We would rather be ruined than changed

Neil wakes in the quiet, gray hours of the morning, curled against Guy's chest, breathing peacefully. Guy sprawls in the familiarity of his bed, and Neil finds himself in that same anxious spiral surrounded by the disarray of his bedroom. He manages to lay there for about two minutes before he slowly extracts himself from the tangle of sheets and limbs that made up their slumber.

In the night, he'd promised eggs. He can still hold true to that, at least. Not much else, but he can do eggs. So Neil unwinds himself carefully, trying not to wake Guy. He finds his briefs and his trousers, pulling those on, but can't find his shirt in the moment.

He'll find it later.

The apartment is just as organized as he'd noted when they first stumbled back. His bag and shoes are still by the door. He stands, for a moment, just outside of Guy's room and waits for his nerves to calm. Closes his eyes and merely breathes for a second. He's never done this before, though he's been on the other side, making breakfast in his own apartment for a boy that stayed over. He can be gracious to his host.