by Laura Stone
His room was mostly emptied, aside from the furniture that stayed with the house. He had a bag with clothes for tonight and tomorrow; the rest of his belongings had been sent ahead to the new apartment.
With a lot of cajoling on Oliver’s part, he’d convinced Seth to leave the unpacking at the new place to do together. It was hard enough for him to be on the other side of the ocean—he wanted something of this monumental step to be done together.
Seth had sent him an email the night before with a very important picture: him, holding two keys. A thrill rocketed through him at the thought of what was to come. He was flying out the next afternoon; he didn’t think he’d sleep a wink that night.
Saying goodbye to Janos had been surprisingly emotional. They didn’t cry or anything; parting just left a void. They’d spent a significant amount of time together, Oliver learning how to block out unwanted noise, Janos doing the same—even if it was only during the week when Seth visited.
Janos had clapped him on the shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss on each cheek and a formal farewell. He in turn gave Janos a firm handshake and a sincere, “It’s been good getting to know you.”
Janos looked as though he wanted to say more, but instead he simply clapped Oliver on the shoulder again and said solemnly, “Oliver, you’re a good man.”
Though he couldn’t understand why, it left him buzzing as if from the highest praise.
It had been harder with Moira, who met with him and his parents the night before for celebratory cocktails. He knew it was going to be bad when she barely had anything to drink. She laughed at herself when she began crying at the end of the night.
“Fook me, lad, but you’re a hard one to let go of,” she said, her voice breaking as she threw her arms around his shoulders.
He held her up off the ground and swung her legs back and forth to get her to giggle. “You’ll always have a place to visit in New York, you know.”
“Sure, and you’ll go flaunting your dream life in my face,” she scowled at him. “You and that beautiful boy of yours. Oh, Christ. I’m happy for you, Oliver, truly, just feeling a little sorry for myself is all. I got used to your gob, didn’t I?”
* * *
His family pulled up in their rental car to collect him for the ride to the airport. His mother didn’t like that he wasn’t coming back to Kansas with them, but Oliver didn’t have to push too hard to get her to back off.
It was just how his family was.
Thinking of that led his thoughts to the card he had slipped into the outside pocket of his carry-on bag.
Hey Kid—
Hope your new degree don’t mean you can’t hang with us slobs no more.
I’m real proud of you, Oliver. Graduating is something special. Looking forward to seeing pictures of you in that fancy cap and gown Seth keeps going on about.
Love ya.
Big Mike
There had been another card that the rest of the gang had signed; Natalie had kissed it with some garish lipstick and Little Mike wrote an especially nice message about how glad he was that Oliver and Seth were back together. It made Oliver choke up and required a walk around the block so the guys watching soccer in the other room wouldn’t hear him cry.
He’d always known Seth was more to him than just someone to love; Seth was a family and a whole life, too.
He smiled at the stewardess as he declined a beverage and tuned out his parents as they debated the merits of white wine over red. Just a few more hours and he’d be home. He closed his eyes, resting his cheek against the cool glass of the airplane window, and imagined the sensation of flying was really the tether connecting his heart to Seth’s, pulling him back to where he belonged.
* * *
He’d given his mother a kiss on her cheek, shaken his father’s hand and accepted their “congratulations” as they stayed in their seats and he disembarked in New York City. He always got an excited happy feeling as he walked down the airway at an airport, knowing that he was almost home, and it had been no different this time. In fact, his excitement continued to build through customs and beyond, because he was coming home, to his real and proper home. He was rolling his bag through the terminal, heading toward the cluster of public transportation options, when his phone vibrated in his pocket.
Look up.
He read it again, then looked around the busy space. Seth was leaning against the glass wall by the exit, smiling at him. Oliver dropped the handle to his luggage and jogged the ten or so feet to where Seth was, picking him up in a crushing hug and kissing him anywhere he could reach.
Laughing, Seth pushed at his shoulder. “Your stuff’s going to be stolen, babe.”
