by Laura Stone
He wanted to tell Seth to stop, to stay, that he loved him still. What he said instead was, “Were you just going to leave? Just like that?”
Seth stopped buckling his boot and turned to face Oliver, taking one of his hands. “No, no. I… No. I wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye, of course not.”
Not once had Oliver thought that if he did see Seth, if he did talk with Seth—let alone have what they’d shared last night—there would ever be a goodbye between them, ever again. It was probably stupid of him, but it didn’t change the fact that goodbye was the last thing he wanted as the result of their having come together again. He had thought—perhaps foolishly—that this was a sort of beginning.
“Can’t we talk about—Seth, come on!” He ran his other hand through his hair, trying to calm himself, trying to slow his breathing and not think about Seth hurrying to put his clothes on and get out of here as though it was some kind of goddamn walk of shame.
“I just don’t know how to process all of this.” Seth pressed a hand to Oliver’s shoulder, but before Oliver could catch it and hold it there, Seth motioned to himself and the moment had passed.
“God, and you think I do?” Oliver didn’t want to process it. He wanted to feel it. He wanted to share the love and joy that had been building inside him again. And he never wanted it to be for anyone but Seth. That was what he wanted to talk about: How were they going to make this work?
He flopped backwards onto the mattress and buried his hands in his hair. It had been so amazing, just hours before; what the hell went wrong? “We always talked things through, Seth, always.”
“Not always,” Seth said softly, running the backs of his fingers along Oliver’s leg.
Oliver sat back up and took Seth’s hand in his. That seemed better; that seemed as though Seth wasn’t going to disappear on him. If Seth let him hold his hand, he might let Oliver hold onto all of him. Oliver, so afraid that he’d see regret, couldn’t look into Seth’s face just yet; so he looked at their hands and willed himself not to beg, not to frighten Seth with the desperation that was about to swallow him whole. He forced himself to say, “Will you let me get dressed so we can go get some coffee, something to eat, and then we can talk?”
Seth squeezed his hand. “Yes.”
He looked up, then. There was sadness in Seth’s eyes, but he still gave Oliver a smile. At least Oliver had managed that much.
* * *
Oliver got dressed as quickly as he could and sent a silent prayer of thanks to the preppy clothiers of the world for using similar neutral color palettes and ensuring that most things he’d brought would coordinate with everything else. He didn’t want to waste time. He also didn’t want to look sloppy; if he looked pulled together on the outside, maybe it would hide that he was falling apart inside.
Seth used the spare toothbrush from the minibar. Oliver didn’t think sharing was an option anymore. He didn’t know why it hurt so much to look down at his toothbrush and see another one in the trashcan, but it did.
They stood awkwardly, shoulder to shoulder, as they waited for the elevator; Oliver’s mind raced with all the things he wanted to say, to ask.
Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you again? Are you just scared? How can I fix this?
Seth seemed to be struggling internally as well, starting to speak but then snapping his mouth shut and biting his lip.
There was a coffee shop on every corner in New York, it seemed, so they walked into the first one (“New York’s Best Coffee!”). Oliver asked Seth if he’d like anything from the case and quickly placed their order. Silently, they carried their mugs and pastries to a quiet table in the corner near the front window.
Oliver took a napkin from the small stack he’d brought to the table and handed it to Seth, just as Seth was doing the same for him. They both smiled sheepishly and looked back at their plates. Oliver didn’t know how to begin. Seth tore off small bites of his croissant and stared intently at his plate, as if it had the answers and could explain all of this.
Man up. Oliver sighed softly, pushing his plate to the side.
“I… don’t… regret last night at all,” Oliver started nervously, worrying the napkin in his lap. “I’m getting the idea that you do? I…” He searched Seth’s face, looking for any clue. Seth just looked nervous. Well, and a little sad. “Seth, you have to tell me what you’re thinking.”
