frowny x freckly // deeply troubled flannel x the sun's sweet sugar // wreo

“Well, they don’t. Not usually.” Theo replied as Wren helped him sit. He shifted a bit as he tried to get comfortable, reaching for one of the cushions and tucking it under his lower back for some extra support. His sofa was horrendously comfortable, with wide, deep seating upholstered in a cream suede which complemented the stonewash of the floors. It was even long enough for someone as tall as Wren to lie down comfortably.

“I can’t drive right now so I called them up to see if they’d deliver. They said no, but when I explained my situation they told me they’d send someone this one time.” Theo shrugged, smiling cheekily as he moved to lift his legs to rest comfortably across Wren’s lap. He leaned his shoulder into the back of the couch, taking a long, slow draw from the wine glass, before holding it to his chest. “They keep delivering for me every time I order now, so either the owner felt sorry for me or I tip well enough to get the driver to keep coming back.” That, or he was single handily keeping their business afloat as it seemed to be the only restaurant in Cannon Beach that wasn’t focused on seafood, never mind the fact they catered to vegans. 

He grinned when Wren accepted his proposal, laughing at his comment as he took the pad of paper from him.

“I’ll never complain about having a date in pyjamas.” Theo replied, shrugging. “Besides, I think they suit you. I’ve never seen someone pull off yellow so well.” He teased. 

He propped the notepad against his lap, chewing his lip as he pondered his questions. He felt like he knew a lot about Wren already, by virtue of having spent a night in his childhood home and meeting his entire family. After a quiet moment he peered up at Wren, who appeared to be wholly focused on his task, staring at the piece of paper like it was a puzzle to be figured out, those small lines appearing at the corners of his eyes as he squinted at the page, the tip of the pen resting between his teeth. He couldn’t help the smile tugging at his mouth, wondering how something so simple as lounging on a couch with him could feel so nice.

He breathed in, realizing Wren after a few seconds that had already begun writing. He tore his eyes away from him, deciding he needed to focus. His questions came easily, flowing from his pen in his weird, looping script as he thought back over the past day, 

1. What’s it like having/being a twin (more importantly do you have any weird twin powers)
2. Where was your favourite place to go as a kid?
3. What’s something you’re really good at?? (not math!! I already know you’re good at math)
4. What’s your favourite meal? 
5. What’s your guilty pleasure TV (you’ve seen mine it’s only fair)? 

Bonus Q *** what’s the square root of 7056 multiplied by 1.25?

There was more he wanted to know, but he decided to keep to the original parameters. He tore the page out and handed it to Wren, taking his questions and flipping the page around to read them. As his eyes scanned what he’d written, his smile fell a bit, as Wren’s questions seemed so earnest, like he genuinely wanted to know these important things about him. His own seemed a bit silly now.

But then again, Wren wasn’t exactly an open book. Maybe this was good. 

“I can go first,” Theo offered, taking a slow drink from the glass. He let the wine sit on his tongue as he pondered Wren’s questions, starting with the easiest (and first) question in the list. 

“My birthday’s July 9th. So I’m a Cancer.” Theo confirmed. “You know. Crabby. Hard outer shell, soft insides.” He wasn’t sure how closely this description fit him. “I’ll tell you now, I already know when your birthday is. Robin let it slip a week ago.” 

He reread the second question, laughing at Wren’s incredulity at the lack of chickens in his childhood.

“There were no chickens where I grew up! I swear to God, if anyone saw a chicken strutting around Greenwich, Connecticut, the homeowner’s association would be flooded with complaints. I’m telling the truth.” Theo insisted, grinning widely, though his smile fell a bit when it came to actually describing his hometown, unsure where to start. 

“It’s a beach town kind of like this, but instead of interesting people living there it’s all hedge fund managers and plastic surgeons and movie stars and their horrible children….” He trailed off, looking away. When he thought back to Greenwich’s six bedroom mansions with its sprawling, manicured lawns, or the downtown with its high-end storefronts and spotless sidewalks and Corvettes parked out front, it didn’t really feel like home. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d visited. It couldn’t have been more than three years ago? 

“I guess when I think about it doesn’t really feel like I grew up there. New York is only an hour away so I spent a lot of time in the city, especially since my mom was working all the time, and after I turned thirteen my parents sent me to a boarding school in Vermont. Which was …” Theo frowned, again at a loss for the right words. 

“Which was hard, at first. Some kids suspected I was gay, too, which didn’t help, but in retrospect could have been a lot worse than it was.” It was hard to forget the first time someone had called him a fag. Easier to forget the subsequent times. But he also remembered the first time Ephrem and Tim stood up for him, and if his memory served him right a couple of black eyes had been involved then, too. “But eventually I made a really good group of friends who I could be myself around, and my uncle lived nearby who I could visit on weekends … And by the end of high school it just seemed far more like home than home did.” 

He supposed he still felt that way, when he thought back to the room he’d shared with Ephrem for four years (last he’d heard, he’d gone back to Tel Aviv to work for the family business), or the high ceilinged dining hall, or the hours spent in the library, alone or with friends. The worst thing about it was that he couldn’t visit his old school and still expect his family to be there. 

Theo paused, looking back down at the page. For a fleeting moment he felt embarrassed by how easily he’d spilled his guts, but when he looked up, an apology already reaching his lips, Wren was smiling at him in that quiet, encouraging way of his. So Theo smiled back, and continued with the questions. 

Had he always wanted to be an architect? 

“No, actually. I wanted to be a doctor until I was fifteen. My dad’s a surgeon so he wanted at least one of his children to go to medical school. He failed with my older brother so he tried doubly hard with me. And it worked, until I found out that I’m shit at chemistry and mediocre at biology.” Theo laughed, trying to keep out the familiar bitter note that always seemed to accompany him speaking about his dad, but not sure he’d succeeded. He tried to remember the last time they’d spoken, and realized guiltily it had been over Easter weekend. That was over three months ago. And then he paused, looking at Wren. 

“I guess I should mention I have a half-brother who is like … fifteen years older than me. And a younger sister. Emily didn’t really take to medicine either, but to be honest neither of us would have made very good surgeons, anyway.” His tremor notwithstanding. 

He looked back down at the paper, taking another drink. Started to feel the wine sink into his bones, he leaned a little heavier into the couch, stretched his legs a little more across Wren’s. He liked the way his thighs felt against the sensitive parts at the back of his knees. 

“This relates more to your next question. I started drawing in high school when I took my first art course, and I really liked drawing portraits and things like that. Vermont has a ton of interesting architecture and houses are in some ways like people in that they’re all unique, and it kind of synced up with my interest in history. Plus, my uncle Arthur – my mom’s brother – would bring me out on these long drives through Vermont just to look at the houses. He really was the one who encouraged me to explore architecture and art, when my parents weren’t really all that interested.” He shrugged, modestly. “In the end I figured out I like designing spaces for people to enjoy, and here I am.” 

He took a deep breath, feeling like he’d been talking forever. Question number 5: what was his favourite colour? 

“Oh, God … Let me think.” Theo groaned, and though he tried to hide it he seemed delighted by the question. 

“For flowers it’s soft pink with jade. Unless the flowers are tulips in which case I like the ones that are that deep wine colour. I like a healthily saturated mustard or cranberry for any textile even though it doesn’t go with my hair and skin tone, so most of my clothes are usually cooler colours. I really like a deep cobalt but just as a standalone, and most of my interior is focused on earthy tones, like taupe, cream and jade and copper. Is that a colour? I think so. And all my stationary is usually cream and gold and …” Theo trailed off, a wide, sheepish grin spreading across his face. 

“I’m not really sure how to answer that without going on for another twenty minutes.” He admitted, finally. Though he felt like Wren may have been happy to listen. He set the paper down on his lap and reached over to take Wren’s free hand, turning it and kissing the back of it, feeling the delicate bones against his lips. 

“I feel like I’ve been talking your ear off -- I really didn’t mean to ramble so much. It’s your turn, I think.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Wren’s mouth as Theo recounted the story of how he’d convinced Sweet Basil’s to deliver to him. There was something charming in the way he downplayed his part in the whole thing, and in the casual, unselfconscious manner in which he propped his legs up onto Wren’s. It was clear that he was used to getting his way, and comfortable in the knowledge that he could. Well, good. He deserved it. Wren was pleased for him. And he knew, with a sudden, strong sense of conviction, that if it came down to it, he would move heaven and earth to keep it that way.

He draped his wrist over Theo’s leg, absently tapping his fingers against his ankle as he read the questions Theo handed him. The bonus question made him grin, but he found the prospect of answering the others a little harder, and he was secretly grateful for the extra time to think when Theo volunteered to go first. He took another sip of wine, settling back into the sofa’s cushions as he gave Theo’s ankle a small squeeze, his fingers finding their way beneath the hem of his sweats.

It was easy to listen to Theo talk, though he had to struggle a little to concentrate. He felt a little light-headed, which he probably should have anticipated, given the circumstances, but he wanted to listen. There was so much he didn’t know. Boarding school—siblings—the notion that Theo might have had siblings hadn’t even occurred to him—things he wished he had more time to digest, things he probably would have had at least some idea of if they’d met more traditionally. Everything being said seemed significant, and he wished he could take notes so he could revisit some of the titbits of information he was sure Theo thought were inconsequential. Like he didn’t think Theo would expect him to remember his uncle’s name, or probably any of his favourite colours, but he wanted to remember. He had a million more questions, follow-ups, like, you could have been a doctor? What was boarding school like? Did you ever think about going into art? But, also things like, what exactly is taupe? Or, what star sign am I?, and how much did Robin actually tell you about me? 

But he held his tongue, not wanting to interrupt. He could have listened to Theo talk forever. He didn’t think he’d ever met anyone so fascinating before in his life.

And then Theo was giving him a big, sheepish grin (how did he manage to be so expressive?), like he was embarrassed, and Wren realised that he still hadn’t given his own answers any thought. He shut his eyes, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the sensation of Theo’s lips brushing against his knuckles, before pulling his hand away to return it to its rightful place on Theo’s leg. He took another long sip of wine, glancing down at the list of questions.

“Okay,” he said. His voice felt a little strange to him, like the shape of his words were wrong, and he swallowed and looked up at Theo. “So… question one. I don’t really know how to answer this? I mean, I’ve never not been a twin, so I don’t have anything to compare it to...” But that wasn’t really what Theo was asking. He leant back, swilled the wine around in his glass for a moment. “I don’t think it was too different from having a non-twin sister, though maybe we’re a little closer because of it. We couldn’t pull any Parent Trap stunts or anything. But I don’t know how much of that is from Robin being my twin, and how much of it is Robin being Robin.” He frowned. “Sorry, that’s a boring answer. We also don’t have any twin powers. I think only identical twins get those. I think Robin can read minds sometimes, though… it just doesn’t go both ways.”

Maybe it was better to move on. “Is it weird to say the library?” he said, with a small, embarrassed smile. “Have you been down there yet? It’s this dinky little building on North Hemlock, maybe like, the size of this room, if that… but when I was a kid it seemed like this huge, magical, wonderful place. It was right near my elementary school and I spent a lot of time there.” He had some fond memories of begging his mom to drive him after school, even though it was in the wrong direction and Robin wanted to get home. When he was old enough, he’d walk himself there to while away some time while Robin was busy with her extracurriculars.

“I guess you might say I was a nerdy kid,” he deadpanned. “But Cannon Beach is a small town, and we didn’t travel much, so reading was the only way I could get away for a while. So it’s not my fault.”

He glanced at Theo, raising his eyebrows, daring him to say something—and, in truth, trying to stall a little before tackling the next question, which, if he was being completely honest, he didn’t really want to answer, or even think about. Theo had said that he didn’t have to do a question he didn’t want to, but skipping it—drawing attention to how uncomfortable it made him—seemed even worse. 

So he took another sip of wine before setting his glass back down on the coffee table, then leaned over, planting one hand on the back of the sofa for support, and the other on Theo’s shoulder.

“Question three,” he said. “My answer: kissing.” 

And for illustrative purposes, he pulled Theo into a slow, gentle kiss, before shooting him a quick smile and sitting back again.

“Favourite meal. Okay, don’t laugh, I know this isn’t very sophisticated, but my mom makes this killer mac ’n’ cheese. She puts yams and spinach in and it tastes like heaven. But it’s less about the end result and more about the process. We always had to help. I did all the prep and Robin whisked the sauce, and we’d have to sit in the kitchen to keep an eye on it when it baked, and whoever saw it was ready first got to take it out of the oven and dish it out. We used to keep a scorecard. I’m pretty sure I was winning, last time I checked.” 

He picked his wine glass back up, taking another sip before resting the base on Theo’s leg as he tried to articulate his thoughts. “I don’t know why that sticks in my mind. We did stuff like that a lot. But with this dish, I guess there was a specific ritual, and it never really changed. It’s one of the things I think of when I think of home.”

He didn’t know if that was exactly the kind of answer Theo had been looking for, but he wasn’t sure what else he could say. And while he was enjoying their date, sitting on the sofa, drinking wine and getting to know each other, he was glad he’d reached the last question (almost). Figuring out how to say what he wanted to say was getting harder and harder. But thankfully, this last one was an easy one to answer.

“I don’t watch a lot of TV,” he admitted. “I never had time to follow any shows or anything. But I have trouble sleeping, sometimes, and when I do I end up watching these weird late-night ‘documentaries’—” He punctuated the word with air quotes. “—about UFOs and flat earth theories and dowsing and Bigfoot. Which counts, right? I’m not sure if I’d say they’re pleasures, but I definitely feel guilty watching them.”

Reaching for Theo’s free hand, he curled his fingers against his wrist and leaned in. “Now for the bonus question, can I just tell you the answer’s 105, or do I have to show you my working?”

He was just about to admit that that had sounded a lot sexier in his head when the doorbell rang. Violet yowled and darted back towards the bedroom—he hadn’t even noticed she’d followed them out—and for a moment he was confused, wondering who the hell would be coming by now (not Robin again?) before remembering that they’d ordered in. At the look on Theo’s face (no fucking wonder he’d managed to convince the restaurant to bring him food), he told him to keep sitting before shifting his legs off him and getting up to get the door.

A woman was behind the door, peroxide blonde hair, chewing some gum and holding a brown paper bag, and as Wren pulled it open she held the bag out in front of her for him to take. For a place which didn’t deliver, it looked as though she’d had a lot of practice with this.

“Thanks,” he said. “Do we owe you anything, or…?”

Instead of answering his question, she said, “You’re not Theo.” In some ways that was fortunate, because he didn’t actually have any money on him, but he didn’t like the way she was looking at him, like she was trying to place him.

“Uh, no,” he said. “I’m—”

“Stretch?” Oh, god. She didn’t squeal, exactly, but she did sound far too delighted for somebody who either liked yelling out random words or who seemed to recognise him from high school. Frankly, both possibilities were equally bad. He was about to apologise for not recognising her, but then something in his brain clicked, and he realised he did. Fuck.

“Kelly?” he said weakly. “Oh, hi. It’s been a while.”

“Stretch,” she said. “This is so crazy. What are you doing back here? And what happened to your face? Did you get into a fight? I thought you were supposed to be a hotshot lawyer? Didn’t you go to New York or something?”

“Um,” he said, but she carried on like he hadn’t.

“And what are you doing all the way out here? Where’s Theo?” 

He didn’t like the sound of her tone, which seemed less genuinely curious, and more like she was fishing for something. He especially didn’t like the look on her face, clearly doing some kind of mental arithmetic, and when her eyes started to bug out he had a feeling that it hadn’t been the sexy kind.

