Chapter 1

Sora wanted roommates like he wanted a hole in the head. Okay, no, he wanted a hole in the head slightly less. If it was an equal toss-up, he would have just stayed in his one-room apartment next door to drug dealers.

He was overdue for an upgrade in his living situation, anyway. The drug dealers weren’t even the worst part of his apartment. The leaky roof threatened to ruin his art every time it rained, and if he found a roach drowning in his paint water one more time, he was just going to incorporate the dumb thing into the painting.

He’d found the new place on Facebook, one of those groups where people buy, sell, trade, and solicit goods and services in their city. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a garage, shared living area including a real, honest-to-god kitchen. Of course the only way he could hope to afford a place like that was with roommates, but…God. Why.

“#Isoroommates!” the post had quipped. “Looking for two or more lovely, reliable, respectful people to share our home. Serious inquiries only.” A mountain of hashtags followed. “#LGBTfriendly” and “#safespace” caught Sora’s eye, and his decision was made.

Whether Lacie, the homeowner, had actually found Sora ‘lovely’ when he inquired, or if she was just that eager to get help paying her mortgage, he wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. A week later, he’d packed up his entire apartment into empty cardboard boxes from work, shoved them into his car, and left the leaky ceiling behind. It would be good to get a fresh start.

Lacie and her boyfriend Abraham were waiting on the porch when Sora pulled up. He parked in the short driveway at the front of the house and got out, greeting the pair with an uneasy smile

“Welcome home!” Lacie cheered, smiling. She was a beautiful woman, dark-skinned with big hair and generous curves, dressed in denim shorts and a bright yellow tank top. Abraham, her boyfriend, was tall and stout, his skin only a couple shades darker than Sora’s soft golden-brown tone. Though Sora hadn’t asked their ages, he guessed they were both older than him by a little, if only because Lacie could somehow afford a house.

“Need help with boxes?” Abraham asked.

“Oh, um, no, a lot of it’s fragile,” Sora said, glancing back at his car. There were a lot of boxes and bags. It had taken him like seven trips to carry it all out of his apartment, and he’d had to play box Tetris to get it all in one trip.

“I’ll be careful,” the other man said. “Promise.”

Some of the boxes had supplies or clothes in them. He could give those to someone else to carry. Any of the ones with his paintings or sculptures in them were too delicate to hand off.

“Our last roomie should be getting here soon, too,” Lacie said, glancing at her phone. “His name is Marc. He’s nice.”

“Okay,” Sora replied. It didn’t matter who else lived here. He was going to avoid them like the plague.

“So what can I carry?” the other man asked again, and Sora circled to the passenger side where he’d thrown most of his clothes and shit he didn’t care much about. He piled a couple boxes into Abraham’s arms, then went to the trunk for the things he cared more about to make sure he was the one to carry those. Lacie got the door for them and then propped it open with a brick.

Sora knew his way to the room that would be his. When he’d come for an in-person meeting and tour, he’d called dibs on the room that did not share a wall with the bathroom. He didn’t want to be able to hear all his roommates’ bathroom visits or get disturbed at all hours of the day and night by running water and flushing toilets. His room was the first one on the left at the top of the stairs. It had two windows which looked out over the small front yard and would allow for a good amount of natural light to work by during the day.

Abraham set his boxes carefully on the floor and stepped aside to let Sora do the same. The room wasn’t furnished, but that was the least of Sora’s concerns for now. He’d run to Walmart and get an air mattress or something after he’d unloaded his car.

Voices outside alerted Sora that the last roommate had arrived. He looked out the window. Two more cars had parked in the driveway, one beside his and one behind. The men in the driveway were white, average height, with medium-brown hair—pretty nondescript, from this distance. Sora wished they could have arrived after he’d finished carrying in his stuff.