by Laura Stone
Oliver wiped his mouth with his napkin, stood and led Seth to the door. “Somewhere special.” He turned and smiled, walking through the door backwards. With a panicked expression, Seth jerked his hand forward and pulled Oliver toward him in a jumble before Oliver could back over a tiny, ancient woman trying to walk in. Sighing, Seth covered his face with his hand.
The old woman shot Oliver a look and said over his profuse apologies in a calm voice, “I believe we’re meant to go the other way, young man.”
“Um, yes, ma’am. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you,” she said, smiling up at him.
He smiled back and turned to Seth, who was waiting with his arms folded and a hand covering his mouth.
“Unbelievable,” Seth chuckled.
Oliver’s blush felt like it had started in his cells.
“You know, if that had happened in New York you would have found that the lady had an Uzi in her bag, and she would have shot you in the kneecaps.”
“Good thing we’re not in New York, then, I guess?” Oliver said, holding the door open for Seth, and instantly regretted it. He didn’t want to set the stage for talking this through with Seth as if he already had prejudice or preference.
Seth shook his head and didn’t make eye contact as they took a right out of the café and into town. They walked in silence for two blocks, except when Oliver pointed out directions. Eventually Seth sighed and reached out to take Oliver’s hand, giving him a squeeze before dropping it. Oliver didn’t know if it was a “we’ll figure this out” squeeze or a “let’s enjoy this last bit of time we have together before it’s all over” squeeze. They continued on, Oliver’s insides twisting, Seth walking a half step behind him as he led the way for them to hop on a city shuttle.
They rode the short distance into the city center. As Seth climbed off the bus behind him, Oliver took him by the elbow and said, “You understand why I haven’t made the final choice, right?” God, he hoped Seth understood; once committed, there was no going back. There was no second-guessing—all that would be left was regret. The last thing in the world Oliver ever wanted was for Seth to regret having Oliver back in his life. And quite honestly, Oliver didn’t want to regret not going to a grad school that could affect the rest of his life.
Seth blinked and looked off at a random building for a moment, seemingly to collect himself. He turned back to give Oliver a watery smile but stiffened his spine. “I do understand. I don’t ever want there to be any resentment between us, Oliver; I couldn’t take it if you felt that way about me.”
Oliver’s heart felt as if it was constricting in the center of his chest, the pain went so deep. “Never,” he said, quietly. Seth patted Oliver right over where the ache was the strongest. Oliver held it there for a moment before saying, “Just… please don’t count me out already. Okay?”
“Oliver, I want…” Seth looked upset again, so Oliver took his hand and led him up the road. He didn’t want to have an emotional breakdown in front of the campus bookstore.
“Just let me take us somewhere and we can talk without interruption, okay?”
Seth nodded and followed alongside him, still holding his hand. Oliver showed the man at Trinity Gate his university card to gain entrance, and they walked past the expansive green courtyard to the far building.
“Come on, it’s just down this hallway.” Because it was Easter break, the college and Wren Library were mostly empty. Oliver, excited to take Seth to “his spot” and desperate to sit and talk this through, tugged on Seth’s hand and jogged down the hallway with him in tow. Seth gasped and stopped, dropping Oliver’s hand.
He turned to see why Seth had stopped; it felt the way his heart had, when he saw that Seth had pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and was breathing deeply.
“Seth?” He ran his hand down Seth’s arm, giving his bicep a squeeze. “Are you oka—”
“Are you doing this on purpose? That’s not fair, Oliver. You can’t—God!”
Oliver’s heart was somewhere in his throat, pounding so loud his ears were ringing with it; he had no idea what on earth was going on.
Seth dropped his hands. His face was filled with so much misery it tore at Oliver as if he were watching Seth be physically hurt. He pulled Seth into his arms and patted his back, trying to soothe him and get him to talk.
“You can’t honestly tell me this place doesn’t remind you of anything,” Seth said, his voice filled with pain.