Joyfully stealing one more kiss, Oliver said, “I don’t care.”
Seth rolled his eyes playfully, then swiftly walked over to grab Oliver’s rolling bag and duffel.
“What are you doing here? I thought you had the mover earlier and the Sunday matinée today?” Oliver asked, snaking his arms around Seth’s waist.
Seth kept the bags between them and hugged Oliver back one-handed. “First part is done, and as for the matinée, I gave it to the understudy because I just knew that you’d try to take a cab. It’s time for you to learn how to get around the city like a proper New Yorker,” he said, leading Oliver by the hand to the A train connection.
“Fifteen more minutes,” Seth said, once they were aboard.
Oliver’s excitement rose at the promise in Seth’s voice.
The train was packed and they were pushed close together. Oliver held the overhead strap with one hand while the other was wound around Seth’s waist. Oliver breathed him in, trying to absorb the fact that he was really here. Finally.
Seth gave his side a squeeze when it was their stop. They wrestled their things off the train, quiet as they held hands and climbed the stairs out of the subway. Instead of turning right as Oliver anticipated, Seth turned to him instead, dropping the duffel between his feet and twining his arms around Oliver’s neck.
“Hey. I love you.”
Warmth radiated through Oliver’s body. He completely forgot that people were streaming past them on the street corner; all he could see was love looking back at him through clear hazel eyes.
“I love you, too,” Oliver breathed.
Seth laughed softly under his breath and kissed Oliver gently. Then he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the two of them with their cheeks pressed together.
“Come on. Almost there,” Seth said, towing him along the side street to their building. Oliver thought briefly that it was a good thing Seth knew where they were going, because he was feeling rather foggy from the combination of travel and being this close to his boyfriend again.
“This is it.” Seth stopped in front of a charming red brick prewar building, dug into his pocket and pulled out a key ring; there was only one key on it. Seth held it out to Oliver, smiling, but as Oliver reached to take it, Seth snatched his hand back and gave him a kiss.
“Oliver.” Seth cupped his cheek and quietly said, “I love you.”
Oliver was feeling positively lightheaded at this point. He laughed and reached for Seth’s hand. “I love you, too,” he sighed, happy beyond telling.
Seth took out his phone again, but this time he snapped a picture as he pressed his lips to Oliver’s.
While Oliver certainly had no problem with being kissed, he could tell something was going on. He tilted his head and gave Seth a skeptical look. “What are you up to?”
Seth shook his head, biting the end of his thumb to keep from laughing. “You’re tired, aren’t you?”
“A little, but—”
“Let’s get you upstairs and comfortable.”
They went inside the air-conditioned building. Oliver immediately felt a little more solid, less floaty and dreamlike.
They were the only ones on the elevator. As it climbed to the eleventh floor, Oliver took the opportunity to pull Seth into his arms. Their bodies touching reassured him
that this was real, that this was not just an amazing dream. Seth ran his hand up and down Oliver’s spine and hummed softly into his ear.
Stepping off the elevator, Seth led the way again down a short hallway to their door. “Would you be so kind as to do the honors?” Seth asked.
Oliver pulled out his key; it took him a second to steady his hand and actually get the key in the lock, but managed in the end, giving a tiny “Yay!” when the door opened. Seth held the door for him as they entered.
Boxes were still piled high against the walls, but that was to be expected. There was a new sofa, much larger than the loveseat; it even had chaise at one end. Oliver could already see them curled up on it, watching TV or reading books, and his heart flip-flopped and he couldn’t stand it anymore—he dropped his suitcase, pulled the duffel off of Seth’s shoulder and tugged him into his arms.
Seth breathed, “I love you so much,” into Oliver’s ear, sending chills down his spine.
He pulled back, then; Seth’s eyes were positively shining.
“Don’t you remember?” Seth asked.
Oliver lightly ran his thumb along Seth’s jaw and shook his head, no. He wasn’t fully capable of speech just yet, and his faculties for problem solving were clearly on vacation.
