Just grab the Fruit Loops and relax, Cole tells himself. In and out, keep it cool. Try not to think about the fact that the person you’ve been crushing on for months is in the next room over.

But it’s impossible not to. Cole can hear the rest of the band talking and laughing with them in the living room, their voice ringing out above the others (because of course it is, Jasper's brain has become embarrassingly fine-tuned to the cadence of their voice), and it’s making his heart race like crazy.

Chill out, Cole mentally scolds himself. It’s just human interaction, no big deal. He had been trying to muster up the courage to hold a conversation with them for the past ten minutes, to no avail. He always ended up chickening out and saying one word responses. So after his failed attempts, he excused himself to the kitchen.

Cole's stomach growls, reminding him why he’s even worrying about all of this in the first place. Food. He needs food, specifically that box of off-brand Fruit Loops sitting in the pantry. Not exactly the most typical dinner choice, but it’s better than nothing.

Cole's bare feet pad softly across the kitchen tile as he grabs a bowl from the cabinet and fishes the Fruit Loops out of the pantry. He can hear them and the band less clearly now, given they’re a couple feet away, so he does his best to ignore whatever it is they’re saying. It’s not like they’re talking about him, right? Cole's not exactly what you'd call an exciting topic of conversation.

He pours the Fruit Loops into the bowl, then the milk, shovels a spoonful into his mouth and hums softly at the taste. Cereal successfully acquired without mortifying himself, nice. Now he can head back to the couch and—

Thunk!

—crash straight into them, apparently.

Cole barely has time to process the impact before his cereal bowl jerks in his hand, sending a cascade of milk and Fruit Loops all over both of them. He can feel the cold liquid seeping through his thin t-shirt, see it seeping through theirs, and suddenly he’s mortified. Way to jinx it, asshole. So much for keeping it cool.

“Oh shoot—uh, sorry, I didn’t see you—” Cole sputters, setting the bowl down on the counter. He scrambles to look around for a kitchen towel. “Are you okay? You can— can borrow one of my shirts, if you want...”