Oliver pulled back, completely confused. He looked around, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. He could see that the marble floors at Trinity were a similar pattern to those at Bakerfield. He looked at the rich wallpapers, the ornate chandeliers, and he was seventeen again, his heart in his throat and excitement pounding in his veins as he crossed the expanse toward Seth so they could slip away to “their spot” in the library. He knew that he would whisper “Tonight,” to Seth, that tonight they would take their expression of love beyond mere words and kisses for the first time.
The building wasn’t exactly the same, but it was unbelievably similar.
“Oh my God.” Oliver turned and pulled Seth into his arms, holding him so, so tight. “No, I didn’t even think. I just—I don’t know; this building has always felt good to me, familiar, I guess.” He looked down the long, narrow aisle between the books and pairs of leather chairs and shook his head. “I guess I know why.”
Seth was taking huge breaths in and out, his hands in fists at Oliver’s back. It just killed Oliver that Seth couldn’t bring himself to touch him now. He pulled back and cupped Seth’s face with his hands, his thumbs lightly stroking Seth’s cheekbones, and let himself breathe when he felt Seth lean into his touch.
“Hey. Hey. This isn’t even where I meant to take you.” He laughed, but it was more sorrowful than humorous. “Let’s go, okay?” He smiled encouragingly. “Let’s go outside and sit in the sun and talk.”
He tried to name what Seth must be feeling, but couldn’t. There was too much—too much pain, longing, fear and worry happening, and all too quickly. It was too much for him, too, now that he’d been reminded of the first time they’d decided to take advantage of Oliver’s parents being gone for the weekend. He remembered how Seth had gasped when Oliver had taken Seth’s hands in his, completely earnest and sincere, how Seth had laughed softly before nodding and saying, “Okay.” Every time he saw Seth in the hallways that day, he had been unable to stop looking at the beautiful, ethereal boy who had come into his life and changed everything for the better. He had been so excited for that next step.
“Let’s get out of here?”
Seth glanced around the building, looking as brittle as spun glass, and turned back with a determined, almost grim look. “Yes.”
They walked without talking the rest of the way; when they passed the A.A. Milne exhibit, Oliver remembered one of his lines: “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” He had no intention of saying goodbye to Seth, but the sentiment rang true, regardless. As they walked, Oliver left his hand open near Seth’s on the off-chance Seth would take it.
He didn’t.
Finally outside and facing the river, Seth seemed to relax by a few degrees. It really was beautiful in this part of the city. Oliver thumbed over his shoulder toward a massive weeping willow, its newly budded leaves an almost electric lime green against the dark blue water. Seth stood still on the lawn, his hands tucked into his pockets as he surveyed the area. A smile began to bloom on his face; Oliver couldn’t remember ever being more grateful for a smile.
“It’s your tree. It’s a bit different than the picture you emailed me,” Seth said.
Oliver chuckled—it helped to dissipate his nervousness and worry. “It’s that whole lack-of-snow aspect.” He walked on to the low stone bench that separated the lawn from the river. As Seth approached, he made a point of dusting off the stone next to him.
That earned him another smile and another few degrees less anxiety. Seth sat
carefully with his back stiff and straight, pulling on the knee of his pants as he crossed his leg. He looked away from Oliver, at the river and the punts on the water.
“Wow. It is just like Merchant and Ivory. Well, minus the tourists in their mismatched clothing.”
Oliver smiled down at his empty hands. He would let Seth drive the conversation, even though it was killing him to sit and wait.
“You know I can’t make this choice for you, Oliver, if that’s what you’re waiting for. You get why I can’t?” Seth was still looking out at the water, away from him. “What if Silver is wrong, and you hear about something amazing happening here, or however it works. That would mean your career wasn’t all that it could have been, which we both know would eat you up inside.” He sighed, his breath shuddering as he held himself together. “Then the next, what, thirty? Forty years? You hate what you’re doing. You’re not helping people like you want. You’re not making the difference that you imagined. Oliver, I don’t want that for you. I don’t want to be the reason you miss out on everything your life should be. I couldn’t take it.”
