The Bones of You

by Laura Stone

  From: Oliver Andrews

  Subject: AWESOME!

  OMG, I don’t know where to start. Wait, let’s start with the travel, that way you can book that while you read. Does it work like that? I don’t know. Anyway. Yes to those dates, that’s fantastic. As long as you’re not going to extra trouble by leaving from the show, I want you to be comfortable, okay?

  Getting in at 6 isn’t a problem for me. I can meet you at the airport and we’ll take the train back. It’s not a long train ride. We’ll have to go to King’s Cross—just like Harry Potter. :) And ha! I’ll prove to you that I know how to use trains! Unexpected benefit.

  Tell Jonathan that while I don’t think it’s very professional of him, I can overlook that in this particular situation. I don’t think you’ll have to worry too much. There’s no way this David guy is half as charismatic as you are, Seth. I’d bet my diploma on it.

  Babysit you? I think the word you were looking for was “entertain.” I plan on making sure you have a great week. It’s not a burden! You’re never a burden. (That kind of hurts, to think you don’t know that about me?)

  Oh, and yes: you can have coffee. If anything, you can have it in my apartment. There are lots of coffee shops in town, and Janos took me to a Hungarian café not too long ago, and let me just say that there is nothing like their coffee. Oh. Do not call it Turkish. Seriously. Even though that’s exactly what it is. Really. I can’t stress that enough.

  Send me a copy of your itinerary when you get one, please. These next few weeks are going to positively drag.

  Yay from me, too!

  Love you! We’re going to have so much fun!

  XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

  ~Oliver

  March 6, 2019 11:29 AM EST

  To: Oliver Andrews

  From: Seth Larsen

  Subject: Platform 9 3/4?

  I’ll be sure to keep my eyes peeled for any exuberant ginger children when we’re at King’s Cross. Are we really going there? Oh my God. Is there really a Diagon Alley? Don’t answer. I’m embarrassed that I even asked.

  I don’t ever think anything bad of you, Oliver. How could I? You’re Mary Poppins: practically perfect in every way. That was self-deprecation, silly. <3

  I attached my itinerary, btw. Dough-Face tried to get under my skin last night by bragging about all of the extra rehearsal time he and David are logging. Hilarious! I just smiled back at him, serenely, and that drove him nuts.

  It’s starting to thaw here. Which means it’s raining. Well, the streets will be clean for a while? I’m just waiting for it to be sunny for a few days in a row. I’m looking forward to wearing my new suede ankle boots. Butterscotch, monk strap—trés chic!

  XOX

  S

  p.s. If I forget about the Turkish thing, is your roommate going to want to fight me? Oh my God, the only drama that should ever exist about coffee is to panic when there is none.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Over the next few weeks, Oliver made a point of emailing Seth positive reviews for his show to keep his spirits up. He was sure that this recasting stint was a calculated move on the part of the show-runners to take care of the David Issue (as he thought of it) by basing their ultimate decision on the public’s reaction to the two leads.

  Walking to the lab became more than getting from Point A to Point B; he took pictures of things he loved, of shops or cafés he thought Seth would find interesting. He began smiling at couples he passed, thrilling at the idea that soon he would have Seth here with him, and that there was a chance they would walk hand in hand down the street, too.

  Slowly he began looking up at the world, looking at his life instead of just living hyper-focused on the moment. There was something exciting to look forward to, something more than just work or a degree. He threw himself into research as they neared the final stages before everything needed to be presented in his thesis. The original plan had been to spend the Easter break focusing solely on that, but Seth’s visit had changed his plans. He couldn’t have been more delighted.

  The two weeks before Seth’s arrival were spent looking over his apartment with a critical eye; there wasn’t much he could do to make it look like anything but student housing beyond keeping his things immaculate—emphasis on his things. He’d fought with Janos for the better part of four months about not leaving his things in piles all over the house; it was as though he stood in the doorway and everything just fell away from him and into piles.

  He really wanted Seth to be comfortable during his stay. Moira had promised that she wouldn’t show up uninvited (she and Janos had cooled off to a sort of friends-with-benefits situation), and the weather was slowly getting warmer.

