A friend?, A brother?, Something more?

Pretty Bird - Chapter 4

It had been over two weeks since he stopped showing up often, and I couldn't even remember when exactly he started crashing at my place again. But suddenly, almost every day now, his face showed up at my door—like he was silently reclaiming the territory he'd built without asking. No announcements, no asking for permission. Just... boom. Our routines kinda merged without us realizing.

My mornings stayed the same: wake up, check my phone, look at the market—profit or floating red numbers that could flip my mood upside down. But lately, before my eyes even locked on the candlesticks, they'd shift sideways first. There's Ell. Still asleep. Sometimes curled up, sometimes flat on his back, sometimes clinging to me like he forgot this bed isn't exactly a king-size suite.

The weird part? I didn't complain. Sometimes, I'd just stare at him... for a bit.

Wait—what the hell am I doing?

Yeah, I'd ask myself that while blinking fast, like the ceiling had a hidden CCTV spying on me.

He looked so peaceful when he slept. His hair all messy, but that's what made him... pretty? Yeah, pretty. Even though that's probably not a word I should use for someone whose whole identity is still a freaking mystery.

Ell's been opening up more lately. He laughs more, smiles more. Back then, talking to him felt like chatting with a text-based AI bot with limited word count. Now? It's like he's unlocked "easy-going mode." I laugh more too. Silly stuff—like him falling during a stretch, or his tone-deaf humming while cooking—those moments feel... nice.

Eating together is still our main routine. Sometimes he cooks, sometimes we order takeout. But whenever he cooks, it's like he's trying to feed an army—two kilos of veggies and protein enough to fuel a gym bro's monthly meal prep. My favorite? Definitely Ell's fried rice. It's like comfort food. But what makes it warmer... is the person who made it.

Sometimes, when I get sick—either from pulling all-nighters or brain burnout from trading—he takes care of me. Makes ultra-watery porridge ("so it's easy to digest," he says), reminds me to take meds, even gives me a shoulder massage. And in those moments, I feel... too comfortable.

That's where the weird feeling started to grow.

I pretend to act cool. Pretend I don't notice anything. But deep down, my heart's starting to rebel. I'm becoming emotionally dependent. Without him, the house feels quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that used to help me focus—now it just screams and messes with my head.

I started wondering:

What exactly is Ell to me? A friend? A brother? Something more?

But the second my thoughts go there, fear crashes in. Fear of sin, of going astray, of this all being a product of loneliness. I'm scared—genuinely.

Sometimes I ask softly, "Ell... do you want me to take you home?"

He always replies, "No need."

He's still closed off about his family, his home, his past. Even now, I've only seen his ID once. The rest? Darkness. But weirdly, I stopped digging. Because... he's here. Beside me.

And maybe—just maybe—he's just as lonely as I am.

I started being gentle with him, little by little. Sometimes, when he's scrolling on his phone before bed, I'd reach over and stroke his head. I wouldn't say anything. But he'd always give me a small smile, then rest his head on my arm.

At this point, it doesn't feel like he's just crashing at my place anymore.

It feels like... I'm the one crashing in his universe.

And I still don't understand this feeling.

But as long as he's here, I don't think I need the answer just yet.