“Seth, no—that’s not how it would be,” Oliver pleaded.
Seth turned to face him, a sad smile on his face. “Yes it would, Oliver, and you know it. That’s why you haven’t made your decision.”
Oliver sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. “If that did happen—hypothetical, here, okay?” he asked. “If I did choose New York, and something amazing happened here with my project…” He was going to say that he would be happy for the new head. Happy for whomever ended up with the accolades for the good achieved by his study. That he could be at peace with it even though the vast majority of the project was his idea—with help from Moira, of course. He wanted to say that he’d wish them well, because that’s what he should say. That’s how his parents had brought him up.
He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, though. A rare spike of anger flashed through him; he was really good at what he did, he’d worked hard to get to where he was, and to throw away all of his work, his blood, sweat and tears? He couldn’t see that happening, and he sure as hell couldn’t see himself feeling happy about it.
It would be a waste of five years, not to mention a tremendous waste of money. But neither could he bring himself to believe he’d be “throwing it all away just for Seth.” That didn’t sit right with him at all: there was no “just” about Seth Larsen.
Seth gave a sardonic laugh—evidently Oliver still had not mastered the art of the poker face. “Remember: I know how much you hate to let anyone down,” Seth said.
Oliver looked over at him. He seemed to be resigned, bordering on crestfallen.
“No.” Oliver shook his head. “Don’t go ahead and assume, okay?” He had to just put it all out there. “Seth, the thought of not having you in my life… it’s like losing a limb. That’s how much a part of me you are. That’s how much I need you.”
Seth shook his head and looked out over the water, his jaw flexing as he worked it back and forth. “You’ve done just fine for years now, Oliver.”
Oliver had done well in one area of his life, true. But. “Look,” Oliver said, an edge creeping into his voice. “I’m not ready to quit on this, on us. I never was.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Seth whipped around to face him, his eyes glacial and his posture severe. “Are you trying to blame everything on me?”
“No—”
“Because that’s what it sounded like. I didn’t ‘quit’ on you or on our relationship. It was just what happened. And it happened because you were scared and didn’t give me any time to prepare for the huge life change you planned without me.” Seth’s crossed leg bounced at a furious pace.
Oliver raked his hand through his hair, trying to keep up. “So if… what? If you’d had advance notice, that would have made everything completely different?” Oliver was confused, he was angry, and he really didn’t want to fight about this. “Seth, I have no idea what to think about all of this, about you and me. I mean… are you giving me a chance or not? What the hell is going on?”
“I am, once again, waiting for you to decide that I’m worth picking. And you know what? I’m not going to do this again; it took me years to get over—Jesus,” he muttered, getting to his feet.
Oliver stood up too and grabbed at his hand to stop him. This was really not going as he’d planned. Where did he go wrong today? His stomach roiled from the massive adrenaline dump of stress into his system.
“I have always wanted you, Seth. Don’t make this about me not loving you enough.”
Seth pulled his hand away, crossing his arms. He didn’t leave, however. “I’m not saying that.” Seth groaned and rubbed at his face. “I’m saying that I don’t matter enough to you for you to know without question that you want to be with me. That is what I’m saying.”
Oliver’s heart gave a lurch at the waver in Seth’s voice.
“Oliver, you say that you love me. Still. You say that you want us to have that magical future that we daydreamed about when we were kids.” Seth jutted out his chin and wrapped his arms tightly around himself again as he inflected the word “magical” with sarcasm. Oliver knew that his words and his posture were his armor; he knew that Seth used them to protect his battered and abused heart. He just never thought he’d be the one on the receiving end of it. His gut felt as if it was made of lead, heavy and cold.