  Oliver looked down at his bed, his hands on his hips. “Definitely need new sheets. And a couple of extra pillows.” He would not repaint the walls. That was ridiculous. Possibly.

  * * *

  “When is your friend coming?” Janos asked for what had to be the tenth time.

  Oliver sighed quietly and said, “In a week.”

  “Good. That is when I will be finished with open trials, so I will not be so tired when he is here.” He crossed his arms and stared down at Oliver, who sat on the sofa. “I do not want to be awoken at night by… activities.”

  Oliver wanted to say, “Like you’ve done to me for the past year?” What he did say was, “Janos, I’ve told you countless times that he’s just my friend.” Oliver mentally crossed his fingers behind his back for the white lie. His current standing with Seth was no one’s business but theirs. More important was the object lesson Janos needed to learn. “What did I tell you? That just because I’m gay…” He waited for his roommate to finish the sentence.

  “Igen, this does not mean that all men are to your sexual liking, I know, I know this thing.”

  “Good.” Oliver crossed his legs, turning a page in his binder and said coolly, “And if we did have ‘activities,’ we would be courteous enough to keep the noise down so you wouldn’t be traumatized by anything you did hear, regardless.”

  The look on Janos’s face was totally worth it. He fought the smile off his face and waited for Janos to leave before laughing.

  * * *

  Moira to Oliver: Are you going daft yet?

  Oliver to Moira: Why are you IMing me when you are three computers over?

  Moira to Oliver: Because I’m an excellent multitasker. If I stand and talk to you then I can’t verra well input data at the same time, now can I?

  Oliver to Moira: …

  Moira to Oliver: I bet you’re going mad. Five more days! I can’t wait to see this Seth of yours.

  Oliver to Moira: You promised that you’d give us 24 hours without interruption!

  Moira to Oliver: And I’m a woman of me word. I can look without interrupting, can’t I?

  Oliver to Moira: I—WHAT?

  Moira to Oliver: Ha. You’re so easy to rile. I love it. Struth, I’ll miss you next year.

  Moira to Oliver: and I can see ya smiling at the screen, so don’t try to lie and say you don’t feel the same

  Oliver to Moira: Yeah, yeah, I’ll miss you, too.

  Moira to Oliver: You’ll be going to New York of course.

  Oliver to Moira: I’m pretty sure. The acceptance letter just came for Silver. :)

  Moira to Oliver: Go on with ye! Congrats on that! Well done, mate.

  Oliver to Moira: I was also accepted here.

  Moira to Oliver: Pfft. And?

  Oliver to Moira: And nothing, it’s nice to have options, is all.

  Moira to Oliver: I’m going to break my multitasking rule now.

  Moira shoved away from her station and stormed over to Oliver. “I don’t even know this Seth, but I can tell you this: You tell him you want to have an option, and he’ll gut you stem to stern. I’d bet my eye teeth on it.” She poked him once, hard, in the chest. “And if he won’t do it, I will.”

  Oliver looked back at her, terrified. She might be wee—an entire foot shorter than he—bu
t she was fierce. “I’m not planning on it! Ow, by the way.” He rubbed the center of his chest where she’d poked him. “But I can tell my children that I turned down Cambridge. Not many people get to say that.”

  She rolled her eyes, pulled a task chair over and sat on it backwards. “Sure they do; they’re just liars. Now,” her eyes glittered, “tell me what you plan to do with your man and be sure to tell me every filthy detail! And how soon can I size him up?”

  Oliver laughed as he saved his document in order to give her his full attention. “Well, some sightseeing when he gets here—I want to keep him up for the day so he can get over his jet lag. And you can see him on Tuesday. We’ll meet up at the pub?”

  “All right, then.” She waggled her eyebrows at him and said, “I’ll be looking to see who’s walking funny.”

  “Moira!” Seriously, why the hell was he friends with her?

  “You knew I was a foul-mouthed besom the day you met me, and you love it, you stuffy old owl. Christ, from the sound of it, the way you two make love must be giving each other intense manicures: lots of deep, passionate nail buffing across a table. Do you need to me to explain how it works? The whole bees and the bees talk?”

