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A jagged sound of splintery wood being forced over a too thick-for-its-hardness carpet allowed you to recognise he was home.
You hadn't associated yourself with Phil for long, but long enough to get yourself trapped inside an isolation bubble with him. You wouldn't- couldn't, say you and he were romantically engaged but you had certainly scratched the itches you had both had been starved from due to lockdown requirements - no contact with any human being, basically - his finger prints were practically carved into your skin from how much you'd let him dig those long digits into your hips, and waist, and back, and thighs, and-
You were laid in your bed, unable to sleep, too focused on every little noise from the rustle of your bed sheets to a strong gust of wind outside your window. You'd never been a good sleeper, and apparently Phil wanted to make it even harder. It wasn't uncommon to hear his attempt at a tip-toe into his own room at early hours, as he often took himself for walks - said it "kept him tame" or something ridiculous like that. And now was no exception, you were sure you even heard him tumble up the stairs and swear at the dusty, carpeted blocks of wood.
Phil plopped himself face-first onto the stripey duvet cover, next to a pillow as if it were a person. You could hear him shuffling uncomfortably, presumably still dressed in outside clothes - and you did not fall asleep, as expected you spent the night tossing and turning whilst not a peep emitted from behind the thin walls of Phil's bedroom again.
It wasn't until the morning till you heard from Phil again. You had emerged from your bedroom many hours before Phil, not being able to stand the silence between yourself and your stuffed animals, deciding on taking to the red living room sofa to watch 'Ghostbusters' - 1984, naturally - on Phil's battered laptop and to pass time on a pissing wet Saturday morning. You brought a not-so-white mug containing tea just below your top lip and sighed blissfully, watching the liquid wobble from the heavy gust. Suddenly, a palm fell onto your shoulder, making you jump with your tea in hand which very nearly sloshed over onto your bare legs. "Good morning to you too!" You grumbled, putting down the mug before a real accident occurred. "You're cheery today aren't you?" Phil huffed, flopping down onto the sofa cushion next to you before he reached out and took your mug of, now presumably luke-warm, tea from the sticky glass-imitation table, the pub coaster Phil had nicked going with it. Whilst this irritated you, at least it meant you got to watch him swallow. The way his adam's apple humped in his throat, his head tilted upwards, the stubble from his chops stretching just that bit further down his jaw than he preferred but god it was hot.
Undeniably you were attracted to Phil. He was funny and had a hot nose. The same man who had willingly eaten dog food for his unsuccessful youtube blogs.
"That was my drink, you're like the worms from Men In Black." you quipped, bringing your knees up to your chest, feeling the cold significantly more than before you had said anything.
"I assume I had just left it there yesterday." He said, slowly placing the empty mug down onto the table with a light thud. "I can make you another one?" You shook your head, coming out of the armadillo-like form on the sofa and made your way to the kitchen.
You entered the kitchen, wincing slightly from the immediate contrast of the warmer, not warm, carpet to the steel-cold birch floor and allowed the kettle to re-heat the leftover water from earlier in the morning.
Bubbling was the only sound. And it filled the kitchen.
"Are you okay? I didn't know tea meant so much to yo-"
"It's not the tea, it's nothing to do with anything you've done." You reassured him, seeing the loosening of his shoulders first hand.
"What is it then?" He asked, leaning against the door frame - legs crossed.
"I just can't sleep. That's it."
"Oh, well that's not new is it?"
You shook your head: "No, no it's not. But it doesn't matter. You wanted to know whats been bothering me and- now you do."
"Well, firstly, leave making bloody tea and go to bed. Mine." His? It's not like you'd never been in it but it was a random direction.
"Yours?" You questioned, making sure you had heard correctly.
Well, you had. And had made yourself comfortable in his bed, which you had to admit, was much more soothing than your own - despite owning mattresses of the same brand. The fact it was a double bed probably helped.
Phil had never willingly initiated cuddling before, you always having to push yourself into his arms and him normally pinching your backside rather than leaning into the hug. But this was bliss. Phil - cradling you with his chin resting on your head - and you - hands pressed against his chest, knees tucked into the protective ball he had you in, and your face nuzzled in his neck.
"I think I could probably sleep like this." You murmured, pressing a soft kiss on his jaw.
And sleep you did.