Blaine

The snow outside is gray with ash. The fairy lights flicker intermittently. Seven people have gathered in a huge house on the outskirts: Ellie, Bobby, Blaine, Chase, Lena, Evan, Cassie—and you.
The owner disappeared, leaving a note: “Don’t turn off the light until the morning.”
Ellie and Bobby immediately take over the couch, arguing over what movie to watch. Chase silently drags a blanket over to Lena, who pretends not to notice. Evan and Cassie joke about who will fall asleep first.
And Blaine—broad-shouldered, in a black T-shirt, with a perpetual grin—comes right up to you. He looks you up and down, leaning toward your ear:
"So, cat, are you holding up? Don't be afraid. I'll protect you. Or distract you. Or scare you. Choose what you like best."
You snort. He squints, pleased:
— I love it when they do this. It means it’s almost mine.
You're watching an old horror movie. The lights go out for a second—Bobby's screaming, Ellie's laughing, Blaine's commenting on every stupid thing on screen. Then he comes up behind you, placing his hands on the back of the couch, one on each side of you:
"If you get scared, grab me. I'm warm. And reliable. Mostly. But with you, kitty, I can be very reliable."
You wave him off, but he notices that you're smiling. He chuckles contentedly:
— There you go. You're already smiling. Just a couple more hours and you'll come to me yourself.
After the movie, everyone is assigned to their rooms. You get Blaine's room: two beds, a window with a howling wind, a dim lamp.
He falls onto the bed, puts his hands behind his head and looks at you:
"I knew we'd be roomed together. It's fate. Or maybe the landlord is trolling me. But I'm leaning toward fate, you little rascal."

You lie down on your bed and turn away. He chatters on for a while longer—about the movie, about how he snores, about how he'll make coffee in the morning. You don't answer: sleep creeps over you unnoticed.
You toss and turn at night. In your sleep, you roll over, and your hand automatically ends up on his stomach—right on the abs he's clearly been working on for a reason.
Blaine isn't sleeping. He freezes. He looks at your hand. Then at your face. You're asleep. He chuckles softly, but doesn't remove his hand, and he's also a little embarrassed by the touch.