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Being an Engineering student was ridiculously tiring. Lab report after lab report after lab report—he supposed Antonio could relate, with all his Biomed classes and such, but Francis got off lightly. Besides his dissertation. But that’s what he got for studying Psychology—ten thousand words of ‘pure Hell’ as he called it. Francis thought that was pain; Gilbert disagreed.
Today he had had a late meeting with his personal tutor on campus, right at the end of a day that had contained three consecutive hours of labs, a meeting at Student Services and a two-hour lecture. He had not been amused when his tutor had therefore requested a progress meeting that evening as well, on top of everything else, but he had not been able to say no. It had been a nagging thought in his brain spoken in the voice of his brother: you might as well get it over and done with.
The meeting itself had eventually finished at six o’clock, but it had been a long ride on the buses across town to get to his house. That was the beauty of rush hour traffic: it took him an hour , when it should normally have taken twenty-five minutes at most. At least this is final year, he had told himself; I don’t have to worry about house-hunting again just yet…
Well, that was only the case, assuming Antonio and/or Francis did not get onto the Master’s programmes they had applied for. The plan was to live together, which naturally meant going through the hassle of property viewing, contract discussions, deposits… But there were a couple months until anything was set in stone. Gilbert would put that nightmare to rest for the time being.
By the time he did get off the bus and walk to the front door (luckily, just around the corner from the bus stop) it was pitch black outside and chilly. It was a good thing he had informed the others ahead of time that he would be late. Francis had agreed to make a start on dinner for all of them so that Gilbert didn’t have to spend forever wondering what to make to eat (it probably would have been an oven pizza, in all fairness) and so all he needed to do was show up.
He opened the door and welcomed the warmth. February in England was still cold and miserable. God bless central heating systems!
With the door locked behind him (none of them would be going out, even to the express supermarket down the road), Gilbert passed through the small porch, shoes kicked off and left on the shelves behind him, and he walked along the corridor towards the living-dining room. It was a well-sized space, completed with two sofas, a dining table and chairs, and a TV, and it connected directly to the kitchen through a large archway. He could see Francis and Antonio cooking as soon as he walked into the room. Whatever was on the menu, it smelt amazing.
Gilbert made himself known with a ‘good evening’, though he was sure they were already aware of his presence given how the front door had to be slammed shut to make sure it was properly closed (it was a good job, then, that when they went out they did so together—no one came back alone in the early morning, waking up the others).
“Welcome back,” Francis greeted first, casting a glance over his shoulder. He was stirring something on the stove. Antonio was next to him, knife in hand, chopping something up. They totally think they’re chefs. “How was your meeting?”
“A waste of time,” Gilbert replied meekly.
He set his bag down on one of the sofas and took out one of the notepads he had been writing in whilst on the bus. He just needed to finish something, so he left his bag sat on the edge of the sofa while he went to the dining table to finish scribbling on a flat surface (because trying to write coherent notes on one’s lap during a ride on a double-decker bus was not as easy as people thought). Meanwhile, the conversation continued:
“At least you got it out of the way,” Antonio remarked. “And at least your tutor actually tries to keep in touch with you. I haven’t heard from mine since September, and that includes them not replying to that email I sent them before January exams. Makes you wonder why we pay so much to study abroad, no?”
“Don’t even get me started on finances,” Francis joined in. Gilbert glanced over just in time to watch the dramatic sigh, the shaking of the head… “I’m simply grateful we have loans and grants, that’s all I’m going to say.”
Antonio hummed along; “Yes, yes, all hail student debt,” he said. “It feels good to owe tens of thousands before we’ve even joined the active population!”
Gilbert let them continue talking as he finished off his notes—more specifically, a calculation he needed to complete from his lecture earlier in the day. Practice made perfect and all. However, as he was working, a clattering noise and dull thud came from the right, and he turned to find his bag had fallen on the floor, spilling its contents amongst the linoleum. It wouldn’t have been so bad if all he had were textbooks in there, but…
“Uhh… Gilbert?”
He looked to Francis and Antonio, who had also turned around at the noise. The blonde looked bemused, while the other was more confused.
“Do you mind explaining why there is a mountain of condoms all over our floor?” Francis questioned. His smile was far from innocent, which only made Gilbert feel a million times more embarrassed. You’re in a relationship with them both, Gil, get a grip!
The German got up from his seat and decided to start clearing up the mess. But he did do the others the courtesy of (roughly) explaining that: “Student Services were kinda just giving out free condoms outside their offices, so while I was there earlier today and while no one was looking, I just sort of… helped myself.”