“Oh my god,” she said. “Are you two… ? Is that why—”

His head span. This was too much.

“It was nice to see you, Kelly,” said Wren, and, not really knowing what else to do, shut the door in her face.

When he made it back to the couch, he dropped the bag onto the coffee table and sat down heavily. This was a nightmare. There were very few people he’d hoped never to run into again, and Kelly Childress was one of them.

He rubbed his good eye with the heel of his hand and looked over at Theo. 

“Is there more wine? I think I need more wine.”

The way Wren described the library was too sweet, and Theo felt compelled to reassure him that he didn’t think it was weird at all. He’d spent countless hours in the library at St. Albany’s though admittedly not all of them were spent reading. He hadn’t been down to the library here in Cannon Beach however, and couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been to a public library. He laughed when Wren admitted he’d been a bit of a nerdy kid, unable to help himself. Though he did bite his tongue to stop himself from telling Wren he wasn’t surprised, especially when Wren raised his eyebrows at him in challenge. 

Theo took a sip of wine as Wren considered his next question, the two of them sitting silently for a moment. And then he burst into sudden, surprised laughter when Wren finally gave his reply, about to call him out for giving a cop-out of an answer. But then Wren was leaning forward, his eyes glinting brightly beneath the bruising on his face with rare excitement as he touched his shoulder, fingers curling around his bicep as he pulled him close. Then there was the feel of Wren’s lips against his, and the taste of the wine coupled with his distinct sweetness of his breath -- it was enough to still his laughter, with that lingering, deep kiss, all slow and deliberate. Theo hooked his knees over Wren’s thighs as he kissed him back, pulling him in closer as he relished the feeling. As they separated he felt Wren’s bottom lip brushed against his teeth, sending a shiver down his spine and a warm flush spreading across his chest, leaving Theo at a rare loss for words. 

Wren grinned at him as he settled back against the couch, somehow teetering the line between smug and sheepish in that distinctly Wren way. Numbly, Theo fidgeted with the hem of his sweater and cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. He was too much.

“I already knew you were good at that, too.” Theo eventually replied, trying to sound haughty and knowing he was doing a poor job. “I probably should have written that down along with math.” But he was smiling at him, unable to help himself. 

As Wren went on to describe his mother’s cooking, his smile remained. Talking about himself, his mother and Robin all cooking together seemed like something out of a story book. He wanted to ask if Wren did any cooking himself, and what his dinners had been like in New York. Did he prefer takeout over a home cooked meal? Was he a soup or salad kind of person? On the rare occasion, did he opt for fries? He wanted to know everything about him, from his mornings to the moments he found himself awake in the middle of the night, watching weird shit he’d found on TV. 

Regardless of the answer Wren would give, Theo knew he wanted to be there with him, too.

Wren’s fingers curled around his wrist, and he was telling him the answer to his math question. Theo took his hand away and raised it to his mouth to hide his wild grin. There was no fucking way he was right, thought Theo as he reached beside him to grab his phone tucked beneath his thigh, doing the calculations as quickly as he could and cackling as the answer came out to 105. 

“You are absolutely correct, Mr. Ruskin.” Theo laughed, playfully poking him in the ribs just as the doorbell rang. “Your prize: dinner. I don’t have a mathletics trophy handy, unfortunately.” 

Wren rose, shifting his legs from his lap, his touch lingering for a moment. Theo tucked his feet beneath one of the cushions and watched him walk towards the door, wondering idly if he’d had too much wine, if that was the reason behind his giddiness. A quick check confirmed he’d had less than half a glass, and as Wren went to open the front door, he took a very ungentlemanly-like swig from the glass before setting it down on the coffee table. He glanced at his phone, noticing his mom had emailed him back a quick line of text, the kind she sent when she was in a meeting (Very handsome, the both of you … But you’re looking a little skinny and he needs a haircut! Get him to take you out for dinner!), along with a few more texts from Michael, which he didn’t bother reading.

He heard a woman’s voice from the entryway and he pieced together that Kelly was the one who’d offered to drive up. He should really have gotten up to say thanks, but his legs felt a little shaky and he was immensely comfortable. The 30 per cent tip would have to do. 

He went to look back at his phone, but Theo heard something like recognition in her voice, which rose a few octaves as she excitedly called Wren … Stretch? (His nickname’s Stretch!?) Did they know each other? Not that it was unlikely, considering the town’s population, but he wondered how. Theo craned his neck, trying to peer around the wall, but the open door blocked his view and all he saw was Wren’s hand. It looked like he was trying to usher her out, but she was on a roll now. He was only able to pick up only a few words, though her last jumbled phrase he made out entirely. 

“Oh my god. Are you two… ? Is that why—”

Wren had shut the door, and Theo paused at the look on his face, like he’d just bitten into something unpleasant. And maybe if Theo had been someone else, if he hadn’t spent the last fifteen years of his life out or had been from a small, intimate town like Cannon Beach, he would have realized what was wrong. And while he’d gotten a bit cagier with his sexuality since moving here, the thought that Wren might not be as forthcoming had barely crossed his mind. 

“We’ve barely made a dent,” Theo replied, watching as Wren sat down heavily against the couch and ground the heel of his palm into his eye socket. Theo leaned forward and took the wine bottle, topping himself and Wren off and managing not to spill anything this time despite his tremor becoming a bit more pronounced (alcohol always made it worse). He glanced at him again, and though he was desperate to give him shit for the nickname, the look on his face had him holding off. 

“Was that Kelly? Do you know her?” Theo asked as he shifted a little bit closer, dropping his legs to the floor as he began to unload the contents from the paper bag. 

“Was she giving you any shit? I’m sorry if she was. She’s really funny, but she can be mean when she wants.” Theo continued as he placed the warm, foil packed panini on one of the paper plates and handed it to Wren, along with one of the napkins. Was this another embarrassing story? He felt like he’d told enough today to last him a lifetime, especially on the topic of how into Wren he was. 

“She was up here on Thursday, I think? And I was a little overexcited because I was going to see you the next day, so I kind of … Went on and on about this new guy I was into.” Theo admitted, shrugging as a smile played about his lips. He really wasn’t very good at playing it cool when it came to Wren, he was beginning to realize. 

“I think she may have just put the pieces together.” 

He pulled out a clamshell container from the paper bag, popping it open to remove the two containers of salad dressing only to drop them onto the coffee table. It was a loaded salad: roasted vegetables, kale, pumpkin seeds and all that. Though admittedly, it wasn’t all that great without the dressing.

“Anyway, do you want to watch something? That’s what normal people do on dates, right? Dinner and a movie?” 

After a few minutes of Netflix surfing, Theo suggested the movie Wild. He wasn’t really dying to see it, but Wren seemed game and it was neutral enough for a first date kind of movie, neither pretentious nor stupid, and maybe a little bit dramatic and emotional. He hit play and dimmed the lights a little, before settling in close to Wren, starting on dinner. 

Theo only got a third of the way through his salad before closing the lid and setting it back onto the coffee table, quickly growing tired of the taste of soft vegetables and hard, fibrous kale. He took a deep drink from the wine glass, and when Wren was finished with his own dinner Theo came in closer still, taking his long arm and propping it around his shoulders, lacing his fingers through Wren’s and holding it to his chest, the other hand sliding under the sweater to touch his stomach. Theo smiled up at him and then he leaned up to kiss him, soft and slowly, before pulling away to press his lips to the tops of his fingers. He tilted his face into the fabric of the sweater, smelling him there too, feeling the warmth from his body, the weight of his arm over his shoulders, before settling in to watch the movie. 

He was bad at staying awake through an entire film on a good day, and besides the faint twinge in his lower back when he moved it wrong and some tightness in his thighs, he was immensely comfortable. The darkness and the warmth from Wren’s body had him drowsy within the first thirty minutes of the movie, and drifting off soon after. He woke up briefly to some screaming from onscreen, and through slit eyelids spied Reese Witherspoon yelling at a fox. Uninterested, Theo settled back into the very present Wren beside him, feeling a warm hand slip beneath the gap in his t-shirt to rub soothing circles into the sore spot between his shoulder blades. A few moments later he muttered something about not being able to picture Reese Witherspoon as a heroin addict, before his eyelids grew heavy again and it no longer mattered. 

It was dark and quiet when he awoke to the sensation of being lifted. The movement was enough for him to just open his eyes, and against the light of the moon streaming in through the windows he made out the cut of Wren’s jaw bone and the shadows sinking into his eyes. A slow exhale and eyes slipping shut, and then Theo was wrapping an arm around Wren’s neck, head falling against his shoulder. He felt like the luckiest man alive. 

He couldn’t be sure if he’d ended up voicing his thoughts. Soon enough he was in bed, and so was Wren, his body pressed against the line of his spine, his thighs, feet and ankles intertwined and arms wrapped around his stomach. This was how he wanted to fall asleep for the rest of his life, Theo though to himself, feeling quite pleased. He wouldn’t have changed a thing. 

---- x ----

He was startled awake by the abrupt ringing of his phone. What the actual fuck?

Sluggish and stiff, Theo tried to roll over onto his side, but his body felt heavy and clumsy. He only realized after a momentary struggle that it was because Wren’s arm was draped over his stomach. After carefully shifting him down a little, he reached over to the nightstand and fumbled blindly for the phone, blearily bringing it up to his face to read the call display. Jeremy? Why the fuck was he calling him, on a Sunday morning of all days? 

“Hello?” He answered, voice thick with sleep. 

“Theo, hi! Finally!” His voice was too loud, and Theo winced, jerking the phone away from his ear as Jeremy continued talking. “-- I’m thirty minutes away. You’re packed, right? Sayed has a meeting booked for noon and I’m worried with the bridge closed we’ll be late.”

“--What? What are you talking about?” Theo interrupted, incoherent but trying to keep his voice quiet. He propped himself up on an elbow, feeling the familiar tightness that usually preluded that muscle just underneath his rib cage going into spasm mode. Wren’s arm was draped over his middle, and he felt the shudder of muscle in his bicep as he tried to pull him closer. 

“The Millers … Wait, nobody got in touch with you?” A pause. “Jesus, Theo. Sayed’s been doing damage control all day yesterday. It’s all hands on deck over at the office. The Millers are getting cold feet and threatening to pull out of their project. Totally willing to lose the deposit and everything. They told me to come in and that you’d be ready for a pickup if I was able. Are you telling me nobody spoke to you? Typical of those guys – they told me to be ready to come up to Portland for at least a week. You know, I always say --“ 

“Jeremy, no. I can’t fucking go to Portland for a week. I—“ He rubbed at his eyes, trying to urge himself into coherence and think up some believable excuse. But he had nothing. “I’m just tied up. Tell them to find someone else.” 

“I’m already off the interstate and heading to Cannon Beach. If you can’t come you’d better call Sayed now, because he’s going to lose it if I show up without you and there’s no way in hell I’m taking that bullet. They need to retool the design, make out all the change orders to the contractors, and most of all reassure the Millers … It’s a mess. I’m not joking, this is really serious. Sayed’s saying if we lose this project we’re not gonna have enough capital to complete the bid on the Frankels … The firm could go under.” 

Theo groaned loudly, rubbing the heel of his palm into his forehead. What the fuck. This wasn’t even his project. Sure, he’d drafted the floorplans but hadn’t touched the thing in three months. Why was someone else’s incompetence fucking up his plans? His life? He couldn’t take off to Portland for a week, not when this thing with Wren was so new, so fragile …

“Theo? What’s it gonna be? I need a decision over here.” 

He twisted around, staring at the sweet man asleep in his bed, sunlight dappling over his features. The bruise around his eye looked like it had finally stabilized, and the swelling had gone down a little. Wren would be okay, he knew. But leaving him here in Cannon Beach made something in him ache. How was he going to go a week without seeing him?

“Fine, Give me an hour.” Theo finally said.

“But I’m only thirty minutes away –“ He heard Jeremy stutter in protest, but Theo had already hung up. He huffed in frustration as he struggled to swing his stiff legs over the bed. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Quietly (but realistically, probably not all that much) he hauled out a few jackets, a few shirts and ties from his closet, draping them over his shoulder and heading to the laundry room, where he retrieved his suitcase and a few dry cleaning bags before tossing the whole lot onto the floor of the entry way. A second trip into the bedroom had him coming out with an armful of colourful socks, a few t-shirts and things to sleep in, and a certain pale yellow sweater he'd retrieved from the floor, all of which was dumped into the suitcase. He then limped into the kitchen, taking the vaporizer from the counter and taking a few deep inhales as he raided the fridge, pulling out a week’s worth of Copaxone boxes and tossing them out onto the counter. His pills were next: anything to stop the room spinning around, as well as he stiffness in his legs. Marching back over the bathroom, he opened the medicine cabinet and began tossing containers of pills into the suitcase. Baclofen, Ampyra, Valium, Percocet, OxyContin, Klonopin, various brands of muscle relaxants, Vitamin D, Magnesium ... Was that it? His mind raced as he tried to count down the things he needed to pack. There were his medications, his clothes, the drawings he’d have to dig out of his office.

Fuck! The drawings? He couldn’t even hazard a guess as to where they were. Stiffly, Theo limped back over to his office, grabbing a shirt and some pants to change into from the ever growing pile. His fingers had loosened up somewhat and he was able to deal with the buttons, changing into a cactus print button down and a pair of smart, dark wash jeans. He rounded his desk and sunk into the chair behind it, reaching down to roll up the hem of his pants, and then moving on to rifle through the tightly rolled tubes of paper. They were stickered shut and labelled with the names of the clients to whom they belonged, from Ezra to Smith to Zarif. But no Miller. Maybe he’d enacted his labelling system relatively recently? Maybe the Miller drawings were in the unlabelled section? He couldn’t remember. 

Twisting in his rolling chair, Theo shuffled over to the next stack of papers propped up against the back wall. He pulled out a few of the rolls and laid them out on his desk, attempting to unfurl the first one, before his hand twitched and it snapped shut. He breathed in, tried again, before it happened again. 

Theo closed his eyes, biting his lower lip to stop himself from swearing. It was too early in the morning for this, not while he was stiff and in pain, not while the room spun around him and his hands shook. And especially not when he had a handsome, sweet man in his bed, who was probably wondering where the fuck he was. How the fuck was he going to explain this to Wren? 

How was going to explain that the last thing he wanted to do was to take off for a week?

I. ROBIN (PT 1)

“You look like shit.”

Robin leaned against the frame of the sliding door, peering at Wren over her sunglasses. From his position, cross-legged on the floor, she seemed gigantic, towering over him like some terrible judgemental statue. He looked up at her, shielding his face against the reflection of the sun in the glass, and thought about shooting back a quip, something really sarcastic, or maybe denying it just to see what she said, before letting his arm drop and shrugging.

“I feel like shit,” he admitted. Defeated by the giant. But he didn’t have it in him to draw it out. He’d woken up tired, his head heavy and numb, his mouth dry. His eye was still tender, though no longer swollen shut, and he felt as though he was teetering on the edge of illness, like sudden movement might make him throw up. It had taken him a sorry minute to recognise the sensation. He was hungover. But that wasn’t even the worst of it. He was sure it showed.

Robin studied him for a moment, as though she was deciding what kind of approach to take, before apparently settling on pity.

“Come on,” she said, offering him a hand. “Let’s go.”

He took it, and she helped haul him to his feet before they both went back inside.

