Chapter Text
A lot could change in a few months.
Dave tried to grow a beard. Dave stopped trying to grow a beard. Nobody noticed said beard growth. He rearranged his furniture and started putting up more pictures of birds and dead animals, things that comforted him. Still, sitting over his television set was the birthday present of a feather. He actually finished watching Degrassi High, and he was not disappointed. He bought some new pairs of underwear and after some deep thought, some new pairs of pants. His sharp furniture was replaced with things more to his liking, no less fashionable but now in burgundy and ladybug red. His apartment had somehow transformed from sharp angles into comforting shapes and personal objects. It was strange and unnaturally natural.
Rose’s wedding came upon him, washing over in slow ebbs. Occupied with the planning, she only stopped by to personally hand off her wedding invitation, which was perfectly gilded in gold and on creamy white paper, specially designed with a warning note from her fiancée to not wear anything stupid or so help her. Since her fiancée was a seamstress, clothes were obviously important. But for once, she was of little faith. Dave already planned on wearing a tuxedo that day, just to outdress the other suits and ties of the bunch. Subtle, but just enough to irritate her. Perfect.
And he thought of John.
It was impossible not to think about him, and even more impossible not to miss him. He’d forgotten what it was like to return to an empty apartment without any food waiting for him, and spending his time alone in aching misery in front of his television. He knew himself as melodramatic, but for once, he didn’t need to pretend. He got it. He understood why people listened to soppy love songs all day, one of five million who whispered to themselves that the song described their life perfectly. He’d become one of the masses who mulled around their couches, hugging pillows to their chests and pretending they weren’t missing anybody, it was just that the infomercial was particularly moving.
Missing wasn’t enough. He complemented his ache with worry. Maybe John was too busy at the fisheries. Maybe John was swimming with the dolphins. Maybe John was rolling around with a manatee, not thinking at all about his little old neighbor. He knew John couldn’t get calls or emails, but it seemed unfair that there was a part of the world so far away from him. Time had a way of changing things, and every moment might be a moment more that John was forgetting him in favor of some hot fish scientist who was equally interested in fish. Even worse, John could very well be in some random fish accident. He spent more time than he was willing to admit with just hoping John played it safe and not stupid. John was stupid, John forgot to wear his coat, John would get a cold, John wouldn’t eat because he was too busy working. Dave contemplated this over cold bowls of soup.
There were days, he had to admit, that were particularly bad. Even as the colder weather warmed up and the leaves budded on the trees, his feelings seemed to twist the opposite way. A pleasant day could send him reeling into his bed, trying to pep talk his way out of the feelings, and the feelings giving a quieter but more adamant pep talk back. It wasn’t that he was lonely. He had close friends who were surprisingly eager to meet with him, and he found himself calling to invite out Jade for lunch, or meeting with Rose, or dropping by the aquarium whenever there was anything mildly interesting about an exhibit. John’s friends called on him, and he found himself occasionally inviting the people from his floor out to drinks. Some were surprisingly pleasant, and he was even more surprised to see they all had the same feelings about the coffee.
But he had his low moments. Unlike John, he was prone to sulking and thriving in his moroseness. The hours ticked by and he befriended tubs of ice cream and shitty television shows. He took up the habit of staring at sunrises morosely. It was a bad habit, and difficult to shake. He tried to throw himself into his work, and it was exciting to the point whenever he remembered John and he had to bury his face into his hands.
Still, even the most morose points of his life were forced aside with Rose’s wedding. The feelings clung onto him, but the welcome obsessive thinking about the situation had to be put on hold. For once, it was Rose who called for him to come over, and Rose who fretted over the details. He never ceased to be surprised by the way she turned from domineering smirking mistress to worried over ordering different types of flowers.
“It has to be perfect,” she told herself in the mirror, practiced and earnest. Dave stood behind her, rearranging her hair to best carry the crown and the wispy veil. It was the night of the rehearsal dinner, and the night before her wedding. She’d be wearing a simple casual dress for the dinner, but she insisted on Dave’s attentive eye on looking over her wedding dress in private.
“No shit, Watson. It’ll be perfect because it’s your wedding day.” He gathered her hair underneath his hands. She had grown her hair out to her waist, but had shortened it to chin length for the occasion. It was a matter of great concern to her. She tried to hide her fussiness over her hair, but he could tell that they shared blood. The Strider-Lalondes did not merely brush their hair. Their hair was an occasion.
“You’re surprisingly calm.” Rose smoothed out her necklace, adjusting her wedding dress. They had requested everyone to dress formal for the dinner, so Dave was already dressed for the rehearsal in his best t-shirt with his favorite band, Gerbil Goatees, skinny jeans with a designer rip on the knee, and his favorite pair of Converse. He could not wait to hear her fiancée seethe, even if Rose didn’t bat an eye.
“Why wouldn’t I be calm? I’m not the one getting hitched.”
“A year ago, I would have thought you would be flipping shits,” she said calmly. “But I may have underestimated you, for once.”
“Thanks.”
“I do mean it.” Rose adjusted the veil, then patted his hand to move it back to where he’d previously set it. “I can still remember when you refused to leave your apartment. You would fill up my phone with your incessant messages for days on end.”
“You mean just yesterday?” But even he knew that wasn’t true. It wasn’t that he wasn’t close to his sister anymore. They still shared that bond, and he relied on her for everything. But things were becoming different. He didn’t call her for hours on end, and a sense of mellowness had entered into their sharp quips. He wondered if it was adulthood that changed them, or something else, that took away their barbs and replaced them with something else.
“I’m glad,” she said. “And I expect your best man speech to be the best.”
“Of course it’s the best. Your new wife’s gonna love it.”
“Which means she’ll hate it.” Rose’s mouth quirked into a small smile.
“You know it.” He grabbed her lipstick off the table, picking out a darker shade and passing it over to her. Tired of standing, he dragged a chair to sit beside her as she applied it with a masterful swoop of her hand.
“The biggest surprise is that you agreed to take care of the music for the dancing,” she said, staring into the mirror. “You haven’t touched those turntables in years.”
“Yeah, well. I laid down some serious ice cream fund dough to get them fixed up, might as well use them. I only didn’t because I was afraid of screwing them up.” Dave shrugged. “But if I have ‘em, might as well use ‘em. You wanted your first dance to be Ke$ha, right?”
