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The first thing David noticed about Melbourne was the light. It was different from Durban’s thick, golden haze; this was a sharp, clear, vivid light that revealed every detail of the airport arrivals curb in high definition. It felt less like clarity and more like an interrogation, exposing just how far he was from the comfortable, predictable life he’d left behind.
The second thing he noticed was his homestay host for the year, Glenn Maxwell, leaning against a battered car, looking less like a university student and more like a sun-bleached demigod who’d just wandered in from the outback. David’s stomach did a funny little flip.
They had exchanged an email once, in which they sent each other a photograph. Although the photo David sent was deliberately grainy, the Australian must have recognised him anyway, as he started walking towards him.
“G’day! You must be Dave," Glenn said, his grin a startling flash of white in his tanned face. He grabbed David’s oversized suitcase as if it weighed nothing. “Welcome to Oz. Hope you’re ready for a proper education!”
The education, as it turned out, had very little to do with David’s business degree. It began the next morning in Glenn’s sun-drenched, chaotic shared house with a lesson on eating Vegemite. David watched, horrified yet fascinated, as Glenn slathered the black, tar-like substance onto white bread.
When David’s turn came, his fingers brushed against Glenn’s as he took the knife. A simple, accidental touch sent a jolt of awareness straight up David’s arm. “Whoa, whoa, easy there, tiger,” Glenn had laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He took the bread from David’s hands and scraped most of it off for him. “It’s a condiment, not a main event. A thin smear, then a plethora of butter… Trust me.”
David took a tentative bite. The salty, pungent flavour struck him like a dead end.
It tastes like concentrated, salty regret. But he’s watching me with those eager puppy-dog eyes, his whole being radiating hopeful expectation. As if my opinion on fermented yeast extract is the most important review he’ll ever receive.
I’d probably eat an entire jar if it meant he’d keep looking at me like I’m this fascinating.
“Not so bad,” David managed to say.
“See?” Glenn beamed, and the sheer force of his smile made David’s chest feel tight. “You’re practically a local now!”
The lessons rapidly became a tradition. Glenn demonstrated the sacred ritual of eating a meat pie with sauce at a footy match, their shoulders pressed together in the noisy, chilly stadium.
David realised he couldn’t care less about the game. His attention was entirely on the comforting warmth of Glenn beside him, the way he’d lean in to explain a rule, his breath a warm puff against David’s ear.
During a late-night drive from university one evening, Glenn taught him the words to “Down Under” by Men at Work, their voices shouting the silly lyrics into the wind rushing through the car windows. David, who usually hated singing, found himself belting out the words, his voice blending with Glenn’s off-key baritone. A feeling of pure joy welled up in his chest, so foreign and bright it almost hurt.
This is absurd. And perfect. His chaos is a whirlwind, and instead of feeling unmoored, I feel… freed. For the first time, I’m not David, the dutiful student. I’m simply Dave. And that’s enough for him.
It feels like belonging.
The following month, Glenn showed him how to spot a possum in the backyard fig tree, its eyes gleaming in the beam of his torch, and his hand warm and steady on David’s back as he pointed.
His hand — that’s all I can think about.
The weight of it, the heat seeping through my shirt.
My heart is pounding this frantic, drumming rhythm against my ribs. I’m sure he must feel it, too.
I’m not paying attention to the possum at all; I’m memorising the feel of his palm on my spine, the slight calluses on his fingers, trying to freeze this moment in time.
The crush was a quiet, creeping feeling for David. Then it turned into something deeper and more terrifying one afternoon when they swam at a beach still too cold for any sensible South African.
They were bodysurfing the crashing waves, and Glenn emerged from the water, hair stuck to his forehead, laughing as a wave knocked him over. He shook his head, splashing water everywhere, and looked at David with pure, unfiltered joy that made David's breath catch. The sun caught the droplets on his skin, making him shine.
Oh.
Oh, no.
This isn’t merely a crush. It's a fundamental shift in my universe.
He is the sun, and I am merely a planet, trapped in a gravity I never wish to break free from.
How can someone be this vibrant in reality? And how can I, quiet and steady David, ever be enough to hold his attention?
The shared moments established a new, treasured rhythm in David’s life. One evening, Glenn burst into the living room, a whirl of frantic energy. “Right, emergency. My stats group is a mess. Sarah’s dropped out. You have a brain. You can be moral support. Please? I’ll owe you. I’ll name my first-born after you!”
David pretended to consider it, hiding a smile. He wants me there. Not just anyone. Me.
“Moral support?” David asked, his voice gentler than he meant it to be.
Three hours later, sprawled on the floor of Glenn’s room, surrounded by textbooks, Glenn looked up. “You’re good at this,” he said quietly and sincerely.
