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Tommy stands in the doorway of the living room, arms crossed, watching Evan toss his jacket onto the back of the couch with a resigned sigh. It’s the same jacket he’d put on two hours ago, along with his ‘date-night smile’ - now both slightly crumpled.
"Another dud?" Tommy asks carefully.
He leans a shoulder against the doorframe, casually biting into an apple like he didn’t just spend the last twenty minutes pacing the apartment, wondering jealously if tonight would finally be the night that Evan didn’t come home right after leaving.
Evan flops onto the couch, the picture of melodrama, one arm thrown over his eyes, "Not even a dud. A total no-show. She didn’t even text me to cancel!” he pulls his arm away, fixing Tommy with a pout that makes Tommy want nothing more than to lean in and kiss it away, "What’s wrong with me?"
Tommy doesn’t answer immediately, taking another deliberate bite of his apple. He could say what’s on the tip of his tongue - absolutely nothing, you’re perfect, they’re the ones that are wrong - but that might give too much away. Instead, he lets the question hang in the air, crossing to the couch to sit down next to Evan. Not too close. Not too far. Just enough to keep it friendly. Casual.
"Maybe she got abducted by aliens," Tommy offers. "Or fell into a manhole. It’s LA. Weird stuff happens."
Evan huffs a laugh, reaching for the TV remote, “Yeah, well, a lot of weird stuff must be happening to my dates lately,” he sighs, “Well. Whatever. Her loss, I guess. I can sit here and enjoy Netflix instead, You know, Netflix and-" he pauses, waving the remote thoughtfully, "Self-pity?"
Tommy nudges Evan’s knee with his own, "Try Netflix and carbs. I’ve got leftover pizza. Pepperoni, and Everything-But-Anchovies."
"Mm,” he agrees with a forlorn expression, “Pepperoni is definitely the key to mend my bruised heart…"
"And if not, then at least the cardiac arrest will come swiftly,” Tommy grins. He finishes his apple, taking it to the kitchen to dispose of it and grab the pizza, "I’ll heat it up. You pick the movie. Something good this time."
Behind him, he hears Evan mutter something about how he’s being set up to fail because Tommy always judges his movie choices.
Their apartment is a modest two-bedroom flat: the kind of place that looks a little rough around the edges and absolutely isn’t maintained by the landlord, but functions just well enough (and is cheap enough) for two busy students. They’d found each other through a campus housing board - both in need of someone to split the cost of rent. Tommy had come back to college after a brief stint in the military, and didn’t mind sharing a space with a first-year like Evan, who had optimism and enthusiasm for the both of them. The rent was cheap, and they had become fast friends despite the age gap.
The flat reflects their differences in subtle ways. Tommy’s bedroom is neat and minimal, with a gray comforter, orderly desk, and a few framed photos of his childhood dog. Evan’s is the opposite: a jumble of clothes, posters, and a guitar he doesn’t actually play. The shared spaces are a mix of both their personalities - the living room dominated by Evan’s beat-up couch and oversized TV, while Tommy’s contributions include a sturdy coffee table and a rug to hide the scuffed floor. They live together, rather than just share-housing.
It’s comfortable, even if every moment of closeness tests Tommy’s resolve to keep his feelings hidden.
He didn’t mean to fall for Evan - it had started as simple friendship, a quiet appreciation for the way Evan lit up every room and turned even the dullest moments into something memorable. But like all things, over time it had deepened into something far more complicated, slipping through the cracks of late-night conversations and easy laughter.
The problem was that Evan was, as far as Tommy could tell, straight - his endless stories of bad dates and wistful mentions of "the girl-next-door" left little room for doubt. Most days, it’s fine. But some nights, when Evan leans too close or laughs in a way that makes Tommy’s chest ache, he wonders how long he can keep pretending. But it’s fine. He’ll graduate soon, and his memories Evan of will go into a little box that grows larger each year.
Tommy grabs the pizza box from the fridge, letting the door close with a soft thud. He flips it open to check its contents - still intact, no questionable fridge smells or green patches. Good enough.
When he gets back to the living room, balancing the pizza tray and two sodas, Evan has already queued up some random action movie, "Figured explosions would match my mood," Evan says with a crooked grin, sliding over to make room.
“Volatile, with no respect for the architecture of-“ Tommy squints at the screen, “Chicago?” Evan just nods sagely as Tommy sits down, this time a little closer, setting the tray between them on the couch, “Well, sounds like another sure-fire cure for the sads.”
