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The minute Constance saw Oscar kissing Bosie, she ran in the complete opposite direction, ballet flats skittered against the hallway as she scrambled into the closest room she could find: ironically, a broom closet.
Of course, Oscar just had to follow her.
“Let go of me!” Constance cried when his hand closed in around her arm, his chest slamming into hers as he tried to wiggle his way into the already cramped space.
“Constance, please.” His voice was calm, too calm, and Constance hated him for it - maybe even more for that than for the kiss itself. A smile was teasing the edges of his mouth. “Just let me explain-”
“Explain, my arse!” She wished she was wearing heels, but she wasn’t, so she had to settle for stamping her ballet flat down hard onto his dress shoe-encased foot.
Oscar winced but didn’t appear pained otherwise. Slamming into her suddenly, the weight of him propelled her against the wall as he used his foot - the uninjured one - to close the door behind them. They were so close now that Constance could feel Oscar’s breath against her cheeks, eyelids fluttering as she did her best to avoid his gaze. “O-Oscar…”
Something like a pout replaced Oscar’s snigger. “You aren’t very eloquent.”
She rolled her eyes with enough force that it must have been audible. “Sorry, you’re the first person I’ve spoken to in ten years.”
Oscar sighed. “Constance-”
“No, Oscar. You’re going to explain to me what exactly you were just doing with Bosie Douglas. You’ll tell me everything, or-” the words caught in her throat, eyes darting throughout the small and cramped space like the labels on one of the cleaning bottles would give her some hint of what to say. Her heart picked up its pace inside her chest, slamming unpleasantly against her ribs. She’d have brought a hand up to swipe away the piece of bang which had fallen in front of her eyes had that not have spelled complete physical contact with Oscar due to their sheer proximity. “-or I’m leaving you.”
Immediately, all of Oscar’s bravado slid away. In its place was the shell of a man, eyes hollow as they stared down into Constance’s face, trying to gauge the truth of her declaration. Even his shoulders, usually so regally poised, deflated in bewilderment. “Constance-”
“I mean it.” Braver now than she’d ever been, Constance took a step forward - however much she could in the cramped space - not allowing herself to care for the way their chests collided, their hearts landing right on top of each other. She could feel Oscar’s heartbeat against hers, a physical reminder of their love for each other, but would it ever be enough for him? Would she ever have him all to herself, or would he keep slinking off with whoever gave him the most attention? - his wife one day, his paramour the next.
She shut her eyes around a particularly laborious breath, and the image of Oscar’s mouth on Bosie’s filled her mind again. The way Oscar had held that boy was nothing short of worshipful - and not anything comparable to anything he’d ever done with her. Those long, pale fingers had skittered so admiringly along the plateau of Bosie’s face, the knife’s edge of his jaw, the matching harshness of their bodies fitting together better than any man and woman ever could, that it left Constance breathless and just as defeated in her disposition as Oscar appeared now. Constance recognized that perfect union between members of the same sex all too well - she’d fantasized about it often enough between herself and Grace - yet seeing the physical proof of it now, and on the body of the man she loved, shook her to her core. Before, they’d just been youthful imaginings, vaguely idealistic in their juvenile naïveté, but now they were as real as anything, and being weaponized against her.
That breath she’d been trying to breathe in before finally filled and left her lungs, leaving her empty-feeling in its wake. When she opened her eyes, she had to close them quickly again just to dispel the sudden onset of tears assaulting her vision. Was this something she could ever forgive Oscar for?
Oscar breathed out softly, dragging Constance back into the present. Her eyes met his only for a moment, but it was a moment that was long enough to translate in her mind the sheer pain racing through Oscar’s. Maybe he didn’t feel guilty that he’d done it, but he felt bad that he’d hurt her. That was more than Constance could have ever claimed about Grace.
It was for that reason, and that reason only, that Constance felt inclined toward mercy.
She let out a long, defeated sigh, her shoulders sinking just like Oscar’s had just moments before. Her eyes dropped to her ballet flats, the pit in her stomach slowly dissipating but not leaving anything better in its wake, either. She finally felt like she had enough courage to bring up that arm to swipe that piece of bang out from in front of her eyes.
The lump in her throat was almost impossibly thick, yet she managed to speak anyway. “I- I think you should go.”
“Constance…”
“This isn’t over,” Constance added quickly, less to assure him than it was to comfort herself. She just couldn’t get those images out of her mind. She was feeling merciful, yes, but that never engenders certainty. As far as she was concerned, their future was about as unknowable as it had been the moment she’d opened that door and walked in on Oscar and Bosie. “But I need some time - to feel my feelings, to sort things out. I just want to make sure I’m making the right choice.”
Her shoulders braced for impact the moment the words left her mouth, fully expecting Oscar to be equipped with some witty rejoinder that would send them into the pits of argument all over again. And yet, Oscar was completely quiet. Serenely so, almost, dark eyes flashing as they searched out Constance’s gaze without ever quite catching it. “If that’s what you wish,” he said, entirely resigned to his fate, it seemed - so much so that, in spite of the little room available to them, he did his best to turn around so he could grab the door handle and leave of his own accord.
