My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}

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I was in this tiny bathroom, steam swirling around me from the kettle water Rachel had insisted we heat up in batches for some semblance of a hot shower.

"I’m sure you aren’t used to this tactic." Rachel had said with a small chuckle, but I shocked her by saying that I did actually, I was from a underprivileged home as well before my mom got remarried.

To which she smiled, "Lucky, boy." She then turned to her mute mother with a mock glare. "I wish my mom married a billionaire instead of some factory worker who abandons his kids."

I think the old lady rolled her eyes in response, but I wasn’t too sure.

It was cramped enough that I had to step around the sink to close the door, but oddly enough, it felt cozy and faded blue tiles, a shower curtain with tiny yellow ducks that had probably looked cute back in the nineties, and a pile of fluffy towels all smelling like lavender fabric softener.

Afterward, I felt human again, skin pink from the heat, hair damp and twisted up in one of those towels, wearing an oversized T-shirt and sweatpants Rachel had pulled from a drawer with a sheepish "they’re clean, I promise."

The guest room she’d shown us to was just as small and homely as the rest of the house, but Rachel obviously made an effort to make it feel inviting.

A double bed took up most of the space, stacked high with quilts and blankets to the point it looked like a cloud had burst and patchwork ones in soft florals, a thick navy comforter, and even a fuzzy throw with little pom-poms dangling along the edges.

Two mismatched pillows were resting at the head, and a tiny bedside lamp with a fringed shade cast this warm amber glow over everything. Outside, snow was tapping insistently at the lone window, the storm still raging, but in here, it felt safe and snug, like the world had shrunk down to just this blanket-laden bed.