  He scrubbed at his face before turning back to his workstation. A part of him was looking forward to Seth putting her in her place if she talked like that to him. Oliver smiled as he dove back into his work. Mostly he was just looking forward to Seth being here, period.

  Mar 29, 3:17 PM GMT

  To: Oliver Andrews

  From: Mitchell Lan, PhD

  Subject: The future of TMMaT

  Oliver,

  I know that you and your partner Moira have been working diligently on your research, and I have to say that the rough drafts you’ve shown me of your final thesis have gotten me very excited; and not just me, but others on the Board.

  As you know, with the recent spike in news reports about LGBT bullying here in the UK, public interest has turned to try to understand what is happening. Projects like TMMaT can provide concrete data to help influence and educate public opinion.

  I have a proposal for you. As you may have heard, I’m going on leave next year, and Dr. Callais has been lured to the Education department, which means the CSJ is going to be seriously understaffed. I did some checking and see that you’ve applied for the doctoral programme. I presented an opportunity to the Board, and they’ve agreed to it.

  If you’ll head the TMMaT programme in my stead—now fully funded by private enterprise, a huge coup for the department—the work you do will apply to your doctorate. You’ll be provided with housing and an income. I don’t have to tell you what a feather in your cap this is, I’m sure.

  Please let me know your decision as soon as possible. I look forward to hearing from you!

  Sincerely,

  Dr. Mitchell Lan

  Director of Social Justice and Social Psychology, Cambridge, UK

  Oliver sat back in his chair, completely and utterly shocked.

  Oliver to Moira: Did you see me drink anything unusual today?

  Moira to Oliver: What are you on about?

  Oliver to Moira: I just got an offer from Lan. To co-run the entire project next year.

  Moira to Oliver: That’s brilliant!

  Oliver to Moira: Think really hard about why I might not be jumping.

  Moira to Oliver: OOOOH. As we say in my village: fook.

  Moira to Oliver: I’ll bring the bottle and shoulder, me darling. Give me an hour to wrap things up and I’ll come to you.

  Oliver to Moira: I feel like I’ve just been hit by a truck.

  * * *

  The Sunday before Seth’s arrival—seventy-two hours since he was offered an amazing job—was unbelievably stressful. Janos had a group of his teammates over, and they proceeded to undo all of the cleaning Oliver had done earlier. Janos insisted that they would clean things up when Oliver went to bed early. He had to get up and be out the door well before five a.m. to make sure that he was at the airport when Seth arrived.

  Instead of getting any sleep, though, he tossed and turned, agonizing over what to do. That he wanted to be with Seth wasn’t in question. But he didn’t want to be with Seth just to hold his metaphorical purse, either. And Seth wouldn’t want that for him—he’d want Oliver to pursue his own dreams every bit as much as Seth had done.

  The chance to co-lead a government-funded research project in his field of study, with one of his mentors? A project that actually had the potential to make huge strides in the LGBT community? Not to mention the bonus of having that apply to his doctorate, having a place to himself (the staff houses were far more comfortable than the drafty old stone building he was currently living in) and an actual salary? His father would love that. He’d made a point of saving for Oliver’s education, and that included graduate school, but to have it offset by an income? It was basically being paid to go to school.

  But then there was Silver—it was an outstanding school, and it was in the heart of New York City. He’d be just another doctoral candidate, though. Not a bad thing, but in comparison? He was going to have to think long and hard. And he’d have to talk to Seth about it. He couldn’t repeat the Brandeis fiasco. And maybe there was still the chance that they could make it work, regardless.

  Oliver glanced at his clock: 1:42 a.m. Three more hours to try to sleep.

  Yeah, right.

  He punched his pillow into shape, flipped it to the cool side and tried to turn off his racing thoughts.

  * * *

  Oliver pressed his cheek against the cool glass of the train window, his feelings alternating between excitement at seeing Seth after three full months apart and dread at his reaction to this newly offered opportunity. Seth wasn’t selfish; he wouldn’t want to be the reason Oliver didn’t pursue a career path. But Oliver also knew that Seth wouldn’t deal with several years of this back and forth.

