The apartment had every bit of the personality of a hotel room. White walls, one wide bed with white linens, a TV, a couch made of undefined material that was easy to keep clean. A table of some wood-and-plastic mix that looked like wood and felt like plastic, two chairs.

For some months now, it had been a home to Nura. And for about a month or so, it had been a home to Tiel as well.

“You named your cat after your boss?” Magpie laughed from the couch. Nura was waiting impatiently in front of the microwave with two white plates and forks. The scent of take-away Indian was enough to make his mouth water, but watching Magpie was more than a welcome distraction from hunger.

“She needed a name, so I named her after her godfather,” Nura explained. Magpie was dangling his keychain over the edge of the couch, trying to peer curiously between the wall and the furniture. After a while, he withdrew to slump back against the armrest with a heavy sigh and pocketed the keys.

“Well, looks like she’s every bit as reclusive as you said,” he agreed and slid down to assume a more comfortable position against the couch pillows. The microwave beeped and Nura seized the opportunity to pile the food on two plates, before sitting at the table. Magpie ate at the couch and his eyes watered at the very first taste of the food.

“Spicy,” he said and pushed himself up. “Gonna be better with some water.” Nura watched at him, a narrow-shouldered figure with keys clinking in his pockets and three piercings on each side reflecting the light from the ceiling LED lights. Magpie had abandoned his worn leather jacket at the end of the couch, and his T-shirt of some band or another stated “Fuck your god”.

He looked like he didn’t belong in this non-offending company-issued apartment, which meant he looked exactly like Nura felt most days.

And when Magpie turned around with a grin that Nura felt all the way at the pit of his stomach, he looked like every single daydream Nura had entertained himself with for the past few weeks.

There was a moment when both of them just looked at each other, and Nura felt his fingers wrapping nervously around the fork.

“You were supposed to tell me about that divorced guy,” he said. Magpie let out a laugh and made his way back to the couch. Whenever there was a moment, one of them disarmed it. Magpie did it just as much as Nura did, and Nura never dared to think about what would happen if neither of them did.

So he listened to Magpie tell a story of a man who had paid for Magpie’s company some nights back, who had been approximately twice Magpie’s age, who had a really large house for someone who lived alone.

And as Magpie talked and ate, Nura paid less attention to the words and more attention to the way his lips moved, how he absent-mindedly licked off the spicy sauce from his upper lip, imagined how those lips would feel wrapped around his-

“And then he says ‘I have a son who’s around your age’.”

The words drew Nura to the present moment so abruptly that he started to laugh with his mouth full. Magpie was looking at him with a storyteller’s grin.

“Right after sex too,” he continued when Nura had swallowed down the food and performed animated gestures to get Magpie to continue the story. “It was the room of the said son we had sex at.”

“Do you think he’ll take you to a baseball match next time? Ask you to call him daddy?” Nura asked teasingly. Magpie groaned and rolled his eyes as he carefully scooped the remains of rice and sauce from the plate with a piece of white bread.

“Yeah, I don’t think there’s gonna be next time," he said with a pained tone.

“Even if he pays you extra?”

Magpie stopped to contemplate Nura’s question as he finished eating the bread and swiping the plate clean from food. Then, he turned to Nura with a playful grin.

“Fuck, I’m so cheap,” he laughed and left the empty plate on the table. “If he pays me double.”

They were friends. Best friends. And as best friends do, Nura listened with genuine curiosity about Magpie’s one-night stands and adventures, of being paid company and how it settled half of his bills. Because that’s what friends do.

Nura wasn’t sure if friends usually had sex with each other, and he wasn’t sure what it made them. Magpie only spoke of relationships as a concept with a wry, ironic tone, so Nura wasn’t holding his breath about having one.

He wasn’t sure if he even wanted one, given the mess his life was at the moment. Whatever this was, it was more than good enough.

“This” meant that while Magpie rarely went back to one-night stands, he was always open to spending time with Nura. They had hit it off immediately after their first meeting, and after Nura had finally gotten a phone, not a day passed by without exchanging messages or hanging out.

And whenever the two of them were hanging out, alcohol was involved, more often than not. Tonight it was a bottle of rum for Magpie, and the cheapest sweet liqueur in the store for Nura. It was awful and got the job done, which meant that whenever Magpie was around, Nura made sure to slip at least one glass of water between each glass of liqueur just to make sure he would behave.

It would not be good to blurt out anything that would be too telling, like mentioning how Magpie’s one-night stands didn’t seem that great, and how he always seemed to have more fun around Nura.

So, you know, maybe you could stick with me.

… was something he was never going to say.

Both of them had an acute and keen interest in saving money, so renting a movie was usually less appealing than watching something that happened to be on the local TV. The movies and series weren't great, but there's a certain kind of happiness in watching terrible movies with a friend and laughing at the sheer level of stupidity in them.

The plot of a B-class zombie movie on the screen was lost on both of them, but half-hearted acting, "artistic" filming and "interesting" editorial choices - Magpie's words - were enough to keep their attention through a drunken haze. Plus, Nura was certain he wouldn't miss anything important from the movie with a quick bathroom break.

Evidently he had missed something, though, because when he returned, he was met with a sight of Magpie taking his shirt off.

"Spilled rum on my shirt," Magpie offered as an exclamation and untangled one of his piercings from the frayed neckline. "Should rinse it, do you mind if I leave it in your bathroom to dry?"

"Not at all," Nura replied, certain that the words raced out twice at their normal speed. Magpie gave him a sheepish grin, before pushing past Nura to rinse the stain.