Rose placed her hands into her lap, and he thought she was objecting to the first choice dance. He was already formulating a quip about Phil Collins would be their second dance when she turned towards him, and he quieted down, struck by how quietly happy she looked in her elegant wedding gown, without fancy frills, just sleek and fit, that faint flush underneath her face reserved for her girlfriend.
“I’m glad,” she said again, “I’m glad for you.”
He could feel the heat rise to his face, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he took her hands into his, the ring cold against his fingers.
“Congratulations, sis,” he said. She laughed, turning to clear away her table. But he noticed a brighter sparkle to her eyes.
“And John’s probably gonna be back tomorrow.” Dave said, trying to give a nonchalant shrug. “So you don’t have to worry about a weird empty chair.”
“I believe Jade mentioned something about that, yes. I hope he isn’t too tired from his trip.” Rose smiled at him from the reflection in her mirror. “And I’m sure you’ll be happy about it, too.”
“Yeah, well. A door in the wall that never opens is kinda disappointing.”
“I remember your first reaction to him. Quite abhorrent. I expected you to feel enraged to find that I invited him, so you may imagine my exorbitant surprise upon your insistence on inviting him as your personal guest.”
“I remember your first reaction to him, all creepy. You kept smiling and looking at me like you knew something I didn’t.” Rose paused in her clearing of the table, lips pursing slightly in thought.
“Did I? I don’t recall.” Rose stood up, pulling another dress from her closet. “I do remember that I’d never seen you talk so much about anyone else.”
He thought, for a moment, that she must know his secret about John. But she only picked at the dress, wiggling out the hanger, and he settled for a noncommittal answer instead.
--
At the end of the party, where Rose’s fiancée glared at him for a good portion, he was surprised to see someone familiar admiring the selection of flowers on the table.
“Jade,” he said. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Dave!” Jade turned, grinning. “Hello! How are you this very fine day?”
“How can anyone not be great with a free dinner?” He leaned on the tablecloth, folding his arms across his chest. She was wearing a casual dark dress and bottlecap earrings, elegant and strange. He had to admit that he was glad to see her, a familiar face amidst all of the company. Not that this had been a particularly large party. For all his bemoaning about his own friends, he’d somehow failed to recognize Rose was content with her small group of close friends as well.
“I ate three chicken legs,” she said dreamily. “But John had to leave early because he was so tired. He was real glad to see Rose again, though!”
“John?” He tried to put his hand down on the table, but he missed the table. He tried to recover and pretend he meant his hand to sit on his thigh, but he was sweating and growing red in the face. His heart had shuddered for an unmistakable moment, his breath hitching up to his throat and now his blood thumped to his fingers twice as fast.
“Yeah, he was really tired from his trip. He only stopped by to say hello to Rose.” She stabbed a shrimp with a skewer. “But when he called from his dad’s house, he sounded like he was really looking forward to the wedding. The big day tomorrow, huh? How does it feel?”
“Scary,” he said.
“Yeah, I guess it would be! Having your sibling get married.” She chewed on her shrimp thoughtfully, and it took him a moment to realize the question had been directed at the wedding, not at John’s return. Jade seemed so self-assured in his return, but he supposed confidence came with actually having seen him.
He had missed John, and he’d been counting the days to Rose’s wedding and John’s return, but his slow and inevitable arrival was too much for him. He could barely keep up the small talk with Jade. Every nerve in his body felt electrified, and he was nervous. He combed his hair, then parted his hair, then combed his hair again, checking his reflection in the dull reflection of the marble floor. A particularly dense scuff mark on the floor made him frantically try to redo his hair all over again.
Jade was talking about the wedding, which would have been pleasant, but Dave found himself unable to trail along. He was thinking about John, and he felt almost sick with nervousness about seeing him again. He wanted to ask her questions, about whether he was different, if he said anything about him, if John had a hot fish scientist boyfriend. His mouth felt dry, parched lips and sandy tongue, and he tried to sip his orange juice without appearing like he was guzzling it down.
“—and John said that the flowers were obviously violet, but it’s really more purple,” Jade was saying, and that was all the opening Dave needed to launch himself too eagerly into the conversation that he’d previously only been humming along.
“Yeah, John. Weddings. John. How was—he. From the trip. Other than tired, I already know he was tired, because you told me he was tired.” Smooth. Subtle. Perfect.
“Oh! He was great, way tired, but great. He actually just came back like an hour ago. He had a good time and he got to stay at his dad’s place for a while, you know, they had a good talk about things. Did you know he was worried how his dad would think about the whole piano thing with his fingers? Silly John,” she said affectionately. Even if she noticed anything odd about Dave’s behavior, she didn’t show it. Though she was usually adept at picking up on Dave’s small traits, today she seemed to dwell more on the upcoming wedding than anything.
“His dad took it well?”
“Not at all! He was so worried about John breaking his fingers that he wanted to keep him home for a few more days. But the piano stuff, nah, not worried at all.”
“Your family has a habit of trying to keep John.”
“He has a habit of making people feel that way,” she said optimistically. He had to concede to that. All his habits orbited around picking his boogers. John seemed to have the upper hand when it came to dignity of habits.
“I guess I understand,” he said, turning his eyes towards where Rose was accepting congratulations from some friends. “I have a sibling too.”
“I am a demanding sibling! Oh, but I wouldn’t really consider myself super demanding. But sometimes I remember I don’t call him a whole lot. But even though it took me a while to figure you out, I knew you were someone who’d look after him. So I don’t have to call him, I guess!”
“Yeah, that’s the natural outcome,” he said automatically, and she laughed. “Why was I so hard to figure out? It’s just me. I’m a simple man with simple needs. Video games and popcorn, vegetables optional.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, really. You just seemed so indifferent to him! But, you know, I think you really care about him. And that’s nice.” Jade twisted her head to glance towards the table. “Your sister’s nice, too. I really enjoyed talking with her.”
“Yeah, she’s a hoot. John’s back at the apartment now?”
“Yes! He wanted to make sure he didn’t oversleep for the wedding, but he gets terrible jet lag.”
He parted with her amicably, hurrying back to the apartment. He hadn’t seen John at the dinner, though Jade accredited this to the fact he only dropped by a few minutes to reassure Rose that he would attend her wedding. But once back to his apartment, he dropped his coat over a chair and looked over to the side door, where the looming frame now sent tingles to his fingers. He leaned on the chair and stared at the door, which had changed from mere door to something more fearful and magnificent. John may very well be on the other side, and he didn’t know what to say or do. John would, after all, be a different person. Dave stroked his chin and thought that months could change a person. He didn’t know if he should try for a handshake or a hug.