“So Theo had to go to Portland?” Robin was saying, but Wren wasn’t listening. Theo’s house felt wrong without him there, too still, the bright sunlight casting harsh shadows which contrasted with the echoes of the night before—the take-out containers poking out of the trash, a blanket still crumpled on the couch, the TV remote askew on the coffee table. He hadn’t realised how much life Theo brought to the place, how much warmth he radiated, until he had left. That was why he’d waited for Robin on the deck, instead of inside—in the hopes that the sun could bring some of it back. It hadn’t worked.

“Wren?” prompted Robin, catching his attention. He shook his head, tried to focus.

“Sorry, what?”

Robin picked up the bag of dirty clothes he’d left out earlier and held the front door open for him. “I was just saying, Theo had to go to Portland?”

“Oh,” said Wren. “Yeah. An emergency at work. He was in a hurry; I didn’t have time to get the full details.” 

In truth, he still didn’t know exactly what had happened. One minute he’d had his arms wrapped around him, his face buried in his hair as his breathing lulled him to sleep, and the next he’d been zipping clothes into dry-cleaning bags while Theo ran around his office trying to get things together for this totally last-minute work trip. He had tried to explain, but he’d been upset, and he’d needed support, not an interrogation. So Wren had hugged him, told him it was okay, and helped him pack. There hadn’t been any room to process his own feelings on the matter until they’d hugged goodbye, a long, lingering embrace followed by a sad kiss he could still taste on his lips. 

“And when will he be back?” asked Robin, closing the door behind her. 

Wren fished for Theo’s key to lock up. “A week, he said. Not too long.”

Not too long. That’s what he’d said to Theo as well, but honestly, it might as well have been forever. His chest ached. He’d watched the car drive away from this exact spot on Theo’s porch maybe twenty minutes ago, and it already felt like hours.

“It’ll go by quick,” said Robin cheerfully, holding out her hand. It took Wren a moment to realise she was waiting for the car keys, and he tossed them to her, crossing over to the passenger side.

“Did you walk?” he asked as she unlocked the car, and she shook her head.

“Got a lift,” she said, climbing in. Wren opened the passenger side door and slid in a moment later, after moving the seat back a little to make room for his legs. “So,” she carried on, before he could ask any further questions, “have you decided what to tell Mom and Dad yet? About your face?”

Wren groaned. “Oh, shit.”

She flashed him a grin as she started up the car. “Don’t worry. Ursula offered to look you over. We have time to think of an excuse.”

Wren shut his eyes, leaning back against the headrest. He didn’t want to think of an excuse. He wanted to be back in bed with Theo, half-asleep but whole.

II. URSULA

Ursula was waiting for them in the kitchen of the small home she shared with Robin and Olivia. She let out a low whistle as Robin ushered him to the table, where he sat down, crossing his arms across his chest. Ursula had clearly been briefed as to what to expect—she’d got her nursing bag out and ready—so he felt her reaction was a little excessive.

“Shout when you’re done,” said Robin, heading for the living room, and Ursula nodded.

“Exciting day yesterday, huh?” she said, pulling a chair up to sit in front of him as soon as Robin was out of sight.

“You’re telling me,” he said, trying and failing not to sound miserable. 

“But not all bad?” she said. Wren watched her switch on a small torch, and she motioned for him to look straight ahead as she shone it in each eye.

He almost shrugged, before catching himself. “No,” he said. “Not all bad.”

Parts of it had, in fact, been good. Really good. He thought about the night before—the Q&A, dinner, settling in on the sofa to watch the movie. How Theo had fallen asleep less then half an hour in, curled up against his chest, his breathing soft and even. How he’d felt bad waking him up, so, with the confidence of a man who’d had most of a bottle of wine, he’d carried him to bed. Wrapping his arms around him to hold him close as he’d drifted into the best night’s sleep he’d had in recent memory. In spite of all the other shit that had happened, he knew then that it had all been worth it.

Ursula switched off the light, and Wren blinked. She held up her index finger. “Follow my finger. Robin said you went to school together? What does he do?”

She began to move her finger from left to right, then up and down, and Wren did his best to follow along, though he was getting some deja vu. “He went to school with Robin, not me. He’s an architect.”

“Oh, right,” said Ursula. “That makes sense. She said something about taking a class together. Okay, now hold your hand out and touch your nose with your pointer finger. Then do it with the other hand.” She watched as Wren obeyed her instructions. “He’s not from around here, though, right? Like from Oregon, I mean.”

“No, he’s from Connecticut,” said Wren, and he couldn’t help but smile, because that was a thing he knew now which he hadn’t this time the day before.

“Long way to move,” observed Ursula. “Okay, last thing from me. How did you sleep last night?”

“Actually, really well,” he said.

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “And I’m glad to be able to tell you that I think you’ll be okay. If you start to feel dizzy, or confused, or weird in any way at all, go to the ER.” She stood up and pushed her chair in, leaning on its back as she gave him a last once-over. “On the record, you should probably do that anyway. Off the record, get some rest and don’t get punched in the face again.”

Wren stood up too. “Thanks, Bear,” he said, and he hoped she knew he meant it.

“Anything for you, troublemaker,” she said, then pulled him into a quick, spontaneous hug. He’d missed her, he realised, as she drew back again. They’d sort of lost touch after high school, which was almost certainly his fault. “Have you figured out what to tell your folks yet?” she asked, picking up her bag from off the table.

“Fuck no,” he said. “I wish everybody would stop asking me that.”

III. OLIVIA (AND THEO)

Robin offered to let him hang out for as long as he wanted before she drove him back, but Wren just wanted to get home. Still, he ended up sat on her sofa while he waited for her to finish up a tutoring session over Skype. Ursula had to go to work, so he found himself alone, channel-hopping, but daytime TV wasn’t quite as engaging as late-night TV and he found himself drifting off until his phone buzzed.

Remembering that Theo had promised to text him, he fished it out of his pocket, and smiled. Theo had already sent him six messages.

The first one had been sent just a few minutes after he’d left—one of the selfies they’d taken on the beach on Friday evening in front of Haystack Rock. He lingered on it for a moment, noting a few things he’d missed the last time he’d looked. The faint flush in his cheeks, the way Theo was looking at him, like he was the only person who mattered, his hand, unselfconscious on Theo’s shoulder, a million tiny details that built up a picture of a couple, even though this had been taken well before anything happened. No wonder Michael had been mad, he thought, scrolling down to the rest of Theo’s texts.

• Theo 10:12

• it's only been 20 minutes and jeremy is annoying the fuck out of me

• also he says you're very handsome and i agree

• he's straight so i'm worried you might feature in the fantasy novel he won't shut up about

• Theo 11:20

• got to portland safe and sound. rather be in CB <3

• Theo 11:26

ps we’ll have to reschedule our date! i owe you!!! i’ll take you somewhere nice!

It took him a moment to recall what date Theo was talking about. They’d made plans for Newman’s just the day before, before Michael had appeared. It felt like forever ago; he had totally forgotten.

He chewed his lip and, after a moment of thinking, tapped out a quick response.

• Wren 11:26

Hey, sorry, I was getting checked over. I’m glad to hear you’ve arrived safely though I’m sorry Jeremy is annoying you. He’s writing a novel? That’s kind of cool right? I’m up for rescheduling but I hope you know you don’t owe me anything! Let me know when’s good. I’m free any time. Right now I’m sitting on Robin’s couch trying to figure out what to tell my parents about the black eye… think they’ll buy the old walked-into-a-door-excuse?? 🙂

He paused, and typed out another sentence.

Anyway… I miss you. Looking forward to seeing you next week.

And then he deleted it before sending the rest of the text. Too soon, he thought. Too clingy. Even if it was true.

He clicked his phone off and had only just stuck it back in his pocket when it buzzed again. He was about to pull it back out when an incredulous voice interrupted him from the doorway.

“Uncle Wren? What happened to your face?”

Wren looked up to see Olivia there, her expression a mix of impressed, intrigued and absolutely horrified, which he guessed made sense. For a second he thought about lying, before remembering he didn’t actually have a decent lie, and Olivia always seemed to see right through them anyway.

So instead, he said, “Someone punched me,” and, after a moment of consideration, Olivia decided it was an acceptable excuse and came to sit next to him.

“Who?” she demanded.

“Someone my friend knows,” he said. “Why, are you going to defend my honour?”

“No,” she said. “Why did they punch you?”

Wren was already regretting telling the truth. “I don’t know,” he said, which earned him a squint from Olivia.

“You must have done something,” she said.

“I didn’t,” he insisted. “I think… maybe he thought I did, but I didn’t.”

“Hmmm,” she said, like she didn’t believe him. (Which wasn’t surprising. He was pretty sure nobody would believe that he and Theo hadn’t slept together.) “Did you call the police?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I didn’t think of it.”

“My mom says that if someone hurts you you should always tell a grown-up,” said Olivia.

“I am a grown-up,” said Wren.

Olivia just patted him on the knee before reaching for the remote control and changing the channel.

IV. ROBIN (PT 2)

Robin rescued him after three episodes of Kitty Catty Bingo Time, some weird cartoon about animals on a cruise ship which Olivia was obsessed with and Wren didn’t really understand. He said bye to Olivia, who told him to call the police again, as he and Robin made their way back to their parents’ car.

“Will she be OK on her own?” asked Wren as Robin unlocked the doors.

She looked over at him. “Have you met her before? She’ll be fine.” She opened the driver’s side door, before adding, “Anyway, we have a system.”

Wren got into the front passenger seat. “Okay,” he said, not entirely convinced. “How will you get back?” 

Robin waved her hand dismissively, glancing at her phone as it pinged. “I’ll walk, I guess.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I’m sure Mom or Dad would be happy to drive you...”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” she repeated, starting up the engine. Her phone pinged again and she sighed, tossing it into the cupholder. Wren watched her for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. There was a running joke in the Ruskin household that he wouldn’t notice if his nose dropped off his face, which maybe held a kernel of truth, but even through his hangover it was hard not to observe that something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” he asked as she began to pull out of her parking spot.

“Nothing.” Her tone was casual, but it sounded forced, and now Wren knew that something was definitely off.

“Robin. I can tell when you’re lying.”

Her phone pinged a third time and she groaned. “Set it to silent, would you?”

He picked it up and flicked the switch on the side to turn off the ringer. As he did the screen lit up and he could see a number of notifications from Facebook which made his stomach sink.

• Facebook

• Kelly has replied to your comment on her post.

• Facebook

• Shaun Farmer has also commented on a post in Seaside High School Crew.

• Facebook

• Maria Lopez, Dani McKenzie and 4 others have also commented on a post in Seaside High School Crew.

• Facebook

Warren Iona, Doug Garcia and 2 others liked your comment: “hey kelly, just wondering, how old a..."

“Robin, what’s going on?” he said, as another Facebook notification came up on her screen. She glanced over him and sighed.

“Look, don’t worry about it,” she said. “It’s just Kelly being a bitch, as usual. You know how she can get.”

Oh, fuck, he thought.

“We got take-out,” he said weakly. “Last night. I went to get the door and she was there...”

“Yeah,” said Robin. “I know. Seriously, don’t worry.”

Another notification lit up her screen, and she took a hand off the wheel to toss her phone onto the back seat. 

“I shut the door in her face,” he said. He felt distant, like somebody else was controlling his body. “It’s just, the last time I saw her wasn’t good. I didn’t know what to do.”

Robin snorted. “She probably deserved it.” Glancing at Wren, her expression softened. “Hey. It’s not that bad. You can read her shitty post when we get home, okay? I’ll field questions from Mom and Dad for you. I already told them you had an accident and Ursula was going to check you over, so I think they’ll be… well, maybe not okay, but less-bad...”

Oh, fuck, he thought. He’d forgotten about his parents, again. But now, somehow, they seemed like the least of his problems.

V. KELLY CHILDRESS

Wren had never seen his mom this mad before.

“I just can’t believe the nerve of that woman,” she said, pacing around the dining table while Robin nodded emphatically. “Calling us at nine p.m., for heaven’s sake, pretending she wants to reconcile… pretending to be concerned! Who does she think she is?”

“Kelly got it from somewhere,” said Robin. “She must have gone straight home to tell her mom. It’s pathetic.”

“Martha Childress has always been a piece of work,” said his mom, crossing her arms as she leant against the kitchen counter. “Ever since I’ve known her. Too much time on her hands and not enough imagination to fill it, so she resorts to snide remarks and gossip. But this time she’s gone too far. Involving Wren? How dare she.”

Wren’s head was spinning. He hadn’t managed to work out exactly what had happened, or what exactly Kelly’s mom had said to his mom, but he got the gist of it, and it didn’t sound good.

“It’s not worth getting worked up over,” said Robin. “That’s what they want.”

“I know, honey. It’s just...” His mom sighed, then fell silent for a moment, looking very much like she wanted to say something else. He thought he could guess what they might be.

“I’ll be fine, Mom,” he said, sounding a lot braver than he felt. “But I’m a little tired. Is it OK if I go lie down?”

“Of course it is,” said his mom, sounding shocked that he would ever think otherwise. “Robin, let me drop you off home, okay?” She held up a hand, cutting off Robin’s protests. “Wren, I won’t be gone long, but please call me if you need me, or if you feel strange at all. Head injuries are no joke.”

He promised her he would, before excusing himself and taking the stairs. His head did hurt, and he was hungry, but he didn’t think he would be able to keep anything down. He changed into his pyjamas from Friday night and crawled into bed, but instead of getting ready for a nap, he pulled out his laptop and logged into Facebook.

Kelly’s post wasn’t hard to find. The Seaside High group wasn’t official or anything, just something some kids from his grade had thrown together to better stay in touch, but it came up immediately since Robin was a member. Kelly’s post was right at the top.

• Kelly Childress

• 27 August 2016 at 21:52 · Cannon Beach

• ! ! ! HOT GOSSIP ! ! ! ………… 😉 😉

• omg sooooooooo the c r a zi e s t thing just happened to me….…..

• so some of you will kno about the disabled gay vegan guy my mom makes me deliver to sometimes… well……. i was over there last week and he was telling me about this guy he was into…. Like…. going ON and ON abt how he was SO tall and So handsome and how he was going to see him at a party on friday.…….. and he told me about him before and like he sounds like he has a huge crush…… been there done that!! so i was like hey good luck!!! and i didnt think anything more of it…….. like……. its not gonna be someone I know right????

• ………………….BUT……………..

• he ordered again tonight so i went up there and guess who answered the door……. 

• ………………. none other than our very own STRETCH!!!!!!!

• i almost didnt recognize him cuz he was in sweats and had this HUGE black eye like hed been in a fight or sumthin but u never forget the 1st guy 2 break ur heart lol. and then i was confused like??? isnt he supposed to be in new york or sum shit???? but then im thinking….. like im in FULL ON sherlock holmes mode now………… remembring all the details the vegan guy told me…………… and then what wren was like in high school………… and it makes so much sense right???? omg??? who even thought?????

• the only thing that DOESNT make sense 2 me is why hes back here??? but the vegan guy is cute lol so more power to him i guess.

Seen by 30

Wren had been feeling sick all day, but it had felt manageable until now. He could feel the bile rising in his throat and had to shut his eyes and count to fifty before he felt ready to continue reading. There were a handful of comments, some from people whom he recognised. There was Lindsey, his first kiss, whose name he’d struggled to remember on Friday night:

• Lindsey Poole

• omg. no way. this explains SO MUCH.

• Yesterday at 21:56

• Lindsey Poole

• i was at the party and i’m pretty sure i saw them together? what does your vegan guy look like?