"Yeah? What's the peer-reviewed journal for that?" Evan teases, grabbing a slice and settling back.
"Life experience," Tommy quips, taking a bite of his own.
The movie starts, but Tommy finds himself more aware of Evan than the screen. The way he leans forward during the chase scenes, the warm press of his arm when shifts closer. It’s not deliberate, Tommy tells himself. It’s just Evan being Evan. But when Evan’s arm brushes his and this time it stays there, Tommy doesn’t move away.
By the time the credits roll, the pizza’s gone, and Evan’s practically leaning into him, his head tipped against the back of the couch, "Not bad for a backup plan," Evan mumbles, his voice low and soft.
Tommy swallows as he gazes over at him, his heart flipping, "Yeah," he says, voice steady. "Not bad."
The room falls quiet except for the faint hum of the end credits music. Evan hasn’t moved, his head still resting against the couch. His eyes are half-lidded now, relaxed and looking like he’s ready for bed.
Tommy, on the other hand, feels like he’s walking a tightrope, trying not to disturb the fragile peace between them. He can feel the slow rhythm of Evan’s breathing. It would be so easy to lean in just a little more, to-
No. He shakes the thought away. That’s not why he’s here. Evan deserves comfort and a good friend, not some ill-timed confession and the cause of a potential restraining order.
Luckily, Evan stretches and pushes off the couch before Tommy can do anything he’ll regret, heading for the kitchen, “I’m getting more drinks. You want another soda?”
“Sure, but, uh, you looked about nine seconds from falling asleep before. You sure a soda is a good idea?”
”Yeah,” he replies, voice a little fainter as his face disappears into the fridge, “I was thinking we could watch another movie?”
“Another?” Tommy asks in surprise, glancing at the time. They don’t have classes tomorrow, but he usually doesn’t stay up this late. Although, if Evan’s asking him to, it’s not like he’s going to say no.
Evan drops back onto the couch with an easy, careless grace, handing one over.
“Unless you’re too tired,” Evan teases, nudging Tommy’s foot with his own. “I mean, you’re practically ancient compared to me. Early bedtime, prune juice, the works.”
Tommy snorts. “You realize I’m maybe five years older than you, right?”
“Yeah, but emotionally? You’re, like, 70.” Evan grins, leaning back against the couch again.
“You’re lucky I’m too comfortable to get up and push you off this couch,” Tommy mutters, but he grabs the remote anyway. Scrolling through the options, he tries to focus on the screen and not the way Evan’s arm rests on the back of the couch, close enough that it brushes against Tommy’s shoulder every time he shifts.
“Something funny,” Evan says after a moment. “Weird action movie was good, but I need to laugh now.”
Tommy raises an eyebrow, scrolling until he finds a comedy he vaguely remembers Evan mentioning once. He clicks play, and as the opening credits roll, he catches the quick, pleased smile on Evan’s face. He doesn’t say anything, but the look he gives Tommy lingers - warm, grateful. He tries hard not to read too far into it.
As the movie plays, Evan laughs easily, loud and unabashed. Tommy finds himself laughing too, more at Evan’s reactions than the movie itself. It’s a light comedy, easy enough to follow and Tommy lets himself get distracted by it this time, instead of worrying about every single move Evan makes. He can be normal about this. He can.
When the credits finally roll, Tommy stretches his arms over his head. Evan is sprawled across the couch, legs kicked up on the coffee table, looking impossibly relaxed as he stifles a yawn.
“Alright, laugh quota fulfilled?” Tommy teases, nudging Evan’s foot off the table with his own.
“For now.” Evan grins sleepily, “I needed that,” he pushes himself upright, running a hand through his hair in a way that makes it stick up even more, “Thanks for... you know. Staying awake with me. You didn’t have to.”
Tommy huffs a laugh, trying to deflect the heat rising in his chest, “It’s my couch too. Would’ve been rude to leave you to hog it.”
Evan grins, a lopsided thing that sends a bolt of warmth through Tommy’s chest, “I mean it. You’re always... dependable, you know? Like, I can count on you,” he shifts a little closer, their knees brushing now. “Not everyone’s like that.”
Tommy doesn’t know what to say to that. His throat feels tight, but he’s afraid Evan’s going to say something awful, like ‘you’re a good friend,’ and shatter any kind of half-baked illusion Tommy’s built in his head. He can’t have that, “Guess I’m just built different?”