But he summoned up his courage and molded his hand over the doorknob until the knob had grown uncomfortably warm and his palm uncomfortably sticky. He twisted open the door, and felt a surge of disappointment when the apartment was dark. Perhaps John had gone to stay at his sister’s place or a hotel closer to the wedding. But all the relief that had slid off now came snapping back, and his fingers tightened over the doorknob when he saw John’s bedroom door had been closed. When John had left for his trip, the door had been parted open, and Dave hadn’t moved things around in John’s apartment save for watering his plants and feeding his salamander.
John had come home.
--
He was making his infamous sunny side up turned scrambled eggs in John’s kitchen when he heard a rustle behind him. He’d woken up earlier, even before he was required to help out at the preparations for the wedding. After a few minutes of frantic debate with himself, he’d persuaded himself to make breakfast for John, just to make sure John wasn’t late to the ceremony. But even while he flipped the pancakes dangerously close to the ceiling, he tried to think up possible ways to greet him. The weather, perhaps. Or a reprimand about being late, even when he wasn’t. A reprimand for being early if he was late. A joke. A handshake. A nod.
And all the ideas flew out of his head when he turned around to see John leaning against the counter.
His palms grew sweatier and he swallowed instinctively, heart jumping. Though he hadn’t seen John for some time, he recognized him instantly. There was the same face and the same familiar grin, the casual pose like it hadn’t been months since they saw each other. John looked exhausted from the core, bags under his eyes, and he’d gotten a haircut somewhere along the way. He looked like he’d been outdoors in windy weather, lips chapped and hair flung in every which way, but the latter, at least, was familiar.
“Hi, John,” he said.
“Sup.” And John didn’t leave him any time for him to try to slip into his greetings regarding the weather, or leave any room for a handshake. He gripped him tight into a hug, which left Dave floundering and carefully trying to see over John’s shoulder to put the frying pan back on the stove. But once he did, he wrapped his hands carefully around his waist, hands to his back. He could feel John’s bones, sharp even under the soft pajamas. He smelled like the sea, salty and strong, and he smelled like himself underneath that. Dave couldn’t compare to John’s hugs, but he enjoyed it and could almost feel his feet lifting from the floor. By the time John was letting go, Dave was reluctant to withdraw.
A flood of everything had burst in his chest, and the previous months must have been a dry wasteland. He hadn’t realized how much he missed him, and how much he missed having someone who would grin at him and laugh and welcome him like an old friend. Clutching onto a spatula that’d been on the counter, he leaned away and covered his mouth with his hand to recover.
“Big day today, huh?” John sat down at the counter, struggling to hide a yawn. “I’m really excited for Rose.”
“Don’t push yourself.” He’d forgotten how he acted around John. When he hadn’t cared what John thought about him, he’d been himself. Surly, unmanageable, and uncontrollably witty. But now, he was left scraping at the scrambled eggs and trying to judge if he asked too much or not enough.
“I’m not! I’ll just probably be a little… sleepy…” John drooped on the counter, stifling a bigger yawn. “How’ve you been, dude?”
“Oh. Yeah, great. Shit’s been cooler than a laden turd cooling off when the sun goes down. Job’s been good. Been working intensely on the Eowick deal, thinking I’m making pretty good headway. And I watched a spelling bee last night. Shit’s intense. And I rented You’ve Got Mail, with Meg Ryans. But I accidentally rented the gay porno version instead, You’ve Got Male. It was pretty decent.”
“Honest mistake.” John smiled at him encouragingly, but Dave hid his face when he turned around to finish preparing the breakfast plate.
“How was your thing?” he asked, presenting him with breakfast. He sat down on a stool to eat his own, though his appetite had suddenly disappeared and he was left picking at his toast. John apparently had a voracious appetite, biting in instantly to the toast with a small, appreciative moan.
“This is good,” John said, “Real good. And yeah! It was good. I got a haircut. By the time the project’s done, I think we are going to help a lot of fish.”
“You’re saving the world, one fish at a time.”
“Shut up, asshat. Oh, but before you go, do you think you can help with the tie on my suit? I just don’t know how to put it on right, and I really want to look good for Rose’s wedding.”
“Planning on picking up hot dudes?” His voice came out slightly hoarse. John paused, but it was only a moment.
“Nah. I’m not… nah.” John poked at his pancake, glancing up at him. “Have you gotten a lovebug?”
“That’s the stupidest name I’ve ever heard,” he said, “and nah, I haven’t really been looking. If you know what I mean.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” John said automatically, hands folded over the counter. His plate was still half empty and breakfast aroma filled the small kitchen, suffocating and difficult. Dave hesitated, trying not to lose his nerve.
“You remember when you left for your spring break hullabaloo,” he said, mentally striking himself for starting in the worst possible way. Hullabaloo. Nobody ever said hullabaloo. He could have started with a slick metaphor about partying harder than insert recent celebrity here, but instead, he’d settled for hullabaloo.
“You mean before I left for the research? Yeah, I remember, you dweeb.” John scrunched up his nose, holding back his laughter.
“Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything!”
“You were going to laugh with your dweeby little laugh.” Dave shrugged, poking at his breakfast. “Don’t make fun of what I said, fartface.”
“You’re stupid, but what you said wasn’t stupid. Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about, dude. I don’t remember the zact words, but it’s just one buddy missing another.” John stuck a piece of pancake in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “I missed you, too. The right amount.”
Dave stole some of John’s pancake, controlling the small twitch of disappointment over his face. His shades hid most of his expressions, but the stab of hurt felt particularly sharp. John’s clarification of missing him the right amount seemed pointed, trying to tell him something. Maybe John hadn’t missed him at all up there, swimming with the whales. He was so busy playing with Clipper and Nemo that he forgot about Dave.
“How was your weather up there?” he asked instead, drizzing the syrup with wild abandon over his plate.
“Cold. I forgot how cold it could get.”
“Did you wear a jacket? I told you to wear a jacket, you little shit.” Dave grabbed his hand, counting the fingers to ensure John still had ten.
