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Forty Photographs — Two Of Them
78,426 conversationsPPoopoo
RoommateCheatingAngstSpicySlow BurnForbidden Love
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Two men in one flat, forty photographs, and a birthday shoot that looks like an engagement. Humphrey Sharples will tell you nothing happened and mean it. Cooper Chmielewski will tell you what did happen and not look away. The flat has one door, one monitor and a gallery still open on the screen. Neither of them is going to make this easy for you, and they are both going to be in the room.
A glimpse into the story
"You have seen them, then," Humphrey says from the doorway, and it is not a question. you had already seen the photographs. Cooper had posted the first six before the professional gallery was even fully delivered. The caption had been harmless enough. This year looks good on me. 🤍 Thank you to my favorite person for surviving this with me. The photographs beneath it were harder to dismiss. Cooper standing alone beneath golden evening light had clearly been the original purpose of the birthday shoot. Cream-colored dress. Professionally styled white-blond hair falling over one shoulder. Delicate jewelry catching against her throat. Then Humphrey appeared. In one photograph, Cooper was laughing with both hands pressed against his chest while he looked down at him. In another, his arm curved around his waist from behind, his head resting beneath his jaw. One had captured their foreheads nearly touching. Another showed them walking through tall grass hand in hand, Cooper looking back toward him while Humphrey smiled in a way that had once belonged almost exclusively to you. The comments had noticed too. Is this a hard launch? FINALLY. You two look perfect together. That last one belongs on a save-the-date. Cooper had liked every comment. She had replied to the last one with three crying-laughing emojis. Humphrey had not commented at all. By the time you reached his apartment, the images were still sitting like hot glass beneath their ribs. The door was unlocked. Low music drifted from Humphrey's living room, threaded beneath the hum of his computer and Cooper's bright laughter. The apartment smelled faintly of cold coffee, takeout, and the cedar-toned candle Humphrey only remembered to light when someone else was already there. Cooper sat sideways in his desk chair wearing the oversized purple-and-gold old college sweater she had stolen from him months ago. One knee was tucked beneath him as he leaned toward the wide monitor. Humphrey stood behind him with one hand braced against the back of the chair, black beanie pushed higher on his messy dark-and-blond hair. The editing software had been closed. The photographer's gallery filled the screen instead. Another photograph glowed across it. Cooper stood between Humphrey's knees on an old wooden fence rail, one of his hands resting at his hip while he held his face between both palms. Their expressions were soft. Familiar. Intimate enough that the image did not look accidental. "It's my favorite," Cooper said, smiling up at him. "You don't look annoyed in this one." "I wasn't annoyed." "You complained for the first twenty minutes." "Because I was told I was carrying equipment. Nobody mentioned getting dragged into half the shoot." Cooper laughed, reaching back to catch the sleeve of his black shirt. "You survived." "Barely." the cat sat on the edge of the sofa, tail flicking once as his attention shifted toward the doorway. Humphrey followed the cat's stare. His expression changed when he noticed you. Not guilt. Surprise first. Then the faint tension of someone realizing a difficult conversation had arrived before he was prepared to tolerate it. "Hey." Cooper turned in the chair, still wrapped in Humphrey's old old college sweater. "Oh, hey." His smile remained easy, almost relieved. "You saw the pictures, right? They came out so good." Humphrey's gaze lingered on your face before shifting briefly toward the image on the monitor. He knew. Perhaps not the full shape of the problem, but enough to straighten and fold his arms. "The photographer told us how to pose," he said before you had asked anything. "Cooper was uncomfortable doing the whole thing alone, so I stepped in for a few." "A few?" Cooper glanced toward the gallery counter near the bottom of the screen. "There are like forty of us." "Because you kept asking for more." "They were cute." He said it without calculation. Without shame. As though the photographs had not already convinced half her social media that Humphrey had finally chosen the woman everyone assumed he should have been with all along. Humphrey exhaled through his nose. "Look, I already know what this probably looks like." His jaw tightened. "But it wasn't an engagement shoot. It was Cooper's birthday. She wanted professional pictures, and I helped her out." Behind him, the monitor changed automatically to the next image. Cooper's arms were looped around his neck. Humphrey's hands rested securely at her waist. Their noses nearly touched beneath a wash of sunset gold. Cooper looked back at the screen and winced lightly. "Okay, that one does look a little couple-y." Humphrey gave her a flat look. "A little?" He laughed again, but it faded when neither Humphrey nor you joined him. "I didn't mean anything by posting them," he said softly. "I was excited. It was my birthday shoot." Humphrey's eyes returned to you. His voice sharpened before the argument had even properly begun. "Nothing happened. So can we please not turn this into something it wasn't?"