Roommates With Benefits [BL]

I sighed. "I got fired."

The warmth faded from his expression.

"What?"

I shrugged, trying to downplay it. "Apparently throwing coffee at your dad has consequences."

Damien went completely still. "You did what?"

"I...uh, I threw coffee at your father, the day he showed up at the café."

His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

I stared back at him. "You know why."

A pause...then, quietly, "Then he did something to you."

"No. He got me fired." I said, "I had to leave or else he’d sue the whole café."

"Because of me."

"Damien."

His jaw tightened. "He threatened the café because of me."

"Well, technically, he threatened the café because I threw coffee at him."

"Oliver."

I could hear the warning in his tone and I reached over and took his hand before he stood up. "Don’t."

"I’m calling him."

"No, you’re not."

"He doesn’t get to do this!"

Damien stood anyway, already reaching for his phone on the coffee table, then I grabbed his wrist. "Damien."

He looked down at me. "I’m serious."

"So am I." I said, "Your parents just want a reaction out of you, Damien."

His expression hardened. "Then let him see me react."

"No."

I stood up too, positioning myself in front of him so he’d have to focus on me, not on whatever he wanted to do next. "You don’t understand."

"I understand perfectly."

"No, you don’t." I stepped closer. "This is exactly what your parents want. They want you angry. They want you to call them, confront them, engage with them. That’s how they pull you back into their shit."

Damien’s breathing grew heavier, his shoulders tense. "But they’re targeting you, now."

"And I’m still standing."

His eyes softened slightly and I squeezed his hand. "I lost a job, Damien. I didn’t lose my life."

"You needed that job."

"I did."

He looked away, jaw working as if he were wrestling with something he didn’t want to say...That’s when I saw it, the guilt.

It was settling back over him, quietly, the way it always did when something went wrong around me.

I hated that look. "Hey."

He looked back at me. "This isn’t your fault."

His expression didn’t budge.

"Damien."

"I should’ve protected you from this."

"You can’t protect me from everything."

"I should’ve tried."

I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his chest, feeling the tension coiled there.

He stiffened for a second before his arms came around me.

"I’ll be okay," I murmured against him.

He rested his chin lightly on my hair.

"I know, sunshine."

"No, you don’t."

His arms tightened around me.

"Besides...not all is lost, I’ll pick up more hours at the flower shop. I can tutor more. Bill already helped me find another job at a bar, and the pay is actually better."

Damien pulled back slightly. "A bar?"

"Yes."

"I don’t like that."

I stared at him. "Why?"

He looked completely serious. "Because there will be drunk people."

"I mean," I blinked. "That’s how bars work."

"You’ll be working around drunk people."

"And?"

"I don’t trust drunk people."

I chuckled. "Damien, you realize I’m not going to be drinking the customers, right?"

His mouth twitched. "Yeah."

"And I survived working around college students at Joy’s Café for three years. Believe me, drunk people are probably a step up."

That got me a small smile, and I reached up, touching his cheek. "I’ll be okay."

He covered my hand with his. "I know how much that café meant to you."

My smile faded slightly. "Yeah."

His thumb moved over my knuckles. "That’s where we met even as it wasn’t exactly a meet cute."

I nodded with a sad smile. "It is."

For a moment, we sat in silence.

I could still remember it vividly.

The first time I’d seen him.

The ridiculously handsome stranger who walked into the café with his friends looking like he’d just been personally offended by the sunlight.

Then poured coffee on him by accident and his friends response to that pretty ruined my whole day afterwards. Not to mention how he’d suddenly show up every Saturday just to watch me across the café with a sour look.

I’d instantly disliked him.

Or at least, I convinced myself I did.

Now, looking at him, I couldn’t imagine my life without him.

"It hurts," I finally admitted softly.

Damien’s eyes softened.

"But not because of what they took from me."

He watched me closely.

"It hurts because that place was a part of my life for so long. Besides it was my fault I lost the job anyway... I always had a feeling I’d lose it based on my temper, it a miracle I actually lasted three years there."

I leaned closer. "But if I had to choose between that café and you?"

I smiled. "You’re an easy choice...even if you’re an asshole."

His expression shifted. "Sunshine—"

I kissed him before he could say anything else.

It wasn’t dramatic or was it desperate.

It was just warm and familiar, the kind of kiss that reminded me of all the difficult choices I’d made lately.

When I pulled away, Damien rested his forehead against mine. "You shouldn’t have to choose."

His eyes closed for a moment.

"Yeah, but if I did," I whispered, "I’d still choose you."

His arms tightened around me.

I smiled. "Besides, I can always find another job if the bar thing doesn’t work out."

He opened his eyes. "And if you don’t?"

"Then I’ll become a professional couch potato."

"You’d be terrible at that."

"Excuse the fuck out of me?"

"You don’t know how to relax."

I stared at him. "You just watched me spend twenty minutes whining about getting fired."

"Exactly."

I nudged his shoulder, he caught my hand and kissed my palm, laughing quietly, the sound relieving some of the tightness in my chest.

For the first time since I left the café, that knot in my chest loosened, eventually, I pulled away.

"I’m going to take a shower."

Damien nodded, but his expression remained distant, I took a few steps towards the bathroom before pausing.

I looked back.

He was sitting on the couch again, elbows resting on his knees, his head down slightly, shoulders hunched in a way I rarely saw from him.

He looked guilty and my heart sank.

I recognized that expression all too well.

I wanted to tell him again that this wasn’t his fault, but I knew repeating it wouldn’t change anything.

So I just stood there for a moment, watching the man I loved carry yet another burden that wasn’t his to bear.

I hoped he understood what I couldn’t quite say.

That I didn’t blame him, that I wasn’t angry with him.

That losing Joy’s Café hurt, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

And that if anything, I was more worried about him blaming himself than I was about finding another job.

Finally, I turned towards the bathroom.

I had chosen him over the café without hesitation.

I just hoped he wouldn’t feel the cost was too high.

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