Seth held his mug in both hands and slid it to the middle of the table. It was a familiar gesture that tugged at Oliver’s heart, recalling days of homework after school, stolen kisses by the coat rack, shared brownies from the display case at their favorite café. He had watched Seth hold his mug just as he did now when he told Seth that he loved him for the first time. Oliver wanted to wrap his hands around Seth’s and hold those memories, make this the moment when they decided to be together again. He wanted to hear a happy, “We’ll make it work.”
“I’m thinking,” Seth began, and then sighed. “I’m thinking that I’m freaking out a little.” He looked up at Oliver with a watery smile. “I think this is all surreal. Oliver, I haven’t seen you since—well.” Seth sighed out a long exhalation and said, “Are you going to tell me that over the years you didn’t wonder what it would be like? If we saw each other again? What we would feel?”
Oliver gave in to his urge and cupped Seth’s hands, his eyes closing briefly at the warmth. “Of course. Seth, of course I did. That’s all I did for months after you left.”
Seth looked out the window and bit his lip. He turned back to face Oliver, who felt gutted when he saw tears in Seth’s eyes. He looked anxious and confused, exactly how Oliver was feeling.
Seth looked at their twined hands, pulled one away and rested it on top of Oliver’s, stroking across his knuckles. “And did you think about what I would do? Would feel? Did you ever think about what would come after?”
Oliver swallowed thickly and tried to find his voice. He felt as if he was drowning in all the unshed tears that clogged his throat. “I… I hoped that after I groveled at your feet and asked for you to take me back, you would. And then you’d say that you felt the way I did. Do.”
Seth cocked his head, his mouth open in apparent shock. Oliver watched his Adam’s apple bob as Seth swallowed nervously before asking softly, “And what is that? After all these years… what do you think you feel?”
At the bewilderment in Seth’s voice, Oliver felt about three feet tall, totally stupid and naïve. He really hadn’t thought about what he would do if this went wrong; truthfully, he hadn’t looked further than the moment. But he was sure that the love he still felt for Seth was something Seth must still feel for him as well. Something like what they had shared didn’t just go away—at least, not for Oliver. He believed that everything he felt about Seth was completely and utterly true.
“That I still love you. That I never stopped.”
Choking off a noise, Seth turned his head away. He pulled his hands back to bring them to his eyes, the heels pressing into the sockets. “Oliver, how can you say that? I’m not the same person.”
Seth dropped his hands to his lap and looked so totally wrecked that it was hard for Oliver to not jump to his feet and pull Seth into a bone-crushing hug, kiss him fiercely and tell him that it didn’t matter that time had passed: Seth was still Seth. He was still funny and clever and sharp and so goddamned talented and true to himself, it was breathtaking. Oliver had learned more about how to be himself and own who he was from simply being near him, his presence—his drive, his passion, his determination—was that strong.
Back then, Oliver had been a stupid kid trying to hold it together, trying to please everyone from his homophobic father to his teachers, coaches and peers. But Seth had shown up with a black eye and a flinch from being bullied out of public school, still strong and defiant, and managed to crack through the facade of perfection that Oliver Andrews had been hiding behind all his life. Oliver had realized at sixteen that Seth Larsen was an immense personality, destin
ed for greatness. He was also someone with whom Oliver wanted to spend every moment of the rest of his life: a person who challenged him, who was his friend, who made him want to drop all pretense of having it together and actually be someone who had it together—someone worthy of him.
And… God, that was how he’d felt as a teenager. Now? Looking at Seth and who he’d become—was still becoming—made him want to stretch himself again, try new things, be new things, try harder. He was only just starting to realize just how mechanically he’d been moving through life since Seth had left. Sure, he’d accomplished some good goals, but… it was as if the flavor had gone out of life. As if he’d stepped back into the farmhouse where it was all black and white.
He thought of blurting all of that out and making an ass of himself; instead, he took a shuddering breath and tried to keep his features calm as he exhaled and glanced out the window for just a moment’s reprieve from the sadness in Seth’s eyes.
