive misjudged Rodi's lack of expressiveness during his invitation, he just shows his vulnerable, touchy side at the opportune moments.

The older inkling keeps at the same pecks on the lips until he gets the cue. Sure, fine, to hell with playing hard to get. Anthos’ less dainty hands pull Rodi’s hips forwards. Olive’s guard is all low, as is his spine sinking in the mattress foam. He’s leaving the matter in Rodi’s hands. After all, he’s shown better initiative before and he’s a better fire starter. There’s so many redundant materials in between: satin and cotton, plastic buttons and copper zippers, they’re all clawed away.

Soothe up, go with the flow, breathe a little heavier. He should be so grateful for the bare figure on top of him, and he certainly is.

The green eyes sparkle at the shift of their owner’s temper. Two bodies start moving in simultaneous impulses. It’s charming and a little amusing to watch Olive’s lax attitude keep intertwining with his feistier one. His expression goes a little more serious, concentrated, and it can fade as quickly as it forms. There’s a lot of joy in holding and seeing flesh in motion, fingertips going from dainty to tugging and pulling in ardour.

Nothing special from the outside, though the beauty will always be in the eyes of the beholder. But the sight starts to fail, and he’s left with his other senses. The skin’s getting warmer, the perfume’s mixing with it, and the fingernails raking on the bedsheets sound sharper. All this nudging is getting him closer to the bed's headboard. It can get too good to be true, his buttons are pushed in the right way. So he gasps, he’d usually get self-conscious and seal his lips for the rest of the night, but his jaw stays relaxed, an open doorway for the vibrations in his chest.

His mouth’s drying from keeping it open so long. With his tongue plastered over Rodi’s arm, he catches any drip of sweat trickling down the skin. Maybe love is chemistry, here’s something that chemically fits both so well. However, they’re simpleminded and have typical cravings, typical even for atypical romantics like them. The origin is unclear, the puzzle pieces fell together by chance, and they fit as such in their woven limbs.

Olive would open up his eyes when the rhythm slows down, to see the other's ponytail slip out of its hairtie. It lays low by nature, though it slipped even lower through every bit of this. He loves the sight, however, he can't keep his hands from tying the tentacles back up where they belonged, and then to let them slip again as the night becomes dawn. Without warning, his arms stretch to the pair of tentacles, and he pushes the black hairtie gently back into place. Rodi's expression turns to one of wonder. He loses all of his motion, taken aback by the somewhat tender moment. This lets Olive's heart become even more fluttery, so with a bliss smile and half-shut eyes, he pulls his lover's head down for another kiss.

Don’t keep it too long, as tempting as it is, since he has to go to work tomorrow.

He’s rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. He skims through his papers for one last time, just before heading off to the University’s submission office. His penciled botanical sketches did not smudge, all the photos are still glued-on, the writing’s legible enough and he’s more than relieved to be ready to submit. With everything out of the way, he will focus better on Kelp Dome.

Right in front of the office, he spots June, handing a submission of her own. This is an ungraceful situation for the younger inkling, he doesn’t know if he should start chit-chatting, ignore her or wait it out until she leaves. As she already side-eyed him, he has no choice but keep moving towards the office, handing his papers quietly. At least the whole process of signing and dating and numbering pages is a good excuse for keeping his mouth shut. Once June is done with hers, she initiates small talk.

“First year project?”

Olive gives a tiny nod. “Yes, it’s all done. At last,” he softly laughs.

“Good job. I have always found the first projects fun.”

“I’m pretty sure yours are more interesting.”

“You will see, if you ever decide switching your course.”

“Ah, well, I’m still considering...” He’s still rather coy around Maure, even after the end of their relationship.

“How have things been lately for you?”

“Alright.” He shouldn’t say he’s basically homeless, he’ll word it nicely. “I’ve started work, I've moved elsewhere... I’m living with someone.” Maybe he made it look more impressive than it actually is.

June nods with interest. “I’m relieved, for you moving on and such so fast.”

“I hope you’re also good.”

“Of course. I will finally get my diploma, after all.” June’s radiating confidence.

And there they finish off with some smiles and head their ways.