David ran a hand through his hair, acting casual. “What, at spelling?”
“No,” Glenn smiled, his gaze intent. "At... this. Being here. It’s… quieting. In a good way."
Quieting. He finds me quieting. The word envelops him like a warm hug.
No one has ever described me in that manner.
In his whirlwind life, I am his calm.
The thought was so profound it took his breath away. To be someone’s peace – that felt more intimate than any touch.
Another night, during a viewing of Crocodile Dundee, Glenn grew quiet as the credits rolled. “My dad used to quote this film all the time,” he murmured, his voice lacking its usual bravado. “Silly, really.” It was a vulnerable, raw sound.
He’s revealing a part of himself. A quiet, delicate part.
I want to cup my hands around it, around him, and keep it safe from the world. David doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he stayed still, hoping his presence was a language Glenn would understand.
The most memorable moment occurred during a spontaneous road trip along the Great Ocean Road. They paused at a viewpoint, with the wind swirling around them. David turned and saw Glenn not admiring the scenery, but holding his phone up to take a picture – of him.
Caught, Glenn lowered the phone with an embarrassed, gentle grin. “Sorry, the light was good.”
He was taking a picture of me. Not the magnificent, world-famous Twelve Apostles. Just me.
His heart didn’t just pound; it soared.
“The light was good.” The loveliest lie I’ve ever been told. The light was everywhere, but he was only looking at me.
On the drive home, with a slow song playing softly in the car, a peaceful silence settled between them. David glanced at Glenn’s profile, lit by the dashboard lights, and felt a deep, unsettling sense of rightness.
This is it. My compass has spun for years, and now it’s finally, irrevocably still. My true north is the man driving this battered car, humming softly off-key.
Glenn reached over silently, his eyes still on the road, and saw David’s hand resting. He interlaced their fingers.
David’s breath hitched, but he didn’t draw back. He turned his hand over and clung on more tightly, as if he could anchor himself to this moment forever.
The shift into something more happened on a night thick with the scent of eucalyptus and barbecue. A party had wound down, leaving them alone on the back deck, the silence between them heavy and charged. Glenn turned to him, his usual energy replaced by a rare seriousness. “It’s going to be weird when you leave, eh?”
The words hung in the air, infused with a mix of hope and fear that reflected David’s own feelings. His heart hammered. “Yeah…” he rasped, voice rough. “Weird.”
He’s thinking about me leaving. Why? Does that mean…?
No, don’t be an idiot. He’s just making conversation. He’s probably counting down the days.
Then Glenn leaned in, and David met him halfway.
The first kiss tasted of beer, smoke, and indefinably Maxi. It was hungry but sweet; a question and an answer all at once.
Clothes were hurriedly and awkwardly shed as they made their way from the deck to Glenn’s bedroom. The room was cluttered with cricket gear and textbooks, and David found himself pressed against the unmade bed, surrounded by Glenn’s scent.
Everything was slow and reverent. Glenn’s hands weren’t just claiming; they were worshipping, mapping David’s skin as if memorising a sacred text. His mouth was an anchor on David’s throat, his shoulder, his chest…
This is his world. This messy, chaotic, beautiful, perfect room. And he’s allowing me into it. The way he’s looking at me... it’s not just hunger. It’s awe. It’s reverence.
How did I not notice it sooner? How could I have ever believed I was only temporary?
It was during a fleeting moment of pure, blinding clarity, as Glenn moved within him, his face a mask of vulnerable, breathtaking ecstasy, that the thought came to David, sharp and cold: I have to go back soon.
South Africa. Oceans between us. The end. This will come to an end. The cold certainty of it was a knife twisting in his gut, contrasting sharply with the warmth surrounding him. He’ll forget. I’ll be a story he tells others.
But then Glenn’s eyes fluttered open. They were dark, wide with pleasure, and they locked onto David’s. A slow, dazed smile spread across his face, one of such unguarded, radiant happiness that it seemed to generate its own light. A twinkle, bright and sure, shone in his gaze, and it was aimed directly at David.
No.
Future David will face the heartbreak. Future David will handle the goodbyes. My job, my only purpose, right now, is exactly here.
To protect that light in his eyes at all costs. To live in this moment so completely that its warmth will sustain me for a lifetime.
He reached up, cupped Maxwell’s jaw, his thumb grazing the stubble on his cheek as if he could commit the sensation to memory through touch alone. He drew him down into a deep, searing kiss, pouring every ounce of love, fear, and desperate hope he couldn’t yet put into words.
The future might have to wait. Borders might close. The oceans might rise and engulf them.
Right now, the only thing that mattered in the world was the man in his arms and the perfect, quiet peace they had created – a sanctuary built together under the sharp, clear Australian sky.