• Yesterday at 21:56

→ Kelly Childress replied · 2 replies

Brett, a guy on the football team whom Wren had mostly avoided:

• Brett Riley

• LOOOOOOOOL always fuckin knew that dude was a fag

Today at 10:38

Dani, a girl he’d sat next to in chemistry for a semester, tried to lighten the mood:

• Dani McKenzie

• Wait, since when does Sweet B’s deliver???

• Today at 09:11

→ Kelly Childress replied · 1 reply

And then there was Robin:

• Robin Ruskin

• hey kelly, just wondering, how old are you again?

• Today at 09:40

→ Kelly Childress replied · 3 replies

She must have made the comment while she was still out at brunch, he realised, which made him feel a little guilty. He hesitated a moment before clicking the link to view the replies to her comment.

• Kelly Childress

• younger than you, sweet cheeks 😉

• Today at 11:32

• Robin Ruskin

• yeah you act like it. still obsessing over my brother after he rejected you 11 years ago. so mature.

• Today at 12:20

• Kelly Childress

• i mean he “rejected” me cuz he’s gay so it prolly wasnt personal. but out of interest....... since we’re all adults............ why does he still need you to defend him???

Today at 12:35

Wren shut the lid of his laptop and stowed it back under the bed. Maybe it was better not to know.

VI. THEO (PT 1) (AND VIOLET)

On Wednesday afternoon, Wren decided to walk to Theo’s.

There were several factors involved in this decision:

• 1. Since handing his parents’ books over to the accountant, he didn’t have much to do.

• 2. The weather was nice.

• 3. Walking meant he wouldn’t have to drive.

• 4. Hanging around in Theo’s house meant he didn’t have to deal with his parents.

• 5. It had been a while since he’d visited Ecola State Park (well, aside from when he’d cut through it to get home that day he’d met Michael for the first time, but… that didn’t count).

6. He was unlikely to run into anyone in the woods, thank fuck.

It was a long walk, about an hour, and uphill, so he dug out some old hiking boots from the back of his closet and sent Theo a quick before he left. He’d struggled to keep up with his texts at first, largely because after a few months of deliberately avoiding his phone, getting into the habit of checking it regularly had been hard, but it had gotten a little easier over the past few days. He actually had a reason to keep an eye on it now—something to look forward to.

Lots to look forward to, actually. Theo was a prolific texter, sending him pictures—of his office, of the place he’d been put up in, of his coworkers—and keeping up a running commentary of how the Work Emergency was unfolding. Wren wasn’t sure if it was because he was bored, or wanted to make him feel included, or just wanted to talk, but he appreciated it all the same, even if he didn’t always know what to say in return. If nothing else, it was nice to know there was a world outside his own personal drama, which he hadn’t mentioned to Theo yet in the hopes that it would all blow over by the time he got back.

It took him about forty minutes to get to the edge of the park, taking a route which took him past his old elementary school and the church where the support group meeting had been held. He thought about dropping in on the library, but with nothing to carry books around in, decided against it, and instead headed up the footpath which led near Theo’s house. It was pretty steep and much slower going, but he didn’t mind. It gave him something to concentrate on, and was otherwise pretty peaceful. The spruces were starting to change colour from the vibrant green of summer to a warm yellow, and would soon turn darker still, to the rich orange Wren associated with fall. 

Occasionally he stopped to pick a flower, using the pocket tool on his keychain to cut stems to make it easier, until he had a little bouquet going—foxgloves, goldenrods, Oregon irises and a single wakerobin—which he carried with him all the way up to Theo’s house. It had been a long time since he’d picked flowers for someone, though he used to do it all the time as a kid, make little arrangements as he walked home which he’d later present to his mom. He liked flowers, and wished he was any good at keeping plants alive, but until then was happy to stick to cut ones, whether from a florist or inexpertly picked by himself.

He got to Theo’s just after four. Violet mewed from somewhere in the depths of the house, appearing from nowhere as he let himself in, and he stopped to say hello to her before filling the biggest jug he could find with water for the flowers. Then he topped up her food and water bowls before flopping down on the couch to check his phone.

• Wren 14:56

• About to head to yours! I’m going to walk—wish me luck!

• Theo 15:02

• make sure to walk through Ecola Park!! It’s much nicer and safer than walking up the road

• and send me a pic of violet!!

• oh also feel free to hang out if you’re not busy! it makes me feel better having someone there

• Theo 15:14

• I’m so bored

• I wish you were here

• at least then I’d have something to look forward to after work

• there’s nothing for me to do but they won’t let me leave!!

• Theo 15:46

• I just looked at the plan again and everyone here is incompetent

• can you believe they thought they could easily install a lift on an L-shaped stair?

• look at this shit

• [Theo has attached a photo – tap to view]

• and look at my face

• [Theo has attached a photo – tap to view]

help me

The two photos were of some blueprints which made absolutely no sense to him, and a selfie, where he did look pretty bored. Wren smiled. He couldn’t help it. Theo was averaging maybe two selfies a day, and they were all sweet and funny in different ways.

He looked up as Violet hopped up on the couch with him, settling down just out of reach. He snapped a photo of her, then of the kitchen, with the flowers on the counter, before tapping back a response.

• Wren 16:12

I made it! Wish I was there too. Sunday feels so far away. But you don’t have any fun plans until then? Don’t feel like hanging out with Jeremy? I think Violet’s having fun hanging out with me. And… I did walk through the park. I got you something. Hope they last so you can see them in person.

He sent the text and the two photos. Theo replied more or less immediately.

• Theo 16:13

• WREN RUSKIN YOU ARE THE CUTEST MAN EVER

• flowers!!! did you pick them yourself?????

• omg my colleague just asked who i’m texting

• apparently I just started smiling and it was weird

• but to answer your questions NO I don’t have any plans

• well I HAD plans tomorrow night because the clients were gonna take me out but they bailed. so now i guess i'll be eating takeout.

• and ha ha good joke. we’re not talking after the lentil incident

• Wren 16:17

• Haha I did pick them! They made me think of you (and I thought Violet might like them). And I am glad I’m making you smile!

• That’s a shame about the clients. Were they taking you anywhere fancy? Can you get nice takeout at least?

• I forgot about the lentils… but if you’re not talking then at least you don’t have to listen to him, right?

• Theo 16:20

• you’re sweet but I can’t believe you forgot about the lentils

• who grows them on a paper towel??? in somebody else’s house???

• ugh i’m being called into a meeting this is the worst

• speak to you soon. More flower pictures please

• Wren 16:21

Good luck!

Wren was still smiling when he clicked off his phone, though it dimmed a little as he looked around Theo’s empty house. Violet meowed at him, and he sighed, reaching a hand out for her to sniff.

“I know,” he said. “I miss him too.”

She sniffed his hand and meowed again, before jumping up onto the sofa’s arm.

“He sounds bored. And he said the crisis has blown over. I wish they’d let him come home,” he said.

She stared at him.

“I know it’s just another four days, but… it doesn’t sound like he has a lot on. And I don’t have anything to do.” He bit his lip. “Do you think I should?”

Violet blinked at him, then hopped to the ground, out of sight. He guessed he’d have to figure this one out on his own.

VII. THEO (PT 2)

• Theo 22:38

I really didn't think I'd be missing you so much. But I do. I miss you.

VIII. ALISON

Everyone had been surprised by Wren’s announcement. Especially him. Spontaneity and impulse decisions were not things he was generally known for, especially when it involved surprising other people. When he’d packed his bags the night before, he had to admit, it had felt exciting.

The excitement had stayed with him all the way up to the point where he climbed onto the NorthWest POINT at nine twenty on Thursday morning. As the bus pulled out of the stop, it had all but fizzled out, replaced with a tight knot of anxiety he couldn’t ignore. He’d been able to avoid thinking about it when he could still turn back, especially since his parents and Robin had encouraged him to go, but now, stuck on the road for an hour and a half, his doubts suddenly seemed a lot more real.

What if Theo was busy? What if he didn’t want to see him? What if he thought just turning up at his office was creepy or clingy or too straightforward?

Fuck. Nothing he could do about it now, he thought. He needed something to preoccupy himself with. He’d brought Brideshead with him, but he didn’t think he would be able to concentrate on it. Luckily, there was something else he had to do. He fished out his phone and rang Alison.

He’d gotten the impression she never got out of bed until at least 10 a.m. (partly why he wanted to call early, so he could leave a voicemail and not get dragged into a discussion), so he was surprised when she actually answered the phone.

“Wren, hello!” she said. “Is everything all right?”

“Allison, hey,” he said, a little thrown. “Yeah, everything’s fine. But… I’m on a bus to Portland and I’ll probably… hopefully... be there for a couple of days, so I’m going to have to cancel our appointment tomorrow. I’m really sorry for the short notice.”

“That’s absolutely fine,” she said. “Let me just write it down so I don’t forget…” He heard shuffling noises, like she was looking for a pen. “Are you doing anything nice?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Well. Again. Hopefully.” And then he mentally kicked himself, because he could predict what was going to happen, and he really hadn’t wanted to talk about this now—

“‘Hopefully?’” repeated Alison.

“Um. I… well,” he said, trying to decide where to even start. “I guess you wouldn’t know. I was going to mention it next session. But I met someone at the party.” Alison made a noise like she wanted to say something, and he hurried to cut her off. “Well, I mean, I already knew him, kind of. But he had to go to Portland this week, for a work thing, and I thought I’d go up to surprise him.”

Even as he said it he could tell it was a bad idea. What had he been thinking?

“Oh, Wren!” said Alison. “I’m so pleased to hear that. Tell me more about him!” 

To her credit, she did sound happy for him, and genuinely interested, but Wren still hesitated for a moment, trying to think of an excuse to hang up, but coming up short. He was stuck on a bus for an hour and a half. What else was he going to do?

“Well… we actually met at the support group. It turns out he went to MIT with Robin, so we spent some time together afterwards. He’s warm and kind and funny, and he just adopted a cat.” He didn’t really know what to say, but he realised he hadn’t really talked to anyone about Theo yet, not like this, and he wanted to. “He’s an architect and he’s really smart. He designed his own house. It’s gorgeous. I think I really like him. And… I think he likes me too.”

“He sounds wonderful,” said Alison, warmly. “I really am very pleased for you. But why ‘hopefully’? You don’t sound excited to see him?”

“I am excited,” he said. “But I guess I just… I don’t know. He doesn’t know I’m coming and I don’t know how he’ll take it. He just… he didn’t want to go to Portland, and sent me this text last night saying he misses me, and I thought it would be a nice surprise, but...”

“It’s hard putting yourself out there,” she said sympathetically. “But for what it’s worth, I think it’s sweet, and I’m sure he’ll think so too.”

“Oh,” said Wren. He’d been so busy imaging a scenario where Theo wouldn’t want him there that he hadn’t considered one where he might. “Thanks, Alison. I appreciate it.”

“You have a great time,” she said breezily. “I’ll see you next week!”

“See you,” he said, staring at the screen for a moment after she hung up.

Theo had sent him a text while they’d been talking.

• Theo 09:32

• good morning! three more days!

the office is dead today. think they’ll let me go back to bed?

He smiled, and typed a quick response.

• Wren 09:41

Morning! One day closer! 🙂 I’m sure they’d let you go back to bed if they knew how cute you look when you’re asleep. I’ll take a photo next time. For evidence. Not long now!

IX. THE RECEPTIONIST

It took Wren half an hour to find Theo’s office building, and, after a quick detour to a florist, he ended up entering the building just after noon. He’d been hoping it would be easy to locate the Wakelin Architecture offices, but the foyer was empty save for some plants, a couple of chairs, and a security guard behind a formidable-looking desk. It was only after approaching the desk that he noticed a directory pinned up behind the guard, who was giving him a very suspicious look.

“I’m here to see somebody at Wakelin Architecture,” he said, and the guard pointed to a clipboard laid out on the desk.

“You need to sign in.”

“Oh,” said Wren. “Sure.” He set down his duffel bag and swapped the bouquet he had bought to his other arm, then carefully filling out the form: name, Wren Ruskin; time of arrival, 12:07; company: N/A, car registration: N/A, name/company of contact: Theo Ronstadt, Wakelin Architecture. He passed the clipboard back to the guard, who looked at it for a moment, then looked up at him, before sighing and waving him through.

“Thanks,” said Wren, heading for the lift before he could change his mind.

Theo’s office was on the third floor, and it was the longest elevator ride of his life. When the doors opened, he was faced with another desk, this time staffed by a bored-looking receptionist who immediately narrowed her eyes at him. There was a large door behind her and to the right which he guessed led into the office, but it looked as though he’d have to get through her first.

“Hi,” he said, suddenly acutely aware of how out-of-place he looked, black eye, unshaven, in a hoodie and jeans, with a creased off-white button-up he’d borrowed from his dad, a ratty old duffel bag and a bouquet of flowers. Hardly smart-casual. He swallowed. “Uh. I’m here to see Theo… um, Mr. Ronstadt?”

“Do you have an appointment?” asked the receptionist, with the clear air of someone who thought he definitely did not have an appointment.

“Uh… no,” he said, and before he could say anything else, she cut him off.

“We don’t accept visitors without appointments.”

“It’s not a business thing,” he said, and her eyebrows shot straight up. “I mean… I’m his… we’re dating?”

“Okay,” she said, and if she wasn’t suspicious before she definitely was now. “What did you say your name was?”

“It’s Wren,” he said. “Wren Ruskin. If you call him and tell him I’m here he’ll know who I am.”

“Ron?” she repeated, lifting the receiver of her handset.

“Wren,” he said. “Like the bird.”

“Right.” She pressed a few buttons, he guessed dialling Theo’s extension, and waited for him to pick up, one eye still suspiciously fixed on Wren. After a few seconds, she hung up the phone and shrugged. “He’s not picking up.”

“That’s okay,” said Wren. This wasn’t how he’d pictured the reunion going, even in his worst-case scenarios. “I can wait.”

“Well you can’t wait up here,” she said, and he was about to protest when the doors behind her swung open.

A group of people came through, clearly going for lunch together, but all Wren saw was Theo, laughing and joking with one of his colleagues, looking animated and alive, and achingly good in a grey blazer and floral tie. He wanted to call out to him, but he couldn’t find the words, and for a panicked second he was worried that he was going to walk right past him, slip through his fingers, but he shouldn’t have. He was already turning to look at him. 

Their eyes met, and Wren knew he’d been an idiot to entertain a single one of his doubts.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Jeremy asked as Theo climbed into the jeep. 

But Theo didn’t respond. He was watching helplessly as Wren waved sadly from the porch, mouth turned down and eyes desperate, worsened by the bruising. Theo forced a smiled as he waved back, though it fell as Jeremy turned on the engine, the jeep rumbling to life. He could still feel Wren’s arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly and fingers curling around his wrists as if to say don’t go. 

And then, as Jeremy pulled out into the highway, he was out of sight. 

“No.” Theo replied with resounding finality. Not yet, anyway. He shut his eyes, resting his head against the seat, trying to cast the memory of Wren standing on the porch from his mind. He hadn’t moved until they'd pulled out into the highway, and Theo couldn’t help but feel like he’d just abandoned him there. And now, with longing and regret pulling at his heart as Jeremy whisked him further and further away from him, the last thing he wanted to talk about was Wren. But this wasn’t something Jeremy picked up on. 

“He’s unexpectedly handsome, and he can rock a gnarly shiner.” Jeremy observed, and Theo pulled himself out of his melancholic sulk just long enough to cast a sidelong glare at him, about to ask what the hell is that supposed to mean? before deciding he didn’t want to know. Anyway, he wasn’t wrong, and Theo shrugged in agreement. 

