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The lake house looked smaller than it did online. Someone joked about filters for real estate (Alex), someone else said the roof probably leaks (Yuki.) George called it a health violation.
By the time everyone arrived, the fridge was humming, and there was sand on the floor.
Lewis sat on the porch steps, sleeves rolled, mug in hand. "Every year you people drag me further from civilisation."
"You love it," Seb says, passing him a second mug. "Admit it."
"I tolerate it," Lewis replies, smiling anyway.
Nico, inside, near the grill, called out, "He tolerated me once, too. Look how that ended."
"Burnt burgers," Seb says.
"And emotional scarring," Lewis adds.
(˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
In the living room, Lando had found the speaker, which meant Max lost his patience.
"Turn it down!" Max wearing an "I'm in love with an idiot" apron shouted over the bass.
"It's not even loud!"
"It's vibrating the floor!"
"That's the point!"
"I can't concentrate on the grill!"
Carlos walked past with a bowl of salad. "If the house collapses, I'm blaming both of you."
Charles appeared from the hallway, hair damp, phone in hand. "Blaming them for what?"
"For existing," Max muttered.
Charles raised a brow. "Understandable."
The others snickered while Max pretended not to hear.
Everyone, except maybe Charles, knew that Max had been in love with Charles since - well, forever - back when Charles couldn't even stand him. The Monégasque had spent almost half of his life hating Max so loudly, it was practically flirting.
Back then, they'd argue about everything - who solved the equations faster, who got more answers right, whose essay was objectively better. These days they argued over music taste.
Progress. Sort of.
(˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
By 11 AM, the house smelled of smoke, sunscreen, and toast that Lando burnt on purpose for character.
Lewis was still sat on the porch steps, a faint smudge of char on his wrist now. "No matter how many years pass, it never stops feeling weird being with you guys and not grading essays," he says.
"You could grade us," Charles offered, dropping beside him.
"We'd all fail," Pierre offered helpfully.
On the porch, George was teaching Alex how to skip stones while Yuki filmed on his phone.
"This is going on the wedding video," Yuki said.
"We're not - " George started, but Alex interrupted, "Wedding video? Who's marrying?"
"You two," Pierre said, pointing at George and Alex, emerging with lemonade. "You've been unofficially engaged since sixth form."
George just sighed, and Alex bumped his shoulder affectionately.
Yuki nodded sagely. "I call best man."
(˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
Inside, Max was trying to assemble the grill. Nico watched, arms folded, a faint smile ghosting his face.
"You're over-tightening it," he said.
"I'm not."
"You are."
Max twisted the bolt once more, it snapped. Nico didn't say told you so, but the look did the job.
"You mentoring or heckling?" Lando called from the doorway.
"Is there a difference?" Nico said, but he took the wrench anyway.
Charles wandered in with a bag of rolls. “Maybe if you read the manual."
"I am reading it." Max was trying not to embarrass himself in front of the guy he's loved for longer than he could remember breathing.
"You're holding it upside down."
Max didn't look up. "Maybe I see things differently. "
Nico snickered but didn’t say anything. Max glared at him and said to Charles, "Stop hovering."
"I'm not hovering. I'm supervising. It's called quality control."
"It's called annoying."
Charles snorted, turning away before Max could see the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.
Seb caught it. "You both are insufferable," he murmured.
"I hate him," Charles muttered.
"Sure," Seb said, "that's what that face means."
Inside, Nico yelled a 'no' loud enough to grab the attention of even a fastidious monk.
"He's been like this all day," Charles says to Seb.
Seb followed, setting down a bottle of wine. "That's his love language. Condescension."
"Accurate," Lewis murmured from outside.
"Maybe Max got it from him," Charles thinks out loud, his lips curling into a smile again.
(˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
Yuki and Pierre were already the loudest couple in any room. They argued about playlists, recipes, whose joke bombed worse, and then fell asleep on the couch five minutes later.
"Pierre snores," Yuki told anyone who would listen.
"You talk in your sleep," Pierre would reply.
"Only to correct your grammar."
They'd high-fived in the middle of an argument once. Nobody knew why. It felt right anyway.
(˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
From another part of the house, Carlos was teasing Lando about the grocery list. "You bought six avocados for... thirteen people."
"I panicked," Lando says. "They looked… ripe."
Carlos just looks at him while Lando offers, "We could share?"
"They're all hard as rocks," Carlos sighs.
"That’s tomorrow's problem."
Oscar was curled on a deck chair, camera in hand, half-smiling. Arthur was sat beside him, knees pulled up.
"You take pictures of everything," Arthur said.
"Not everything."
"What don't you take pictures of?"
Oscar looked at him. "The stuff I want to keep."
Arthur didn't answer, just leaned his shoulder slightly closer.
(˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
The afternoon drifted easily. Pierre and Yuki kept everyone entertained - Pierre with his effortless charm, Yuki with the brutal honesty that makes even Nico laugh. And when Nico laughed, Lewis looked up from his book, the sound still surprising him.
Charles was talking quietly to Seb near the fire. "I still can't believe you used to live across from me," Charles said. "Half my childhood you were the guy fixing your motorbike at midnight."
"And half of yours you were the kid who complained about it," Seb replied.
"You made me love engines."
"I made your mother hate me," Seb said, and Charles laughed, head tilted back, hair catching the firelight.
Across the circle, Max watched the flames (and Charles). Nico noticed.
"Don’t overthink it," he said softly.
"I'm not."
"You are."
Max smirked. "Old habits?"
"Bad ones," Nico said.
(˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
When the wine ran low, someone (Arthur) found a deck of cards. They played badly, noisily, until the night cooled and the air smelled of lake water and char.
Lewis excused himself to refill glasses, Seb followed, carrying the empty bottle.
In the kitchen's quiet, Lewis rinsed his hands. "He still looks at me like I owe him something," he said.
Seb leaned on the counter. "Do you?"
Lewis shrugged. "Maybe an apology. Maybe nothing."
"Nothing's heavy to carry," Seb said.
Lewis looked up at him, eyes tired but soft. "You always talk like that?"
"Only when I'm nervous."
"You don't seem nervous."
"That's the trick."
A beat passed. Then they both laughed quietly, the kind that breaks tension without fixing it.
On the deck, Nico listened to their laughter through the window. Max still sat beside him, passed a beer.
"Thought you didn't drink on these things," Max says.
"I don't," Nico answers, and drinks anyway.
"Lewis seems… better."
"Yeah."
"Because of him?"
Nico shook his head. "Because of time."
Max studies him. "You ever think about calling?"
"I think about it," Nico says. "That's usually enough."
(˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
By midnight, half the group had drifted to bed. George and Alex were fast asleep on the couch. Carlos and Charles were arguing gently over whose turn it is to do dishes, Lando had fallen asleep on a pile of towels. Oscar and Arthur sat on the dock, bare feet skimming the dark water.
Arthur said, "You ever feel like we're just background characters in their movie?"
Oscar shook his head. "We're the sequel."
Arthur smiled. "Better soundtrack, too."
Oscar looked at him. "Better ending too, I hope."
From the porch, Seb called out, "Don't drown, you two."
"Not not planning to!" Arthur shouted back and Oscar laughed.
Lewis stepped beside Seb, watching the ripples. "They remind me of us," he says.
"Which us?" Seb asks.
"The one that wasn't trying so hard."
Seb glanced at him. "Maybe that one's still around."
Lewis smiles at him.
(˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
Morning crept in with coffee and gulls and the sound of Carlos swearing at the frying pan.
"Burnt again," he sighed.
Charles took the spatula gently. "Let me."
"You'll burn it worse."
"Then we're even."
Lando yawned into his cereal. "We're never leaving this kitchen alive."
Oscar lifted his camera, snaps a picture. "Evidence," he said.
Nico was the last to appear, hair damp from the lake. He nodded at Lewis, who was packing mugs into a crate. "Need a hand?"
Lewis passed him one without looking up. "Sure."
They worked in silence, the kind that felt like a truce.
When it was done, Nico said, "You were right about the grill. That summer. I overtightened it."
Lewis smiled faintly. "You just wanted the last word."
"Old habits," Nico said.
Lewis glanced toward Seb, laughing with Charles outside. "Bad ones."
"Maybe," Nico said. "But they built good things once."
Lewis didn't answer, but his hand brushed Nico's as he reached for another mug. Neither remembers who pulled away first.
(˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
A couple of hours passed and Lando wandered in, holding a pineapple. "Emergency question: do we have a blender?"
Carlos sighed. "Why?"
"Science experiment."
"You're making cocktails again, aren't you?"
"Define cocktail."
"Something that ends with me carrying you to bed."
Lando grinned. "So you do care."
Carlos throws a kitchen towel at him. "You're impossible."
"Yeah," Lando says. "But yours though."
Oscar, watching from the table, nearly choked on his drink. Arthur patted his back, too cheerfully.
"Still your type?" Arthur teased.
Oscar groaned. "That was years ago."
Pierre leaned in from across the counter. "You had a crush on Lando?!"
"Briefly," Oscar shrugged. "Medically and statistically insignificant."
Yuki burst out laughing. "Sure, mate. Tell that to your diary."
Arthur snickered. Oscar flipped them off without heat.
(˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
George and Alex, who had been missing since afternoon, arrived when the sun had dipped below horizon, carrying an entire grocery bag of snacks and one very indignant cat.