Which is great, they didn't divagate into a longer, potentially sensitive discussion. Olive doesn't want to look brought down for his next plan in the schedule, which he awaited with joy. After two weeks of not hearing from each other, he's meeting Pepper up at one of their favourite places, a comfy cafe with the sweetest milkshakes in town.

Upon her sight, Pepper jumps into the chokehold hug, as always. They go in, place their orders, and sink into their seats. This cafe is a popular choice also for its unique chairs, which are custom made to be heavenly soft.

Pepper looks very excited and impatient about something. "Check this out, dude, check this right now."

Not even a minute in, Pepper hands her phone to Olive. It's left on a paused video, he plays it and is left wide-eyed and amazed, as he watches her do crazy stunts. She's flipping and spinning her skateboard in the air, and lands back on it, although with a bit of a wobble. Olive even holds his breath a bit, since he's so scared of Pepper getting hurt. He’s quite protective of her. Obviously, this is just a playback and she's in front of him still in one piece, but Ludmila's still a bit amused at how visibly tense he got.

Pepper pats his shoulder. "Chill out, I know what I'm doing!"

"You learned this by yourself?"

"This trick, and that trick, but," she fake gasps, "act surprised, 'cuz someone helped me with the rest! You remember the girl I was talking about, the one before you ditched the old house, don't you?"

Ack, Anthos feels bad for not recalling. Those were some turbulent days. He acts as if he's remembering, but it's taking too long and Pepper can read him.

"Chick I met? Pink ink? Skateboards with me? Graduated the year before you?"

Hints don't help. "...You know I never talked to anyone outside my year. Besides you."

Her sigh is overdramatic, she plops her forehead on the table for a second. "Whatever! She's the raddest person ever, that's all you need to know! I've kept on skateboarding with her and we even started talking."

"Wait, I know now," Olive straightens up after some more thinking. "You asked me about that. You actually did it," he's smiling.

She grins back and makes the victory sign.

Their milkshakes arrive, so they have to take some solemn seconds for the first sips. Pepper's looks very out there, full of whipped cream and biscuits sticking out of it, which gradients into chocolate goodness. Olive's a little more toned down, he always orders the pastel green one, which has some mint leaves as garnish. He ate them once, and everyone thought he's insane. He still argues it was good and refreshing, with an offended expression.

Pepper chats on without catching her breath after her milkshake sips. "Donna isn't like the cool kids at all! She's cooler than the coolest kids. You wouldn't tell at first, 'cuz she looks like she doesn't know on what planet she's on. But she is!"

Her highschool friend nods along. He's convinced, for sure.

"If you think about it, we've both met new people at the same time, huh."

"...Did we?" Olive takes his lips off the straw for once.

"Um, yeah? You moved in with that guy."

"Ah," he's now a man of even less words.

"Aaaand?"

"Right."

"He's not as much of a bitch, then?" Pepper echoes her teammate’s words from weeks ago.

From monotone, his voice goes chirpy. "What makes you say that? You haven't seen him." In a sudden shift of character, Olive grins and pokes at his fangs with the straw. He gets a certain feeling when he has Rodi in mind.

"You didn't whine to me at all about him, I was expecting some texts from you, you know," she brings up with some annoyance.

"Sorry. Moving in went smoother thank I thought, that's why. I can't bother you with my shit anymore, I can stand on my own feet."

"Oh shoot, here comes Mr. Confidence, who entirely forgot he's homeless!"

"I didn't, it's... something in progress. I was freaking out before I knew anything concrete, but I have a plan now, and I can afford mellowing down."

"Yeah, right! You, calm at a stranger's house!" Pepper can't picture it.

"Honestly, I kinda forgot he's supposed to be a stranger. We're friends now," he clarifies with his eyes to the side.

"Oh, I see. That's really nice to hear!" she sinks in her chair a little, gets even cosier. "I see what you're doing now, you're planning to be roommates for realsies, right?"

"Not really... He's helping me out for now, but I still have to move out. There's only so much to someone's kindness, but, then again, I have no reason to complain. It’s enough for me. He pushed me to solve it faster, I'm now holding an offer for some apartment."

"Sweeeet. Can you get it with the Kelp Dome cash?"