Constance heard him jiggle the handle once, then twice. From the sound of things, it didn’t budge either time.
It was slow, but Oscar turned around to face Constance again, embarrassment and fear dawning on his face in tandem, making for quite the hilarious expression. His mouth fell open just a bit, eyes bulging with fear.
Constance couldn’t help but bark a laugh.
Looked like someone locked them in here together.
A moment of awkwardness stood between them. Then suddenly, miraculously, Oscar began to laugh, too, the sort that reached his eyes, making them shine like starbursts while they began to crinkle at the corners from the sheer intensity of his smile. The movement pushed him forward, too, his chin knocking a bit against Constance’s chest as he ducked his head in an attempt to quiet his boisterous laughter - to spare whose ears, Constance had no idea. Oscar hated his laughs, but Constance adored them. They were just another unique thing about Oscar that made him… him.
The hilarity wore off eventually, leaving them both teary-eyed and panting for breath, matching smiles plastered on both of their faces. Wearily, they both lifted their heads until their eyes met. “What’re we doing in here?” Constance asked breathlessly, gulping in another lungful of air.
Oscar shrugged. “I dunno.”
And they began to laugh again.
Half an hour later, they were rescued by a red-faced Robbie, who looked like he’d just spent the last thirty minutes prying the door open with his bare hands. He was rewarded with an embrace from Oscar and a pat on the head from Constance, who tried to avoid his gaze on principle, still wracked with guilt for having fallen for the same man as him.
As Constance retreated down the hallway with Oscar, she felt Robbie’s withering gaze boring a hole into the small of her back.
Oscar accompanied her to her room, giving her a peck on the lips once she got her door open. She lingered in the doorway for a moment, not ready to say goodbye to him yet, before kissing him a final time and letting him leave. She waved him all the way down the hall, waiting until he’d disappeared from view to close the door behind her and lock herself into the quiet cocoon of her dorm room.
Whistling as he walked, Oscar couldn’t believe the sheer luck that had been the closet door being locked in the first place. That single happenstance had singlehandedly saved his relationship. Whoever said laughter was the best medicine must have been a genius.
When he swung open the door to his dorm, he was met with a figure sitting on his bed. For a second, he thought it was Robbie due to the low light, though upon illuminating the candle beside his bed, the man revealed itself to be none other than Bosie.
Oscar took in a breath when he saw him, his heartbeat rapidly picking up pace within his chest. “Bosie.”
He didn’t turn to look at Oscar, the inhuman shine of his blond hair glinting like gold beneath the candlelight. The regal line of his shoulders told Oscar all he needed to know: Bosie had done something he was about to reveal to Oscar, and he was pretty damn proud of it.
Right away, Oscar could deduce what that good deed was. “You were the one who locked Constance and me in the closet, weren't you?” A half-amused smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.
Bosie turned slowly, facing Oscar eye to eye. He was wearing his own smug expression on his face, pairing nicely with the well-bred features he’d inherited from his mother. “Guilty as charged,” he drawled, sounding not the least bit proud of himself.
“Why?”
Bosie shrugged. “Why not?” Even with his cocky tone, though, the retort came out hollow. It was a deflection and they both knew it - and a weak one at that. Bosie’s mouth pinched, like he could sense the failure of his defense. “It’d get her off my back,” he explained at last.
Oscar’s brows mashed together, thoroughly confused by the entire affair. “By not letting her know you were the one to grant this magnificent thirty minutes of - what is it you people call it? Snogging?”
“More time snogging,” Bosie stated matter-of-factly, while his eyes gleamed in triumph, “less time arguing over who’s been snogging who.”
It was the most imperfect, ridiculous plan Oscar had ever heard. It was also one of the most endearing. His heart swelled as the words fully registered in his mind, and before he could stop himself, his feet were carrying Oscar across the room and to the edge of his bed - the one Bosie was currently sitting on - hands moving of their own free will as they grasped Bosie’s cheeks and reined him in for a kiss so hard, it might as well have bruised them both. Bosie sunk into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut as he met Oscar’s intensity with his own, mouth cracking open when Oscar swiped his tongue across it. “Oh, God…”
“Don’t bring God into it,” Oscar breathed as he pulled away, meeting Bosie’s eyes wetly. “It’ll spoil everything exquisite about this.”
Bosie scoffed and backed up a touch, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Talk smart or whatever. Make it impossible for me to get a word in…”
Oscar kissed him hard a second time, withdrawing only when Bosie got too committed. Bosie hissed softly the cold air slapped against his mouth, drawing out a giggle from Oscar. “What do you need talking for now?” Oscar asked, his tone completely innocent.
When Bosie rolled his eyes before hauling him in yet again, it was all Oscar could do to gamely avoid thinking of how much sometimes, in some ways, Bosie reminded him of Constance.