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Pink Socks and Broken Locks

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Cesar grabbed his jacket and quickly made his way into the kitchen, snagging a piece of toast of an unsuspecting Lazarel's plate.

A chuckle escaped him, "I am off to work for the day," he sighed. "Oh- and Lazarel, for the love of the Goddess, please make sure the laundry is done by the time I arrive home. I am working a ten-hour shift, so if it is not done you will have me to answer to. I would earnestly like to sleep after work without delay, so do this one task for me, please?"

Lazarel frowned and crossed his arms, clearly displeased with the fact that Cesar had the nerve to steal one of his pieces of toast. Still, he gestured lamely to the countertop to turn Cesar's attention away from him.

There sat a lunch sacked, presumably filled with a salad and water. To make it more obvious that it was for Cesar, his name was written in sharpie on the bag in sloppy handwriting. Varying from lowercase to capital letters, it looked as if a kindergartener had attempted to spell their own name. Lazarel's handwriting has never, and will never, be neat, much to Cesar's dismay.

(Also, there was also a sticky note inside of the bagged lunch that had a nice little message from Lazarel. It consisted of a smiley face, hearts, and a barely legible phrase that read 'Have a nice day!' Sure, it was cheesy, and even though Cesar pretended to hate it he found it quite endearing of him to do. Childish, but endearing nonetheless.)

"Yeah, yeah! I'll get to it, don't you worry!" Lazarel beamed, eating the other piece of toast that safely remained on his plate and away from Cesar's preying hands. While he didn't have a single clue about how to do laundry, Cesar was entrusting him with a responsibility that he would usually do, so Lazarel eagerly took the opportunity to please him.

... When put like that, it sounded strange, but he felt as if he completed said mission Cesar would stop using the insult 'incompetent' during their petty quarrels. (Maybe that wasn't a realistic expectation, but one can hope.)

Cesar gave him the faintest of smiles and grabbed the lunch sack, "I will see you around six, then?" he put the piece of toast in his mouth and ruffled Lazarel's hair. Lazarel nodded in reply, and the next thing he knew Cesar had left their quaint little place, leaving him to his own devices for the day.

Sometimes, he felt bad he wasn't out and about and working like Cesar was every day. He wanted to get a job, truly, but in the last month, he had interviewed for around 6 positions from varying businesses. And was, unfortunately, rejected from all of them. It's not like it took a blow to his self-esteem, though he wished he was at least given a reason as to why he wasn't accepted.

But that begs the question: How could Cesar, the most dull and dense man alive get a well-sustaining job that somehow affords all of their bills? It just didn't make sense.

Judging by his suit attire, he could be an accountant of some kind... or maybe he does some other kind of work, like working at a cubicle!

That would make a little more sense. Come to think of it, though, how could Cesar even fit in a cubicle? With how wide his frame was, and his mild dislike for being in a small environment filled with people.

From what Lazarel's heard, cubicle jobs are boring and cramped. Then again he wouldn't know. The only job he's ever had was working as a bartender for about a month or two before getting kicked to the curb after one too many drops of liquor got into the eyes of bar-goers. How did that happen? Lazarel couldn't answer, all he remembers is being called into work early before being handed the pink slip.

In any case, the best course of action right now was to shower and then get started on that laundry. Lazarel wondered how much he had to do, but it couldn't be that much.

Oh, he was wrong. So, sorely wrong. Upon entering the pantry that doubled as their laundry room, there were quite a few baskets of clothes. Granted, it was only three baskets, but still. He had never seen so many boxers, briefs, and socks piled up in one place before, aside from on shelves of stores, of course.

While he had free range to take a deep dive into what Cesar wore on a day to day basis, Lazarel needed to teach himself something first:

How the heck was he going to work the washing machine? Doing a quick 'how-to' search couldn't hurt, but there were a lot of baskets to go through and he didn't know how long each would take. If he wanted to get each done promptly, he needed to come up with an efficient process.

Long of the short, his conclusion was as followed: Just throw a bunch of detergent in the washer and dump all the baskets right on in there! Cesar usually throws things about and everything seems to come out clean and normal. What could go wrong? The only thing Lazarel needed to do was make sure none of their clothes shrank or ripped.

Though tight clothes flatter him, they most certainly do not flatter Cesar. However, tight-fitting tank tops could make him look... his thoughts began to trail off into inappropriate territory before long.

Lazarel flushed pink, forbidding his mind to dare imagine what tight pants could potentially look like on his roommate.

He cracked open the case of tide pods and tossed a couple in there, and then proceeded to dump the varying baskets of socks, briefs, shirts, and any other clothing items of theirs that needed washing (which was obviously why they were in the baskets in the first place.)