"The pay's so-so," he gestures with his hands, "but I think I can manage some rent... That's all I kinda need to go back to my usual life, maybe ditch Kelp Dome and do something else. Commercial greenhouses aren't for me, a botanical garden sounds way less stressful," he laughs it off.

"Haha, no wonder! I'm dead sure it's from all the sudden battles in there."

"Huh, it's not that bad. You get a coffee break until the ink goes away, I'm not even mad. It pisses off people who actually do stuff there, I only move bags of dirt."

"Putting that degree to good work, aren't you?" Pepper playfulness turns into a roasting.

...Which makes Olive meeker. "Come on, now. It all starts from somewhere."

Predictably, Kelp Dome became a bigger pain in the ass. Olive's been tasked to work in another sector of the greenhouse, thus further away from the corner he'd secretly babysit. He can't stop worrying about it. It's no longer in his sight, and they could tear it down any minute. He's wasting even more energy, changing his routes so that he'd see it each time, just to make sure it's not gone.

At the end of his shifts, as always, he doesn't go home, but goes to see what his adoptive plant is up to, and tend it back to a happy state. It's easier to do it at the end of the day, with a bit more privacy. Olive sees something intimate in this unrequited care he's offering, he's less likely to be as tender and thoughtful with people around.

Slightly nervous, he pokes around the plant, to see if there's any progress. The vine's no longer crunching up under his fingers, it's turning flexible and curly, and he was about to cry when he saw a baby leaf stem off. It took some serious work to see this little progress, but it's there, and it feels great.

Back at the apartment, unlike other evenings, he's looking cheerful and carefree. He ditched the staple ready meal and took the time to toss up a fresh salad.

Of course, Rodi couldn't miss the chance to scoff.

"Colour me fucking impressed, you cooked?"

"I wouldn't call it cooking," Olive speaks with leaves falling out of his mouth, "but I put more effort in it, yes."

The older inkling drags a chair out and sits by him. He curls his hands under his square chin. "When will you start cooking for me, hmm?"

"You're already thinking of going domestic?"

"Domestic? Never. Look at me. Anyway, I'm just curious when I'll get that little token of appreciation. You know, for turning your gloomy face into a happy pancake."

"I'll let you know that I'm happy from work."

"And thanks to me."

"Eh," Olive's dreamy mind is already drifting to the dozens of tiny leaves his vine could now grow.

Rodi never pouted faster in his life. Funny enough, he genuinely got a little upset.

"Ah, wait, you've helped me a bunch, don't get me wrong. Really. You see, I'm so happy for one of my plants back in the Dome, I can't stop thinking about it."

"You have plants even there?" he says slightly exhausted.

"It's not mine, technically, but nobody else wants to take it under their care. I brought this thing back to life on my own, while others couldn't," the green inkling boasts. He hasn't done that in long, but it comes as naturally as ever.

"Wow, look 'atcha."

"You see these hands?" he raises them to display how blistered they've got. "I take the most care of everything that grows in there. No wonder I'm doing miracles."

"That's so cute. Also, I have a hand cream for those uglies in your palm."

"Oh... But you never did any heavy work, did you?"

"No, don't think so," it's odd how he hesitates, as if he isn't sure what his previous jobs were. "Though, I used to get blistered palms while working, and I always had to hide that shit in so little time. I know how to fix it up real quick, real good."

Olive doesn't need to ask for it, Rodi's already off to bring the said cream. He throws the tube on the table, and Olive has to catch it before it flies off the edge.

"Ack! Can you hand things like a normal being?"

Rodi settles again. "Yeah, anyway, why are you working your ass off for some random plant? Don't they have thousands there? What's one less?"

"I have the slightest hope that it's something rare," Olive details in a warm tone. "Nobody knows what it is, but I want to be the one to discover. And," he glows with a smile, "I'm so sure I'll get to see it back to its full glory. Today convinced me."

It's pretty heartwarming, the older inkling begins smiling as well. "So cool. That sounds like a reason to celebrate."

"Oh, I kinda miss going out for drinks..." Olive suddenly remembers the life he had before responsibilities.

"Let's go, tonight."

In a breath, Olive gets ups grinning from one ear to another, though he soon zips it up and slowly sits down. "No, wait... I'm starting my shifts earlier this week."

