Eric drummed his fingers on the counter with the music in his headphones, he swung his body along as he flipped a pancake. He pulled the fridge open with his power and made a bottle of butter fly into his hand. He closed the fridge from the same distance. He laid the baked pancake on a plate with the other completed ones and squeezed fresh butter into the pan.

  They were lying low, wanting some normalcy for a while. They had enough money for the next few weeks, anyway. Eric needed time away from their schemes to figure out how he felt and what he wanted. It seemed like Keith tried to act like nothing happened. Again. But Eric won’t let him this time, he was sick of this.

  Eric flinched at two sudden hands on his arms, right as he was pouring batter into the pan. Speak of the devil. He pulled his headphones off one ear. “What?”

  Keith pushed his cheek against Eric’s head. “Hi.”

  Eric sighed, he flipped the pancake. “I’m busy.” He wanted his affection, but not like this. Not in the way Keith had been treating their relationship for the past ten years. Eric had tolerated it all that time, wanting to be with him and thinking he’d come around someday. But he was done letting Keith play with his feelings.

  Keith moved his hands to Eric’s waist in a hug. “You can reach everything.”

  He always did this. Eric would want things to be official, he mentions it to Keith, Keith would break things off and push him away; Keith misses him and tries to smooth things over and act like nothing happened, Eric would let him because he misses him too; a few months later, Eric would feel secure enough to ask again, Keith pushes him away, repeat cycle. This nonsense for ten years. Or seven. Eric was tired of this relationship limbo.

  “It won’t work again,” Eric coldly told him.

  “What?”

  “Don’t act dumb, you know exactly what you’re doing.”

  “I miss you, is that so bad?”

  Eric moved the pancake onto the finished plate and squeezed butter into the pan again. “I told you, I won’t tolerate it anymore. If you don’t want to be my boyfriend, I won’t let you touch me.” He turned around to face Keith. “Simple as that.” He pulled Keith’s hands off him and pushed him an arm’s length away.

  Keith sadly frowned.

  “Don’t be cuddly with me unless you’re ready to commit. Until then”—Eric slapped some finished pancakes onto an empty plate—“we’ll only be friends or teammates, or whatever.” He handed Keith the plate.

  “Okay,” Keith answered like a sad, defeated child who’d been scolded. He sat down at the breakfast bar and poured some syrup on his pancakes.

  Eric returned his attention to baking the remaining batter. He covered his ear with his headphones again.

  Regardless of how their relationship would end up, he wanted Keith in his life. As a boyfriend, a friend, a teammate, a housemate, it didn’t matter. As long as he was around him. He’d prefer boyfriend, though.

  He heard Keith say something again and pulled his headphones off. “Huh?”

  Keith huffed with a smile. “You’ll get hearing damage one day, you know?”

  “At least I noticed you talking this time. What is it?”

  “Did you give any thought to that thing I suggested?”

  “Oh, that. Well.” Eric rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea. More people I know, more liability.”

  “You don’t have to become best friends with them, but it’d be good for you to interact more with other people, and have things to do outside this house. Get into your hobbies more.”

  “Like you’re doing?”

  Keith shrugged. “I don’t complain about feeling pent up in here all the time.”

  Eric sighed. “But a writing group, though? I don’t write.”

  “You like to come up with stories. Do something with them. Or discuss your ideas with someone else who likes doing that, too.” Keith shoved a fork full of pancake in his mouth.

  Eric continued with the pancakes, he poured the last of the batter into the pan. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad suggestion. Even if it’s only to have an excuse to get out of the house. He often felt anxious outside, afraid someone would recognise him somehow and arrest him. But he didn’t like being cooped up inside all the time, either. And meeting new people wouldn’t hurt.

  “Fine,” he spoke up. “I’ll go.”

  Keith smiled and said, mouth not entirely empty, “Great.”

