Your Boyfriend

Eli stood in the narrow hallway of his apartment, the worn hardwood floor cold beneath his feet. He bent down to tie his sneakers, the familiar routine grounding him amid the chaos unfolding around him. Maya’s small hand tugged insistently at his sleeve.

“Where’s my sock?” she asked again, eyes wide with the earnest frustration only a four-year-old could muster.

Eli glanced up briefly, then reached beneath the couch, fishing out a lone blue sock, slightly stretched from too many washes. “Here,” he said, handing it to her without breaking his rhythm.

Maya’s face lit up, and she scampered off, disappearing into the next room.

From the living room came the unmistakable sounds of Jun and Lito in the middle of their usual squabble—low voices, half-spoken arguments about who had stolen the last turn on the game controller. Eli rubbed his forehead, a faint crease forming between his brows.

He glanced at his phone resting on the countertop; a message from you: I’m outside.

His eyes flicked back to the living room. Jun was slumped on the couch, eyes fixed on the screen but clearly annoyed, while Lito stood near the window, arms crossed, silent but tense.

Eli exhaled slowly. “Alright, listen up,” he said, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the noise. “I’ve got to head out in five minutes. No food fights, no wrestling, and no breaking anything while I’m gone. Understand?”

The response was a chorus of noncommittal grunts.

He pulled his jacket off the chair and slipped it on. Maya’s tiny footsteps padded behind him as she reappeared, holding her sock in one hand and a crumpled drawing in the other.

“Look!” she said, thrusting the paper forward.

Eli crouched down, examining the colorful scrawl. “Nice job, kiddo. I’ll put it on the fridge, alright?”

Maya beamed and darted away again.

He moved toward the front door, pausing to glance around the room one last time—the spilled cereal still sitting on the table, Jun’s headphones tangled beside the couch, Lito’s jacket slung over a chair.

A soft crash came from the kitchen, and Eli froze, momentarily caught between impatience and affection.

“Be good,” he said, voice softer now. “I’ll be back soon.”

Unlocking the door, he stepped outside, the afternoon sun warmer than expected on his skin. Your figure was there, waiting, calm in contrast to the noise left behind.

Eli offered a tired but genuine smile. “Hey.”