Author Note: Sorry for taking forever to update, writing's been slow lately. And thank you for all the reviews and favourites and follows, I super appreciate the feedback!

Chapter Five – The Letter

It takes a long time to edit my letter to Magnus. It was mostly a lot of rambling about how awkward and stupid I am. I cut a ton of it out, but by the end it's creeping up on midnight and I just want to go to bed.

I print it out and leave it on the counter before going to sleep. I'm too tired to worry too much, and only take it off the counter three times instead of ten. But I end up leaving it for Magnus to find.

I have trouble sleeping sometimes, but tonight I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

I wake up late the next morning. My eyes feel heavy and gross from staring at a screen for so long. It takes me a while to roll out of bed.

I notice on my way to the bathroom that my letter's missing from the counter. My heart threatens to beat straight out of my chest.

Why did I leave it out for him? I'm so stupid. Oh my god, he's going to think I'm such a freak.

I'm convinced, as I shower, that he's going to move out by the end of the day. Or he's going to keep ignoring me. I'm going to find my letter in the trash. He's going to tell his friends about how lame and stupid his roommate is. I just want to curl up in the shower and die.

I finish getting ready for work. Magnus is nowhere to be seen. The door to his room is open too, and he isn't there. I look around for my letter—maybe it fell on the floor and Magnus never saw it. I don't find it anywhere either. I even check under the couch cushions.

I leave for work, feeling shaky.

I spend my day in a bit of a worried daze. Work ticks by slowly, and I dread going home. I'm half tempted to call Jace and make plans with him. Go furniture shopping with him a few days early. But I'm too nervous to even do that.

I finish up at work and head home. Slowly.

The walk upstairs is hell. I nearly stop and turn around five times. My hands are sweating. I don't even know if Magnus is home, but I know I'm going to have to talk to him today sooner or later. I realize that he might not want to talk to me after reading all that. I think that scares me more.

I stop outside the door and try to calm down. I just end up making it worse. I feel short of breath.

I open the door, my face hot.

Magnus is sitting in one of the chairs in the den area. He looks over at me.

"You're probably never going to talk to me after you hear this," he says.

I stare at him, frozen. Oh god, he hates me.

He grins, "I'm a cashier."

I blink. What?

He laughs. "See, I told you."

I'm not sure what to do, so I just stand there.

"So you've got social anxiety," Magnus leans back, draping an arm across the back of the chair.

I nod. My heart's pounding and I feel stupid that this is freaking me out so much. He's probably going to make fun of me. My ears feel hot. I'm such an idiot. This goes through my head a million times.

"I don't think I've ever met anyone with that," he says. He sounds so cool and relaxed. I'll never manage that.

I shrug.

He looks me up and down and then sighs. He's already giving up.

"Sorry," he says, "I know that in your letter you said it's hard for you to talk, but it's... weird for me. I spend time with a lot of chatterboxes."

He thinks I'm weird. I look toward my room. Maybe I should just go.

"But I want to talk to you," he says. I look back at him, blinking back stupid tears. "You seem cool. You were pretty eloquent in your letter. And I want us to get along while we're here."

I nod slowly. I want to tell him I think he's cool too, but my throat feels tight and I know I can't. I'm scared I'm going to start crying. I want to run away, because this is way too much for me all at once. But I can't duck out politely. He's looking at me expectantly.

I wish I could talk.

"Mind if we just kind of... sit? You don't have to say anything. Just... we've never really hung out. And we've been living together for nearly two weeks."

I nod. It takes a moment, but I manage to go over to the couch and sit down. I put my hands in my lap, and then feel lame, and awkwardly put them on either side of me.

Magnus smiles at me, and he reminds me of a cat.

"How are we going to do this?"

I don't really know. Are we just going to sit here and stare at each other more? That would be way too awkward... At least he's not too bad to look at. I make myself blush.

He's still smiling. "Should I just ask questions, and you nod?"

I guess that could work... I nod. He chuckles.

"Okay, you said you only can't talk to your dad, cashiers and boys," he says.

