Domestic

“Don’t want to sleep yet, I want to talk more with you,” I admit. Justin lets out a tiny smile, “But I do want to take a shower, I feel dirty. Come with me? You can stay near me while I shower so we can keep talking.”

“Alright,” he replies and stands up to follow me when I walk to my room. But before that, he grabs two candles, blows out the other two and then walks behind me like my own walking lamp.

That’s sweet and convenient. I love having a fated mate. I’ll never have to carry my own candles ever again.

“First stop, my room,” I say as I open my room. It’s small and all, but it’s nice and always clean. Which isn’t that hard since I only have a bed, a desk I use as a vanity, and a closet, “Give me light, mate, I need clothes. Do you want something more comfortable to sleep in? I have a bunch of men’s clothes. Most of my closet is hand-me-downs from my brothers.”

And it’s always been like that, which is why people would often call me tomboy or ‘The fourth Johansson boy’.

Whatev