  Eric entered the big library, his hands in the poofy jacket he wore over his blue sweater. His hair was a loose mess; he never wore as much black or had the same styling in his hair when he walked around as a normal person, too big of a risk.

  This was the only library in the city. The only place where you didn’t need a particular reason to be there, no one cared. Especially if you were a child. People loved seeing kids at the library, a youngster interested in books was always a delight to librarians. Unless you looked shifty. It was a convenient place to hide from the elements or go to the bathroom and wash yourself a little.

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  It was two stories tall, the second story was only a mezzanine. Rows of bookshelves filled the walls and floors. In the corner was the computer section, available for any type of research. He remembered the three of them searching for their alter ego’s names, on translate. They put words in that had something to do with their power and ran it through some random languages until they landed on something that sounded cool. Supposedly, Esprit was French for mind (because he moved things with his mind, ha, get it?), Andern was German for change (they dropped the umlaut), and Tarian Welsh for shield. None of them spoke any of the languages, so they wouldn’t be able to assure the accuracy.

  Eric snapped out of his thoughts, remembering he was supposed to do something here. People sat at the tables, most with laptops. A small sign stood on the closest table.

  “Weekly writing group meeting.

  New members are always welcome!”

  The members sat spread out over the tables, already having divided themselves into even smaller groups. Eric didn’t feel like trying to insert himself into one of those. Wasn’t there anyone else alone? Or with two? Maybe he could turn a couple into a throuple.

  He scanned the tables further and found someone indeed alone, all the way at the farthest table. Didn’t seem like the others even noticed them. He approached that table, they sat behind a laptop.

  “Hey,” Eric asked for their—his—attention.

  He looked up with a surprised hum.

  Eric stared at his face for a moment. He had straight, honey-blond hair; on the shorter side, but long enough to cover his eyes. He wore glasses; a thin, rounded, metal frame. His eyes were greyish blue, almost silver. His left eyebrow looked a bit… off, for some reason.

  Eric pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Are you part of the writing thing, too?”

  “Oh, yeah, technically.”

  “Technically?”

  Sir Silver Eyes shrugged. “I never talk to anyone, but I like the library vibe to write in.”

  “Mind if I join you? I’m new.”

  Blondie smiled. “Sure.” He pushed his laptop screen down, but not enough to put it in sleep mode. Eric guessed he wanted to show he was giving him his full attention. Or he wanted to hide what he was working on. Both were endearing.

  Eric smiled back and took a seat next to him. “How does this work? Is anyone gonna talk or are we left to our own devices?”

  “The organiser always gives a little opening greeting, but after that, you can pretty much do whatever. You can ask others for critique if you want. It’s a gamble whether they’d be willing to give it, though. Or if it’s constructive.”

  “Hmm, well. I don’t have much to critique, I haven’t actually written anything.”

  The silver eyes seemed confused. “Then why are you here?”

  Eric leaned his elbows on the wooden table and scratched one finger over his temple, feeling embarrassed, like he didn’t belong. “I like to come up with stories, but I haven’t attempted writing any of them down, other than quick descriptions in my notes app.”

  “Nothing better than encouragement and inspiration from others, then. Right?”

  “I guess so.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by a woman addressing everyone. She greeted everyone and held a little speech, like Blondie had predicted.

  Eric didn’t listen. He stared at the peachy face beside him. His eyelashes were quite long for a guy. A piece of his hair behind his ear was wavy compared to the straightness of the rest, perhaps caused by his glasses. His cheeks looked squishy, Eric wanted to test how squishy.

  What the hell was he doing?

  Was he so tired of Keith’s games that he was attracted to the first other guy he met?

  Pathetic.

  Eric forced his gaze away.

  The organiser stopped talking.

  “What’s your name, by the way?” Mr Cute asked.

  “Right,” Eric breathed out a chuckle. “Eric. You?”

  “Benjamin.”

  Eric smiled as he sat up straight in his chair with his arms folded. “Nice to meet you, Benjamin.”