Evan laughs at that, his head tipping back against the couch. “You’re so weird.”
“And yet, here you are.”
“Here I am,” Evan agrees, his voice quieter now. His gaze lingers on Tommy for a beat too long, and Tommy feels his pulse quicken. But before he can overthink it, he staggers to his feet, grabbing the empty cans and the pizza box and scurrying to the kitchen.
He lingers there, making himself busy with inane cleaning until he hears Evan get up to go to the bathroom. Thank god.
The door opens after a minute or two and the sound of him brushing his teeth filters out into the rest of the house. Tommy can hear the faint hum of some song Evan has half-remembered, so out of tune that Tommy can’t place it. The sound makes Tommy’s chest tighten in the best way. Regardless of the way he feels about Evan, he’s grateful to him for filling the empty space, for being his friend.
He emerges from the bathroom a moment later, hair curly and wearing an old, threadbare t-shirt and pajama pants. He grins when he sees Tommy, his eyes crinkling at the edges in that way that makes Tommy feel unsteady. Everything he does is intoxicating; is endearing, is everything he’s ever wanted. Tommy needs to get a grip, his thoughts flip-flopping every time he goes between seeing Evan and not.
“All yours,” Evan says, stepping aside so Tommy can pass.
Tommy grabs his own toothbrush from the sink, making quick work of getting ready for bed. When he comes back out, Evan is filling up his bedside water bottle. The night is ending, and Tommy’s suddenly afraid of saying goodnight. He doesn’t want it to end… but another movie is off the table, and he’s out of activities that wouldn’t seem absolutely insane at this time of night.
“I know you’re the King of Deflecting, but I just- I want you to know that I really do appreciate what you did tonight,” Evan says, “Honestly, you were a way better date than my actual date would’ve been.”
Tommy freezes mid-step, his heart hammering in his chest. Evan’s grin is small but genuine, his eyes bright even in the dim light.
He knows he should laugh it off, keep it casual. But something about the way Evan is looking at him - open, trusting, maybe even hopeful, and god he hopes he hasn’t misread it - pushes him past the edge of caution.
“Evan,” Tommy says, stepping closer.
“Yeah?” Evan’s voice is soft now, the grin slipping into something more uncertain, almost shy.
Tommy doesn’t let himself think too much. He crosses the room in a few strides, stopping just short of him, close enough to catch the scent of his cologne, still lingering from when he’d sprayed it earlier in the night for his date.
There’s no hesitation when he moves in, his hand coming up to brush against Evan’s jaw, thumb barely grazing the corner of his mouth before he leans in and presses their lips together. For a heartbeat, Evan freezes, his eyes wide - but he doesn’t pull away.
There’s a beat before he responds, his hands reaching out, one resting lightly on Tommy’s arm. The kiss deepens, and Evan lets out a quiet, giddy laugh against Tommy’s mouth before pulling back, just enough to look at him.
“Whoa,” Evan says, sounding nervous and amazed all at once, “That was… I mean, I wasn’t expecting…” he trails off, his face lighting up with a grin that could outshine the sun.
Tommy chuckles, his hand brushing lightly against Evan’s cheek. It feels like an out of body experience, his heart so full it might burst, even though he keeps himself cool with a soft smile, “Good whoa?”
“Good whoa,” Evan confirms, nodding emphatically, “Like, really good whoa. I’m just- wow, okay,” he breathes, “You- you really are a better date. You even gave me a kiss at the door.”
He seems frantic and unhinged, and Tommy can’t help his soft little laugh as he presses another gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, just to calm him down.
“You okay?” Tommy asks softly, his voice somehow steady even as his heart thunders in his chest.
Evan nods quickly, his grip on Tommy’s shirt tightening for a second before he lets out a breathless laugh.
“Good,” Tommy says, his lips twitching into a small smile, “Go to bed, Evan. We can talk tomorrow, yeah?”
Evan blinks, dazed but still giddy, “And kiss, right?”
“And kiss,” Tommy confirms with a laugh.
Evan nods eagerly. Tommy watches him draw in a long breath, letting it back out, his eyes bright. A grin slowly spreads across his face as he backs into his room, “Goodnight Tommy.”
“Goodnight Evan.”
Tommy turns back toward the kitchen to turn out the light, wondering how he can get in contact with Evan’s no-show date, just to thank her for the chain of events she unwittingly created.