"Don’t ask," George said as the cat escaped under the sofa.
"Have you two…?" Lando started.
"Yes," Alex cut in. "But we weren’t - "
"Yes, you were," George said. "And yes, we might as well be married."
Nobody even batted an eye at that.
As evening slid into gold, the house found its rhythm again - music from the speakers orchestrated by Lando (and Max), the smell of grilled vegetables, half-finished conversations drifting through the open doors.
Seb was teaching Arthur how to open a wine bottle without ruining the cork. Lewis was showing Yuki how to tune the guitar. Nico was explaining fire safety to a crowd that wasn't listening.
Max sat on the porch railing, watching Charles talk to Carlos in the kitchen - laughing, animated, eyes bright.
"Staring again?" Lando asked, dropping beside him with a drink.
"Was not."
"Sure. Totally not making those longing heart-eyes at him."
Max glared. "You're one to talk. You stare at Carlos like he's the last functioning neuron in your non-existent brain."
"Yes. Jealous?"
"Disgusted."
They clinked glasses anyway.
(˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
Later, when the fire was built and the stars appeared, conversations softened.
Carlos leaned back on his elbows with Lando's head on his shoulder, George and Alex shared a blanket, Oscar and Arthur were having a quiet yet heated discussion over whether the moon counts as a planet "emotionally." Pierre and Yuki were telling the story of how they got banned from karaoke once.
Charles sat by the water, guitar in hand, playing quietly. Max joined him, a safe distance away.
"You're good," Max said after a while.
"Don't lie."
"I'm not. You are."
Charles looked over, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "You'd say the same even if I was the worst player in the world."
"Still won't be lying." Max said coolly.
Charles studied him for a moment. "You're so annoying."
"Yeah," Max says, grinning. "What's the fun otherwise?"
Charles shook his head, and maybe - just maybe - his smile lingered longer than before.
(˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
Inside, Lewis and Nico were clearing up plates in the quiet.
"Remember when we couldn't be in a room without yelling?" Lewis asks.
Nico handed him a dish towel. "We're improving."
"Progress, sort of."
"Sort of," Nico echoed.
Seb walked in, drying his hands. "Aww look at you two being terrifyingly domestic right now. Should I be jealous?"
"Don’t ruin it," Lewis said.
Seb smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."
(˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
Midnight fell and the house hummed with tired laughter and clinking glasses.
Yuki and Pierre had fallen asleep mid argument about turtles. George and Alex were watching an old movie, whispering the dialogue. Arthur had been sketching something on Oscar's arm with a marker. Carlos and Lando, drunk and giddy, were dancing badly in the kitchen.
Outside, Charles sat beside Max again.
"We are such idiots." Charles said.
"I know," Max coos.
"Like revolving doors."
"Yep."
"Can you just stop agreeing with me on everything?"
"Can do."
"God you're so annoying."
"I know, you've said before," Max smirked.
"Is your only aim in life to irritate me?"
"Maybe." Max shrugged. "Maybe not. Trying something new now though."
"Which is?"
"Learning to care about the right things."
"And those are?"
"You."
Charles looked away, but he was smiling - quiet, like it was a secret he was still deciding whether to keep or not. After a beat he said, "You're so drunk right now."
Max looked at him, "Yes, Charlie, I so am."
If Charles' face was redder than a ripe tomato then nobody needed to know.
(˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
When the first light seeped in, Nico was at the water, coffee in hand. Seb joined him, barefoot in the cold sand.
"They're good kids," Seb said.
"You say this every year."
"Still true though."
"Chaotic, that's what they are," Nico replies.
"Same thing."
Lewis stepped onto the dock, stretching. "You two sound like proud uncles."
"Grandfathers," Nico said dryly.
"Speak for yourself," Seb muttered.
Lewis laughed, soft.
They left that afternoon - the kind of leaving that didn't hurt because everyone knew they'd find their way back eventually. By the time the cars were packed and the porch swept, the house looked smaller again.
"Next year?" Lando asked, hopeful.
"Next year," Carlos assured.
Before they left, Oscar had snapped one last photo: a blur of smiles, messy hair, mugs and coffee cups, Nico half-scowling, Lewis mid-laugh, Seb's hand on Charles' left shoulder with Max's head resting on his right shoulder, Lando and Carlos tangled in each other, Pierre and Yuki making faces, Arthur and Oscar side by side, George and Alex looking exactly like they'd looked forever.
"Thought you only took pictures of stuff you didn't wanna keep," Arthur said later, hands on the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
"I was being poetic, 'thur, not literal," Oscar said with a laugh, and Arthur only shook his head, smiling to himself.
Later, when they shared the pictures, someone said it looked like a family.
No one disagreed.