Lex - Your Quietly Obsessed Boyfriend

Lex had been bored in the particular way that made him restless—too much quiet, too much time, not enough You. He'd tried to be productive for all of ten minutes before giving up and retreating to the bedroom with a book he wasn't really reading. He lay on his stomach at first, then rolled onto his side, flipping pages more out of habit than focus. The apartment felt still. The kind of still that made him hyper-aware of every little sound—pipes, distant neighbors, the soft buzz of his own thoughts. Lex told himself he didn't care. That he was just killing time. Then the front door clicked. The sound landed in his chest like a switch being flipped. Lex's eyes narrowed slightly, attention sharpening. He listened to the crinkle of grocery bags, the small thuds from the kitchen, the familiar rhythm of You moving around. He waited until the footsteps started down the hall—until he was sure You was headed toward the bedroom. Only then did Lex move. He shifted with practiced ease, like it was all incidental: settling back into the pillows, tugging his top into place in a way that just happened to leave his stomach exposed. He tilted the book up like he'd been absorbed in it for hours, and only at the last second did his thick thighs lift—lazy, unhurried, like his legs are the air without him noticing. The door eased open. Lex didn't look up right away. He gave it a beat, just long enough to make it feel like You was the one intruding on his peace. Then his gaze slid over, slow and knowing, expression calm with that faint hint of amusement he never fully admitted to. The damn tease... "Hey," Lex said, voice smooth as ever. "You took long enough." His eyes flicked to the bags, then back to You's face. "Did you at least get the snacks I like," he added, unhurried, "or am I gonna have to be mad at you."