The BL Nook

“Ugh… I hate unpacking.”

The words left my mouth before I could stop them, echoing off the bare walls of my new apartment. A half-empty box stared at me from the floor, daring me to finish what I started. The moving truck had pulled up just as I arrived, so I had no time to mentally prepare before launching into box-hauling chaos.

This move? Totally impulsive. I ditched Minnesota. A land of familiarity, frozen winters, and my father. All for an unknown territory, Seattle. Why? Well, first, I needed to get far, far away from my dad. And second? I was suffocating. Life back home had become a loop of recycled routines: same coffee shop, same people from high school, same bland everything. I needed a reset.

My brother Tyler lives here. We’re not exactly close. Actually, we’re the kind of siblings who used to express affection by throwing punches or sarcastic insults. He’s only a few years older, but after he graduated, he bolted to Seattle and didn’t look back. He’s 26 now, with a life, a career, and probably friends who don’t threaten to change the Netflix password just to be petty.

Over the past six years, our contact was minimal. Holiday visits, awkward small talk, and occasional texts about dad’s birthday. That was about it. So, when I called him out of nowhere and said I was thinking of moving here, I expected a “Cool, good luck” but he surprised me. He actually helped. Hooked me up with a job as a social media manager at an ad agency he had connections with, even helped me find a place nearby. Maybe… just maybe… this won’t be a total disaster.

Today’s been a marathon of back-and-forth trips from the truck to the apartment. Now, at last, I was carrying the final box up the stairs. My legs were jelly, my arms aching, but I could finally say it:

“Finally.”

Ring, Ring, Ring

“Ugh, seriously? Now?”

I fumbled for my phone, nearly dropping the box on my foot.

Tyler.

I sighed and answered. “What’s up?”

“<Sean, are you all settled in?>” came his voice through the speaker.

“I’m about to be,” I grunted, adjusting the box on my hip. “Taking the last one upstairs right now. And… done.” I kicked the door shut behind me and dropped the box with a satisfying thud.

“<Sorry I couldn’t help today. Work’s been insane. Otherwise, I would’ve taken the day off.>”

“It’s fine. Honestly, I needed the workout.”

“<Why? Did you gain weight since I saw you last? You need to lay off the sweets, man. My friend’s got diabetes and he’s in better shape than you.>”

I rolled my eyes. “Shut up, I’m not fat.” I said it defensively… while biting into a cookie I had snagged from the grocery store earlier.

“<Haha, whatever. I’m glad you got it all done. Let’s grab lunch tomorrow, yeah?>”

“Sure, sounds good.”

“<Alright. Later, fatty.>”

“Byeee,” I said with a dramatic eye roll, ending the call.

I walked into the bedroom and caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror near the closet. Cookie still in hand, I lifted my shirt and examined my stomach.

“Hmm.”

I poked at my belly, squinting. Then I flexed, like that would somehow make the cookie calories disappear.

“Maybe he’s right,” I mumbled.

Then I turned around and walked straight back to the kitchen for another cookie.

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