“You say you want all of that, but here we are again! God, I am so stupid to have flown out here just to have my—” Seth inhaled sharply through his nostrils, looking up into the branches of the tree and blinking quickly. “I can’t believe I let myself hope that we could really… God.”
“Seth, this is my life we’re talking about here!”
“It’s mine, too! The one where you’re finally in it!” Seth, his voice growing louder, pressed a hand to his sternum. He was furious and upset and holding nothing back. Oliver could almost forget that they were in a public place. A few punts were on the water, but the tree and the stone bench must have been keeping their voices from carrying too far.
“Hey, I wasn’t the one who wouldn’t think of options, okay? I was always willing to find a way to make it work.” Oliver was getting angrier by the minute, too. It was irrational and stupid that they were fighting at all but he couldn’t just take it. Not when he was trying.
“That’s because you’re the eternal optimist. Everything always works out for you, Oliver. Lucky little rich boy. You weren’t constantly hoping for life to finally give you a stretch of goodness only to be reminded that, once again, you didn’t get to have the happy ending. You didn’t grow up wishing to be noticed, then terrified for your fucking life when you were. You haven’t lost almost everything and had all that was wonderful and special in your life ripped away. And you can never see any bad coming down the road until it’s thrown right in your face. You’re always shocked that bad things ever happen outside your perfect life,” Seth hissed. “And look at where that’s gotten you.”
Oliver stuck his own chin out. It stung, being reminded of how different their backgrounds were, how different being gay had been for each of them, he more straight-appearing and Seth more effeminate—practically a death sentence in Kansas. Right now, though, it didn’t matter if Seth was right; Oliver was hurt, and he was sad, and he just wasn’t thinking about his words. “Yeah. It got me to the best schools and at the top of my class.” If he sounded a little smug, well, it was because it was true.
Seth, his voice bitter, sniffed and said, “And you’re all alone.”
“So are you.” Oliver instantly regretted saying it. He couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t take back the pained look on Seth’s face. Couldn’t make this stupid, childish argument go away.
Seth drew himself up as straight as humanly possible, and his face closed off. He was icy and rigid and completely and wholly hurt, and Oliver had to take responsibility for his part of that, he knew he did.
“L
et’s make that literal.” Seth turned on his heel and began stalking off the way they’d come.
“Seth, wait—”
Seth held up a hand; he didn’t turn—Oliver assumed Seth couldn’t bring himself to look him in the eye—but said, “I need space. I need air. You can give me this much,” and continued walking.
Oliver sank back down to the stone bench, his hands buried in his hair and his heart breaking.
* * *
Oliver sat under his tree for a while, watching boats pushing up and down the river, hearing the groups laughing as they tried to punt in a straight line or the undergraduate students giving guided tours, explaining the different points of architecture. His body was tense as he waited, listening for the faintest sound of Seth coming back. He began to get worried after an hour had passed with no sign of him. Oliver hadn’t brought his cell phone along; he didn’t want the distraction.
He turned away from the water and the smiling couples to stare at the empty lawn that stretched all the way to the library. There was no one. What if Seth had made his way back to the apartment? But that was ridiculous; he wouldn’t go all the way back there to sit alone. What if he was there and was packing? He could easily travel to London, to Timbuktu if he was angry enough.
His stomach in knots, Oliver told himself to calm down and be rational. Seth was most likely not packing his things to run off to Africa. He probably just got himself lost. Well… shit.
Oliver pushed up to his feet, checked his pockets to make sure he had his keys and wallet and walked swiftly back to the library. Maybe Seth was simply inside the building, thinking? Oliver just wanted to know where he was, that was all. He’d check on Seth, make sure he was okay and then give him the space he wanted until they could talk about this whole mess like reasonable people.
Walking quickly, he looked down each aisle, checking corners where he remembered chairs and sofas tucked away for quiet reading. Then he raced down the empty hallway and felt a pang, again remembering the excitement he’d experienced years before in a place so very similar and the pain on Seth’s face just hours ago from the memory of it.