“I wore a jacket! I wore two jackets,” John said pompously, the second jacket granting him all the righteousness. “But it was still cold up there. Not like here, you know?”
“No.”
John chuckled, and Dave counted his fingers. John’s fingertips had grown chapped and dry, and his nails blunt. But they were warm, and they curled in Dave’s hand, and his friend had come home again. The sweet scent of overzealous syrup and soft clink of silverware were all he needed at the moment, surrounded in a comforting kitchen.
“I missed this.” John said it so softly that Dave almost thought he imagined it. But John was regarding him with an affectionate look, tinged with overwhelming sentiment. Startled, Dave withdrew his hand, and John sighed. It wasn’t a bitter or angry sigh, but John looked out the window and took another bite from his pancakes.
“John—” He hesitated, hand clenching over the now empty space. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” John glanced at him, wide-eyed. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Since I got here, you haven’t done anything sorrying.”
“I just. I’m just not a touchy feely sort of guy. I’m not used to the touching, or the feeling, just the part where I shit all over your feelings like I’ve taken a truckload of laxatives at Taco Bell and you’re the sorry porcelain throne. But that doesn’t mean I don’t—like you.” His face flushed, and he twisted his fingers together underneath the counter. “It doesn’t mean I don’t care. I do care about you. A whole fucking lot.”
“You don’t need to explain yourself, Dave. I know you care. I care, too. We care, together,” John said magnanimously, but his eyes seemed sad. “But I think I’ve been really pushing you and guilting you, and that’s a real asshole move.”
“You haven’t been guilting me into anything.” Dave started, bewildered, but John continued to talk to his breakfast.
“I have! I have, and I’m an asshole, but I decided not to be an asshole. You don’t got to ‘splain nothing, Dave. There are literally plenty of other fish in the sea, and when you finally ring the wedding bells, I’ll be right there and cheering for you. What we got is good, and I know it’s good, because I’ve been happier to see you than any fish. And I really love fish.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he said.
“It’s okay, Dave. We’re good. I spent most of my time up there just thinking about fish, and it was really calming. And sometimes clamming? I would recommend it. And I think you’re gonna be late to help prepare for the wedding, ‘cuz it’s late o’ clock.”
“That’s not a real time, dumbass,” he said automatically, controlling the sickening feeling in his stomach. This wasn’t going the way he wanted it. Then again, he didn’t know what he wanted, entering into this conversation with some vague wishy-washy dreams. John had forgotten about him during his journey to the fisheries, and that disappointed him. He felt a surge of hurt rise to the back of his throat, and he wanted to lock himself in his room and lick his wounds until he felt better. That was his way of dealing with things, by not dealing with them at all. He didn’t want things to end this way, or even continue that way, but he felt powerless. John sat across the table, and that might as well been miles to him.
He wanted to tell him something, anything, but John was eager to forgive. And the months had obscured that everything was easier in his head. He was no less the messed up guy who lived across the room and he didn’t have the right to yank John’s chain around. John was a good-natured idiot, and as a bad-tempered genius, he shouldn’t drag him through the mud when he couldn’t even figure out why he always drew back when John got too close. Not when John was trying so hard.
He was the same, and John was different.
“You really are going to be late. But find me at the wedding and help me fix my tie, okay? I really don’t want to look like a suckbag.” John stirred, and Dave broke out of his reverie.
“You always look like a suckbag.” But Dave tapped his watch and rose from his chair, reluctant to sidle out and help with the preparations.
“Don’t be such an ass, you’ll be late to your sister’s wedding.” John had begun to clear the tables, gathering up the empty plates with a knowing grin.
“Egbert, if you don’t think I’m always an ass, then you don’t know me at all.” He hesitated with his palm on the doorknob. “After the wedding, we should talk.”
“Talk about what?”
He turned towards John, and tried to memorize every visible second of the apartment. John’s open face, the dishes in the sink, the smooth lines of the counter and the ragged edges of the movie posters. He tried to sink every contour of John’s face into his mind, and he felt stupid and he felt silly, embarrassed and ashamed of his own feelings, but he looked at him in the eye.
“Anything,” he said, and closed the door after him.
--
Rose’s wedding went off without a hitch, and he didn’t shed any weepy tears when his sister got hitched. He was only moved by the offered drinks at the bar. The simple elegance of the white tablecloth, the clean gazebo surrounded by spring green grass, and the gentle brush of wind against his face made him swear that if he ever got married, he would get eloped in Las Vegas. Just to prove a point.
His newly married sister was swamped by congratulations. His new sister-in-law was also busy with her side of the guests, but not busy enough to throw withering looks at his tuxedo. He grabbed a slice of wedding cake and drifted off to a picnic table, pulling out a handkerchief to have his fill in peace. Everyone was weepy, though it was just a wedding. Only idiots cried.
The biggest idiot sat next to him, blowing his nose into a thin napkin.
“God,” John said, rubbing at his eyes underneath his glasses. “God.”
“Yes, Margaret, I’m here.” Dave offered him the handkerchief, which John took gratefully. He promptly blew his nose on it and offered the handkerchief back, but Dave politely declined with a sneer.
“Rose is all married now. Married. You know what that means?”
“That Beyoncé song’s not going to apply to her?”
“She’s married!” John blew his nose like a foghorn, and Dave licked the cream of the wedding cake off his fingers.
“Yeah, doofus, I was there too. Up close and personal to see my sister macking.” Dave wiped his fingertips on a nearby napkin, turning to fuss with John’s tie. John, a mess as always, had puffy eyes and sniffed loudly every so often. Dave salvaged what he could of his appearance, straightening out the tie. It was the suit he’d gotten John, so many months ago, and still as high quality.
“Thanks for the suit, Dave,” John said, snot-nosed and sniffing into the handkerchief.
“Thanks for dripping snot all over it. What’s got you so teary-eyed?”
“It’s just really moving! Rose is getting married and it’s just a lot to take in.”
“She’s my sister, not yours. For your disgusting information. Jesus Christ, you’re a bunch of waterworks today.” He took out another handkerchief, fussing at John’s face. John scrunched his nose in irritation, but he stayed still for Dave’s fussing.
“Yeah, but it’s such a happy day for Rose, you know. And I can imagine if my own sister was getting married, and that’s just a lotta feelings. It’s just going to be different from now on, you know? I’ve known her since she was all little, and now she’s all growed up.”
“She’s still going to be your sister.”
