It was Day Two of The Great Waiting Period—the post-job-application purgatory in which Andrew and Daniel had submitted résumés, written awkward cover letters, and now sat around their apartment anxiously hoping for a phone call while doing everything in their power not to refresh their inboxes every four minutes.

Naturally, this meant binge-watching Netflix.

Andrew was cocooned in a fuzzy blanket with his signature mug of sleepytime tea, while Daniel sat upside-down on the couch, his legs dangling over the backrest like he had lost all regard for spinal safety. The TV glowed in front of them, casting dramatic reflections on their stressed, popcorn-sprinkled faces.

The show?

Floor Is Lava.

"Okay," Daniel said, already one-and-a-half bowls of popcorn deep, "I would dominate this show."

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "You tripped over your own backpack this morning."

"That was gravity's fault. Not mine."

The TV screen showed a group of three bros in matching neon tank tops preparing to leap onto a spinning couch floating above neon-orange goop.

Andrew squinted. "Why is the lava always bubbling like it's about to summon a demon? It's giving Little Hope energy."

Daniel pointed at the screen. "Exactly why I'd be good at this. I've dodged way worse than couch-lava."

As one contestant attempted a heroic leap from a wobbly bookshelf to a giant foam donut, only to scream and fall dramatically into the glowing goo, both of them erupted into laughter.

"Ten bucks says the donut betrayed him," Andrew said.

Daniel stuffed popcorn in his mouth. "The donut works for the lava."

The next contestant made an epic climb up a ladder attached to a swinging chandelier and jumped—arms flailing—only to slip at the last second.

Both Andrew and Daniel gasped in unison.

Then Andrew clutched his pillow and shouted, "NOOOO! NOT KYLE!"

Daniel screamed, "HE WAS THE CHOSEN ONE!"

They both burst into hysterics, wheezing as the host announced, in a way-too-calm voice, "And there goes Kyle… into the lava."

Daniel, wiping tears from his eyes: "This show is actual therapy."

Andrew grinned. "I haven't laughed this hard since you fell off the couch trying to do the Bejeweled dance."

"That was a performance piece. You wouldn't get it."

By the end of the second episode, Daniel had developed a full theory that each lava room was cursed by the spirit of a failed game show contestant from the '90s, while Andrew was quietly taking mental notes on obstacle strategy like he was preparing to apply for season four.

Suddenly, Daniel sat up.

"Okay. Real question."

Andrew blinked. "Should I be afraid?"

"Would you go on Floor Is Lava with me?"

Andrew tilted his head, considering. "Would I have to touch any weird textures?"

"Definitely. At least three slime-covered shelves and a questionably wet plastic hippo."

Andrew sipped his tea. "I'm in."

"YES."

Daniel fist-pumped the air like he'd just been accepted to lava university.

An hour later, after three full episodes and some intense lava-related theorizing, Andrew stretched out and said, "Okay. We need a palate cleanser. Something… romantic. Emotional. Trashy."

Daniel's eyes lit up with a dangerous glint. "Love Is Blind."

Andrew raised a brow. "That's your idea of romantic?"

"It's dating through walls! What could go wrong?"

"…Everything."

"Exactly."

They queued up Season Whatever of Love Is Blind and were immediately greeted by slow-motion b-roll, dramatic piano music, and thirty new singles trying way too hard to sound chill on national television.

Daniel leaned in. "Look at these people. I can smell the unresolved issues through the screen."

Andrew squinted. "Why is every guy named Tyler or Zach and wearing three necklaces?"

One of the contestants dramatically confessed to falling in love on Day 2.

Andrew blinked. "Did he just say 'I think I've found my wife' after one conversation about favorite pasta shapes?"

Daniel clutched his chest. "My guy. It's rigatoni love."

They watched as two people proposed through a wall, sobbing and whispering "I feel like I've known you my whole life."

Andrew said, "They've known each other less than it takes to binge season one of this show."

Daniel nodded. "This show is either proof of soulmates or peak delusion. I respect it."

The couple finally met in person, and the awkward tension was so thick it could have been bottled and sold as a scented candle called 'Oh No.'

Daniel groaned. "Yup. There it is. The reality crash. She's already regretting everything."

Andrew tossed a pillow over his face. "I can't do this. I feel their embarrassment."

By the time the episode ended, the two were lying on the floor like they'd just run an emotional marathon.

Daniel looked at the TV like it had personally betrayed him. "That was too much. I need a lava cleanse."

Andrew agreed. "One episode is all I can emotionally handle. Those poor people need therapy and a nap."

Daniel paused. "Hey… we need therapy and naps."

Andrew pointed. "And snacks."

"And jobs," Daniel added, suddenly sitting up.

They both turned slowly toward their phones sitting on the counter.

Still silent.

Still no missed calls.

Andrew groaned, flopping back onto the floor. "We could have fallen into actual lava by now and at least heard from someone."

Daniel rubbed his eyes. "It's fine. Everything's fine. Maybe they're just waiting until after lunch. Or until Mercury's out of retrograde."

Andrew sighed. "Until then... more Netflix?"

Daniel stood up dramatically, picked up the remote like a sword, and declared, "I hereby summon the healing powers of Nailed It!"

Andrew raised a toast with his tea. "May our cupcakes be cursed and our job applications blessed."

And with that, they dove back into streaming chaos, waiting on managers, healing through absurd game shows, and reminding each other—with every laugh, every sarcastic comment, every popcorn toss—that no matter what happened…

They were safe, sound, and absolutely ridiculous.

Together.