It wasn't the clattering in the kitchen that woke him. It wasn't the smell of coffee and bacon. It wasn't even the flavor in his mouth, which reminded him of a rug after a three day house party. What woke him was the lack of warmth beside him. Andrew blinked several times, but the light pouring in from outside blinded him for a moment. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and then focused on the empty space beside him.
Then his eyes moved over to Ben's hastily made bed.
Ben hadn't slept with him last night. Christ. When was the last time that hadn't happened?
Andrew rolled out of bed, his head pounding, and slunk into the bathroom. The sound of his razor was like a jackhammer, and the shower was a rushing, thunderous sound that made him want to throw up. He was getting too old for this shit. Two years out of college, and he was still partying like he was eighteen. After a quick shower, he brushed his teeth. Twice, for good measure. He was feeling moderately human by the time he stumbled out into the main living area.
Just an old TV, some bookshelves, a worn sofa. A breakfast bar and a bistro table. It was nothing special. They didn't need anything special. They needed cheap. Cheap was small, sparse, and outdated. Ben was in the kitchen, already showered and dressed. He looked like he'd been up for hours already. Andrew hated that. Hated how easily Ben rebounded from their club nights.
Then again, Ben didn't drink or do drugs.
"Good morning, sunshine," Ben said, shoving a plate of toast, eggs, and bacon across the bar. "I have water and orange juice waiting for you, too. You're probably dehydrated as hell."
Andrew hefted himself up on a bar stool. "Thanks." He dug into the eggs and toast, finishing the orange juice in three gulps. Ben quickly refilled it. "You slept in your bed?"
Ben's eyes darted to his. "Yeah, I did."