He swallowed and said fiercely, “No, you’re right. You’re not the same person. You’re even more.”
“How can you say—” Seth hung his head but took one of Oliver’s hands in both of his. Oliver’s heartbeat matched the back and forth motion of Seth’s thumb over his knuckles.“How do you always say these things that just cut straight—”
“I’m saying what’s true. Seth, ever since I saw you on that stupid talk show—”
Seth looked up in surprise.
“And heard you—you, your voice, you singing—I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you.
“I can’t stop replaying that awful night. I—Seth, I can’t stop remembering what we were.”
He just needed Seth to understand. He made himself breathe before continuing. “I had every intention of leaving you alone, of not even interrupting your life when I came, I promise. But once we started talking… Seth, you were my best friend.”
Seth whispered, “You were mine, too.”
“You still are. Even if that’s all I can have?” Oliver leaned forward and held Seth’s hands tightly between his. “Seth, even if all I can have is your friendship, I would do anything to have that back. Anything. And if you felt that you could give me more…” Oliver tilted his head back and leaned away, trying to appear less aggressive. “I don’t mean to pressure you. I just want you to know how I feel.”
They sat quietly, Oliver searching Seth’s face as Seth thought, took time, whatever it was that he needed to do for himself. Seth patted Oliver’s hand and crossed his arms across his chest as if he needed to protect his heart physically.
He continued to stare out the window, biting his lip. Without turning to look at Oliver, he quietly asked, “What did you see happening between us? Today?”
Oliver blinked and looked down at his empty hands. “I have no idea. I just wanted to wake up and know you were there with me.”
“Oliver,” Seth sighed, looking so sad and confused and lonely that Oliver just hurt all the more.
“I don’t know! I thought we could spend the day together. I thought we could have one last dinner before I have to go back to Kansas. I wanted to hold you, one more time. And… I thought about picking you up at the airport when you come home for Christmas. I could even borrow my parents’ car.” Oliver gave Seth a lopsided grin.
Seth smiled fondly. “Seat warmers.”
Oliver laughed a little. He knuckled at the pressure building behind his eyes and looked out the window, aching when he noticed Seth’s reflection in the glass, watching him. Window-Seth was undefined; Oliver couldn’t see anything in his eyes, just people passing by on the street outside. He turned to look at the real thing, wanting to be lost in Seth’s eyes again like he was last night, to see Seth for all that he was now, to learn who he was becoming. He wanted them to have that together, for it to stop being a mirage he couldn’t help but long for and become real.
“I thought we could spend New Year’s Eve together,” Oliver said. Trying to keep his voice from breaking, he continued. “I thought we could spend all of them together, like we were supposed to.”
“Oh… Oliver.” Seth’s eyes closed, his hand clutching at his shirt just above his heart.
Oliver couldn’t stomach the idea that he might be hurting Seth all over again. He wouldn’t. He wanted to do the opposite: prove that they were meant to be together. They were supposed to be the ones who actually got the happily ever after. They belonged together.
He wanted to make Seth hear him, to find just the right thing to say to make everything right again. “I thought you would love to come see me in England. How you’d love to see Buckingham Palace, and maybe you would come for graduation—”
“England, Oliver, you’re in England.” Seth rubbed at his face with one hand. “Instead of a noisy, crowded train for a few hours, we have an actual, literal ocean between us.”
Seth sounded so tired. Oliver just wanted to rewind life back to them getting out of the shower, holding each other, whatever moment would reverse this current heartache.
“But I’m not always going to be there. Seth, I graduate in just months. Months. Seth, listen to me.” Oliver was on the edge of his wooden chair, practically sliding around the table in his need to be as close to Seth he could get. He laid his hand on Seth’s knee and sighed with relief when Seth let him leave it there.
“Can’t you wait just a few months? I’m talking about us finally having a forever in exchange for just a few months. I still love you. I know you still care about me.”
