Jake had never considered himself much of a morning person. But ever since Hriva started crashing at his place more often, his mornings were a little louder… and a lot more chaotic.
Like today.
She stood in his kitchen wearing his shirt, hair a mess, glasses slightly askew, holding a frying pan like it might attack her first.
"Question," she said, squinting at the box of pancake mix like it was written in an alien language, "Is this one of those 'just add water' deals or am I about to cause a minor explosion?"
Jake, still half-asleep and brushing his teeth in the hallway, mumbled through the foam, "If it starts smoking, just call the fire department and tell them it's a breakfast emergency."
She grinned like a devil. "So… add water?"
Ten minutes later, they were both sitting on the floor in front of the stove with a plate of slightly burnt, very questionably shaped pancakes between them.
"This one looks like Texas," Jake said, pointing at one blob.
"This one looks like sadness," Hriva replied, laughing as she stuffed it into her mouth anyway.
He leaned back on his elbows, watching her. Her hair was frizzy from sleep. She had flour on her cheek. She was humming something off-key. And still… she looked like home.
Later that day, they went grocery shopping together-a decision Jake would come to regret and love simultaneously.
Hriva danced through the aisles with a bag of marshmallows in her hands, tossing them into the cart like confetti.
"Do we need this?" Jake asked, eyeing the growing pile of snacks.
"We need joy in our lives, Jake," she said seriously, holding up a box of glittery cereal like it was sacred. "And this right here? This is joy."
He was about to argue, but she batted her lashes at him, leaning dramatically over the cart. He gave in with a sigh and a helpless smile.
"This is how I go broke, isn't it?"
"No," Hriva said, grabbing another bag of chips. "This is how you fall in love."
He almost told her he already had.
That night, they stayed in. No fancy plans. Just the two of them, a stack of junk food, a blanket fort that sagged in the middle, and an ongoing bet over who could survive longer watching horror movies without flinching.
Jake lost, of course.
He screamed like a banshee when a ghost jumped out of a closet.
Hriva nearly died laughing, tears rolling down her cheeks as she paused the movie and rewound the scene just to watch his reaction again.
"Not fair," Jake grumbled, shoving popcorn into his mouth. "You've seen this one."
"And you've screamed like a twelve-year-old girl," she said, still gasping for air.
But she curled into him anyway, head on his chest, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.
"You know," she whispered after a while, voice softer now, "I think this is what happiness looks like."
Jake kissed the top of her head. "It's what it feels like too."
The next day, they went for a walk in the rain.
No umbrellas. No coats. Just them, soaked and laughing, racing through empty streets and puddles like kids playing hooky from the world.
Hriva slipped on the wet pavement once, and Jake caught her, spinning her before she could fall.
"See?" he said, grinning. "I am useful."
"You're lucky I didn't take you down with me," she shot back, dripping wet and glowing.
They stood there, hearts racing, clothes clinging, water dripping from their hair.
And then he kissed her.
Right in the middle of the street.
Like they were the only two people on Earth.
Later, wrapped in blankets and sipping hot chocolate, Hriva looked at him and said, "Do you ever think… maybe this is it?"
Jake tilted his head. "This?"
"Us. This moment. This feeling. Like the world finally got something right."
He didn't need time to think.
"Yeah," he said, voice low. "Every time I look at you."
She reached out, brushing her fingers against his, a soft smile curving her lips. "Don't ever stop making me laugh, okay?"
"Only if you never stop burning pancakes."
"It's a deal," she whispered.
And they sealed it with another kiss-messy, warm, and perfect.
The world outside could wait. For now, it was just them.
Two souls. One connection.
And the start of something worth holding onto.