Like A Home?
(Couldn’t figure which screenshot to post so I posted them all. 🥸)
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2:43 pm
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Malachi moving into a new house was supposed to be his big "mature" moment. The "look at me, I’m a functional member of society" era.
Instead, he’s sitting on the living room floor in a nest of cardboard boxes labeled FRAGILE that are being treated with the same respect as a bag of trash. He has a look on his face. The one where he’s 100% wrong but 1000% committed to the job.
“I know what I’m doing” he says, voice dripping with confidence.
You’re sitting next to him crisscrossed, watching him try to assemble the couch with the instruction manual faced down on the floor.
“…Do you?” you ask.
“Yes babe” He doesn't even look up. He just keeps aggressively screwing a bolt into a piece of wood that looks like it’s about to give up on life.
You hold in your laugh
“You want help?”
“No I got it. LOOK BABE!” He stands up in victory.
Five seconds later. CRACK. The entire left side of the frame just… slumps. Malachi stares at it, his pride clearly dying a slow death.
“Okay maybe.”
You snatch the manual off the floor and start actually reading it while he sits back down and lays his head on your shoulder. The house is bigger than his old one. quieter. Echoes when you laugh. You try not to think about that too much as you two start putting the couch together the right way.
“This is nice” you say softly, glancing around the room.
“Yeah?” he says, standing up.
He’s not even looking at the house. He’s watching you, his expression going all soft and melty in a way that makes your stomach do a flip.
“Yeah. Very grown.”
“I’ve been grown.”
He immediately trips over a box of kitchen supplies.
You look at him, not even trying to hide the laugh. “Mhm. Totally grown.”
He disappears into the kitchen to hide his burning ears and you hear a loud crash again.
“FUCK… I’m fine!”
“Babe that did not sound fine!”
“I’m emotionally fine!”
You shake your head, laughing as you wander down the hallway while he stays in the kitchen fighting for his life against pots and pans.
“I’m replacing these slippery floors tomorrow!” Malachi yells.
At the very end of the hall, you stop.
The last room is empty. No boxes. No bubble wrap. No chaos of his random shoes. Just late afternoon sunlight pouring through the windows, turning the hardwood gold. It’s the prettiest room in the house.
“Don’t judge it yet.”
You turn. He’s in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck. Suddenly, the self proclaimed king of the world can’t hold eye contact.
“I was thinking…” he starts, his voice going a little rough. “Maybe this could be like… your space. When you’re here.”
You look at him.
“My space?”
“Yeah. I mean, you’re gonna be here all the time anyway” he shrugs, trying his absolute hardest to act casual. “Figured you should have somewhere that feels like yours, too. Could use this room as a second closet or put your makeup or whatever in here.”
The room suddenly feels about ten degrees warmer.
“Mal…”
“It’s not a big deal, babe” he says quickly, finally looking at you. “I just.. wanted you to feel comfortable. You know? In my new life. In my house. With me.”
You take a step toward him, your heart doing that annoying thumping thing.
“Babeeeee.”
You don't wait for him to respond before you're on your tiptoes, kissing him. He tastes like the Gatorade he’s been chugging and pure sincerity. His hands settle on their assigned spot on your waist.
“So you like it?” he murmurs against your lips.
“Yeah” you smile. “I love it.”
Standing there with him, the house doesn’t feel so big anymore. It just feels like home.
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Eventually, the house was in much better condition. Boxes were put away, the couch and tv stand was built, Malachi organized his shoes again, pizza was ordered. You both were currently sitting on his mattress in his new bedroom . The extra large bed frame was only half assembled, so you two decided that was tomorrow’s problem.
"You realize..." Malachi said, leaning back on his elbows, tossing a piece of crust into the pizza box. "This is officially the first time in my life I don't have to worry about my mom walking in and asking why I’m 'breathing so heavy' at 2:00 AM."
You choked on your soda from laughing. "Babe what!"
"I’m serious" he chuckles, rolling over to pull you closer. "Now? It’s just us. No curfews, no squeaky floorboards leading to the kitchen, and nobody to judge me for eating cold pepperoni at sunrise."
"Is that your big plan for freedom? Cold pepperoni?"
"That, and other things" he whispered, his voice dropping as he nudged your nose with his.
You two sit in comfortable silence for a while, just eating until he randomly kisses your lips over and over.
You smile and look at him. “You ok?”