Once all the baskets were empty, Lazarel left the laundry room and kicked back on the couch to watch TV until Cesar arrived home.

It was always so boring in the day time. Cesar would wake up really early in the morning to go to the gym and come back just in time to shower and go to work. And even then, he would come home, eat, and then go to bed! It sounded selfish of him, but all Lazarel wanted really was to spend some time with him.

Nightmares plagued Cesar, Lazarel knew, but as of recent, they've been less frequent and intense ever since they've started sleeping in the same bed together.

Since yeah, that's a thing now and Lazarel did not know how to feel about it. They don't do it all the time, but on the occasion that Cesar needs some shutting up, Lazarel will go in there to check up on him and see if he's okay. Even though Cesar seems to be mildly displeased by his initial entrance, his mood entirely changes once they've bundled up under the covers together.

Now, Lazarel won't deny the fact that he's been crushing and is still crushing on Cesar, ever since they became friends in their youth. At first, it was just admiration, but once he understood the concept of having a crush, Lazarel knew right then that it wasn't just admiration.

For a moment he thought that it was just a silly phase, the whole liking Cesar thing. After all, there had been so many girls that approached him that were not 2-3 years older than him, calling him 'cute' and wanting to go out on a date.

He's always denied them though. It's not that he has anything against girls, just... Lazarel's never known anyone other than Cesar. They had a fall out during their high school years, but as soon as they rekindled whatever strange friendship they have now those feelings hit him like a sack of bricks.

Well! After that extensive look at his failed, nonexistent love life, Lazarel spent the rest of the day browsing the internet and binging cheesy horror flicks via Amazon Prime.

With six o'clock was fast approaching, he quickly put some leftover stew from the night before into a pot to cook on the stove. Come to think of it, they've been eating the same stew for at least two days now.

At least it fed them, though with Cesar and his strict diet Lazarel was afraid he would refuse to eat it for the third night in a row. Understandable. If this were to be the case, he whipped up a small little garden salad that would stay in the fridge until further notice.

Not long after six, Cesar arrived home looking as if Hell had given him a couple slaps on the wrist, the poor guy.

He had been working overtime an awful lot lately. Were they not making enough money? Cesar always dismissed Lazarel whenever he asked him about the bills since Cesar was usually the one to handle their financials.

Lazarel was yanked back down from the clouds of his headspace when Cesar threw a damp suit jacket at him, demanding for him to plate dinner for the two of them whilst he changed into something more comfortable.

Before long, dinner was plated and just as Lazarel sat down on their couch to enjoy some piping hot stew, a scream rang out from the other side of the apartment.

Cesar sure as hell wasn't having another night terror, so what the heck was he screaming about? Lazarel stood up with the intention to find out, but fortunately (and unfortunately) for him, his roommate had already revealed himself. The problem was basically shoved in his face right then and there.

"What the FUCK did you DO?!" Cesar pulled at his hair that had gotten greasy and messy throughout the day, motioning to his figure that-


Oh no.

What the fuck did he do? Instead of a pair of grey sweatpants and a loose black tank top, Cesar adorned a tight-fitting, and what looked to be, black crop top. In reality, though, it was one of his usual tank tops.

And his sweatpants looked more like yoga pants for women. It definitely did not flatter his... lower region very well.

Lazarel could pretty much see all of... oh Goddess, was he even wearing anything under that?

He held up his hands defensively, trying to draw his eyes away from the blissful sight the Goddess has bestowed upon him, "I don't know, what happened to your clothes, Cesar!?" Cesar scoffed and crossed his arms in irritation.

"That is what I am asking you! Did you not follow my damned instructions I put above the washer?"

Above the... washer? "What the heck are you on about, there wasn't any 'instructions' above the washer!" Lazarel places a hand on his hip loosely, frowning in both confusion and the realization of 'crap, did I really miss something that big?'

Cesar forcefully grabbed Lazarel's wrist and dragged him to the laundry room, gesturing to the multiple pieces of paper that hung not only above the washer, but the dryer as well. Huh, how didn't he see that?

Lazarel laughed nervously, "Whoopsies... well, it's not all bad-"

"Any white that remained on my clothing has been stained pink or other colors! Not only that, but all of our clothes have shrunk! What do you mean it isn't 'all bad' you irresponsible child?!" Cesar clenched his fists, twitching in frustration.

Immediately knowing that one of those fists were definitely going to find their way to his face, Lazarel made a beeline for his bedroom, locking the door behind him. He leaned against it with a huff, tempered footsteps boomed outside the door.

Who knew Cesar could kick a door off its hinges?

What was supposed to be a calm, tired night for Cesar, turned out to be not only eventful, but painful for the opposing party.

Never again was he going to allow Lazarel to do laundry.