Work Text:
I hang up the phone and sink into the couch, feeling absolutely desolate. I can’t bring myself to move.
I hear the apartment door open.
“Hey!” Ocam’s voice calls out, announcing himself to the apartment. I’m by myself.
“Hey, bro.” I manage to get the words out loud enough that he knows I’m here.
“Hey! I got champagne and cannolis to celebrate! Well, I got prosecco. But Cannolis!” I can hear him putting stuff down in the kitchen and opening up the fridge. I still can’t seem to move. He comes over to me and makes a little face at me. “You have ‘talked to your mum’ face.”
“Yeah.” He lays down on top of me, slowly easing his weight down so that it becomes a reassuring heaviness.
“She wasn’t happy with the internship you got?”
“I called to tell her about it… she didn’t give me a chance.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
“What did she want to talk about instead?”
“How I’m a disgrace and she’s absolutely humiliated by my flagrant flaunting of my alternative lifestyle. And that I should really be past this phase by now. And that she’s losing all faith in Britain because so many people seem to be against the Reform party. And that I’d better vote Reform when the next general election happens, even though that’s probably years off. And that I’ve had my silly wayward years but that it’s time to come home and stop causing a fuss.”
“So she saw a picture from Pride?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you were being really careful which ones you were posting for close friends and for followers.”
“I was. I posted a picture of us holding hands. We had our shirts on and everything.”
“Bro. Would you still love me if I strangled her?” I can’t help but smile. I almost laugh.
“Don’t be stupid, bro. Always.” He kisses me. I still don’t feel like I can move.
“Not the first time she’s said a bunch of awful bullshit to you. You seem worse about it.” He sees me. It’s so hard to tell anyone anything, and I never have to figure out how to unpack all my shit, because he always sees. I love him so much.
“I… I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to have to live with them again or even live anywhere near them. I don’t want to go back to England and work for some company they pick for me because someone they know works there.”
“You won’t have to, bro.”
“I might. I do my internship. I finish my degree. My visa runs out. If I can’t get somewhere to sponsor a work visa for me, I have to go. And there are a thousand other people trying to get those jobs. People that don’t need sponsorship.”
“We could get married. I mean, I know we’ve only been actually dating for like a couple months, but you’ve been my best bro for years. If you didn’t want to go, I’d marry you.” My brain turns off. I reset.
My work mantra runs through my head. Never trust someone to tell you what they actually mean. Always remember that everyone lies all the time. People say things you want to hear to make you feel better. People lie to smooth things over. People lie to make you like them. People lie to get what they want from you. Play the game. Don’t believe.
Except Ocam doesn’t do that. He doesn’t lie to me. He’s my best bro. He tells me the truth even when it sucks. He wouldn’t lie. He wouldn’t say he would do something like that for me if he didn’t mean it.
“Are you serious, man?” I don’t think my tone comes out right. Shit, he’s gonna think I hate this plan. I’m fucking it up already.
“Yeah, bro. Deadass.” He grins at me. I kiss him because I don’t know what else to do.
“Thank you.” I say it against his mouth after he breaks the kiss. My voice is weak and I can feel the discomfort in my eyes like I might cry about it. I blink a few times fast, fighting it off.
“Don’t be stupid, bro. Always.” He repeats my words back to me, and I know he means them. He gets up, pulling at my arm. “Come on, bro. We should get dinner and then pop that bottle.”
“Can’t. I’m part of the couch now.” It’s a little bit of a joke, but mostly I still can’t bring myself to move.
“Couch-bro. Boyfriend-sofa. Nope. Sorry, bro. That’s not gonna work for me.” He pulls my arm harder, but he can’t move me.
“Sorry. I live here now.”
“I bet Caleb’s gonna sit on your face when he finds out.”
“Would.” I’m half-joking about being willing to let him. Kind of. Caleb lives getting on every one of my nerves. He’s the absolute worst roommate. He’s also so hot that it’s kind of rude of him that he just wanders around like that.
Ocam laughs and lets go of my arm. He disappears from sight, which means he’s up to something. Then I hear familiar piano chords, and as Adele sings ‘Hello, it’s me’, Ocam pops his head out from the side of the couch, lip-syncing to the song. He does a full dramatic performance of the entire song, throwing himself around the room in some ludicrous interpretive dance, until I’m having trouble breathing because I’m laughing.
He’s the best. The absolute best.
When he gets to the last ‘Hello from the other side’, he grabs my hands and pulls me up. This time I get up, moving into his arms as he keeps lip-syncing at me. When he finishes, I kiss him again. He grins and bounces around a little.
“I saved you from the couch monster, bro.”
“Yep. You and Adele.”
“I knew she would come through.”
I finally notice his t-shirt and can’t help but ask.
“Why does your shirt say ‘go piss girl’? And who is that?”
“Because it’s funny. And that’s Leighton Meester. Don’t worry about it.”
“Why does Leighton Meester need to be told to piss?”
“She doesn’t. She’s telling the other person to go piss. It’s… don’t worry about it, bro. It’s a joke that’s just for me.” He has so many jokes for himself. I don’t understand why he likes to wear them.
“Someone should take away that iron-on paper from you. You can’t keep printing your own shirts, man.”
“My shirts are awesome, bro. Come on, let’s go to dinner.” He pulls me towards the door. “Greek or sushi?”
“Sichuan.” We head downstairs, and I don’t let go of his hand when we get down to the street. Fuck what mum says. Absolutely fuck her bullshit.
“We have to go into the city for Sichuan.”
“Worth it. Dry chili chicken, bro.”
“So spice.” He makes a little pained face when he says it.
“You don’t have to have any.”
“I mean, I didn’t say I wouldn’t have any.”
“Good. We’ll get the smashed cucumbers, dan dan, dry chili chicken, and mapo tofu.”
“You’re gonna set me on fire, bro. Not one of those dishes is anything besides spicy.”
“Then we can come home to prosecco and cannolis to cool off.”
“Or we have prosecco and cannolis for breakfast tomorrow and get gelato on the way home.”
“Tomorrow’s not a cheat day, bro.”
“Then I guess I get all the cannolis.”
“No way, bro. Cannolis tonight. You can get gelato tomorrow and I’ll watch you eat it.” He pauses, cocking his head to the side. He makes the face that says he’s having a dirty thought. One of my favorite faces he makes, but anything with gelato sounds like it would be uncomfortably cold. “Bro.”
“I mean…”
“Bro.” He gives me a look, and I know I’ll end up trying whatever he wants.