  Benjamin smiled back. “You too, Eric.”

  Eric curiously glanced at his laptop, the screen’s light was still on. “Are you working on anything?”

  Benjamin hummed and pushed his laptop screen back up. “Not anything big. I’m still trying to improve my skills by writing short stories. Don’t wanna commit to anything long yet, you know?”

  “You don’t have to tell me about not wanting to commit to a project.”

  Benjamin snickered. “What sort of ideas do you have for your stories?”

  Eric pulled his phone out of his pocket. “They might be a bit dark, I don’t know. Thriller, horror type of stuff.”

  “Ohh,” Benjamin cooed in interest.

  Eric opened his notes and laid his phone on the table, he nudged it towards him. Eric sat back and waited for him to finish reading. He nervously rubbed his finger over his arm, he’d never let anyone read his ideas other than Keith and Abi. And even to them, rarely. Why was he doing it now? Well, he was here for a reason, right?

  He got impatient.

  “So, Ben—can I call you Ben?”

  He looked up from Eric’s phone, a little surprised. “Yeah, sure.”

  Eric gave him a teasing grin. “Or Benny?”

  Ben huffed with a smile. “Ben is fine.”

  “Not Benny?”

  Ben stared at him as if to consider what to say. He returned the teasing grin—or was it more flirtatious? He leaned closer to Eric. “Benny is reserved for my boyfriend.”

  Eric was taken aback. “You have a boyfriend?”

  “Not yet.”

  Smooth. “But what do you think of my stuff?”

  Ben seemed to snap out of whatever mood he had gotten into and returned his attention to the phone. “Your ideas are cool! Quite dark, but interesting.”

  “Thanks!”

  “I also noticed a lot of them involve superhumans.”

  Eric tensed. Oh no, would that be the first hint?

  But Ben was smiling. “And most often, they’re not the bad guy, which is neat.”

  Oh. “You think so?”

  “Yeah! Too many people see superhumans as these monsters or weapons instead of people.”

  Eric let out a sigh of relief. “Yeah, agreed.”

  They continued talking about their ideas and writing. Ben let Eric read some of his short stories, which were more on the contemporary romance side, sometimes with some fantasy sprinkled in. Eric liked Ben’s writing style, it was witty and snarky.

  The two planned hours flew by. Ben packed his laptop into his messenger bag with pins on it (mostly generic cat pins, but also a rainbow) as Eric put his jacket on.

  “See you next week?” Ben asked, unsure but hopeful.

  Eric felt the corner of his mouth creep up at the thought of it. “Yeah.”

  Eric made his way back home. Keith waited for him on the couch, watching TV together with Abi.

  “How was it?” Keith asked.

  “It was… nice.” Eric felt that corner creep in his lip again.

  “Did it feel good to get out of the house for a bit?”

  “It did.”

  “Good,” Abi joined and turned away from the TV to look at Eric. “Ready for a robbery, then?”

  “Why?” Eric blurted out a bit too fast. “Are we out of money already?”

  “No, but we don’t have anything else to do.”

  “I don’t want to rob banks out of boredom! Get a hobby.”

  Abi groaned with a glare. “You’re a terrible supervillain.”

  “Superhuman thief. Maybe because I don’t do it for fun.”

  “Keith,” Abi addressed the silent party in the middle of them. “Do you want to rob a bank?”

  Keith hummed with an indifferent shrug.

  “That is the least helpful response you could’ve possibly given,” Eric complained.

  “I’d be fine either way,” Keith clarified. He turned to Abi. “But it wouldn’t hurt for you to look for a hobby.”

  “Like what?” Abi spat.

  “I don’t know, finger painting?”

  “Reading,” Eric gave a serious suggestion. “Working out, going on hikes, watching anime, whatever the fuck. Something other than crime.”

  Abi only groaned and continued watching TV.

  Eric sighed and retired to his bedroom, deciding he was done socialising for the day.