“He is. And he does.” Theo murmured in agreement, watching the blurred green and gold of the trees blend together as they sped past. He tugged his phone out from his pocket, feeling an aching desire to establish some line of communication with Wren. After more than twenty-four hours together it felt strange to suddenly be apart, where he had no one to talk to, nobody to touch. Nobody smiling at him in the sweet, self-conscious way. That just because he was going to be away for a week, didn’t mean that this was over.

He pulled up Wren’s number, realizing in that instant that he hadn’t even saved it to his phone. He went back to his call history to locate his number and made a contact profile for him, settling on their selfie from Friday night as his contact image. After a moment he sent the picture to Wren too, thinking he might like to have it. 

“You know, he really reminds me of Gerard, the protagonist in my novel. Have I told you about it? I must have.” Jeremy paused, tapping the steering wheel with fingers, clearly mulling something over in his head. “Maybe I can get him to sit for me … I always imagined Gerard to be this statuesque, heart-of-gold-beneath-all-the-brooding type. You know? Like the unwilling hero? He -- you said his name is Wren? -- yeah, he really captures that energy. Maybe I can get him to sit for David. He’s doing my cover, you know, and he’s very good …” 

Despite himself, a small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. It was an amusing thought, one he tapped out to Wren immediately.

“How’s he look shirtless? Is he lean, or more of an understated muscular?” 

Oh, for fucks sake. 

“Jeremy.” Theo groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do me a favour? Stop talking.” 

THE MEETING 

Just as Jeremy had feared, they were the last to arrive to the meeting, with the senior staff of Wakelin Architecture already seated around the long, glass table of one of meeting rooms. The good conference room was typically reserved for meetings with clients with it being the most attractive: floor to ceiling windows overlooked the Willamette river, framed by the Portland skyline with a hazy view of Mount Hood just beyond it. However, this urgent Sunday morning call to arms apparently warranted an exception, a realization that settled in an anxious pit right at the bottom of his stomach as they walked in through the doors. Joe had brought in breakfast: coffee, pastries from what Theo knew to be the good bakery, and an expensive platter of fruit (kind where melon was replaced with figs and cherries). Despite the amenities, the atmosphere in the room was tense and jittery, with Joe and Sayed murmuring to each other over a dog-eared set of floorplans, while the other architects, project managers and designers sat chattering quietly in their corners. 

Jeremy beetled over to a seat beside Joe, immediately apologizing for their tardiness. Theo decided to take his time hanging back to take stock of the room. He wasn’t all that hungry but knew he ought to eat, so he assembled together a collection of berries and grapes before sitting down at the other end of the long, glass conference table. Mira, his desk mate and the person he was closest to in the office, sat down beside him, wordlessly setting down one of the mugs of coffee she was carrying in front of him. Theo sighed, her act of generosity cementing that all signs were pointing to this being a very long meeting. 

“You know what’s going on?” He asked, voice low. 

She shrugged, like the crisis was nothing to get ruffled over, her big, curly hair and septum piercing bobbing with her shoulders. Her stoicism made him feel a little better. 

Joe coughed, indicating that the meeting was to begin. He tapped a pen against the tabletop as the chatter died down, straightening in his seat. 

“Hey everyone, thanks for coming in with such short notice. Normally this could wait for Monday, but as I’m sure you all know by now this is something we need to get a handle of sooner rather than later. You’ve all been apprised of the situation, but here’s a recap: the Millers are serious about pulling out despite being less than a month away from breaking ground, and losing this job means serious financial trouble for the firm. Anyway …”

Joe took a deep breath, and only then did Theo notice that he looked like shit: wrinkled shirt yellowed at the armpits, his thinning hair wildly swaying above his head in wisps. Sayed didn’t look much better. They’d clearly been hammering away at this problem all weekend, while he’d been comfortable in bed wrapped up in Wren’s arms. So, he was hard pressed to feel all that bad, especially since if he hadn’t been called to work that’s likely where he’d still be by now. 

From the other end of the table, Joe sighed, running a hand down the side of his face. 

“In related news, we’ve had some personnel turnover. Vincent’s decided to take his talents elsewhere and is no longer with the firm.” 

Theo snorted, loudly, sitting up a little straighter in his seat, all thoughts of Wren temporarily replaced by satisfied vindication. And while there was a shift in the atmosphere in the room to something markedly more anxious, Mira glanced at him, the faintest of smirks lifting the corner of her mouth. 

Sayed glared at him, and Joe simply sighed. Besides the fact that Vincent was a self-involved windbag, his designs were shit and the only thing he cared about was preserving his legacy before he retired (which prior to this universe shifting news, Theo had been counting down the days to). His legacy-defining work apparently meant designing ridiculously impractical modernist crap just to land the cover of a magazine, and with each failure his projects became more and more outlandishly minimalist to the point where they barely functioned as houses. 

“So, did you fire him?” He asked, desperate to know and doing little (if not nothing) to hide it. When Vincent had landed the Miller job, which involved designing a home for a man who happened to be a wealthy tech investor as well as paraplegic, Theo had offered to draw up some basic universal design parameters to help him out. He was a little annoyed his efforts had gone to waste, but he was more floored that the great Vince St. Germaine had been shit-canned so unceremoniously. 

“That’s not really pertinent at his juncture, Theo --"

“He was the project lead. Of course it’s pertinent.” He interrupted. There was some uncomfortable shifting around the table, especially from the junior architects and designers who’d been working on the project. Jeremy was the only one who seemed interested in learning the story, sitting back in his chair with his hands clasped over his stomach. 

“What’s gone so wrong? What did they hate about it?” He asked. It must have been the metal siding/poured cement combination, or the odd placement of the windows which (to Theo, at least) made the house look like it was designed by a toddler. 

Sayed crossed his arms over his chest, but Joe just ran a hand over the side of his face, then held it out plaintively. 

“They had a problem with the floor plans. They just didn’t work.”

“Excuse me?” Theo demanded, trying to keep the surprise from his voice, though he was already pushing himself from the chair and stalking over to the other end of the table, a retort already bitter on his tongue as he sandwiched himself between the two principals. He’d designed his own house based not only on extensive education from an elite university, but also only after plenty of meetings with occupational therapists as well as his own experiences with mobility impairment. The plans were flawless. There was no question about it – obviously Trip Miller had no idea what he was talking about. 

But as he scanned the drawings before him, he slowly realized these were not his designs at all. Where he’d bumped out hallways Vincent had narrowed them. Where he’d designed for doors to push open, Vincent had placed odd, saloon-style doors designed to knock a person with poor mobility off their feet. Months ago, Theo had marked up places where he knew there needed enough room for a wheelchair to turn around; in the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom … All of which had gone disregarded. Instead there was an L-shaped open riser staircase with a glass panel instead of a railing, a step up into the bedroom … And a fucking indoor feature waterfall. How had Vincent managed to design an indoor waterfall, yet bypass his simple space requirements? 

“He didn’t use any of my notes.” Theo voiced, finally. His throat felt dry, and he swallowed tightly. Joe’s shoulders sagged in acknowledgement as Theo hastily flipped through the other drawings. All the hardware he’d painstakingly chosen, all the codes he’d researched and all the manufacturers he’d called ... Theo tore his attention away from the plans, directing his gaze to Vincent’s junior architect, some potato faced twenty-four year old from Missouri. Thomas? His name was Thomas. 

“Thomas, why the fuck were my plans tossed out?” He demanded. 

“Vincent thought … He didn’t want the place to look like a hospital.” He stuttered in response. Theo rolled his eyes.

“How would functional hardware make a house look like a hospital? Or wider hallways? How would letting a man use his house the way he wants make it look like a hospital?” He demanded, glaring first at Thomas, then at Joe beside him, who was sliding back into his chair, unwilling to take the blame but seemingly content to let someone else take charge of the meeting. Theo folded the mess of papers back into order, only to laugh derisively once he spotted the site plan. He was almost at a loss for words. 

“No fucking wonder they’re backing off. You have steps leading up to the front door. Of all … How else is a man in a wheelchair supposed to get up stairs?”

“Vincent … He did plan for a slope in the garage, so he could get in that way.” 

“So, what you’re saying is that you told someone who is paying us millions to design his dream home that in order to enter his own damn house he has to go through the back fucking door? For fuck’s sake. It’s a low-slope plot, it wouldn’t have been that hard to include an incline to the front door. This is such a colossal fuckup --“ 

Sayed was laying a hand on his shoulder and Theo instantly drew away, not appreciating the familiarity at all. 

“Alright, Theo. Okay. You’ve made you point -- Please, take a seat. We need to keep going.”

Theo paused, glaring first at Thomas and then pointedly at Sayed, before walking back to his seat the other end of the table. His face felt clammy from his outburst, but as he sat Mira glanced at him, sending just the faintest of smirks his way. Well, she’d thought he’d done good. 

“That does bring us to the next point on the agenda. We need a new project lead who’s able to fix this whole -- to borrow from how Theo so elegantly termed it – fuck-up.” Joe smiled hesitantly, before glancing at Sayed, who nodded sagely. 

“Theo. Obviously you’re the best man for the job.” 

----

THE GUSHING 

“His name’s Timothy, you know. Not Thomas.” 

“What? … Oh. Who cares.” Theo shrugged, looking up from his phone just as Mira sat down. He was seated at his desk, scrolling through his texts. 

“You should. You’re his boss now,” She pointed out.

“They could have made me lead in the beginning. They should have. And now I have to spend a week here fixing mistakes that never should have been made in the first place.” Theo retorted, sinking sulkily into his chair. Their desks were positioned as to face each other in an attempt to foster a collaborative work environment, and it was obvious whose desk belonged to who. Mira’s side resembled an art studio located in post-apocalyptic Detroit, while his was almost spartan in its minimalism. Besides his computer, the only clutter occupying his desk was a small jade succulent in a cast cement pot and a framed picture of the last family portrait the Ronstadts had ever suffered through, taken just before he’d moved to Boston for college. His mom had mailed it to him shortly after he’d moved. 

“Well, I thought you’d be happy. What could possibly be so pressing in Cannon Beach?” Mira asked doubtfully as Theo’s phone pinged, glancing at the device held in his hands. She’d made her opinion clear on what she thought about the town the instant he’d told her he’d bought his plot of land: that it was a nice place to spend the day if you were in the mood for nostalgic ice cream parlours and tacky souvenirs, but other than that it was a boring, small beach town in the middle of nowhere. 

But he’d stopped listening, a relieved, amused smile slowly spreading over his face. Wren had finally texted him back. He scanned his words quickly, the corner of his mouth quirking into a wide grin. While Wren was a very formal texter, though he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Theo immediately set about tapping out his own text back, relaying that he was glad he was getting checked out (even though he thought Randy had done a good job), and that of course he owed him, especially when he was the reason for the black eye in the first place. 

“Oh.” She said, and Theo looked up, smile fading a little at the look on her face. Indecipherable, as always. “Now it makes sense.” 

“What?” 

Mira smirked, sitting back in her chair smugly. 

“No, it’s just obvious that you’ve met someone.” She crossed her arms over her chest, lifting her eyebrows in challenge. Tell me I’m wrong. Theo was about to protest – he wasn’t being that obvious, was he? – before relenting. Because it was true, and though Mira was no great detective and cared little about other people’s personal lives, she seemed interested enough to suffer a minute or two of Theo’s gushing. Or maybe she just wanted to get it out of the way. Finally Theo smiled, biting his bottom lip and shrugging modestly. Like it wasn’t a big deal. 

“Maybe.” 

“That’s what it is, isn’t it? Out with it – tell me about him before I regret asking.” 

And Theo jumped at the opportunity, setting his hands on his desk and leaning forward, all talk of work and the Millers forgotten. 

“Okay well, he’s from Cannon Beach but used to live in New York. He’s a lawyer, and is something of a math genius who finished his law degree from Harvard a year early. But besides that he’s just… Kind, and weird and funny and gentle and smart. He’s also so handsome, and … Just complicated but at the same time not, and … Did I mention he can square numbers in his head?” Theo trailed off and sighed, setting his elbow against his desk and propping his chin in his palm. “I’ve never had someone look at me the way he does.” 

“That just sounds ... Disgustingly cute.” Mira said, but not unkindly. “Why’d he move back? I don’t see Cannon Beach as a particularly litigious town.” 

Theo hesitated. Wren had said it had something to do with his depression, but Theo realized just now that he didn’t actually have the full story. 

“He’s taking some time off work.” He quickly said, though his answer raised even more questions, ones he hadn’t thought about until now. And didn’t really want to think about at all, especially now that he was in Portland. He frowned, looking away. 

After a moment, she smiled sympathetically at him, shrugging as she turned in her chair to begin digging through a desk drawer. Time’s up. Obviously she was done with the conversation. 

“It’s just a week. You’ll live.” She said encouragingly, like it was supposed to make time magically go faster. Theo looked down at his phone, which had gone silent again.

“Yep. Just a week.” 

CRISIS AVERTED/THEO SAVES THE DAY

And time did seem to speed up, for the first three days at least. Sunday was spent working with Mira, Timothy and an anxious Joe as they tried to fix up the floor plans, which involved removing Vincent’s idiotic design decisions and implementing Theo’s as seamlessly as possible. He spent the majority of Monday in a meeting with Trip and Stella Miller in a final bid to win their confidence back. At Theo’s insistence (and Sayed’s reluctance) he met with them alone, as he hadn’t wanted them to feel ganged up on by a crew of desperate architects. Annoyingly, they actually liked Vincent’s design, but justifiably felt like he hadn’t cared about their needs. And though it had taken four hours of painstakingly going through each and every change as well as its justification, in addition to spending an hour reviewing the plans for Theo’s own house (at Trip’s request), he’d left the meeting with two happy clients, as well as two ecstatic bosses. 

Monday night had been a celebration of sorts, buoyed with champagne and the heady feeling of having saved the day. But as these things often went, it hadn’t lasted. 

By Wednesday the crisis had been officially averted, with Trip signing over the next payment installment. Usually he’d be on the phone all day making calls to the contractor and city bylaw officers, but now he had people to do that for him. He’d floated the idea of going home to Joe, who’d revealed that Trip was (again, justifiably) only willing to work with Theo, while growing short and impatient with the other Wakelin architects. So, he hung around the office, alternatingly between hovering distractingly over Mira and Timothy or sprawled out in one of the centrally located lounges, idly flipping through design magazines, his phone resting on his thigh just in case Trip called or (to be more realistic) Wren texted. 

And it had been unexpectedly difficult, being away from Wren for so long. He'd known it would suck, but hadn’t been prepared for the magnitude of suckiness. The first few days had been tough as is, as they’d barely been able to speak. If Theo wasn’t working, he’d gone straight home to fall into a deep, fatigued and unrewarding sleep. They’d squeezed in a quick phone call Monday night, but it hadn’t been enough. His anxiety had been soothed somewhat by Wren texting him more and more frequently, a show of effort he appreciated deeply as he’d taken Wren to be somewhat forgetful when it came to his phone (he’d never once seen him check it while together, which to Theo was unfathomable). Their connection had felt so fragile those first few days, and he’d worried they’d have a hard time jumping back into the easy, comfortably thrilling dynamic they’d enjoyed before. 

But at least Theo had been busy enough to distract himself. Now all he had were his thoughts and insecurities. 