“I guess, but in a totally different way. I mean, she won’t be any less my sister, but it’s gonna be different.” John sniffed louder.
Dave glanced at Rose, who was talking to her mother. Her face glowed, radiant, and all her worries about a ruined wedding seemed to have faded away. He knew the flowers had been less purple than she’d liked, and the cake tasted stranger than she wanted, but she seemed irrevocably happy. She laughed, she smiled, she twisted to catch sight of her wife at every chance with a full blush over her face. He knew everything about his sister, and she would always be his weird sister who responded to his “a/s/l” with “0/f/our father’s semen,” but things were different. He couldn’t read her completely, the parts reserved only for her wife.
“Weddings always make me cry,” John said, wiping his nose with the handkerchief. “You’re really strong not to cry.”
“It’s not called strength, it’s called intelligence. And she’s happy. Stupid to cry if she’s happy.” He stabbed a piece of wedding cake, shoving it through John’s mouth. John obediently chewed, even as Dave turned to look at his sister again.
“You can’t help feeling what you feel! And if I want to cry all over your sister’s wedding, that is my prerogative, farty fartsworth.”
“Shut up, you’re crying all over the cake.” He shifted his knees back underneath the picnic table. “I wanted to talk to you about some shit. Need advice on something.”
“Go for it, dude.”
“Say I have a problem.”
“Sucks for you.”
After jamming several pieces of cake into John’s mouth to shut him up, Dave folded his hands over the table and started again.
“Say I have a problem, about some shit. Deep shit. It’s fucking deep, a chasm of shit, you do the classic movie trick of dropping a rock off and you don’t hear nothing. It’s like, you’re trying to shoot a football through a hoop. The hoop’s right there, all inviting with its Snitch or whatever just hanging out on it. And you don’t take the shot, and you turn around and you want to take the shot, but the hoop’s already making googly eyes at another hoop and you tangled that hoop’s net all up in its business and you can’t fucking take the shot, but should you try to take the shot, because it’s a damned important shot. But if you miss, that net’s gonna get really fucking more messed up.”
“Let me stop you right there, okay? First, I want to say, that is exactly how football works and I am damn proud of you for learning that much.” John put his hand on Dave’s shoulder. Dave scoffed under his breath. He didn’t need John’s congratulations to know that his statement was perfectly true, valid, and internationally accepted as correct.
“Second, I have no idea what you are talking about, because you are just jabbering beeswax. But if I know anything, and I do know how to find the circumference of a circle, is that you already got what you need to know.”
“How do you know that?” Dave popped his head up.
“Because you’re smart! You’re way smart, and smarter than you just sounded. You know a gazillion things and your job is super hard.”
“You overestimate me,” Dave mumbled. But John shook his head, rolling his eyes.
“I know you’re dumb, too. You’re so dumb about so many stupid things. But you know what to do in the end. You deal with a lotta money everyday! You know when to take the risk and you know.” John shrugged. “When to know you shouldn’t.”
“You’re really thinking too much of me. I just—don’t know.” Dave struggled. “I’ve spent so much of my life pissing people off, I don’t know how to make them feel good. I’d be responsible if I fucked someone up.”
“Then is it so bad to not do anything?” John grinned, eyes still teary, but remarkably clear. “I mean, if you don’t want to do nothin’, you don’t gotta. Whatever the answer is, you got it in yourself to figure it out.”
Dave stared at him, then he pushed his shades up to look at him. John was sitting there, as always, remarkably handsome in his suit. He had to admit John was the most handsome of the entire wedding party, refined in a suit, scruffy good charm, an easy grin and hearty laughter. Muscles, charm, and brains. It was incomparable. Even he couldn’t compare with the handsome man sitting next to him, and he flushed at his own thought that he couldn’t deny. And John with his sparkling eyes was right there, ready to forgive and forget and move on, who’d gone to the north and replaced him with fishes, who looked tired and teary-eyed.
“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “But I think I’m starting to get it.”
“What?”
Dave stood up, grabbing the slim camera out of his pocket. He marched over to where Jade was congratulating Rose. When Rose was finally standing, alone, he snapped a picture of her.
“Another one for your scrapbook?” she asked mildly.
“You looked happy.”
Even she looked taken aback by his honesty, and he slipped the camera back into his pocket. He had things to figure out, and they were starting to form at the tip of his tongue. When he glanced back at John, he could see his stalwart figure at the table, talking to someone else who had their own slice of cake. It was almost enough. It would have to be enough. He took a deep breath, and walked on.
--
John was seated away from him, since Dave was a reserved family member. He sat next to Rose, and didn’t eat her food. By the time the champagne had come around, speeches were already starting, one after another, and he was surprised how much he listened. He wanted words of wisdom, nuggets of advice that would lead him on the right path. He thought one way, then the other, than another way, and the stress was wearing him thin. But at least Rose’s face never stopped glowing, and when it was his turn for the best man speech, he stood up to give his usual rap about Rose’s love life, ending with dropping the microphone dramatically.
But he stood there, in front of the audience, and he looked out upon them. Their faces were turned towards him in expectant silence, and he had the glass in one hand and the mic in the other. He couldn’t see John in the crowd, probably seated far away. But he opened his mouth, staring at the tablecloth.
“I’m not good with talking to people. I’m good at talking at people. Making them do what I want. But I guess I never realized what it really means to actually talk, not just move your mouth muscles around like a carousel and it’s a field trip and all the kids are spinning around and around. So if this speech is crappy, then you know the reason. It’s not a good reason, but better than quoting Dr. Seuss. I know the places my sister will go. They’re damn good places, and they’re damn better because now she’s got someone who’ll go with her.” When he glanced sideways to his sister, even he was surprised to see her small smile. He awkwardly smiled back, and pushed up his shades into his hair. He didn’t quite look out into the crowd, but he felt better.
“For those of you who don’t know my sister, which is the lucky half of you, she’s someone who’s got a sword for a tongue and she’ll eat you whole, if you’d let her. Tonight we’re here to celebrate her finding someone she loves, and she deserves all the happiness that comes out of stuffing yourself with wedding cake. She’s put up with my crappy ass for years, and now she’s getting hitched to someone pretty great. I don’t know what love is, but I think she’s got it in huge fucking buttloads.”
He combed his hair back, trying to count the stifled gasps from his cursing speech. Below him, the half-eaten salad stared back up at him.