"Mmm..." Rodi polishes his nails on his shirt. "Want to do it on Friday then?"

"If I make it 'till then."

"I'll make sure," Rodi coos, and stealthily steals a salad leaf from Olive's bowl. He keeps smirking as the other glares him down for downright thievery.

Strange spots appeared on the leaves of one of his potted plants. The heart-shaped leaves are usually a rich emerald green, however, yellowish spots have dotted their ends. Olive suspects it might be the excess of light in the spot it was settled on, though he'd never seen these spots happen before.

Eyebrows furrowed in concern, he stacks the flowerpot on some of his textbooks from university, on a dimmer shelf. He doesn't need them, at least until he starts his second year. That way, it can be sheltered from the stronger summer rays, though catch any stray light slipping in there during the day. He gives it its weekly dose of watering with his miniature watering can and takes a few steps back, to see how it's arranged relative to everything else. In the process, he notices something that always catches his eye.

Since he moved in, every time he passes the wall shelves in the living room, Olive glances at a framed photo. It's a small, red-inked boy, spun around in the arms of a young mother, a lady with striking features and an expensive taste, a bit reminiscent of Maure. The scene is sweet, but the background of it is more intriguing. Olive gets a sense of familiarity from the scenery surrounding the two.

"You keep looking at that." Rodi passes by with a broom in his hand.

"Where was this taken?"

"Really? Where? Everyone asks me who's in there, not where."

"I could figure it's you, obviously."

"Yeah. It was made before my family moved into Inkopolis, so it's probably my home city."

Rodi keeps going his way, but Olive's eyes are still pinned on the picture, concentrating on long past memories. His voice makes him turn around.

"If you like that so much, I can show you more."

Olive hesitates, but shoots off a brief nod and watches Rodi leave his broom behind on the floor, taking out a wooden box from the shelves. The two sit down, and Isandro reveals photos of his earlier days. It's a mix of friends, sights, and parents. He’s always glued to his mother, in every picture. His father is a posh businessman, who stays serious throughout all photos. There’re also photos taken at important events, such as graduations and birthdays, and finally, breaking the pattern, landscapes. Soft sand, turquoise crystal water, sharp cliffs that crash into the sea, resilient and yellowish-green flora, these are specific sights of the Aegean region. It’s a popular destination for holidays, quite different from the Calamari region.

“Mum loves her camera, and she loves holding a physical photo, so she printed a bunch of them. But she forgot all of her photographs at home. ...I brought these with me while moving.” Rodi fidgets with the box lid.

Anthos is left in awe, he holds the landscapes closer to his face. “They’re very pretty. She’s talented.“

“It's so,” he says it in a demure way. Rodi’s eyes twinkle curiously. “You look starstruck.”

“Am I?” Olive shuts his slightly opened mouth after realising. He tries explaining himself. “...I know these places. I lived there.”

“Yeah, same. Just said that’s where I’m from.”

“So, we’re both Aegean?” Olive’s shining a toothy smile at this point.

It’s hard to explain the sort of excitement you get when you know someone also relates to your experiences, your upbringing, it’s sort of...

“Ain’t the world small? It’s this kind of things that tie us, isn’t it?”

Rodi used the right word. Tying.

Straight after work, he meets Pepper at the station. She's keeping Olive some company, as he gives his next apartment a last viewing, before proceeding with the next steps.

"Agent won't do any business if you have dirt under your nails," she laughs.

When he said he'd meet her right after work, it wasn't an understatement. He had a day full of repotting, for a change, and it shows. "Ah shit," he's raking the dirt out.

But having some soil under some fingernails isn’t as bad as what’s on Pepper’s knee. Olive just noticed her nasty bruise as they were climbing the block’s stairs, and he’s glancing at it in disappointment. It’s covering her entire knee, it’s as if she used it in place of chalk to draw hopscotch on the pavement.

“Dammit Pepper, what’s that on your knee?”

“No big deal!” She even dares to climb three stairs in one leap, with full-on disregard of any safety.

“I told you to be careful with that skateboard.”

“What are you, my mum? It’ll go away in two days, watch me.”

