Luca shoved his hands in his pockets as he reached the front door. No key fumbling, no hesitation. He pushed it open like it still belonged to him.
The place was quiet, but not cold. Dim light from the kitchen spilled into the hallway, and the faint scent of rosemary and old wood clung to the air.
He spotted the wine on the counter, half-open. Chips in a bowl, still crisp. No note. No warning.
He didn't ask.
He kicked off his shoes, dropped his bag by the stool, and reached straight for the chips, munching like it was his personal welcome gift.
He reached for another chip, barely chewing, when a shadow shifted near the hallway. He froze, hand halfway to the wine glass.
A voice cut through the silence.
"Well, that didn't take long."
Luca turned, startled. "Mr. Jeff?"
The man stood near the archway, sleeves rolled, tablet in hand, looking mildly amused.
Luca blinked. "Did my dad kick me out just to replace me with you? Don't tell me you live here now."
Mr. Jeff chuckled, walking into the kitchen like he owned it now. "Relax. I don't live here. Your dad asked me to manage the place while it's empty."
"Empty?" Luca frowned. "What does that even mean? I have a key. My stuff's still in my room."
Luca leaned back with the wine glass, letting the silence sit. "So… I'm not welcome here anymore or what's that even mean?."
Jeff didn't answer right away. He walked over to the counter, placing the tablet down with a soft tap. "Luca, it's not about being welcome."
Luca scoffed. "Right. It's about Dad needing a house sitter because his own son is apparently a problem."
Jeff gave a tight sigh. "He asked me to handle the place because he wants you to focus on school. Not parties. Not vanishing for days. Campus is where you're supposed to be now."
"So he did kick me out."
Jeff met his eyes. "He gave you space to grow up. That's not the same."
"Sounds like the same to me."
Jeff's tone flattened. "Look, I'm just doing what he asked. You're not supposed to be here. If you need something, I won't stop you. But staying overnight? That's off the table."
Luca set the glass down, chips untouched now. "Unreal. My name's still on the bedroom door."
Jeff didn't move. "Doesn't mean the door's still open."
A bitter laugh slipped from Luca's lips. "Wow. So that's where we're at."
Jeff smirked. " I'm just making sure the house doesn't turn into one of your party scenes that's it."
Luca huffed a laugh and sank onto the armrest of the couch, popping another chip into his mouth. "then I'm not welcome here anymore."
"It's not about that." Jeff said.
"Oh, come on," Luca muttered, "my own dad kicked me off my bed and hired you to guard the fridge."
Jeff looked over his shoulder, amused. "You make it sound like I'm the villain in your story."
Luca grinned despite himself. "You're not. You're just the messenger."
A beat passed. Jeff sat down across from him, relaxed. "So… why are you here, really?"
Luca avoided eye contact, focused too long on the wine glass in his hand.
Jeff tilted his head. "Did you run or what?"
"No, I just…" Luca paused, the words sticking.
Jeff gave him that knowing look — the one that came from years of cleaning up after Luca's impulsive messes. "Don't tell me you had a fight with your roommate."
Luca sighed through his nose.
Jeff leaned back with a grin. "Knew it."
"How did you know?" Luca asked, narrowing his eyes.
"I mean… who can endure your habit?" Jeff deadpanned.
"That's an insult."
"Not an insult," Jeff said, laughing now. "A fact."
Luca pulled a cushion into his lap, muttering, "He's mad because I messed the room a little."
Jeff raised an eyebrow. "A little?"
"I mean…" Luca tried, trailing off.
Jeff chuckled. "Someone like you, and you're calling it 'a little'? "Knowing you, the floor's buried under a fashion apocalypse."
Luca cracked a smile, despite himself. "Okay, maybe a bit messy."
Jeff shook his head, but his tone stayed light. "You always think the storm follows everyone else — not the guy throwing clothes everywhere."
Luca looked away for a moment, quieter now. "I was just… tired."
Jeff didn't push further. He let the moment sit, comfortable.
Luca slouched deeper into the couch, swirling the wine in his glass like it held answers. "I didn't say I wouldn't clean it up," he muttered. "He's just… overreacting."
Jeff leaned forward, clasping his hands. "Luca."
Luca didn't look up.
Jeff waited a second longer, then said more firmly, "If you mess something, you clean it up. That's not about the room — it's about who you're becoming."
Luca let out a soft sigh and sat up, resting the glass on the table.
"I get it, okay. It's just… everything I do, he acts like I'm the worst person to exist."
"Or maybe," Jeff replied, "he acts like someone who wasn't raised to live around chaos."
Luca rolled his eyes but didn't argue.
Jeff gave him a gentler look. "It's not just your room, Luca. You're not in some penthouse where everything revolves around you. "Shared space means shared respect. It's not complicated."
"You sound like my dad."
"I doubt it," Jeff said with a light smile. "Your dad would've thrown a lecture at you. I'm just talking."
Luca tapped his fingers against his knee. "It's not like I meant to leave it messy. I just got caught up and left in a rush."
"Sure. But being responsible isn't about what you meant — it's about what you do after." Jeff's voice stayed calm, but steady. "College is a test in a lot of ways, Luca. Not just in class."
Luca looked at him now, his face still guarded but not defiant.
"You've got charm, brains, freedom," Jeff continued, "but those things mean nothing if you don't learn how to be accountable.
You think that roommate's annoying now — wait until life throws you someone who doesn't even bother talking to you when they're mad."
A pause. Luca's throat bobbed slightly. "He gave me the mop."
Jeff chuckled. "And you? What, held it like a sword?"
Luca cracked a reluctant smile. "Something like that."
Jeff stood, patting him on the shoulder. "Go back, Luca. Clean up your mess. Talk to him like a man. You're not a kid anymore."
Luca looked at the floor a moment. Then slowly nodded.
Luca stood, brushing chip crumbs from his jeans. "Alright.
But if he throws the mop at me again…" He glanced at Jeff, a half-smile forming. "You better answer."
Jeff nodded once, the kind of nod that said I always do. "Count on it."