Mitch lost track of how many times he’d yawned, but if he were to hazard a guess, the count was somewhere in the upper 20s.

Taking a copper pan from off the hanging pot rack, he placed it on a burner and twisted the knob below. After a few clicks, there was the briefest whiff of gas, and then a flame came to life. A small butter patty melted in the pan, and then the eggs he’d beaten minutes before were poured on top of it. Gradually his appetite was returning, but he was still a long way off from it being fully restored. As the egg began to firm up, he added a scoop of the hummus that he made last night to the center of it, then folded it over with a spatula.

A small part of him was still buzzing over Avi having declared that it was the best hummus he’d ever eaten, but that may have been a hyperbolic statement since they were all buzzed. Flustered promises were stammered out by Mitch about writing down the recipe when he was a little less high, and he went to bed feeling triumphant because he didn’t have to sleep next to Jodie for the first time in over a month. And because Avi liked his hummus. And because Avi shared secrets with him earlier.

It may have been a dumb crush, but he was on vacation, he was allowed to indulge in harmless fantasies.

And then reality came crashing down later, when he heard Charlie moan in the master bedroom, followed by shushing and giggles. It only went on for just under an hour -not that he was counting- but it managed to keep him up for the rest of the night. He argued with himself that it was due to REM being interrupted, and hell, he hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in how long?

However, he still refused to harbor any ill-will towards Charlie, despite the burning envy; she was quick witted and charming, genuinely inquisitive, and heavy on the compliments. When they sat around the fire pit, she alternated between holding a deep conversation with Jodie about the questionable ethics of the beauty industry, and sitting on Avi’s lap, showering him with physical affection. Really, who wouldn’t, given the option?

So whatever happened in the master bedroom was to be expected. But Mitch took consolation in the fact that he’d gotten a rare bit of solitude, even if his eyes burned and his vision was blurred. Another yawn surfaced, this one loud accompanied with a croak, and his spine popped as he stretched. The ugly cacophonous noises that his body made caused him to miss that someone joined him in the kitchen.

“Morning!” Avi chirped, reaching by Mitch’s head to grab one of the coffee mugs -Mitch’s favorite one, actually, handmade and imperfect with leaf imprints on the outside- that dangled from the bottom of a shelf. Mitch nodded, attention on the eggs and not to the mussed up chestnut hair. Or to the fact that Avi was only in gray sweatpants, which rode low enough to expose the trail of hair past his naval and the v lines of his hips; at the very least, he had the good sense to wait until Avi was at the opposite side of the kitchen and getting water to fill the coffee maker with before ogling. There was no discretion whatsoever in the open gawking as Avi leaned over the sink. The food was definitely getting overcooked, but Mitch simply did not care. “You gonna want some of this?” Avi asked without looking over.

“Sure,” Mitch’s voice came out gruff, and he cleared his throat. “That’d be great, thank you.”

More water was added to the coffee maker, and it whirred to life. Avi turned back around to face Mitch, and leaned against the wall next to the counter with his arms folded across his chest. As far as Mitch could tell, he wasn’t wearing underwear, and that realization lead to him hastily spinning back around so that he could keep a strict focus on cooking.

“Have I already thanked you yet for inviting me here?” asked Avi. “Because you really are a lifesaver.”

“No, don’t think so,” Mitch halfheartedly teased. The coffee maker gurgled loudly, saving Mitch from saying anything further, since he was yet again on the cusp of making some god awful comment that would get him in trouble; after dancing on the edge of that particular knife for the last 12 hours, it was only a matter of when. Slipping the spatula under the eggs, he plated it, and struggled with being suspended between ravenousness and no interest whatsoever in eating. “Uh,” he pointed to the fridge with the spatula still in hand, and said, “Grabbed some oatmilk from the store for you, if you wanted to use that for creamer.”

“Oh my god, I could actually kiss you!” Avi exclaimed, and Mitch dropped the silverware he took out of the drawer, wincing at the loud clatter it made when it landed on the countertop. It was far too early for this, he decided as he took a seat at the table and shoveled a fork full of egg into his mouth. Unsurprisingly, it was rubbery and on the verge of being burnt.

From the corner of his eye he watched Avi putter around the kitchen and make himself at home. Another mug was retrieved, and both were filled. “You like yours black, right?” Avi asked before setting it down in front of him.

“Mhm hm,” Mitch responded, casting his glance upwards, expecting to meet Avi’s eyes, but Avi’s attention was elsewhere; his line of sight was fixed towards the three season porch in the back.

“Wow,” Avi uttered. “You see that sunrise?”

“No.” Shaking his head, Mitch craned his neck to try to see what Avi was looking at, but felt from where he was seated it was impossible. “What time is it?”

“Quarter to 7,” answered Avi. Pursing his lips, Mitch couldn’t remember the last time that he was up at this hour for leisure. “I’m gonna drink my coffee out there. Wanna join me?”

“Alright.” He picked up the plate and mug from off of the table, and ambled through the living room and onto the porch. Avi already made himself comfortable on the wooden swing chair, a remnant left over from before it was a fully enclosed room. “Man, I used to love sitting there,” Mitch commented as he went to take a seat on a wicker chair in the corner that faced the interior of the house and not the lake.

“Shit, sorry,” apologized Avi, and he slid to one end.

“No, take it,” Mitch chuckled low. “You’re a guest.”

“Well there’s plenty of room,” Avi looked confused as he glanced down at the cushion and then back at Mitch. There was expectancy on his face, and Mitch did not have the heart to decline the offer. Placing the plate and mug on the closest side table, he sat on the far end of the swing. He settled in and fretted about the space he was taking up, but then scarlet of the breaking daylight began to bleed into the window and his discomfort was silenced.

“Oh,” Mitch whispered, enraptured by the shades of purple, tangerine, and amber, and the way that they reflected off of the lake. Mist rose off of the water, obscuring the surrounding forest, which was nothing more than a pitch black mass in those early hours. Aside from the occasional sip of coffee, it was silent for a stretch.

“So I know that I’ve thanked you a few times…” Avi broke stillness.

“Oh, have you?” Mitch grinned.

“I’m sorry, I…” His neck ducked, head hanging low. “I don’t know, man. I haven’t gone out with friends for a weekend in, what, literal decades?” He huffed a laugh. “I’m never in one place for more than a day or two. And I’ve had so much on my mind for the longest time. This is really helping to clear it.”

Mitch swallowed hard. “Y’know, I’m really flattered that you consider us, uh…” He looked down at his hands. “Me, as a friend. That’s nice to hear.”

“Of course I do.” One of Avi’s arms draped across the back of the swing and grazed Mitch’s shoulder, which he couldn’t stop himself in time from leaning into the contact. “You guys took me in. You invited me to your family’s ideal Vermont cabin, fuck dude.” His other hand scrubbed down his face. “This all means so, so much.”

Insides beginning to vibrate, Mitch tried to settle himself before saying, “Well, if you ever needed to talk, I’m-” He was stuttering. Squeezing his eyes shut, he ruminated on the depth of the word ‘friend’, how he needed to cherish that and not fuck it up catastrophically. “Here. I’m here to listen to you. Anytime.”

“I appreciate that,” Avi smiled demurely, hand traveling from Mitch’s shoulder to the base of his neck, and then it was withdrawn altogether. Mitch, despite burning up, hoped that Avi would continue talking. But he said nothing further, only continuing to take sips of his coffee as he stared ahead.