Seth looked up, looked right into him. Even though his gaze was tinged with hurt, Oliver could still see that Seth did care. And that it was still painful for him.
“Of course I do, Oliver. Of course I still care about you. It wouldn’t hurt if I didn’t.”
“What? What wouldn’t hurt?” The tiny glimmer of hope that was trying to stay alight in the darkness flickered, in danger of being put out.
“This. Not knowing what to do. Oliver…” Seth leaned back in his chair, eyes to the ceiling, blinking rapidly. “Babe, I don’t know what to do here. You say you still love me, but you’re going back to England. I’m here. You said the other night that you might stay in England for your doctorate, don’t think I wasn’t paying attention.”
“No, I mean—it’s not set in—”
Seth plowed ahead. “And how long is that? Six more years? And that’s an ideal time frame, right? Six years?”
Seth seemed to be waiting for him to confirm this. Oliver nodded shallowly; Seth blew out a breath of frustration, his fingers tapping the side of his mug. “I can’t believe this is happening again,” he laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“I don’t know that I’m going to stay in England after this spring.” Oliver flashed on an email his advisor had sent him earlier. “I’m supposed to discuss all of this when I get back. Seth, please. Please give me a chance, here.”
“A chance for what, exactly?” Seth leaned forward, earnest and hurt and open, and Oliver just wanted to make all of the hurt go away.
“A chance for us to be together like we were supposed to be. I want you in my life, Seth.”
Seth dropped his head, shaking it a little. “That’s… all I wanted. Oliver,” He looked up and took Oliver’s hand again. “That’s all I wanted then. But I can’t leave New York. This is where I belong. I can’t be me anywhere else.”
“I know. But I can be me when I’m with you.”
Seth shook his head, but the tiniest of smiles was starting to bloom. Oliver thought he might be able to breathe again.
“This would be so much easier if you weren’t so damn romantic,” Seth said quietly.
They sat together in silence as Oliver caught his breath, trying to take in the possibilities. He hadn’t been sure, on the way here, what his future could hold; now he knew he was looking at it. He had to make this work. He simply needed Seth in his life; fortunately, his future happened to be more portable than Seth’s.
“You’re going to have to give me time, Oliver.
I… just you being here is going to take time for me to get used to. I’ve seen you for days now, and I still don’t believe you’re actually here.”
“Okay.” Give Seth time in exchange for a chance? Oliver was willing to make that deal without question.
“I can’t believe I’m even having a conversation about any of this with you. That this isn’t some crazed fever-dream.” Seth groaned and covered his face with both hands. “I woke up no more than two hours ago and I’m already exhausted.”
Oliver smiled, “Well, we can always go back to—”
“Oliver.” Seth cut him off quickly. “I’m not kidding; I need some time to deal with all of this.”
Oliver nodded. “Sorry. I was just trying to—”
“I know,” Seth said, cutting him off again, but not unkindly. He went back to tearing what was left of his croissant into smaller and smaller pieces.
After a moment Oliver asked, “Are you going home for Christmas?”
Seth smiled then, with real warmth and relief. “Yes. I get in early on Christmas Eve and get to stay through the first. A whole week for my understudy to have fun with half-filled theaters.”
“Will you let me see you then?” Oliver didn’t want to sound plaintive; he just wanted to put the option out there for Seth to think about.
Seth exhaled, his “Yes” carried along with his breath. “I think I should go now, though.”
It hurt, but Oliver knew Seth needed this. He had promised to give Seth time, after all. He moved to stand up, but Seth shook his head and walked over to where he was sitting. He kissed Oliver’s mouth briefly, and then pressed a sweeter kiss to Oliver’s temple, lingering. Oliver clutched at his arms. He was not ready to let Seth go yet.
Standing up and breathing deeply, Seth cupped Oliver’s face and smiled. “I’ll call you, okay?”
