Life gets busy all of a sudden. Dress rehearsals take up every inch of my day and ounce of energy I have in my body, and with Ledger and Everett's upcoming move and my debut show, I barely have a chance to breathe.

My colleagues in Les Mis are some of the best I've ever worked with, and it's nice to meet new people, to have so many distractions from my painful occupation of loving my unattainable best friend.

But best of all, in amongst all this new in my life, is the comfort of the old. The routine.

"And then she said that I had two weeks to come up with the pitch. Two weeks? Two fucking weeks? She must be mad." Ledger spits, his long legs pacing up and down the kitchen.

I clasp my hands together on my lap, glancing around one last time. This time next week, Ledger and Everett will be settled somewhere else, and I'll never get to experience the charm of this little flat ever again.

I eye the suspicious substance growing in the top left corner of the ceiling. Charm is one word for it, and I can't help but feel a little relieved that this will be the last I experience of it. I still don't know what that is on the ceiling, and I don't want to know.

"Fuck, the daft cow drives me insane." Ledger hisses, coming to an alarmingly sharp stop in front of a cupboard.

I watch, concerned, as he slams a mug down onto the counter, wincing at the sharp snap of porcelain being mistreated.

He flicks on the kettle, his movements strangely elegant in the midst of his rage.

"I didn't even tell you the best part, did I?" He says, fishing out the instant coffee.

A terrible dread creeps upon me at the sight of it. Oh no, not this again.

He grabs a tablespoon, digging it into the pot and depositing a spoonful into the mug.

"She wants it to be diverse. Are you shitting me? What a tosser. And decode for me, I beg you. What the hell sort of bull is this woman spouting? I'm supposed to be the artist? And since when was I not diverse? What does that even mean?" He growls.

My lips purse together as I watch the spoon dig into the instant coffee jar again and again. With every spoonful of coffee deposited into Ledger's mug, the more disconcerted I become.

"I think that's enough coffee, Ledger." I say quietly.

He laughs bitterly, not hearing me.

"I'll give her diverse." He mutters darkly, snatching the kettle from its stand.

His pouring leaves a lot to be desired, more water going on the counter than in his mug. I'd be surprised if he has even a third of a coffee in his cup. But this doesn't deter him, and I watch in abject horror as Ledger chugs the whole thing down without even a seconds consideration.

He sets the mug down and sighs.

Something about what I just witnessed seems to settle Ledger, and when he glances over, he appears to be more level.

"Sorry, Grey. Did you want one?" He asks, gesturing to his mug.

I survey the counter, soiled with searing water and small piles of instant coffee that blessedly missed Ledger's mug.

"I'm good, thanks." I say blandly.

Ledger nods to himself thoughtfully, his expression changing like lightning as he suddenly straightens up.

"How was your date last night?" He asks, his eyes wide and demanding.

I shift in my spot, glancing away.

In a moment of weakness, Ledger had convinced me to download a dating app. His incredible satisfaction with his own love life has had an alarming effect on my own, in that he insists I have one too.

If I thought pining after my unattainable brother's boyfriend was bad, then online dating is truly dire. Endless scrolling, swiping and judging, trying to decode something that was never meant to happen virtually and subsequently does not translate well in the online world. It's a nightmare.

"It was good." I say lightly.

Ledger's eyes narrow.

"No, it wasn't." He says.

I shift again, glancing at my hands this time.

He's right, it was terrible.

If they weren't talking about themselves, then they were flirting with such suggestively charged innuendo that by the end of the date all I wanted was to run far, far away.

I hate online dating.

I hate having to start from scratch with every single person, I hate having to explain that I need an emotional connection, that I'm not interested in casual anything. I hate that, despite being tired to the bone, I still have to exert energy on bad dates.

And most of all, I hate that I can't pursue what I feel. I hate that I'm jealous of my brother and so desperate that I have sunk to new lows of seeking romantic attention.

"I think we wanted different things." I say gently and Ledger nods, a deep concern on his face.

"I don't think online dating is for me." I add with a resigned sigh and Ledger nods, a strange understanding in his expression.

He comes to sit beside me, leaning his head against my shoulder.

"There's nothing wrong with you, you know. How you feel is how you feel." He says and I turn to look at him.

"What?" I ask and he points to the pin on my jacket.

"Demisexual, right?" He says and I feel surprise paint my expression. Nobody ever comments on the inconspicuous pin on my lapel, let alone recognises it.

"Yeah." I breathe.

"I don't really understand, but I know what it is. It sounds...hard." He says slowly and I smile.

Being demisexual is something that I had realised thanks to Amyas. In a lot of ways, we're very similar, in that I am just as touch repulsed when it comes to casual sexual encounters as he is. I'm not ace though, I've felt attraction in the past. So when Amyas suggested that I was demi, it's like I was seeing myself clearly for the first time. Emotional connections have always been important to me, so it made sense that I'd need one to feel physical attraction.

"It can be. And in other ways, when it's right, it's unbelievably easy." I say slowly, watching his face transform.

"You say the prettiest things sometimes, Grey." He muses and I laugh.

"I don't mean to."

"I know, that makes it even prettier." He says.

I sigh, turning away from his gleaming eyes that seem to promise so much.

"I don't ever want you to feel lonely. You deserve the world." Ledger says quietly and I smile, closing my eyes.

"You said that I deserved a sock in my mouth yesterday." I argue and he laughs.

"Yeah, and I meant it. Look, even when we fight," He says, but I immediately protest.

"We never fight."

"Yes we do, all the time." He refutes.

"No, those aren't fights." I say.

"We're fighting right now." He points out and I shake my head, smiling indulgently.

"No, this is just a disagreement." I say and he huffs.

"Fine. Even when we disagree, I always know how amazing you are, and how much you deserve. Even when you do your best to make me forget." He says and I look up, wondering what the hell he means.

"What?" I ask.

Ledger rolls his eyes tiresomely.

"When you smile at strangers, give to charity and are so sickeningly nice that it makes me want to throw myself out the window." He elaborates and I laugh.

"Right." I say.

"You'll find someone who sees you, all of you, and when they do they won't be able to see anything else." Ledger says, his voice so full of ancient assurance that I believe him. I feel hopeful, despite it all.

"Thanks Heathcliff." I say, my heart warm.

"Anytime."