Malachi smiles.
“Yeah… it’s just…”
“Just what?”
He’s quiet for a minute and you let him get his words together.
"It's just the move.." he admitted, finally looking at you. "I’ve always been on my own, you know? Only child syndrome. I thought I was an expert at being alone. I figured, 'I’m the only person I need to keep track of, I’m good.' But sitting here, looking at the boxes all day..." He trailed off, his thumb tracing the edge of the packing tape on the mattress.
"I realized I was lying to myself. I think I just got really good at pretending I preferred being alone because it was easier than needing someone."
He reached out, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together, his grip just a little tighter than usual.
"But then I look at you, and I realize I’m not 'on my own' anymore. I moved out, but I’m not going into that quiet space I used to have. I’m going into a life that has you in it. It’s the first time in my life that the 'only child' in me isn’t screaming to run away. It’s just... really grateful I don’t have to do it by myself."
He leaned his forehead against yours, a genuine smile finally breaking through. "Thank you for being here. I love you.”
You feel your heart swell. Warmth spreads through your chest grounding you both on the half finished mattress. For a guy who usually uses bravado like a shield, hearing him admit he’s done with being a "lone wolf" feels more intimate than any of the kissing that came before it.
You squeeze his hand back and peck his lips.
"I love you too, babe. Always.”
He smiles and bites his lip as you continue.
“But.. You were never that good at the whole 'solitary' thing. You’re way too loud to be alone."
He lets out a dry, startled laugh against your skin as he kisses your shoulder.
"Hey, watch it. I’m a man of mystery."
"You’re a man who fought a box of pots and pans… and lost” you remind him. "But I'm glad I’m the one who got to see it. I'm not going anywhere."
"Good” he murmurs, his eyes fluttering shut as he pulls you down so you're both lying flat on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above. You smile, knowing that while the house might still be full of boxes, everything that actually matters is already exactly where it needs to be.
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Two weeks later:
The house smelled less like cardboard and floor wax and more like the expensive "Midnight Drift" candles Malachi insisted on buying because they made him feel like a "distinguished homeowner."
You’re standing in the doorway of the room at the end of the hall, your room.
It’s no longer an empty box of golden sunlight. It’s transformed. There’s a plush rug that feels like walking on a cloud, a sleek vanity mirror with the "influencer lighting" Malachi spent three hours cursing at while he mounted it, and a cute little velvet armchair in the corner.
Most importantly, it’s quiet. A stark contrast to the rest of the house where Malachi is currently thumping around, likely trying to figure out how the new "smart" washing machine works.
“Yo, babe!” his voice echoes from the laundry room. “Does ‘Delicates’ mean my hoodies or like my underwear? I accidentally shrunk my boxers when you weren’t here.”
You sit down on the vanity chair. “Hoodies are fine, babe, Just don’t use the high heat!” You yell.
“Copy!”
A moment later, the thumping stops, and you hear his footsteps, much softer now that he’s actually learned where the "slippery spots" are on the hardwood. He appears in the hallway, leaning one shoulder against the frame of your door. He’s wearing a matching grey hoodie and sweats set.
He doesn't say anything at first. He just looks at the room, then looks at you.
“Fits you” he says. “I mean, it’s a little cleaner than the rest of the house, which tracks.”
“It’s perfect” you say, stepping back to take it all in again. “I can actually hear myself think in here.”
“That was the goal.” He walks over, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. You both stare at the space together. “I walked past here earlier while you were out, and I saw your shoes by the chair and hair products all over. Not mine. Yours.”
He squeezes you a little tighter.
“It’s a good look” he mumbles into your hair. “Having your mess mixed in with mine. Makes the place feel less like a building I bought and more like... well, you know.”
“Like a home?”
“Yeah” he admits, pressing a quick, scratchy kiss to your cheek. “Even if I still haven’t figured out how to use the dishwasher without it sounding like a jet engine taking off. We’re getting there.”
You turn in his arms, looping your hands around his neck. “We’re definitely getting there. Although, I did see a box of miscellaneous wires in the living room today. Are we ever moving those?”
Malachi’s expression immediately goes flat. “We don’t talk about the Wire Box. That stays until the end of time. It’s a man thing.”
You laugh, the sound bouncing off the walls of your own personal sanctuary. For a guy who was terrified of losing his "only child" freedom, he seems to be doing just fine sharing his world.
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Missed you guys💜