Since 10:00 am that morning he’d done little more than pace anxiously around the office and bug Mira as she tried to work. When he wasn’t checking his phone for texts from Wren, he was anxiously rereading the texts he’d already sent, analyzing his words and obsessing over everything he’d said. Still, it made him smile to know that Wen felt comfortable enough to take him up on his offer to hang out at his house, especially since it always made him anxious leaving it empty for so long. He also knew Violet would appreciate his company, and it was a beautiful walk. 

“He’s such a nice guy I can’t even handle it.” He said to Mira from he couch, sometime after lunch. “He’s heading up to my place to feed Violet right now. How sweet it that?” Mira showed very little indication that she was even listening, bent over a drafting table with an earbud plugged into one ear. He could hear her music blaring, which someone else might take as a hint that she wasn’t listening. 

Not expecting another text for at least another few hours, he set his phone down and went for another magazine, before feeling it buzz. Pressing in his code, up popped up a sweet picture of Violet, sitting on the armrest of his couch looking sassy, followed by one of a bouquet of flowers. 

Theo frowned, looking at it closely. They were all wildflowers… Possibly collected from around his house. Foxgloves, irises and a single tri-petalled wakerobin bundled into a vase of water and set upon his counter top. As he slowly put the pieces together he held a hand to his chest, jaw slackening but at a total loss for words. Oh my God. 

“Okay … Now what is it?” He heard Mira sigh from behind him. Had he said that aloud? Theo twisted in his seat, showing her his phone. 

“He picked me flowers. Wildflowers.” 

She squinted at the screen, eyes widening as she made out the beautiful arrangement of irises and foxgloves. She stared for a moment then shook her head, returning to her work. 

“Whoever this Disney prince is, you better marry him quick. What’s his name again?” 

“Wren.” Theo answered as he stared at the picture, and set about tapping out his frenzied response. Fuck, this was the cutest thing anyone had ever done for him. 

She snorted. “Of course it is.” 

THE SAD NIGHT

His evenings in Portland were typically spent in a very similar fashion, but this was the first time he’d been able to leave the office before eight o’clock all week. With nothing else to do he’d wandered around downtown Portland for a bit, walking past his old apartment and attempting to locate the window that used to belong to his old bedroom, feeling nostalgic. Two floors up and one unit to the left, he finally managed to find it with a decent amount of certaintiy, only to discover chilli pepper fairy lights strung up in the window and a Guns n’ Roses poster tacked up to the far wall. Nostalgia ruined, he supposed.

He picked up takeout from one of his favourite places, chatting with the one cashier who actually remembered him. He liked boats and so did Theo, so they always had something to talk about, and as it turned out he’d recently purchased an old sailboat he was aiming to fix up. As Theo left with his food and a shouted reminder to come back soon, the person in front of him didn’t hold the door open long enough for him to pass through, and the heavy glass door knocked him off balance as it closed against his arm. He didn’t fall, but he did drop his meal, and he had to watch as bright turmeric-yellow rice and cauliflower spilled against the sidewalk. People here were generally nicer than in New York or Boston when they saw him with his cane, and he’d received a sincere, embarrassed apology as well as an offer to pay for a new order of aloo gobi. 

It was fine. 

He came home to find Jeremy doing yoga in the living room, sprawled on his back with his legs swaying haphazardly in the air. Good Lord. 

Trying to ignore him, Theo set about stepping out of his shoes and hanging his cane on the coat rack. He set his dinner at the counter, unwrapping it from the plastic bag he’d carried it home in and placing the clam shell in the microwave to reheat it. Despite getting home early he was fucking beat, and figured it would be an early night tonight. Over the hum of the microwave, he heard Jeremy’s voice from the living room. 

“What?” He’d called, annoyed Jeremy was the one summoning him but all the same limping to the living room. By now, Jeremy was bicycle kicking the air like an oversized toddler. He wasn’t an unattractive man, but he had an un-ironic mustache and his thighs were skinny and sinewy, a fact Theo was constantly reminded of by the length of Jeremy’s flimsy athletic shorts. 

“I just said I have a date tonight, and we might end up back here if it goes well. Just giving you a heads up.” Jeremy repeated. 

“You have a date?” Theo asked, shocked. “With who?” 

Jeremy shrugged (as well as he could, with a twist of his head and a tug at the corner of his mouth), breathing heavily as he continued to kick at the air. Sweat pooled at his armpits and bellybutton, and suddenly Theo felt ill looking at him, suddenly able to visualize how he looked when he fucked. 

“Some girl from Tindr. I don’t know, I’m not in Portland a lot so nothing to lose, right?” He looked surprised that Theo would ask. 

He didn’t know why, but the idea of Jeremy of all people having plans had something wrenching in his stomach. He hadn’t expected to be totally alone tonight, thinking he would at least be able to listen to Jeremy puttering around as he tried to fall asleep. 

“Sure.” Theo replied. The microwaved dinged and he returned to the kitchen to fetch his dinner, before wordlessly heading to his room and shutting the door behind him. 

---- 

THE SAD NIGHT: 10:30 PM 

Sleeping hadn’t come as easily as he’d hoped. After eating dinner in bed, he’d stabbed himself painfully with a Copaxone needle, the site blooming up in a brilliant display of colour just to the right of his belly button. After cleaning himself up (he’d managed to spring a leak and had started bleeding profusely), he’d found himself staring at himself despondently in the full length mirror propped up against the wall of his temporary bedroom, twisting this way and that, not liking what he saw but hoping that exposure would help get him used to the way the bruising looked. 

In this way alone he was thankful he wouldn’t see Wren until Sunday. But it was still poor recompense. 

Finally, he shut off the lights and crawled into bed, settling down next to the pillow he’d stuffed into the Cannon Beach sweater he’d stolen from Wren. He hugged it close to his chest and set it just against the crook of his neck, as if it really was Wren sleeping next to him, his arms wrapped around his stomach and his head resting against his chest. He pulled his phone up, scrolling through some his texts from earlier in the day, landing on the bouquet of wildflowers he’d picked for him. For the thousandth time he examined it closely, the brilliant purple of the fox gloves and the far more delicate petals of the irises. It was beautiful, and may have been the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for him. He yearned to be back in Cannon Beach, back with Wren where they could sleep entangled in sheets and warm limbs, Wren’s breath warm against his neck and Theo’s nose nestled in his hair. Where Wren could make him laugh by accident, where he could smile at him in that sweet, special way, and continue to surprise him each and every time they spoke with his actions and words. 

He shut his eyes in the darkness, pressing his face into the sweater and breathing in deeply, searching for some kind of hint of him. The scent of his hair, the sweetness that clung to the soft skin of his neck, even the lingering whiff of Old Spice. Anything. 

But it didn’t smell like anything anymore, Theo realized with crushing dismay. He fucking missed him, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. 

Alone and helpless, he reached for his phone, the brightness of the screen making him squint as he tapped out a quick, desperate txt. 

Theo 22:38
I really didn't think I'd be missing you so much. But I do. I miss you. 

He didn’t expect a text back any time soon. It was a heavier sentiment than any of the things they’d talked about since Theo had been in Portland. But communicating how he felt gave him something solid to cling onto, and while it didn’t make him feel better, he was at least sure of how what he felt. 

Hugging the pillow closer, he tried once again to go to sleep. Wren’s response came thirty minutes later, however. It didn’t wake him, as the muscle spasms in his legs were keeping up despite his desperate tiredness. He’d left his phone on the mattress beside him for easy access, and he lifted it to blearily read his text. 

Wren 23:11
I miss you too. Get some rest! You’ll feel better in the morning

He could feel his eyes stinging, and when he woke, there would only be three more days until he could see him. Theo tried to remind himself of this, over and over again, until he finally drifted off to sleep. 

Three more days until he could see Wren. 

THE NEXT (SAD) MORNING: 

“Theo, come on. We’re going for lunch. Wanna come?” 

It was Timothy, hand on his shoulder as he stirred him to back to reality. Theo had been flipping through a catalogue of bathroom hardware all morning, trying but failing to pick a set of faucets Trip would like. He liked Castle Bay better than Maestro, but had a nagging feeling Trip wouldn’t feel the same. But at the same time he felt little compulsion to make a decision. 

It had been a decent distraction, at least. He’d woken up feeling despondent, the expanse of time between now and Sunday feeling as far away as ever. And while he’d been able to turn on the charm for a breakfast meeting with Trip and Stella, as soon as they’d left he’d fallen back into a moody despair. Even Mira had noticed, who’d tossed a balled up doodle at his head of what appeared to be him with hearts floating up from his phone. He’d given her a weak, polite laugh in return, but hadn’t found it all that funny, and by now he supposed even Timothy had picked up on his mood. He felt like a dog being offered a cheese burger before getting put down. 

“It’s fine. I have work to do.” He offered as an excuse, aware everyone here was smart enough to know he was lying. 

“Me and Jeremy are heading to that new vegan place. He said you’d like it.” 

Theo stared at his phone, devoid of any new texts. He supposed it was better than sitting around the office, and at the very least going for lunch would break up the day. So he looked up at Timothy and smiled gratefully, fetching his cane and shrugging into his blazer. Timothy smiled as they walked to the elevators, Jeremy joining them as they passed his desk. 

“Jeremy insists it’s good even if you aren’t vegan, but we’ll see. I think he’s full of shit.” And Theo managed a genuine laugh at that, even as Jeremy held the door open for him and began to object fiercely, setting off on one of his tangents on how the farming monopolies were going to ruin the environment. 

It was only then that he saw him, standing off beside the reception desk with a huge bouquet of beautiful pink flowers held to his side, juxtaposed with the worn duffle bag hanging loosely from his shoulder. And Theo paused mid step, brain too slow to catch up as he tried to parse together the idea of Wren here, in his office in Portland, with reality. The questions he ought to have asked barely grazed his consciousness as he focused on the important thing, that Wren was here. And as he studied his face, slowly but surely Wren was smiling that small, special smile that was just for him. 

“Wren?” He exclaimed, voice edging on desperate relief as he lunged for him, Jeremy and Timothy and lunch and the surly look on Janet the Receptionist’s face all but forgotten. His left foot caught on the carpet and he tripped almost instantly, heart flipping and Wren catching him before he’d even thought to right himself. And Wren was hauling him upright and closer, arms wrapping around his shoulders as Theo clutched at his waist, burying his face into his chest and breathing deeply like it was his lifeblood. 

And then they were kissing, Wren’s lips soft against his and Theo kissing him back like it hadn’t been less than a week. Like it had been a month, or a year, or a decade. He was stepping up on his toes as his hand snaked around Wren’s neck, trying to keep it chaste but doing a poor job. Finally, a cheeky whistle and loud applauding had him pausing, then pulling away, though he refused to separate too far as he peered around Wren’s shoulder. Jeremy was removing two fingers from his mouth, the apparent source of the catcall, while Timothy was grinning wildly at them, hands clasped together. He patted Wren on the shoulder as he and Jeremy walked past the reunion and towards the elevators. 

“Theo, we’ll see you later. With any luck you’ll be less grumpy when we get back.” Timothy said, as Jeremy (possibly?) winked at Wren. 

But he was ignoring them. He was looking up at Wren, smiling so wide his face hurt. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, breathless as the elevator doors shut. He looked down at the flowers, and if it was possible he would have smiled wider. 

“And you got me flowers! Again?” He took the bouquet from Wren, holding it in one hand as stared at it, light pink flowers with broad, jade leaves. His favourite colours. 

“They’re beautiful – I can’t fucking believe you remembered! I, um –“ He looked at Janet, and gently handed her the flowers. “Janet, would you mind putting these in water and setting them on my desk? I … Should give Wren the tour.” 

If she scowled at him he didn’t notice, and instead of leading Wren into the office he was pulling him out towards the elevators, and then down a short hallway into a door marked Fire Escape. Theo shoved open the door, taking Wren’s hand in his and leading him into the stairs. He dropped his cane and barely heard as it clattered against the concrete, one hand splaying against his chest as he backed Wren up against one of the walls, the other gripping his waist. He stumbled once Wren’s back met the wall, pressing himself closer as he leaned up to kiss him, long and deep and slow. His face was hot and flushed and he could feel himself growing warm beneath his clothes, but fuck. This was what he needed. 

“I missed you so fucking much.” He breathed against his skin, barely pulling away. 

And then he sunk down, so his feet were flat on the ground and his hands were circling his waist. He pulled himself tight against Wren’s body, pressing his face into the crook of his neck as he hugged him close. This was so much better than his Wren pillow, even if it was in a stairwell. 

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Theo murmured, hand traveling up his chest.

Wren had run through several hypothetical scenarios on his way up to the Wakelin office, but nothing could have prepared him for this. He was aware, distantly, with the miniscule part of his brain not completely focused on Theo, that he was smiling like an idiot, but he couldn’t help it. As Theo launched himself towards him, so fast he tripped on the carpet, the look on his face—surprise giving way to sheer, unadulterated joy—made him grin, even as he stepped forward to catch him. He almost dropped the bouquet as he pulled him up and into a hug, but just managed to hold on, even though the flowers were the last thing on his mind. 

Theo’s body slotted into his like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle and Wren tugged him in closer, ignoring his glasses digging into his chest as he buried his face in his hair and inhaled deeply, breathing him in. He shut his eyes and exhaled slowly, the fingers of his free hand curling against Theo’s back, before kissing the top of his head. Then Theo looked up and he kissed him for real, an impulse he couldn’t—and truthfully, didn’t want to—suppress. For a moment there was nobody else, the receptionist, Theo’s colleagues, all fading into the background. He was wholly occupied with the feel of Theo’s hands on his neck, the familiar taste of his lips, the fluttering in his stomach, sensations he’d known he’d missed but not quite how much. The sudden wolf-whistle and round of applause made him blush, but he only pulled away when Theo did, glancing back at the two men stood behind them. He gave them a sheepish smile as they walked past, though he didn’t let go of Theo, not even when one of them slapped him on the shoulder on their way to the elevator.

He looked back at Theo as he spoke, his smile growing a little as he passed him the bouquet. “You said you bored, and after your text last night… I just… wanted to see you.” He watched him hand the flowers to the receptionist, who took them with a huff, but he didn’t get to see what she did with them because Theo was already tugging him into the hallway. Confusion turned to mirth as he spotted their destination, and he dropped his duffel bag as soon as they were through the door, the strap slipping off his shoulder easily. 

Theo was already pressed up against him and Wren stooped to meet his lips as his back hit the wall, no longer held back by any sense of propriety or bashfulness now that there was nobody there to watch. He slipped one hand beneath Theo’s blazer, pulling him closer still, the other cupping his jaw as he kissed him back, slow and sweet, relishing this private moment he thought he’d have to wait hours for. God, he’d missed this, he thought, then smiled, as Theo vocalised exactly that.

“I missed you too,” he whispered, dropping his hand to Theo’s arm to give it a gentle squeeze, before brushing aside a lock of his hair and kissing his forehead.

And then his stomach rumbled, and he laughed.

“Well, Mr. Ronstadt,” he said, mock-serious, “although this certainly is a nice stairwell—do you bring all your clients here, by the way?—I think it might be time for lunch. My treat. What do you say?”

They descended to the lobby via an elevator, and, after Wren signed out at the security desk, headed for a small café he’d spotted on the way in called Turnip the Beet. Theo hung off his arm the same way he had the last time they’d taken a walk together, less than a week ago (Jesus Christ) on the beach, and he realised that, as romantic as their sandy beach stroll had been, this was the first time they’d be out together as a couple, and it made him smile. They really had done everything backwards.