“It’d be nice if you wouldn’t hurt yourself on every new trick.”

“Man... I had to. I pulled it off after I fell on my stupid knee.”

“Ahh, wait, are you trying to impress your new friend?” He remembers her idol, who brought her into this hobby in the first place.

“N-no! Absolutely nuh-huh, I do all my tricks for myself!”

“If you say so.”

Pepper puffs her cheeks in annoyance. However, these two try to keep a straight face as the manta ray agent unlocks the door. It squeaks for enough time to make Olive a little nervous.

He's back in, and the hopeful vibes the apartment gave at their first viewing have dissipated. It's minimalistic, so much that it's short of pretentious. Nothing much changed since last time, except the new furniture’s in as requested, and any cracks and such are filled in, but the place still feels so empty, uninviting. Instead of being happy to move into a better home, he's unenthusiastic about the whole process, and being on his own once more. He needs it, but he doesn't really want it anymore.

"It's so empty," he looks around in apathy and reaffirms his thoughts.

"You mean it's too clean. No worries, my dude. Two days in it'll look lived in for years, you're talented like that," Pepper’s voice is bubbly as ever.

But even if he were to live in it and make it extra snug, it wouldn't be enough, there's a missing piece. He got too used to having someone else invading his space, which was once sacred and essential. What's the point of a personal space, if there's nobody to cross it? Living alone is now looking grim and unnerving, even if he already did it before.

Pepper's in contrast very playful about it. "I can already see all of your shitty knick knacks around!"

"I know I've insisted on being on my own, but... I think I should find someone to share the flat with, we could split the costs..."

"For reals? You were so set on it! You should've considered it earlier."

"Right," it's too late for Olive to make such changes. “I should rather stick to my plan.”

Pepper looks up to him in worry. “Shoot, is it too much for what you’re making?”

“No, not at all... I said I’d manage.”

“Then what’s up with the holdback, bud?”

The fuzzy feelings he had in his belly, they turn to spikes and stab around when he considers his whole situation with Rodi. He's taken aback from the sudden ache in his gut, he makes some steps back and hovers his hand over his lower torso. It's foolish to think as such, but... If he moves in here, would it end whatever they’ve got going? They will strand away, sooner or later. It's not as if it's coming as a surprise, he'd have to fly to his nest ideally before he gets too comfortable in his flatmate's bed. Though, it's starting to look sweet, scaring comfortable, and he sees themselves keeping on this exciting affair even with the separation. Will Rodi see the same?

This is a surefire way to lose someone as libertine as him. He doesn't want to grow distant from him in such an anticlimactic way. He'll have to make sure they're not losing touch too soon, for them to keep on laughing together and holding each other in colder nights. They'll have to pull through a makeshift relationship with a lot of upkeep, which Olive would be able to provide, even sacrifice for, but god knows if Rodi's up for the same. Here comes uncertainty again, right after he just got cozy with the certain.

The fuzz in his belly won't stop from morphing to pins. Pepper's figuring out his teammate isn't handling it too well. She intervenes.

"Mister, give him some more time to decide, we'll come back with an answer soon."

The manta ray's slow motion voice doesn't sound impressed. "I have people demanding this place with more confidence, later may not matter."

But Ludmila's on fast-forward whenever she speaks. "Puh-lease. He's anxious, it's the first time he's moving in his own place. You know, mummy's boy!"

Olive's still hanging on his gut, though an irked expression suddenly resides on his face. He shoots a dirty stare straight towards Pepper. Her cheeky lies used to escape awkward spots, they rub him wrong, they're always half brute truths, and half bogus. She always picks the truths that punch the hardest. The pain's switched off instantly, he stands mighty tall and says the final word.

"There's no need. I already made my mind. I'm taking it, please send the contract tomorrow."

The agent's looking more pleased. Anthos anticipates his friend's high-pitched protests, though nothing comes out of her mouth. When he looks over his shoulder to check on her, he sees how sad her mandarin eyes turned. So much for pushing the spikes away, they're crawling back. The fact that she's aware of, but unknowing of what's going inside him betrays her. You're not okay, are you, her sight talks to him like nothing ever could.

I don't know what I'm doing, he frowns back.