Seth ran his fingers up Oliver’s sides. Oliver wrapped his arms around Seth’s shoulders, trapping Seth’s arms between them. Seth sucked lightly at a place just under Oliver’s ear that got him to moan brokenly, “What?”
“When I first got to Juilliard I promised that when you finally got here, I could take you to any corner, to any place in the city and tell you that I love you.” He kissed Oliver’s neck again, saying, “And I’m a man of my word,” against Oliver’s overheated skin.
“Oh, Seth.” Oliver hugged Seth so tightly that he gave a little squeak. Oliver held his face and kissed the corners of his mouth. “Your very first letter to me.”
Seth made a happy noise. “I knew you’d get here eventually.”
“Did you?” Oliver asked, fingers raking up Seth’s spine.
“Well, in the very beginning I hoped you would,” Seth said quietly. “You got me hoping again in England.”
A pang shot through Oliver for all the years missed. He led Seth to the sofa, still holding his hands, keeping his eyes on them as his fingertip followed the prominent tendons and veins on the backs of Seth’s elegant, strong hand.
“I am so sorry that I’m so… stupid. Foolish. I—” Oliver exhaled sharply, shaking his head. Seth leaned forward and rested his cheek on Oliver’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry, too. But we’re here now, right?”
Oliver nodded. He turned to place a firm, needy kiss on Seth’s hair.
Seth said, “I’m going to make a rule: no more apologizing for the past. I think we’ve more than made up for it.” He brought their hands up to his face and kissed Oliver’s knuckles one by one. “Let’s make happy memories, okay?”
The lump that had formed in Oliver’s throat began to melt away at the sensation of Seth’s mouth on his skin, at the determination in Seth’s voice. He swallowed thickly and sat up, wanting Seth to look at him, to see just how much he meant it when he said, “I promise.”
They held each other for a moment, rocking gently back and forth. Oliver shivered once, as if his subconscious was trying to shake off as much of the sadness from the past as it could.
Seth gave him one last squeeze and pulled back. “I’ve seriously got to get my hands on some of these boxes or I’m going to go crazy.”
Laughing, Oliver let Seth pull him to his feet as he surveyed their new place. “What do you want me to do?”
Seth tapped his lip with his finger, thinking. “First, I need my clipboard; I think I left it in the kitchen with the last load from yesterday. It’ll show you what each colored dot represents: bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, study—oh, that’s what I’m calling the spare bedroom.”
Oliver let Seth put him to work organizing stray boxes that hadn’t been put in the right color-coordinated room. Seth seemed like a professional mover.
“Why am I surprised?” he said under his breath, impressed by the way Seth unpacked wine glasses from their bubble-wrap with incredible speed.
“Hmm?” Seth asked over his shoulder; he didn’t slow down once.
“You’re… how are you so good at this?”
“It’s a gift. Summers spent reorganizing my dad’s shop, I guess,” Seth said, attacking a new box.
“If you would, please address the boxes of linens in our bedroom; I don’t want to sleep on a bare mattress tonight.” Seth shuddered at the thought, as did Oliver but for an entirely different reason, he suspected.
Our bedroom.
Every morning they would wake up together. Every night they would go to bed together. They weren’t sleeping over. This wasn’t a vacation or a weekend or a trial run: This was their place. He stood there watching Seth unpack a box of framed pictures and he would have sworn that he felt the world shift back into place.
“You said ‘our bedroom.’” He could barely find the breath to say it.
“Hmm?” Seth asked over his shoulder, and did a double take. “Oliver? What is it?”
Surely his face was splitting from the sheer volume of joy that was pouring out of him. “You said ‘our bedroom.’ We have an ‘our bedroom,’ finally.”
Seth went still and his hand dropped to his side as a smile slowly spread across his features, too. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
Oliver stepped carefully around the open boxes and packing material and leaned in for a kiss. “You did.”
Seth hummed happily against his lips after a lengthy second kiss, and then said, “Seriously. I love you, but sheets, Oliver. I need sheets.”