I nod. What's he getting at? I fidget. I don't remember everything I put in the letter. I hope it's not as horribly embarrassing as I think it is.

"I don't understand the cashier one. What big expectations does a cashier have?"

I shrug, my face feeling hot. It's stupid, really. It's probably the most irrational thing with me. It's mostly hard because I don't want to make their day worse. No poor sales clerk should have to deal with me mumbling and taking up their time. I don't really know how to convey this to Magnus. I should have mentioned it in my letter.

"Here," he says. He stands and disappears into his room. I'm worried he won't come back. He does, though, and he's carrying a pen and a notebook. "Can you write stuff down, like the letter?"

I hesitate. Can I? It would basically be the same as speaking... But I'd have more time to think out my answers, and I can write a lot better than I can talk. I take a shaky breath and take the notebook and pen from his hands.

Magnus smiles and sits down beside me on the couch. The cushions move down under his weight and I nearly slide into him. I catch myself, and have to stop myself from hyperventilating like an idiot.

My hands shake as I write. I wonder if it's totally obvious. He doesn't get too close, but he watches me write. It almost stops me, but I power through it. I pretend that he's looking past me.

He reads my writing out loud, "'I don't want to make their job harder by accident.'"

He smiles, "Aw, that's sweet."

I look at him, startled.

"I wish all people were that considerate of us retail guys," he shrugs, "I'd appreciate some talking too, but you know..."

I blush. Part of me thinks he's patronizing me, but his smile is convincing. In fact, it's pretty hypnotizing.

"And the dad thing?"

I shrug and look away. I'm gripping the notebook pretty hard. My knuckles are white.

"Don't want to talk about it?" his voice is soft.

I peek back at him, and he's got a serious look on his face. Serious, but concerned. He looks like he understands a lot more than he should. I swallow a lump in my throat and nod.

"I won't bother you about it, don't worry," he says.

I nod and scribble "Thanks" on the notebook page.

He laughs and grins at me. "Cute."

I blush to the tips of my ears. I look at him.

He bites his lower lip, slowly release it. It's seductive, even if he doesn't realize he's doing it. Maybe I'm imagining it. He's just so attractive that anything he does could be considered seductive. Especially this close. My face feels too hot.

"And the boys thing?" he asks, his voice low.

I swallow another lump in my throat. I shrug. I feel like I'm gripping the pen so tightly it might snap in half.

"It's all expectations right?" he says.

I nod, slowly.

"What are boys expecting of you?" He looks me over and it makes my stomach feel weird. Butterflies.

I feel the cushion dip beside my leg and I glance down. His hand is between us, his little finger and the side of his hand brushing against my thigh. I look up and meet his eyes. This is getting weird... I've never done anything like this before. I've never written notes to someone. I've never talked with anyone about this stuff except for Isabelle, and even then she's mostly just guessed it.

"Shouldn't it be with girls?" he raises an eyebrow. He's biting his lip again and doing that slow release.

I pause for a moment. I shake my head.

"Oh?" he breaths, "So... you're into guys?"

I feel like a deer in headlights. I'm scared that I might be shaking. I nod, slowly.

He grins, looking at me, eyes half-lidded. No one's ever looked at me like this before.

He moves closer, shifting on to the cushion beside me. I tense up. I realize I could run away. I could stop him, if I wanted to. But I knew where this was going since he started biting his lip. I don't want to stop him.

His eyes study my face, and I'm just lost in how pretty they are. He's so exotic looking. He smells like sweet candle smoke and spices. He's close enough that I can smell him. I don't think I've ever been this close to anyone before. Ever.

My heart's racing. There's a feeling in my chest—a much better one than the fluttering going on my stomach—like a warm, exciting feeling welling up. I'm breathing hard, almost panting. Our lips are so close.

He puts a hand on the back of my head, sliding his fingers into my hair.

I'm not sure if he pulls me closer or if I do it on my own, but our faces are less than a breadth away. My fingers feel buzzy.

My eyes close. Our lips press together.

I think the feeling in my chest is going to suffocate me.