“To their entire supply?” Antonio piped up. He even laughed: “Just think, all those desperate first year students who live on campus, going without because you got greedy… ”
Gilbert rolled his eyes. “They had several boxes inside their offices, I think it’s just a new scheme they have, to give them out for free,” he remarked. “Either way, no one was guarding them, so it’s their own fault if they didn’t want me to take them!”
“I just can’t believe you took so many,” Francis commented while Gilbert continued to scoop up his stash. He briefly turned to keep stirring the pot on the stove, but just as quickly, he turned his head and glanced back to the German. “I mean, is this meant to be a hint or something? Are you trying to tell us you want a bit of fun—?”
“No, that’s not it at all,” Gilbert defended. He could feel himself becoming flustered (sex should not be making me feel flustered, why the fuck am I flustered? I’m hardly a virgin!). “I just— I just thought we should, ya know, s-stock up! Safe sex is important! I love you guys, but I’m sure none of us want to get anything nasty!”
It was an open relationship after all. They hadn’t had the ‘exclusive’ chat yet; though, Gilbert was fairly sure none of them had had sex with anyone outside of their triangle for some time. Something to add to the to-do list: discuss relationship rules. Was it time…? Was it the right time to finally ask that vital question? Do you promise not to screw anyone else apart from those standing in this room? He may work on re-wording that later…
“That means that pile is being shared between all of us, then?” Antonio asked him. He was smiling as well, but while Francis had perhaps been a little more suggestive, Antonio’s smile was one of pure amusement.
Gilbert nodded slowly as he picked up the remaining few square packets. He moved and set them all down on the dining table, as there was no point shoving them back into his bag, and he opted to just… leave them there. They could help themselves—and he assumed that would be done after dinner, but Franics was apparently keen, and he wandered over to the table to investigate what Gilbert had collected, leaving Antonio to manage dinner.
He’s going to make a comment. Go on, Fran, I dare you— Well, he didn’t really want him to. In truth, Gilbert just wanted to eat and go to bed, but Francis was either a mind reader or just far too happy being a tease because—
“If we split them between bedrooms, then we’re always prepared. And just to be clear now while we are all sober: I vote Gil’s room next, since he’s so eager,” the blonde remarked as he took one of the packets in his hand, presumably to look it over. All the while, the German was resisting the temptation to straight up refuse sex, just to annoy him.
From the kitchen, Antonio called to them: “We aren’t…” He paused and a faint but strangled noise hung in his throat. He tried again: “We aren’t doing anything tonight though, right? Because I have a paper due tomorrow and I need to get more than a seventy for once if I want to save my grade for this module,” he explained to them, a sheepish look on his face. “And I’ve only written the introduction…”
“What time is it due tomorrow?”
“Three o’clock.”
“Then you have plenty of time to do it in the morning. You’ve written reports in less time before, cher.”
“I mean… That’s true…”
“So just for one night let yourself—both of you—to just relax, have a bit of fun, live a little,” the blonde suggested to them both. “Stress like that has a detrimental effect on your overall mental and physical wellbeing, and I would hate to see you both suffer over your lab reports.” With that said, Francis returned to the matter at hand—or on the table (meaning those condoms). “Are these all the same size, by the way?”
“Ahh, don’t worry,” Gilbert replied with a hint of jest, having collected himself, “there should be some ‘small’s in there just for you.”
In the kitchen, Antonio spluttered on a drink and tried not to laugh as he caught his breath, back turned to the pair to avoid their gaze. Next to Gilbert, Francis muttered a quiet ‘touché’, and decided to retreat back into the kitchen lest he get further attacked. Clearly it had been a blow to his ego, and just as clearly, Gilbert had been joking around as he usually did. But it was a nice way to get Francis off his case for the time being, and maybe later on, he would make it up to him. Maybe.
While Gilbert pushed the pile to the side, just so they would have room to sit down and eat together (condoms: the ultimate romantic dinner table setting), it appeared that Francis was not entirely safe from the embarrassment in the kitchen, either; a glance revealed that Antonio was doing his best to hide his smile, because who could resist a size joke? Francis ended up grabbing a tea towel and smacking him on the arm with it for good measure, but it didn’t help, because Antonio only began to laugh out loud for real, and Francis stood in despair over his cooking pot as it seemed he had been outnumbered on this occasion.
He soon concluded, rather gravely, that: “I live with children.”
Gilbert could not disagree.