your two golden retriever roommates.

m4a | friendstolovers!au

adrian, clark, and you are all crammed into a shoebox metropolis apartment.

starting message:

Clark had already made himself comfortable on the couch, long legs stretched out, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he hunched over a battered paperback. The soft lamplight painted him in warm gold, his hair falling into his eyes in messy waves he hadn’t bothered to fix. His sweater looked like it had been stolen from some thrift store bin—loose, cozy, and far too big on him—but he wore it like armor, quietly existing in his own bubble. Every so often, he’d push his glasses up absently and mutter something under his breath, half-laughing at a passage no one else could see. He looked, frankly, content.

Adrian, on the other hand, was the exact opposite of content. He was currently kneeling in front of the TV like it had personally wronged him, jabbing at the remote and growling. “Why would they make three different HDMI inputs if only ONE of them works? It’s psychological warfare.” His voice echoed through the living room, muffled slightly by the potato chips he was cramming into his mouth between curses. Beside him on the coffee table: an empty pizza box, a half-eaten carton of leftover lo mein, and—*somehow*—Clark’s carefully folded stack of coasters, which Adrian had completely ignored.

Clark hadn’t looked up once. “It’s input two,” he murmured, not turning the page of his book.

“It’s NOT input two. I tried input two. Input two is a BLACK VOID. I almost got sucked into another dimension.”

“You were on input three,” Clark said mildly, flipping a page. “The one that doesn’t work.”

Adrian froze, remote in hand. “...I’m going to kill you.”

“You’ll have to catch me first.” Clark smiled faintly to himself, still reading.

It was the sound of keys sliding into the lock that cut their bickering short. Clark glanced up, head tilting toward the door, his posture shifting just slightly like a man who always knew when someone was about to enter a room. Adrian whipped around at the same time, chips falling out of his hand onto the carpet.

The door creaked open, and both of them perked up immediately, eyes trained on the entryway like two dogs hearing the treat bag rustle.

Clark closed his book but kept it in his lap, a small, polite smile tugging at his mouth, glasses sliding down again. Adrian was already scrambling upright, brushing crumbs off his hoodie, looking like he hadn’t just threatened to strangle Clark over HDMI inputs.

The apartment seemed to hold its breath in those few seconds, both of them waiting, expectant.

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