Oliver bravely walked backwards through the chaos, loath to lose sight of Seth for a moment, even though Seth was rolling his eyes and laughing at him, until he was able to duck into the bedroom. There was Seth’s magnificent mattress, thank goodness, and several boxes against the wall.
He found the one marked “Linens” and ripped it open. Inside were freshly washed sheets packed in tissue paper with a lavender sachet. He laughed, shook his head, and pulled them out, snapping them in the air to get the fold lines out.
After he put the bedroom in order, his body clock reminded him of how late it really was, and how grimy he felt from traveling all day. “Permission to skip unpacking until tomorrow so I can clean up?” he called out, opening a box marked “Toiletries.”
“Sure. But you are on kitchen duty tomorrow. It’s my one day off and I want everything in its place, mister.”
“I won’t take long,” he said, leaning down to kiss Seth, who beamed back up at him.
“Take as long as you need. I’m going to finish unwrapping a few things while you shower.”
Oliver made sure enough towels were unpacked for the two of them as the water in the shower heated. They hadn’t installed Seth’s magical shower head yet, but the water pressure was great, regardless. He made quick work of cleaning up, knowing that Seth’s bed—correction: their bed—was waiting for him. Currently, he only knew where his underwear was, so he pulled on a nice striped pair of square-cut boxer briefs and slipped into the bedroom.
Seth was sitting on the floor on the right side of the bed, sorting through a box of small framed photographs. He turned when he heard Oliver enter the room, and his “oh, hello” smile turned into an “oh, hello” smile.
“Oliver?” Seth asked as his eyes raked over Oliver’s bare chest.
“Mm?”
“I get to see this every single night.” Seth rose gracefully to his feet and walked around the foot of the bed, skating the flat of his hand up Oliver’s abdomen and chest, fingers raking the coarse, dark hair there against the grain. “Lucky me,” he whispered, still watching his hand as it trailed over Oliver’s body. Oliver shivered, but he wasn’t cold.
“Seth?” Oliver hardly recognized his voice, it was so husky and filled with ne
ed. “How quickly can you get to bed?”
Seth’s gaze made his breathing run shallow; it had been a long time since he’d been with Seth, able to hold him, kiss him.
“Ten. But I’ll make it five.”
Oliver moved in to kiss him, his eyes beginning to close and his pulse picking up speed, but Seth pushed him back gently, eliciting a pained whine. Oliver just needed Seth in his arms. Possibly under him. Over would be even better.
“You really need to give me five minutes. I won’t be long.” Seth raked his fingers over Oliver’s damp scalp and tugged on the soft hair at his nape.
Oliver nodded. Speech seemed to be far too difficult all of a sudden. Seth started undressing as he left the room, and Oliver continued to stare at the spot where he had been, feeling more than a little frustrated that Seth had only started unbuttoning his jeans as he walked out. The least he could have done was take them off before leaving. The sound of the water broke his reverie, and he started frantically searching for his luggage.
He was glad that Seth took slightly longer than the promised five minutes, because Oliver almost sank to the floor in frustrated tears when he couldn’t find his bag. He knew Seth placed a high priority on personal items, so where did he put it? The water shut off and it was like a light bulb—the closet!
Oliver raced back to their bedroom, almost slipping and losing his footing on an errant strip of bubble-wrap, jerked the closet door open and found his roll-away bag. Oh thank God. The bathroom door opened and Oliver, after grabbing the lube, barely managed to get the pocket zipped back up and himself artfully arranged on the bed by the time Seth came into the bedroom, stark naked and drying his hair. He had a second towel under his arm, which he dropped on the foot of the bed.
Oliver mindlessly ran his fingertips over his belly as he watched Seth slide the soft cotton over his thick hair and then wrap it around his shoulders to dry off his back; it accentuated his narrow waist and the breadth and strength of his shoulders. Oliver cleared his throat, but his voice still came out gravelly as he said, “You said five minutes; that was almost nine.”