The living room was suddenly very full of something that was not the scent of alcohol, something that was not the cheesy dialogue from 'Nothing But Zombies'.

These were the moments Nura found the most difficult to navigate. His drunken mind offered plenty of options on how to proceed from here. Maybe Magpie wouldn't mind taking the rest of his clothes off. Maybe they could find something more interesting to do than watching a movie neither of them was interested in.

In his defence, most of their evenings together ended with them doing something completely different than watching a movie.

But in the defence of something else, something that wanted to have a name and a label for what they were doing and what they were, Nura wasn't certain how much initiative he should take.

He was fairly sure he'd had sex before. Those memories were a part of the mysterious empty space in his mind which should have been reserved for memories from childhood, from family and growing up, from a possible career, from places and adventures.

Every now and then he felt as if he could just open his mouth and start describing a memory, the weight of them at the tip of his tongue like a familiar name.

But when he did, nothing came out. Nothing except vague thoughts, vague feelings of familiarity and "I have done this before". Kissing and touching were such things, feeling simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar with Magpie.

Lately it had been easy to push any attempts of trying to remember at the back of his mind. The lost part of his memory was a vague promise at best.

Magpie, who emerged from the bathroom and slumped to the couch next to him, Magpie who leaned his head against Nura's shoulder and looked up at him playfully when Nura twitched, surprised - Magpie was real in a way none of those memories were.

Magpie was also the only person who was real like that for Nura. It wasn't that Nura didn't like people, nor was it about Magpie being easier to befriend than most other people. For both of the things it was very much the contrary.

No, their friendship was based on knowing that if Nura would ever say "I have my reasons" about anything, Magpie would accept it and not pry further.

So Nura had his reasons for not wanting too many people to know him, just like he had his reasons for wanting to keep Magpie in his life.

Magpie had secrets, too, Nura knew, and reasons why they would remain secrets until Magpie would decide otherwise. Nura didn't need to know the secrets nor Magpie's reasoning to be able to relate to him.

A phone buzzed. Nura checked quickly to see that it hadn't been his, before his eyes rose up to see Magpie examining the screen of his phone thoughtfully. Ice blue eyes narrowed with amusement, a grin tugged at the thin lips, slender fingers skated across the screen surface to formulate an answer.

"Is it the Daddy from earlier?" Nura asked teasingly. Magpie laughed and placed his phone screen facing downwards on the armrest.

"Nah. It's an older guy, though," Magpie replied and his eyes lit up with a mischievous look. "Met him a while back when I was changing apartments. He pays well. Bad news otherwise, though, so if he ever brings his son up, I'm gonna turn and run the other way."

Nura laughed and left it unsaid that at least half of Magpie's acquaintances, one-night stands or customers seemed to be ‘bad news’ in one way than another. It took a while for the full context of the words to register.

"When you were changing apartments? But that's like... almost a year ago," he said, brow furrowing in thought as he tried to calculate the passage of time through drunken haze. Magpie shrugged dismissively.

"Something like that. It's on-and-off-thing," he said and reached over for the remains of the rum. Nura nodded, although his mind was now formulating questions. Magpie's idea of a 'long-term' fling was one month.

Other than Nura, at least.

"So is it serious? Do you have movie nights with him, too?" He tried to make his words sound playful and not jealous; from the little he had gleaned from Magpie's former boyfriend, 'the ex' had taught Magpie an immense dislike for anything possessive. Rumour had it that the ex had also taught Magpie how to dodge thrown things, but as Magpie had never expressed willingness to talk about it, Nura had not been able to confirm it.

"Fuck no," Magpie laughed with such an obvious displeasure with the thought Nura felt his heart growing lighter at the sound. "'s as I said. On and off, but just with sex. Don't wanna know what he does for a living, don't wanna know what he's like as a person. He's a dirty old man with disposable income, that's more than enough information for me."

Both of them missed the ending of the movie, because the conversation moved onto other things, and those other things became actions, rum-tasting and setting-sweat-on-fire type of actions, and by the time Nura slipped off from the couch to fetch them a blanket, the end credits had long since rolled past.

On the first nights here he had half-expected someone to appear at his door, to open it and to step in. It had never happened, but the fears that came out at night had been easier to handle with company - either Magpie’s, or Tiel’s.

When he emerged with the blanket he saw Magpie stretched out on the couch, one arm tucked neatly behind his head, another carding gently through the foxy fur of a red somali cat purring on his stomach.

“Who’s a cute little murder machine, yes you are,” Magpie cooed softly and smirked when the cat let out an indignant meow. “Oh, you’re not a murder machine? How about ‘murder mittens’?”

“I see Tiel has decided to approve of you,” Nura declared as he dropped the blanket on Magpie’s face and stole a glance of the very naked state of his friend. The chill that crept in the apartment at nights reminded Nura of his own, very similar situation.

Tiel let out another indignant sound when the two of them settled on the couch under one blanket. She hopped off from Magpie’s stomach and to the floor, dark-tipped ears twitching a couple of times before she dashed into the darkness.

“The couch is a bit narrow for two,” Magpie observed.

“I know. I’ll head to bed in a bit,” Nura promised, “just warm me up a bit first.” Magpie rolled his eyes, but Nura caught a grin on his lips when he wrapped his body around Nura’s, both soaking in the body heat of the other.

Life was good right now, Nura reminded himself. He had an apartment, a job, a best friend and a cat. He was safe.

That’s why Magpie always slept on the couch, and Nura always slept on the bed. To keep the distance and maintain the status quo.

Whatever this was, it was good enough.