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All things considered, the apartment was actually not that expensive. The old folks in town looking for an apartment didn’t much appreciate how high up it was, with all the stairs, for one. And sure, it was decently sized, but for most people in Possum Springs, the goal of it all was, of course, to own a big house with a big front lawn, in the outskirts of the town center— maybe have 2.5 children if they got around to it. Perhaps similarly, neither of the two apartment’s occupants wanted to stay here indefinitely— quite the opposite. Nevertheless, as Gregg looked out the window from the apartment the two had spent so much time in, taking in the sunset over the forested hills in the distance, he could appreciate it. Just briefly.
Maybe he was being overly sentimental. Outside of the friends he had made in it, and the experiences that they had shared within its borders, the town hadn’t exactly given a lot to him. Despite that, he continued to avert from looking directly at the setting sun, somewhat uncharacteristically reminiscing. Gregg didn’t realize it until just now, but it had been one of those days. It wasn’t bad— it wasn’t even much different than any other day, and yet he still had felt a bit sad for some reason. Just a vague, dull weight on him.
But neither his sentimentality nor vague background sadness was enough to keep from getting pulled away from the view by the sound and smell of meatballs quietly sizzling on a pan a room away. He stepped past the bookcase that he couldn’t remember ever grabbing a book from and returned to the kitchen, where Angus was preparing dinner. They’d had to turn away Germ, who would’ve hung around the apartment otherwise, but spending the evening together, alone, was important. Dinner wasn’t too complicated tonight; Gregg could’ve probably figured it out had he needed to, but Angus was just so much better at it.
Gregg began to hug Angus from behind, his arms quickly snaking around his chest, just under his arms. Angus flinched, surprised for an instant, but then he leaned his head back slightly, nudging Gregg’s head, which had been pressed up against Angus’ back. Gregg kept his arms roped around Angus for a long, quiet time.
“Uh, Bug,” Angus mumbled, “I need to move the meatballs around or they’ll burn.” He stood just a bit too far from the stove to reach them, and Gregg’s tight hug kept him from easily stepping or leaning forward.
“Just another minute.” Gregg nearly whispered, “I’ll eat burnt balls.”
Angus quietly, sharply exhaled in a sort of refrained laugh. He stayed in place for another several seconds. Then, adjusting his arms slightly, he reiterated, “Really, hon, they’ll taste terrible.”
With only a muted grumble, Gregg pulled his arms back, his head still nestled against Angus’ back. Angus leaned forward with a fork and adjusted the meatballs, Gregg’s head sliding down the bear’s back. “That kind of day, huh?” he asked, glancing briefly over his shoulder at his boyfriend.
“Eh,” Gregg muttered. It wasn’t too bad. Besides, Angus was warm and cozy. The food smelled nice, too.
“Well, it’s almost done.”
Gregg inhaled slowly and stood upright. He briefly brushed the side of his face that had been pressed against Angus with his hand. “Anything you want me to help with?” he questioned, stepping around Angus towards the stove.
Angus smiled slightly. “Stir the pasta?” He gestured to the pot and the large spoon in it, leaned against its inside. Now stood in front of the pot, Gregg grabbed the spoon and stirred the pasta, leaning over slightly to see inside. Steam rose into his face.
Gregg withdrew from the steam, drawing his hand over his face to get the condensation off of him. After a moment, Angus asked, “You see Mae at work today?” It was in a mostly curious tone. But given the disagreements the two had had, Gregg knew what he was probably trying to get at.
“Yeah.” He didn’t want to talk about this tonight. He knew it was important, and he knew he could do better than he generally had been. Gregg could tone down the impulsiveness, stop letting Angus down, really focus on saving money. He wanted to, and to a degree, he had been. Really, he wanted to get out of the town as soon as possible. But it was too easy to get distracted.
Ugh, he didn’t want to think about it right now. Maybe later, maybe tomorrow. Just not right now; he couldn’t. It was too important and he was too guilty to face it.
“Did you skip work to hang out with her?” Angus enumerated.
“No.” Gregg stated. “Well, not really. We were just out by the back of the store.”
Quietly, under the meatballs sizzling and the pasta water bubbling, he heard Angus exhale, and it alone conveyed the sense of a sort of disappointment. In equal measure, Gregg wanted to just go take a nap and stop thinking about it, and defend himself further.
“What were you doing?” Angus continued.
“...There were extra bulbs, and—”
Angus pinched the bridge of his nose, where his glasses rested, “Again?”
“They were extras! We didn’t need them!” Gregg had started to defend himself without even really thinking about it.
“Gregg, you can’t keep doing this stuff. You’re gonna end up getting fired. Or worse, arrested.” Angus shut off the flame under the pan. “I’m trying to make everything add up, but if something happens, we’re back at square one.”
“I get it. I’m sorry.” Gregg was the one that kept pushing their moving date further back. Angus kept working, even as Gregg kept screwing everything up.
Angus slowly stirred the pasta, and the kitchen was almost entirely silent for what felt like a while. The bear focused on finishing the dinner, and Gregg mostly just stared ahead, thinking and listening. Angus shut off the heat under the pot and set the spoon aside. He grabbed a colander. “Did, uh, Christine notice you? Say anything about it?” The water dripped down into the sink as steam rose and fogged up Angus’ glasses.
“No.”
Angus carefully poured the pasta back into the pot. “Can you put this back? My glasses…” Gregg grabbed it and set it back on the stovetop, and Angus used his shirt to clean his glasses. He exhaled slowly. “Please don’t do it again, Bug.”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“It’s alright. I know you’re trying to change.” Angus reached over and grabbed a jar of tomato sauce. He opened it, then set the jar and the lid down on the counter. He looked over to Gregg. “I love you, Bug.”