“A year ago, I was busy trying to keep everything the same. I didn’t want anything to change. I had this one gift that meant so fucking much to me, I didn’t want to ever touch it in case I broke it. But it broke and it got fixed and things changed, and my sister getting married is good, because you can’t just sit there in your room and never change. She’s marrying someone because a bunch of other things make it right. But I know she really loves her, and all the crappy toasters from the wedding registry can’t compare to what she’s got with her wife.” Dave glanced down at her. “By the way, I got you an IOU.”
Rose laughed, and the audience laughed. While the audience laughed because they thought it was a joke, Rose was laughing because she knew it wasn’t. Dave took a deeper breath, and leaned into the microphone.
“I still don’t know what it means to love someone. It’s gooey crap, like you stepped on a melted chocolate chip. But Rose has always been the smart one in the family, and I got all the looks. I hope, whatever the hell it is, that she’s got a best friend with her. Someone who makes her laugh until she look like a mess, thigh slapping and milk coming out of your nose. Someone who wants her to talk to them about anything, and makes her feel good about herself. Someone who… shit, I don’t know. Someone who’s always seen you as who you are and not what you’re fucking pretending to be, and someone who’s seen the best of you even when you’re at your worst, and so you do your best. I don’t know. Maybe you don’t need any of that crap. But maybe what you need is being brave.”
And he wondered if John was still there, or if he’d left early for fishes. If he was even listening to him, if he would understand. Some part of him hoped he would, and some part of him thought he wouldn’t. But though his hands were clammy on the mic, and his heartbeat resounded loud enough to thunder in his ears, he thought it would be all right. Despite the panic, he was calm. His mind felt unusually sharp, like he knew exactly what he needed to do.
“I don’t know,” he said, “if even I’m brave enough to put myself out there. You don’t want to ruin what you got, but you have to open yourself raw. Show them what you have inside, good and bad, and hope they don’t turn tail and run. You gotta put down the mask and just be yourself, and hope you don’t get hurt. Being brave sucks asscrack, and I know it, because you don’t want to lose someone who’s got unconditional love springing out of his sleeves like a shitty magic trick. And if the world was just a big stock market, then it’d be easier to crunch the numbers and calculate the risk. But the world’s not that. Sometimes you have to make some shitty stupid move to be smart. And liking someone might be damn hard to figure out, but if you do, then it’s a damn good feeling. So here’s to my sister and her wife, who are going to live happily ever after because they got love on their side and my rap attached in an email to them that I’m gonna send now.”
He pulled out his phone to already start tapping on the screen, and the audience took a moment before they realized he was finished. They started their applause, and he was surprised when Rose pulled the phone out of his hands, and hugged him.
“Thank you,” she said affectionately, and if she sounded tearful, he couldn’t see her face. But he carefully put his hands on her back and he thought this felt like the first time he had really hugged her. Things were different, and the same, but different. He patted her on the back.
“I’ll see you, sis.”
“Go,” she said, pulling back to frame his face with her hands for a moment. But she released him, patting him on the side to leave her already, smiling softly to the crowd. He left his seat, rounding the corners of the table. Nobody seemed to notice him. Someone else had already stood up to speak, but he could tell Rose was already happiest with his speech. No matter how his eyes darted around the room, though, he couldn’t find John. After a few minutes of wandering, he found an empty chair next to Jade, and sat down beside her.
“That was a great speech, Dave,” she said, turning towards him. “I think Rose really liked it!”
“It was all right.” Dave took the time to spin his phone around for her. “My rap was better.”
“You’re right, it’s really great,” Jade said easily, not looking at his phone. “But you should return to your own seat! John just stepped out for a minute, I am sure he wants a place to sit.”
“Was he going to the bathroom?”
“I don’t really ask, weirdo.”
He went to search through the bathrooms, but he only found the empty sinks lined up before him. He wandered down the hall, up the steps, down the flights of stairs. He was out in the parking lot when he caught sight of John’s car, and he approached it. If John’s car was still there, then John must be somewhere. He considered going back inside to check out the reception again when he saw John was climbing out of his car, clutching onto a satchel. The satchel was the same one he’d brought along with his trip, though it was now bulging at the seams. But Dave crossed the parking lot in a few strides, approaching him with heated cheeks and hands stuffed into his pockets. John started, car door locking, and he hesitantly approached him near the taillights of his car.
“I’ve got things to say,” Dave said. “And I have no fucking idea how to say them.”
“You can start with words.” John offered a small smile.
“None of your asshattery today, Egbert. I’ve got something to tell you and it’s a doozy. It’ll take ten rolls of toilet paper to wipe this doozy up, so you better hold onto your britches.”
John automatically clutched onto his belt.
“Not literally, dumbass.”
“You said none of my asshattery today! Jeez, make up your mind.” John wrapped both hands around his satchel. “Whatever you gotta say, Dave, I’ll listen. Take all the time you need.”
Dave chuckled despite himself. Even when his palms were slick with sweat, he had to lean against John’s car and laugh to himself.
“What’s so funny?”
“You know, I never wanted to explain myself my whole life.” Dave shrugged, straightening out his slumped shoulders. “But the one guy who doesn’t demand an explanation is the one guy I want to give an explanation. I just—got some things to tell you, dude. And what you do with it, it’s up to you. It’ll be all right.”
“You’re kinda worrying me now, Dave.” John’s eyes peered out from behind his frames.
“I know. Shit. It’s nothing bad, just… I wasn’t ready for whatever we had. Right from the start, I didn’t feel like I got my socks and affairs all in order. I just have something to tell you.”
“Okay. I’m listening, Dave.”
“I’ve got something to tell you. It might be really long, but you can’t wander off halfway through. I know you do that.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s really fucking important, so listen up. Clean out the water from your ears, really listen to me.”
“All right.”
“I have to tell you something. It’s important.”
“Yes.”
“Listen up.”
John laughed, fingers loosening from his satchel. Dave flushed and glanced down at his shoes, adjusting his suit, picking at his cuffs, glancing at his reflection in John’s car, but he felt hot under the collar and his heart surged, pulse rapid in the throbbing of his neck, and he stepped forward, tearing his words out from himself.
