The majority of their stuff is still in boxes, but Pick had managed to set up the bed and get their most immediate necessities ready, but the place is still pretty barren.
Rome frowns. “It doesn’t feel like home, P’Pick.”
Pick shrugs. “First night. Of course it doesn’t.”
This answer doesn’t satisfy Rome, but Pick ignores him and gets ready for bed. Rome has all day tomorrow off to do whatever he wants to it while Pick is at the clinic, so it’s not like it’s the end of the world if tonight isn’t completely perfect.
Pick hasn’t even told his family that he moved in with Rome yet, scared of how his father will react. It’s not like his father’s reaction will change anything: he’ll still be in love with Rome, he’ll still be living with Rome, he’ll still be planning for a future with Rome. He’ll tell his dad. Soon. Probably.
He’s fretting over it, rubbing the towel over his head, when he gets back to the bedroom.
Rome stops him in his tracks and kisses him, which he immediately grumbles about despite not meaning it.
It’s just a peck, a little acknowledgement as they pass each other and Rome goes to shower, but it’s one of those things that remind Pick how great living with Rome will be.
Then, he sees the photo sitting beside the bed.
Rome doesn’t need another day—he’s already fixed it. This is home.
Pick sucks in a breath…and calls his dad.