Smiling, “Love you too, Cap’n.”
Finally, dinner was done, and the two had grabbed a serving. After burning his mouth on the first bite, Gregg now was complimenting the meal while he still had food in his mouth.
Angus smiled, “Thanks, Bug.”
“And the meatballs aren’t burnt!” Gregg added.
Angus swallowed. “No thanks to you,” he chuckled.
“I would eat them either way.” Gregg took a big bite. His words slurred by the food in his mouth, “Better not burnt, though.”
“It might be more difficult to make food you wouldn’t eat.”
Gregg feigned offense. “Not true!”
Angus laughed quietly. “Sure.” He took a sip of water. “ Pizza on the other hand…”
“If you ever make pizza so bad that I can’t eat it, we’re through,” joked Gregg.
“Better to just stick to spaghetti, then.”
“No, I like all the other stuff you make, too!”
“Then I’ll just swear off homemade pizza. Shouldn’t risk it.” Angus paused. “Could be fun, though.”
“Making a pizza together? Oh my god, you’re right.”
“Can’t help but feel like that’s something the others would want to join in on. Make an evening of it.”
“We can make pizza more than once!”
“You’re right.” Angus smiled. “Next week.”
“Yeah! And I won’t even nearly mess it up like with the meatballs.”
“What, you’ll fully mess it up?”
Gregg chortled. “Maybe.”
“For both our sakes, I’ll keep you from doing that.”
“Thanks, Cap’n.”
The two continued eating for a bit, occasionally having small talk or telling jokes— between bites in Angus’ case, or without caring in Gregg’s. Eventually, Gregg would get seconds.
“I guess I should take that as a compliment,” Angus said.
“It’s good!” Gregg replied loudly from the counter.
“It was mostly just store-bought things.”
“Well, you didn't mess it up.”
Angus chuckled. “Thanks.” A few moments passed by before Gregg came back to the table and sat down. “I wanted to ask earlier— how was Mae when you saw her?”
“Oh,” Gregg began, “well, she was alright I guess. Better than she’s been before.” Gregg took a sip from his glass. “You know— she’s got problems with everyone moving on and all that.”
“Right.” This wasn’t the first time this point had been made to Angus.
“Wish I could help her.”
“Well, we can’t fix it if it means holding ourselves back, right?”
“...Yeah, I know. But that, and everything else going on with her… I wish there was more I could do.”
Mae had brought some difficulties to the two’s lives, of course— but she also clearly had a number of difficulties herself. To that end, Angus certainly felt a deal of empathy for her, and given Gregg’s close relationship with her, he also felt a deal of sadness. There wasn’t much he could do for her, and subsequently, there wasn't much he could do for his boyfriend, either. For Gregg’s sake, he wanted to make it better.
“Well…” Angus thought, “you’re a good person, Bug. That you care so much about her, helping her wherever you can— being a good friend… I think you’re already doing everything you can. That’s all someone could hope for.” Angus adjusted his glasses and shifted his gaze for a few moments. “I think Mae needs people at her side, and she needs time— that’s what we can give, at least.”
Gregg’s eyes were just barely watery for a moment, before he tilted his head down a bit, averting his gaze to the pasta on the table before him. “Goddamnit, Angus,” a small, almost uncontrollable smirk audible in his voice, “you always say the right thing.”
“Always?”
“...When you need to.”
“That’s all someone could hope for,” Angus reiterated.
Gregg let out a small breathy laugh, his eyes becoming just a bit more watery again. “I love you so much, Cap’n.”
“I love you too, Bug.”
Gregg cleared his throat and then took a somewhat small bite of his second serving of pasta. “As always, you did an effing good job with dinner,” complimented Gregg, food in his mouth.
“I can tell you liked it— I’ve been wiping spit and bits of food off me since we sat down,” Angus joked.
“Oh shit, sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it, Bug. Glad you liked it.”
“How could I not when you made it?”
“Come on, wait until I make something more complicated than this for the compliments,” Angus blushed slightly.
“No! You made it, it’s good, you’re gonna get complimented whether you like it or not!”
“Well, I do like it.”
“Good.”
It was silent for a bit, but in a pleasant way; the two enjoying each other’s company in silence for a minute or so. Angus reflected on how hard Gregg was working to change for the better, how he could care so much, be so sensitive. He looked at Gregg and was glad that Gregg was here.
Gregg, though distracted to a degree with the task of devouring pasta, would also think happily about Angus. How lucky he was to have Angus around. How much more responsible he could be. And how handsome and warm and soft he could be…
“...Wanna watch a movie after I get everything cleaned up?” Angus asked.
“Yeah! Here,” Gregg took a massive bite of the remainder of the pasta in front of him, and nearly unintelligibly asked, “what can I help with?” He started to stand up.
Angus stood from his chair, grabbing his plate with one hand, and outstretching his other towards Gregg, “Here, gimme your plate. I got it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” Angus grabbed the plate from Gregg as he held it up.
“Alright. Then I’m looking for movies.”
“Go ahead.” Angus headed towards the sink.
“What kinda movie you wanna watch?” Gregg shouted from in front of the couch.
“Just start looking for now.”
Gregg switched on the lamp beside the couch. Since Angus started cooking dinner, the sun had completely set, and the last remnants of twilight were starting to disappear behind the hilly horizon. The yellowish light of the lamp shined through the window of the apartment into the dark of the town.
They were still in Possum Springs for the time being, and their move was still ambiguously far away. Surely they would enjoy the life offered to them in Bright Harbor more than in the small, dying town they had spent so long in. But that didn’t mean that they couldn't be happy for the time that they were still here. At least within the confines of the temporary home they had made.