“I think I like you,” he said, and blustered on through the heat rising to his ears and cheeks. “I just I pulled away because I wasn’t ready to open up to you, but now I’m open, like a conked out refrigerator, and you can take the Tupperware full of my ass feelings out of me, because I don’t want to hide like an asshole, but this fridge is filled with shit, you gotta know, it’s crammed with shit. I sit on the couch all fucking day. I clean my room by stuffing the junk under my bed. I can’t even tell when I’m lonely. I’m really into playing skateboarding games on my computer and I’m afraid of getting close to people and I scratch and sniff my balls and I’m weird at making friends and I know you’re sick of this shit and you weren’t thinking about me at all when you were poking Nemo up there but I have to tell you, even if you’re vomiting in your mouth at listening to your asshole neighbor tell you these shitty things.”
His voice grew pitched, and he jammed his hands deeper into his pockets. His nails dug into his palms. When his speech had trailed off, he waited, tense, for John’s final decision. The feeling in his stomach continued to stir, but John didn’t say anything. Dave finally raised his head, pulling up his shades into his hair in his final act of courage, letting down his last defense. But John’s face had turned completely red, and he was swallowing rapidly, staring at Dave with a strange expression.
“You mean it?” John asked. “You really mean it when you say you like me? And I’m not just guilt-tripping you into—”
“Holy fucking shit, you’re not guilting anyone by yourself with that whole shtick! I like you, you shitty assfiend! You’re my best fucking friend and I want to go out with you.” Dave flushed an even deeper red, and he hunched his shoulders.
“Really?”
“Yes!”
“You really mean—”
“Yeah, I mean it, get it through your thick skull! You don’t have to like me back that way, I know you were busy with your hot fish scientist boyfriend up north, and you’re over me faster than Sonic, but I’m being honest here, Jesus fucking Christ.” Dave, embarrassed more than ever, looked towards him with as menacing a glare he could summon in the thrashing of his heart. He had raised his voice more than he had meant, but he felt like he was wallowing in tension. John breathed through his teeth, staring at him with wide eyes, and then he put his satchel on the closed trunk of his car.
“I went home after your speech to get you something,” he said in a strange voice, face still red. Dave, interested despite himself, peeked at the satchel. John carefully extracted out what looked like a snowglobe of a fish. It was, quite frankly, disappointing. Even more disappointing was how Dave stretched out his hands for the gift. He couldn’t help it. He loved gifts.
“Sucks ass,” he said cheerfully, shaking the snowglobe. “What’s that got to do with anything? Or my speech? I thought you missed it because you were going wee wee.”
“That reminded me of you, because your face gets all red in the snow.” John fidgeted in his suit, and then pulled out a thicket of postcards. “And these reminded me of you because you take pictures a lot.”
“These are shitty,” he said, eagerly flipping through the postcards with the snowglobe tucked into his elbow nook. But he was barraged under some boxes of chocolates, and he fumbled to hold those.
“And you like sweet stuff, right? Because you always looked kinda happy when I made you something sweet. And these—they reminded me of you, because you like suits, but I’m bad at suits.” John pushed over the cuff links, continuing to dig in his bag. “And these—reminded me of you because you play with your phone a lot, and these, because you work with math, and this, this because you love watching TV all day, and this reminded me of you because you said I took too long at the aquarium and a meteor came, and this, because you said I was the star at piano, and this reminded me of you because you said you’d pick up my mail for me—”
“I only have two hands,” Dave said, trying to sidle his newfound presents onto the trunk. But he could tell, in the reflection of the side mirrors, that his face was flushed and had a strangely proud and pleased expression to them, holding onto the gifts.
“I didn’t forget you, I wasn’t going to give you any of this stuff because they’re stupid and I tried to think a lot about fish but I didn’t think about you in the right amount, I thought about you too much, and everything there was reminding me of you and I didn’t forget you, I promise.” John’s hand, trembling, took out something else. “I got you a fake fish, Dave.”
“I don’t want a fake fish,” he said, taking the fake fish. “Shit. Don’t withhold presents from me, do you even have any brain cells in there? And don’t give me false hope here, don’t leave me hanging like I’m some dope wishing on a star for a high-five.”
“When I heard your speech, I thought, that I wasn’t being right to you. That I needed to do this. So I went back and got these for you, so you’d know, because of your speech.”
“That speech wasn’t for you.”
“No, I know, it was for your sister, but—”
“That speech was for me, you asshole. To tell you that I like you. Which I do. So, what’s it gonna be?” Dave turned his face towards him, jutting out his chin. “Because if you don’t like me, it’s cool as shit, dude.” And he could feel his heartbeats, resounding out loud and clear in his ears, the thick thump, John standing in front of him, the chill of the wind biting against his hands, the painful wait.
“I got you presents,” John whispered, hand dropping, his eyes wide. It was enough.
Dave dumped the rest of his presents into the satchel where he could, and grabbed him by the tie to kiss him.
He yanked him forward and kissed him soundly on the mouth, fingers tight over his tie. John smelled strongly of sea and tasted like salad dressing, and Dave grabbed him by the face to pull him closer. His fingers were rough over the smooth skin of his cheek, fingertips on the brim of his strong jaw, and he kissed him vindictively. John started in surprise, then slowly, he returned the kiss, arms wrapping around his waist and all the fake fish forgotten. John’s lips were chapped and he was infuriatingly strong, and Dave clutched onto him with all his wiry strength. John kissed him close-mouthed and sweet, head tilted, and Dave inhaled sharply through his nose.
When Dave finally pulled away, he found himself pressed against the car with all of John’s weight. It was surprisingly pleasant and warm, and he wormed his arms down to hook over John’s waist. John pressed his forehead against Dave’s shoulder, and he seemed to be taking deep breaths in between his wheezy laughter. His body shook, reverberating in Dave and against the car.
“What’s so funny? I’m a great kisser. What’s so funny?” Dave poked him on the sides.
“Nothing, it’s just—that was way better than I could ever imagine.” John lifted his head to look at him, and Dave was suddenly aware that his face was lighting up like a Christmas light all over again. John had no semblance of shame on his face for what he said, just grinning brightly at him.
“Fuck, you mushy little bastard, I don’t want to look at your face after you say something disgusting like that.” Dave shoved his face away with the palm of his hand, and John laughed harder. Dave bristled in how his own emotions were churning, pleased, at the comment, but he’d never let John see it. Though, judging by the way John was laughing, he already knew.