  And truthfully, Oliver didn’t want to have a long-term long-distance relationship, either; the past three months had showed how limiting it was. If it was all he could have, he’d face that, but given the choice he would not pick long stretches without Seth.

  Seth had been right: Oliver realized, that when he came home after his day, he too wanted to see a face. He too wanted conversation. He wanted to wake up with and make a home with and end every day with his boyfriend. And he wanted that to be Seth. But he didn’t want to do without work that challenged him for the next forty years just for the sake of a face and conversation, no matter how wonderful the face or engaging the conversation. Seth wouldn’t want that for him, either.

  The last thing he wanted to do was spring this on Seth the second he stepped off the plane. They’d have a nice day and help Seth get used to the new time zone, and then they had an entire week to discuss future plans.

  He closed his eyes and let himself feel miserable.

  * * *

  Oliver leaned against the wall across from the exit to the baggage claim and customs, waiting for a familiar face. Knots of people pushed through the open doors, a mix of tourists, regular travelers and people on business. As groups began to appear after a check through customs, he saw a perfectly coiffed head of brown hair and couldn’t help the huge smile that spread across his face.

  Seth pulled a large piece of luggage along behind him, his face impassive as he scanned the crowd. When he finally recognized Oliver, he broke into a big smile as well, ducked his head as if to hide how pleased he was and pushed forward through the crowd to Oliver.

  Oliver, immediately forgetting any reason why he shouldn’t be completely elated, took the luggage handle out of Seth’s hand and asked, “You ducked into the restroom and fixed your hair, didn’t you?”

  Seth laughed, looking off to the side and composing his features. “Well, I didn’t want to get off the plane with flattened hair. And a gentleman never asks for a lady’s secrets, Oliver.”

  Oliver pulled him into a tight hug, noisily kissing his cheek. He couldn’t help himsel
f. “You aren’t a lady.”

  “You noticed that, did you?” Seth was positively sparkling.

  Oliver couldn’t bring himself to move just yet. It was just… Seth. He was here. He was going to be in Oliver’s home for an entire week.

  Seth laughed, “What?”

  Oliver shook his head, chuckling a little in embarrassment at being caught staring. “Nothing, sorry. It’s just really good to see you.”

  Seth preened. “It’s nice to be seen.” He inhaled deeply, eyes sparkling with excitement, and as he let out his breath in a deliberate manner, he held his hand out toward Oliver.

  If Oliver had thought just a moment before that he was excited by Seth being here, it was absolutely nothing compared to how his heart was thumping now. His whole being seemed to glow from Seth’s gesture. Seth was willing to try. God, that’s all he wanted. Well, not all, but that was huge, and he knew it.

  Oliver gave the back of Seth’s hand a kiss, earning him a pleased noise, and then tucked Seth’s arm through his to lead them toward the exit.

  They chatted about the flight as they rode the tube to King’s Cross. (“Who brings a baby on an international red-eye flight? More importantly, who doesn’t prepare to keep the baby happy on an international red-eye flight?”)

  Oliver tried to convince Seth to take a picture in front of the Platform 9 3/4 monument, but he immediately turned red and pushed Oliver into the station.

  “It’s okay to still like those books, Seth.”

  “We are adults, Oliver.”

  “So’s J.K. Rowling.”

  Oliver led the way to the train and helped Seth stow his bag before they took seats at the back of the car. It was seven forty-five in the morning, so the train was packed with people heading to the university. Oliver didn’t mind, as it meant that Seth was next to him, squeezed up against his side.

  It was hard to carry on a conversation with all of the noise, so they sat in companionable silence, looking out of the window. They rocked gently against each other with the steady motion of the train. That, coupled with the warmth of Seth’s body pressed against him, created a sense of tranquility that Oliver had not felt since he was a teenager, and he felt himself drift into a haze of sleepy contentment. Just as unconsciousness began to tug at him, Seth jostled his shoulder.