The café was only a block away. Wren had liked the look of it when he’d walked past earlier. The wooden counters and tables coupled with the hanging plants in mismatched planters had reminded him a little of home, and when he’d scanned the menu stuck in the window, most of it had been billed as vegan, so it had seemed like a good choice.

Maybe not so much now. It had been more or less empty then, but the lunch rush had started and by the time they arrived it had started to fill up. Wren held the door open for Theo before following him in, scanning the small space for a free table. It took him a moment to realise they were being waved at by a group of people towards the back, and he nudged Theo with his elbow.

“Hey—are those your coworkers?”

The sound of Wren telling him that he missed him too had Theo smiling a slow, heady smile, eyes closing briefly as Wren’s thumb brushed over his forehead, followed by the deliciously slow press of his lips against his skin. He felt dizzy with the suddenness of the change in his mood. The transition from the bored anxiety he’d been enduring all week to this: this romantic, thoughtful, bold surprise of Wren’s had his head swimming. But he couldn’t complain. All he could do was try to catch up, and live in the moment. 

“It is a very nice stairwell,” Theo agreed, leaning up to kiss along his jaw. “And you’ll be happy to learn that you’re the first of my clients to see it. Though, I don’t believe I’ve finished showing you all of it yet …” Theo murmured, resting his head against his shoulder and smiling against his neck, lips brushing his skin with the movement of his words. His last name spoken from Wren’s lips sounded like molasses, thick and sweet and dripping from his lips, rough like caramelized sugar and rumbling deep from somewhere in his chest. He liked it, and angled his head up, grinning as he hungrily eyed the ruggedly handsome scruff carpeting his jaw. 

Theo lingered a bit longer, running his hands around his waist and pulling him close to him, but conceding eventually that they ought to go to lunch. He could have lingered in the stairwell a bit longer, but laughed as he heard Wren’s stomach rumble, only realizing then he’d just travelled a few hours to get here. 

Just to see him. 

The thought made him grin wildly, once again. He really was full of surprises. 

“Fine. But only if you’re paying.” Theo agreed, smiling cheekily. It was probably the only way Wren would get Theo to leave the stairwell, after all. 

He latched himself onto Wren as soon as they exited the building, and felt weightless as they walked down the street that was already bustling with the lunchtime crowds. It felt like a replay from that first night on the beach, but so much easier and so much different. The crowds parted for them, allowing for Wren and Theo to pass as they obnoxiously walked two abreast along the busy downtown sidewalk. He was grateful for the help, as his legs were a touch tight and his knees felt a bit wobbly (he wished he’d known Wren was coming, as he would have taken it a bit easier that morning. But the surprise was definitely worth it). And while Theo clung to Wren in much the same way as he had the night at the beach, specifically in the way that he was unashamed in the way he rested his weight against him, there was certainly a bit more gratuitous touching: his forearm wrapped around Wren’s bicep, his body coming in close to his. And as Theo told Wren about his week, animatedly recounting stories and anecdotes and mild annoyances, Wren seemed much more in tune with moving along with Theo’s gait. He felt whole. 

Though before this week, he wasn’t sure he could ever say that he’d felt like he’d been missing a part of himself.

“How long can you stay?” Theo asked as they walked. “There’s plenty of room in the loft so feel free to stay as long as you want. It’s actually a really nice place. It’s got these huge factory windows and exposed Douglas Fir ceiling joists… That’s the best thing about living in the Pacific North West, don’t you think? There’s so much hardwood left. Anyway, Jeremy’s staying there too but it should be fine. He took the loft and I’m on the first floor, but I have my own bathroom and shower … You two met, remember? When he came to pick me up?” He knew there had been a brief greeting, initiated and ended by Wren hauling Theo’s stuffed suitcase into the trunk of Jeremy’s yellow jeep. Neither of them had been truly focused on Jeremy’s presence at the time, and God, how long ago his departure seemed now. 

Thinking of Jeremy had a renewed flush of relief washing over him. 

“Fuck, I’m so glad you’re here!” Theo exclaimed, probably for the tenth time. “He had a date last night, which I assume went well because he walked into the office this morning wearing the same clothes and whistling? I can’t deal with him anymore, especially if he’s getting laid. It’s too much!” Theo laughed, and then shuddered as Wren held the door open for him. “Also, just do me a favour and stay away from him? I think he has a massive crush on you, or thinks you look like the protagonist in the book he’s allegedly writing? I don’t know.” Theo looked over his shoulder to add, just as Wren nudged him in the ribs and nodded over in the direction of Timothy, Jeremy and Mira all sitting together at a table in the back. 

He stopped for a moment, his options flying through his head. He didn’t really want to sit with them, greatly preferring an intimate meal with Wren over yet another work lunch with the Miller team. But he didn’t want Wren to think he was rude, or worse, that he didn’t want him to meet his coworkers. So after a moment Theo gave him a small, apologetic smile. 

“Do you mind? They’re kind of my team, and it would be rude not to sit with them.” 

It was a brag, though Theo would never admit to it. 

“I’ll introduce you. It’ll be nice.” 

The restaurant was counter service, and Theo told Wren which salad he wanted without once removing his arm from around his waist, even as Wren had to reach around to slip his wallet loose from his back pocket. The group made room for them as they sat, shuffling their chairs to either end of the table so Theo and Wren could sit together.

“Mira, Timothy, Jeremy. This is Wren.” Theo said in way of introduction, as they approached the table. At the predatory smiles on at least Mira and Jeremy’s faces, he felt compelled to add a cursory “Be nice.”

As he sat, Theo hooked his cane up on the back of his chair, wincing only a little at the pain flashing up his thighs. Across the table Timothy was scrolling through his phone, glancing up as Theo made himself comfortable.

“Theo, you just missed a call from Dimitri and Lance about those changes to the kitchen. They’re not happy about having to call the manufacturers to refit the cupboards.” 

Jeremy took a bite from his sandwich, shrugging as he spoke around the mouthful. “You gotta relax, Timothy, they’re just making a stink.”

Theo nodded as he poked at his lunch, unconcerned though annoyed that he agreed with Jeremy.

“They’re making a bigger deal out of this than they have to just so they can bolster their claim against us at the end of the project. It’s not a big deal. And Joe can deal with the fallout, either way.” He paused as he felt Wren’s arm wrap around the back of his chair, and he turned to face him, smiling. 

“Anyway, can we not talk about work?” 

“Theo, by the way, saved this project.” Jeremy said to Wren, as Timothy nodded sagely next to him, eyes still glued to his phone as he scrolled through his emails. “Nobody else here has the same level of experience in universal design, and it’s really become apparent how far behind the rest of us are. Shameful, almost.” 

“Oh, come on. It’s not a big deal.” Theo smiled, shrugging off the praise as modestly as he possibly could. He wasn’t sure if it was a look he wore well, as praise was never something he dismissed especially when he felt it was deserved. Though clearly Jeremy was moving onto more important topics as he rested his elbows on the table, leaning in closer to Wren. 

“Wren, can I ask you if you’ve ever modelled professionally? Because -- and maybe Theo mentioned it -- I’m a self-published author of three fast selling high fantasy novels already, and you just have this look that really resonates with my protagonist. I have a card --” 

Oh, fuck. Fuck! Alarmed, Theo glanced at Mira, who decided to mercifully help him out. 

“So, this is the Disney prince?” Mira said, interrupting Jeremy before he finished his sentence. Theo shot her a look that was half thankful and half glaring, to which she responded with a wicked, though not necessarily unkind, smile as Jeremy inconspicuously slid his card across the table for Wren’s perusal. 

“I showed Mira your flowers.” Theo explained to Wren. “She thought they were very nice.” And then Theo smiled, sliding his hand up Wren’s thigh, hidden by the table. With his free hand he lifted his drink to his lips. “So did I.”

“Is this one old enough to vote, at least?” She asked, grinning widely and winking cheekily at Wren. 

Theo choked on his drink, shoulders rattling as he coughed. He set down the bottle of green tea kombucha onto the table as he cleared his windpipe (though it was no great loss, as it tasted like it was brewed in a garbage pail), and wondered if he was ever going to live down dating a nineteen year old.

“He was old enough to vote. Quite a bit older, in fact.” Theo said with a poorly hidden edge to his voice, once he’d composed himself.

“Barely.” She smirked. At the look on Theo’s face, Timothy then decided to save him, glancing up from his phone just long enough to pose a question. 

“How’d you two meet?” 

Theo smiled then, grateful for a softball question. Until he realized that it wasn’t. Glancing at Wren, he hesitated, recalling the rather unorthodox way they’d met. Most couples probably had cuter stories than we met at a depression support group. And while it was their story, and not one that he was ashamed of, it felt too private to share. 

“I knew Wren’s sister from university, and coincidentally enough they both grew up in Cannon Beach. We ran into each other a few weeks ago.” He smiled, looking up at Wren. Theo’s hand slid up his thigh, wrapping around his hand and squeezing. “I guess it was just luck.” 

After a thoughtful moment, Theo used the leverage he had on Wren’s hand to lean up and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He certainly felt lucky. 

“You two should take that reservation Trip made for tonight.” Jeremy suggested as Theo sat back down. He frowned as he pulled away from Wren, his grip on his hand slackening a little. 

“You don’t want it?” Theo asked, perplexed. He’d offered it to Jeremy in exchange for Theo being able to control the TV Wednesday night (it had seemed worth it at the time, especially when faced with a documentary on Ecovillages). And then he realized only then that he’d been fully expecting to simply hang out with Wren at home tonight. When had he gotten so old? So boring?

Jeremy shook his head, leaning back in his seat and clasping his hands over his stomach as he smugly grinned beneath his mustache. 

“The connection I have with the young lady I’m seeing can be described as more … Carnal, rather than romantic. For us, going to a restaurant would be a terrible idea.” Jeremy replied, as Timothy snorted and Theo made a face, resisting the urge to shudder. 

“Gross. But thanks, Jeremy.” Theo turned to Wren, biting his lip as he smiled.

“What do you think? Six courses with wine pairings, and prepaid courtesy of the Millers? They wanted to take Jeremy and I out for dinner but had to cancel. I think it’ll more than make up for the date I had to reschedule?”

Wren wasn’t sure what to expect from Theo’s colleagues.

Theo had mentioned them a few times in his texts (mostly complaining about Jeremy), but—not that he’d ever say this—Wren suspected his comments may have been a slightly editorialised version of the truth. Jeremy hadn’t seemed too bad when they’d met earlier, in spite of being there to take Theo away… though, to be fair, it had been a very brief encounter, and he’d been a little preoccupied. 

But as they waved him and Theo over, he found that he was excited by the prospect of spending some time with them. He hadn’t really met anyone from Theo’s life yet—aside from Michael, whom he wasn’t sure counted—and it felt like Theo had met nearly everyone important to him already. This wasn’t exactly the same thing, but they had known him longer than he had, and he was eager to hear what they had to say about him. So he gave the table a smile and a small nod of acknowledgement as he and Theo lined up to order. In spite of the bustling atmosphere it looked like they’d just missed the queue and it wasn’t long before they were squeezing in around the table, up a salad and a sandwich (but down $25).

“Hey,” he said as Theo introduced them, though he couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at the added directive. (He was pretty sure it had been a joke, but still.) While Timothy relayed his news about the kitchen refit, Wren carefully unwrapped his sandwich before sitting back and slinging his arm across the back of Theo’s chair. He didn’t mind them talking shop. In fact, he kind of liked it. It made him feel normal.

Jeremy’s comment about Theo saving the project made him laugh, and he squeezed Theo’s arm, smiling as he watched him protest. “So I’ve heard,” he said. “Something about a… what was it? An ineffectual asshole called Vince?”

He took a bite of his sandwich and nearly choked at Jeremy’s change of subject. Oh, fuck, he thought, swallowing hard. He’d thought Theo had been kidding, before, but he guessed he hadn’t been. “I… uh...” he floundered, giving Theo a desperate look, before turning his attention to Mira as she—thankfully—interrupted… though he wasn’t sure if he preferred prince to fantasy hero model.

He didn’t have much time to think about it, with Theo’s hand running up his thigh like that, and Mira making a dig at Michael’s age. Or, God, at least he hoped she meant Michael. He hid a smile with his sandwich, nudging Theo with his knee. It was nice to not be on the receiving end of the teasing for once. But then Timothy asked how they met and, for a moment, he froze, exchanging a glance with Theo as he set down his sandwich. He didn’t mind Theo’s colleagues knowing about the support group, but he didn’t know if Theo would or not. He fielded the question masterfully, though, and Wren returned his smile, the squeeze of his hand. It had been luck. They’d been so, so lucky. 

He opened his mouth, about to make a joke about how it was lucky Robin had been so intent on setting them up, but clamped it shut at Theo’s kiss. He squeezed his hand again, suddenly glad he’d decided to come up to see him, wondering how he’d ever thought it might have been a bad idea.

His gaze drifted to Jeremy as he spoke, then back to Theo. He pretended to think for a moment, before giving Theo a wide, breezy smile.

“If you’re sure you don’t want it, Jeremy,” he said. “It sounds like it could be fun.”
After lunch, Wren walked Theo back to his office. Letting the other three go up ahead of them, they lingered in the lobby for a few minutes where Theo gave him his key to the loft, its address, and a soft, sweet kiss. Six hours to dinner. He couldn’t wait.

As he made his way to the apartment, he felt like he was on cloud nine. This time the day before he’d been hiding in his room, lonely and bored and missing Theo desperately. And while he’d been nervous that morning, seeing him had been exactly what he’d needed. He thought about texting Robin to let her know how it had gone, but figured he had a whole afternoon to give her an update. For now, he kind of wanted to spend some time just enjoying being happy for the first time in months.

He got all the way to the apartment, through the front door and into Theo’s bedroom before realising exactly what a date at Portland’s most expensive restaurant meant for him. It only happened because of the full-length mirror propped up against one wall of the room. He caught his reflection just as he dropped his bag on the bed.

He looked like shit.

Even aside from the black eye—which was more a kind of yellow-green eye at the moment—he hadn’t shaved since Sunday evening and had some nasty facial hair growing, in the awful, itchy stage between a deliberate five o’clock shadow and an actual beard. He’d meant to shave before coming up, but hadn’t had enough time. And his hair was getting long and shaggy—he couldn’t even remember when he’d cut it last. Possibly not since moving back.

And his clothes. He hadn’t brought anything remotely appropriate to wear to Castagna. In fact, the clothes on his back were probably the nicest things he owned—a button-down almost as old as he was, jeans and a hoodie.

He had to go shopping. Suddenly six hours didn’t seem so long after all. 

He left the loft ten minutes later, after some very frantic googling, desperately wishing he’d thought to bring the car. At least Theo was staying somewhere central. And at least he’d noticed, and early. There had been a very real possibility that he might not have, which would have been bad, or found out too late, which would have been so much worse. But by the time he made it downtown he’d already wasted an hour, and it took him another hour and a half before he stumbled upon anywhere selling a suit he both liked and which actually vaguely seemed to fit.

He found himself standing in front of another full-length mirror being scrutinised by a lady in huge glasses carrying a measuring tape. Her nametag said she was called Sally and she apparently co-owned the store. She was the one who had unearthed the suit from the depths of a clothes rack. He had been happy to just buy it then and there but she’d insisted on doing a proper fitting and he felt both indebted to her for finding it and incredibly annoyed with her for holding him up.

“You should get the hems on the legs let out a bit,” said Sally. “And maybe get the waist taken in. Button the jacket up for me, would you?”

