One Bed, One Pillow, One Blanket

Pretty Bird - Chapter 5

I don't know why lately I've found myself just… staring at him. Ell.

I mean, you know that weird feeling when you suddenly realize you've been sitting still, doing absolutely nothing, just... watching someone sleep?

And the craziest part?

I don't even feel awkward about it.

I actually feel… comfortable.

Usually, if someone leans even a little too close to me, I'm already shifting away like they've got cooties.

But with Ell?

One bed, one pillow, one blanket—practically glued together—and not a single alarm in my body goes off.

It's like every part of me just shrugs and goes, "Yeah, this is fine."

Okay, I'd be lying if I said nothing inappropriate ever crossed my mind. You know what I mean.

But as wild as those thoughts get, the weirdest thing is still the way he makes me feel… important.

Cared for.

Seen.

And damn it, how am I not supposed to be scared of feelings like that?

My days have changed—slowly but surely.

Not in terms of wake-up times or trading patterns.

But the atmosphere.

Ell's presence has become part of the house.

Sometimes I even question if he's real.

He wakes up early, works out, sweeps the floor, makes the bed, randomly does yoga in the middle of my room, hums songs with a voice that—no lie—is actually really nice… and cooks fried rice like he's opening a veggie buffet.

Funny thing is, his routine made me more disciplined.

I started eating on time.

My life stopped being a complete mess.

Even when I got sick from too many late nights, he took care of me.

Made me this watery porridge that was basically edible air, saying, "So it's easy to digest."

I almost replied, "How about something that doesn't vanish the moment I scoop it?"

And the more time I spent with him, the more layers I saw.

Ell started laughing more.

Smiling.

Even chuckling at my lame jokes—the ones he used to just respond to with a flat "Hmm."

I still acted cool, obviously. Pretended I didn't care.

But inside?

Fireworks. Every. Single. Time.

The problem is… I still can't tell if this is love, or just a deep, dangerous comfort born from routine.

One night, I found myself just watching him sleep again.

His face was calm. His breathing soft.

And… he was beautiful.

Not just because his face is flawless, but because of the peaceful expression he wears when he sleeps.

Somehow, it made me feel at peace too.

Which scared the hell out of me.

Scared me that I might already be falling too deep.

Then he started going home more often.

At first, it was just two or three nights a week.

Then sometimes he'd just drop by, bring food, and leave again.

I started wondering if something was wrong.

Was he tired of me?

But before I could ask, he texted me first.

"Sorry, I've had some things to take care of. I'll come over more when it's done."

Reading that message felt like winning a free phone in a giveaway.

He didn't owe me an explanation, but he gave one anyway.

And sure enough, two weeks later—he was back.

And this time, it was like he never left.

Literally.

Every day, he was at my place.

Every morning, his voice echoed from the kitchen.

Every night, he was right there next to me—reading a book, watching anime, or just quietly leaning his head against my shoulder.

Sometimes, he'd simply pat my head gently when I looked tired.

And for the first time in a long while…

I didn't feel alone.

But one thing hasn't changed.

He's still closed off.

I don't know where his house is.

He's never mentioned his family.

Once, I offered to walk him home and he just said, "No need."

Calm, but firm.

And weirdly… I didn't mind.

I got it.

I've felt alone too.

So maybe, just maybe… he needed a place the same way I needed him.

So now, at night, sometimes I'd pat his head softly and whisper:

"Good night, Ell. Don't change, okay? Or if you have to… just make sure I can still recognize you."

And even though he'd only reply with a soft "Hmm…"

I knew, in that moment—

I wasn't alone anymore.