“We should probably get back to Rose’s wedding.” John slid off him, but Dave didn’t feel the jab of disappointment for long. John hooked his pinky with his, already sliding the dropped presents back into the bag. Impatient and greedy, Dave took his entire hand and held it, watching John do all the work.
“Yeah, you need a breath mint.”
“Hey!”
“Truth’s the truth.” Dave started walking off, but John pulled him back in a slow halt.
“You want to go out sometime?” John asked, staring at him with his lips still chapped, and now with all the reddened effects of the kiss. Dave looked at him affectionately, pushing his shades back over his face.
“Nah, I’m good.” Dave walked again, this time chuckling to himself as he heard John’s scoff. He didn’t like to think of himself as particularly happy, but he knew he swung John’s hand a bit before he had to retreat to his seat and eye the fish-shaped present sitting on the gift table.
--
Dave did their laundry together, which was the next subsequent step in becoming a couple.
“The next step is going on a date, Dave.” John opened the balcony doors, pushing the couch to sit in front of it. “By the way, I peeked at your place. It’s looking good! Did you repaint the walls?”
“Nope.” Dave plopped down on the couch, stretching out his legs. The sunset was brimming over the tall buildings, spreading out an orange glow under the clear sky. Even though John’s plants were in the way, the streaming light still scattered across the floor. John didn’t seem to notice that Dave had completely refurnished his apartment, but he preferred it that way. Instead, he pulled John onto the couch and pressed against him, thighs touching, which he considered scandalous.
“Doing our laundry together is intimate,” Dave continued. “And don’t tell me you don’t think it’s sexy that I’m wearing your sweatshirt.”
“I think you’re really too lazy to find your own sloppy clothes, and you figured I wouldn’t notice if you spilled anything on mine.” John rested his chin on Dave’s head, contemplating. “Which is true.”
Dave’s own clothes were more convenient, but he’d chosen to wear John’s sweatshirt, just for the added touch. And by added touch, he meant for his own pleasure. There was something comforting about his clothes that he wouldn’t bring up quite yet. It felt like they were still trying to navigate through the grounds. John hugged him with grand abandon until he remembered they were dating, and then he withdrew shyly. And he detected something more gentle in John’s movements, where John would pass him over the plate and let their fingers touch and linger, or he would stroke back Dave’s hair with such an affectionate look. On Dave’s part, he still thought it’d take a while for him to completely accept that someone out there liked him that much. But he happily covered his doubts by kissing John whenever he felt like it.
“I want our first date to be perfect,” John said. “What do you think about—”
“No.”
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“Fine, finish.”
“Hot dog museum exhibits—”
“No. And whatever you say, even if you stumble on a good idea, is a no.” Dave finally lifted himself up, hesitantly tipping John’s face towards him with his fingers. Even though John seemed always accepting of his touches, Dave still kept his motions smooth and careful, trying not to disturb him.
“Why not?”
“Because I want to be the one who takes you to a nice date.” Dave finally felt the touch was too embarrassing, releasing him and slumping back on his seat. “It’ll be my surprise.”
“You’re doing too much for me, jeez.”
“I don’t want to hear that from you.” Dave regarded him out of the corner of his eye, the colors of the sunset starting to darken the shadows. John beamed with absolute happiness, stupid grin on his face, cheerful as he stared out into the city. Time and time again, Dave had to admit to himself that his own good looks were overshadowed by this behemoth. He had finally met someone whose looks could attract his stares for an equivalent time to his stares in the mirror. He stretched out his hand to play with his hair.
“Hey,” Dave said, slightly raspy. “I’m sorry about what I said to you. Back when we were first meeting, and I said a bunch of crap about how you were pity inviting me. I was wrong. You’re a dude who deserves all the friends he gets.”
“I was out of—”
“If you don’t accept my apology, I’m gonna eat all your cupcakes.”
“Fine, Dave. I accept.” John rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
“Good. So I was thinking, some time in the future, if you wanted to get a place with me. Somewhere nice. Whatever you want. We could do that.”
“I want—”
“No.”
“Dave!”
“Go ahead.”
“I want a room filled with paintings of you.”
“Yeah, sure. That actually sounds like a good idea.”
“Sweet.” John grinned, wrapping his arm around Dave’s shoulder to keep him warm.
“I really mean it. Creepy painting room and all. If you ever wanted to get someplace else, we could go.” Dave withdrew his hands into the loose sleeves of the sweatshirt, rubbing his hands together.
“If you want that, dude. I just like being with you. I mean, sometimes, I can’t even believe that you agreed to go out with me. That’s huge stuff, man. Huge.” John nodded to himself, fingers clenching around Dave’s shoulder reassuringly. It would probably be further down the line until Dave could reasonably suggest moving out to somewhere they could easily share a room without calling it a sleepover. But even the speculative thought shocked him. Apparently he could see John in his future, even when he couldn’t predict anything else. Dave rested more snugly against John, watching his jaw even in the dimming light.
“Hey,” Dave said. “Tell me that you like me.”
“I like you, jeez.”
“Say it again.”
“I like you.”
“Again.”
In response, John turned his head slightly and kissed him. Dave eagerly kissed back, tilting his head and adding more bite. But John was persistent in his slowness, the soft pushing against him and pulling back and pressing all the more against him. By the time John withdrew, Dave was more flustered than he’d liked, and settled firmly against John’s arm in punishment.
“I’m happy,” John said softly.
“Stop that.” Dave shifted in his seat, grateful to the dawning darkness that hid his face. “Don’t make me fall in love with you even more.”
At least John laughed, like it was a joke. Dave was grateful for that. He was grateful for the overwhelming feelings that felt like his heart was bursting with affection, that made him suddenly understand and appreciate and feel all the weight of John’s looks towards him. He appreciated them more for all the pain that lingered in his heart, the way he felt himself drawn to John.
“You’re a complete jackass,” Dave murmured. “Loud and nosey and the fucking worst.”
“I like you, too, Dave.”
The city stilled to the quiet hum of cars, the sunset still spread out over the sky in slow waves. The plants on the balcony swayed in the gentle wind and the buildings before them became silhouettes. Inside the comfortable apartment, Dave stayed close to John. He felt ridiculous and vulnerable, but he allowed his head to rest on him, relaxing his shoulders. The tension flowed out of him, and he was left alone in strange peace, listening to a steady heartbeat with John curling an arm around his waist, sitting close together over the cusp of spring.