Wren obliged, resisting the urge to check his phone for the time. 

She tugged at the lapels and at its hem, circling him. “You should also take in the waist on the jacket, and maybe take the sleeves up a little. The shoulders fit well, though, which is most important. And the colour’s good. Do you have a tailor? If not we have one in-house.”

“Thanks, but I’ll just take it as-is,” he said. “I don’t think I have time to get it tailored. It’s kind of an emergency.”

“Oh, no,” said Sally, looking (Wren thought) disproportionately horrified at the mere thought. “Sir. You have to get it tailored. When do you need it by? Normally there’s a two- or three-week turnover but it’s the slow season and the adjustments aren’t complex. I’m sure I can get that down to ten days, maybe even a week.”

“I need it by seven tonight.” Wren did at least have the good graces to look suitably apologetic as Sally’s expression went from horrified to astonished, and he hurried to explain. “I know. It’s complicated, but I have a date. At Castagna. And I only found out a couple of hours ago.”

“Oh.” He thought he could see a vein starting to throb in her forehead. For a moment he thought she might faint, or leave, but her face went steely. “Well. You definitely can’t go to a last-minute date at Castagna wearing an untailored suit. Seven, you said?”

“Probably six thirty.”

She nodded, then took his arm and started to steer him back towards the changing rooms. “We’ll get it done. What else do you need to get?”

“Oh. Uh,” said Wren. “I mean. Everything. A shirt, a tie, shoes...”

“A haircut?” she suggested.

“Definitely that too.”

“Okay. Get dressed, give the suit to my colleague there, and meet me by the shirt rack.”

She ushered him into the changing room. He made a mental note to send her a bouquet of flowers if she managed to pull this off.

The next few hours were a blur.

He tried on countless numbers of shoes while Sally picked out a shirt and a tie for him, and once she was satisfied she sent him off to a barber whom she said would definitely be able to fit him in because he owed her a favour. When he came back at six, the lights in the store were on, but it didn’t look like there was anyone inside, and he had a brief moment of panic as he tried the door to find it locked.

Then Sally appeared from the depths to let him in, and she greeted him with a wide smile.

“How are you feeling?” she asked as she locked up again behind him.

“Nervous,” he said, truthfully.

“You shouldn’t be.” She unhooked a garment bag from a railing by the changing rooms and shoved it into his arms. “Go on. Try it on.”

Wren took a deep breath and pulled the curtain to. Crunch time.

Sally wouldn’t let him look at himself until she’d redone his tie. Once she was happy, she turned him around and presented him with his reflection, beaming.

“Well?” she said.

“Thank you.” Wren hoped she could hear his gratitude, because he wasn’t sure he could express it. He’d been a little worried—powder blue wasn’t a colour he would’ve picked out for himself, especially not with a navy blue tie, and he would have never combined a tan belt or shoes with grey, but it somehow, miraculously, worked. And in spite of his newly-cropped hair and freshly-shaved cheeks, he didn’t even look like he was going to the office. He looked like he was going on a date.

Sally patted him on the back. “You’re welcome. Now you know where you’re going?”

“I think so.”

“Good. Have a great night, Wren. Let me know how it goes!”

“I will,” he promised. He’d already spent a painful amount of money, but her bouquet had just been upgraded to a basket. With chocolates.

After everything, Wren was running late.

He’d texted Theo to say, and it was only by ten minutes, but he was still flustered when he pushed open the door to the restaurant, clutching the bag of his old clothes to his chest. He scanned the room for Theo, but couldn’t see him, and for a stupid moment he worried he’d gotten the wrong place after all.

“I have a reservation,” he told the host. “It should be under Miller? Or maybe Ronstadt?”

“Ah, yes,” said the host. “Right this way.”

He led him around the corner and gestured to a table set for two towards the back of the room, where, thankfully, there sat Theo, a bottle of wine already out in front of him, his phone in his hand. He was still in the same outfit from that afternoon morning—Wren guessed he hadn’t had time to go home—but missing his glasses, and with the addition of a familiar pink flower tucked into his lapel.

It was weird how the sight of him instantly calmed him down, replacing all his nervousness with relief, and he overtook the host to meet Theo, squeezing his shoulder and leaning in for a quick kiss.

“Is that from the bouquet?” he asked, gesturing to the flower as he tucked his bag under the table. He glanced at the table arrangement and frowned—the table had clearly been meant for four, and he didn’t really want to be sitting opposite Theo when he could sit next to him. He pulled the free chair around, sparing a glance at the host who looked shocked, but, to his credit, recovered quickly, and helped him shift the setting over too.

“Thanks,” he said to the host, unbuttoning his jacket and sitting down. The host handed him a menu and poured him a glass of wine before disappearing back to the front of house, and Wren looked over at Theo and smiled.

“I’m sorry I’m late. You would not believe the afternoon I had. How was yours?”

“Well, I’m glad it was so fine,” teased Wren, though he couldn’t help but study Theo as he did. Nothing was wrong, exactly, just… off. Theo was smiling, but he also seemed distracted, and for a moment Wren was worried that something had happened, or that he’d done something he shouldn’t have. It wasn’t until Theo looked up at him with a huge grin plastered across his face that he realised what it was.

“Oh!” he said as Theo reached for his wrist. He hadn’t forgotten that Theo hadn’t known how he’d spent his day, but he also had somehow failed to make the connection between a surprise, accompanied by a funny anecdote to tell over dinner, and the fact that Theo might have an actual opinion about his outfit. He should have guessed, though.

“Thanks,” he continued, trying not to blush as Theo ran his hands over his chest. He couldn’t help but feel that now he was the one getting distracted “Well, like I said, my afternoon was busy. I thought I couldn’t turn up to a six-course meal at Portland’s finest dining establishment wearing hippie-dad chic… though it did almost come to that.” 

His attempt to avoid going red was failing miserably, and he could feel the blood flooding his cheeks as Theo moved his hands up his shoulders and to his jaw, meeting his eyes. He swallowed and cleared his throat, glancing away for a moment to try to regain his composure. “Anyway, a nice lady called Sally straightened me out. She even told me where to get a haircut, so...” He looked back at Theo and shrugged, giving him a small smile. “I guess I owe her one.”

Wren wasn’t sure what came above a basket of flowers (chocolates too, maybe?), but finding out was at the top of his to-do list for the next day. Tonight… well. He had other plans.

He jerked back at the sound of someone coughing, looking up to see their waiter standing there. His face was hot and he sat back, picking up his wine glass to take a sip of wine, thinking he could hide behind it until he was back to a normal colour again. The waiter introduced himself as Kirk and ran through the menu with them before informing them that the first course and its accompanying wine pairing would be out shortly. Or at least that’s what Wren thought he said. Theo’s hand on his thigh had him a little preoccupied. 

Kirk left and Wren set down his wine glass, leaning into Theo as he shuffled back towards him. He wrapped his arm around Theo’s shoulder, shaking his head in mock disapproval as Theo told him about his temporary lapse of diet.

“Oh, don’t tell my mom that,” he said. “If she ever found out you have a penchant for foie gras you can kiss your brunch invite goodbye. We watched this documentary on it once and I swear she cried more than at my grandpa’s funeral.” He nudged Theo’s knee with his own. “You can have mine. I won’t be able to enjoy it anyway.”

Thankful for the change of subject—he didn’t really want to think about his mom on a date—he gave Theo a smile, squeezing his hand gently in acknowledgement as he cast his mind back over the last week since Theo left in search of an accurate descriptor. “I’ve been… well, you know. Okay,” he said, before pulling his hand up to his lips for a spontaneous kiss. “Much better for seeing you. I’m so glad I came up.”

He shot him another quick smile, looking down at the table as he debated how much to say. He’d so far managed to avoid telling Theo about Kelly’s Facebook post, as well as the resulting fallout, which had somehow occupied most of his time and energy since they’d last seen each other, in the hopes that it would all have blown over by the time he came back. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to revisit it, though maybe it wasn’t fair to keep it from Theo, who would find out sooner or later. 

Probably sooner, if the past few days were anything to go by. Robin had made a national sport out of complaining about Kelly to anybody who would listen, and his mom had gotten in on the action too, albeit about Martha. Or there was Kelly herself, whose post had now racked up over a hundred comments, of which more than half were her and Robin arguing. Or there was always the wildcard option of a total fucking stranger, like his GP, whom had not only looked at his eye but also told him he was very brave to pursue his chosen lifestyle, to always, always use a condom, and that his brother’s room-mate’s friend’s friend had died of AIDS in 1987.

So it may as well come from him.

He took a long sip of wine. 

“So I don’t know if Robin said this to you, but Kelly’s been telling people she saw us together on Saturday,” he said. “It’s not a big deal or anything,” he added, “but most people didn’t know, I guess, and you know how small towns can be. Especially since the last time I even spoke to Kelly was when she asked me to prom.” 

He made a face at the memory and set his glass back down. “Jesus. Did I tell you about that? She was on the gymnastics team and did this whole fucking routine in the hallway. It ended with her like… unrolling this banner… thing… she’d made, where she’d written ‘Will you go to prom with me?’. I was so surprised I think I just said ‘no’ then ran away.” He shot Theo a warning look. “Don’t laugh. I felt so bad afterwards but Robin’s sure she only asked to mess with her. I ended up skipping prom anyway, and then I guess I moved to Boston, so… yeah. It was weird seeing her again.”

Nestled against each other in their intimate corner of the bustling restaurant, Wren found it hard to believe that this time the night before he’d been on the couch with his dad, half-watching a Seinfeld rerun while wrestling with whether going up to surprise Theo was a good idea or the worst one he’d ever had. And it was harder still to remember how nervous he’d been that morning, just twelve hours ago, as he’d gotten ready to get the bus, reassuring himself that it wasn’t too late to change his mind all the way up until he’d actually sat down. It seemed like a lifetime ago, like that person had been someone else. Here, now, he couldn’t imagine ever passing this up.

“I should’ve known you’d know Sally,” he said mournfully. “Shit. I wish you’d told me earlier. Maybe she’d have given me a discount.” (She had, to be fair, knocked $50 off his bill, but it had still taken a big hit on his wallet. He was glad this meal had already been paid for, or this impromptu trip would’ve been exceptionally more expensive than he’d planned, rather than just ‘much’.)

“But I’m glad you’re into the sweaters,” he added, squeezing Theo’s hand before leaning over to whisper into his ear. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.” He was being silly and flirtatious and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever felt this way, but that was just the effect Theo had on him. He would’ve been happy to live the rest of his life out in this comfortable moment, sat in a fancy restaurant with his arm wrapped around a handsome, charming man as they held hands and made each other laugh and blush.

The mood turned slightly sombre and for a moment Wren worried he’d ruined the evening, but luckily his embarrassing story about rejecting Kelly had Theo smiling again, and he felt himself relax too as he shrugged at his question about prom. “Well, I didn’t particularly want to go anyway, but Robin’s boyfriend at the time dumped her the week before, so she didn’t want to go either. So we just stayed at home and watched horror films in bed.”

He paused to take a sip of wine before carrying on. “I want to say we probably had a better time than if we had gone, but she was pretty devastated and honestly we were all worried. They’d been going out for maybe three years? Which I guess doesn’t seem like a lot now, but it was back then.” It was still pretty much the only time he had ever seen Robin actually vulnerable, and it had been scary. She’d bounced back after a few weeks, but those weeks had felt long. Even breaking off her engagement with Ship hadn’t seemed to faze her as much, and Wren had actually liked Ship.

Watching Theo’s face as he relayed the story of his own prom, Wren squeezed his hand again, this time in sympathy. “Yeah, I know all about prom planning hell,” he said. “I wasn’t involved with the committee, but Robin chaired it—which made missing prom kind of worse—so I ended up hearing all the drama. I don’t remember what our theme was… I think it may have been Moulin Rouge? Not sure how they got away with that in the end. I do remember Robin wanted to do Titanic but got outvoted.” Definitely not as classy as Theo’s, in any case.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have a good time,” he continued. “Although it sounds like your hot rowing boy did. I’m a little jealous. But I guess you wouldn’t have been interested in the captain of the Mathletics team anyway.” He shot Theo a small smile, raising his wine glass to his lips. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of the sight of Theo’s cheeks turning red.

It was probably a good thing that Kirk reappeared when he did. Wren hadn’t realised how hungry he was—and how much wine he’d had already—though it was with some reluctance that he withdrew his arm from around Theo’s shoulders. But any mounting excitement quickly dissipated as Kirk placed his plate down in front of him. He stared at it, then glanced over at Kirk as he explained what they’d be eating… a single scallop with a dark, thin, unidentifiable sauce.

At least the wine glass was full.

Kirk departed, and Wren glanced over at Theo, trying to gauge his reaction. He didn’t seem to be put off, and was already tasting the wine, wearing a thoughtful expression which made him look rather handsome. “Yes,” Wren agreed at Theo’s assessment of the wine, though privately he couldn’t tell much of a difference. He wasn’t a huge wine connoisseur and didn’t think he ever would be, but he was happy to listen to Theo talk about it while he cut his scallop in half and popped one of the pieces into his mouth. He had never been a huge fan of seafood but he had to admit that these were nice. It was just a shame that the dish was over in two bites. He supposed he should’ve expected it with a six course meal. Maybe he’d feel differently once they’d finished. 

He pushed the plate away from him and draped his arm around Theo again, absently pressing a kiss to his temple, then smiling as he started to describe his worst date. When he started to read out the poem, he couldn’t help but laugh, clamping his hand over his mouth to stifle the noise as he craned his neck to get a glimpse of the poem over Theo’s shoulder, just to make sure he wasn’t making it up on the spot—though if he had been, that would’ve been equally as impressive.

“Oh no,” he said. “And you sat through the whole thing? How?”

He didn’t think he would have been able to cope. (Though, having said that, he had found himself in quite a few situations where he probably should have left but hadn’t felt like he could. Like a deer in the headlights.)

“I know what you mean,” he said. “It’s so refreshing to be out with someone and just having a good time. I have some stories of my own. None that involve poetry, though.” He flashed Theo a smile. “Let’s see… I think the worst one had to be this guy my friend Scotty set me up with. He was an investment banker which I guess should have been my first red flag. So we arranged to meet at a restaurant which was a few blocks away from my office, and he got there twenty minutes late. Looking back now there was definitely something wrong, but at the time he seemed really sorry and he had this kind of… enthusiastic charm? But the dinner was fine, and he insisted on paying for making me wait, and we ended up at a bar, and then a club.” He made a face. “Which was awful. But I went to get a drink and when I got back he told me that we needed to leave immediately. So we left.”

He glanced at Theo, then picked up his wine glass. “At this point, I knew something was up, and if I’d been sober I would’ve gone home. But I was not sober, and we somehow ended up at his place. You’re going to ask what I was thinking, and let me tell you right now that I don’t know what I was thinking. But he poured me another drink then disappeared into his bedroom, and then two things happened pretty much at the same time.” He took a sip of wine and set the glass down to count them off. “One. This guy comes out of his room dressed like a gimp. And two, the fucking NYPD bust down his door because apparently he’d been dealing coke in the club and had just managed to avoid getting caught.”

Wren shook his head, picking his glass up again. “I have no idea how I didn’t get arrested too. Apparently he had like five pounds of cocaine stashed under his bed. And that was the last time I ever let Scotty set me up on a date. Do you know what he said when I told him? He said, ‘Oh, I didn’t know Marcus still dealt, he told me he’d quit months ago’. And then he got a box of chocolates sent to my office as an apology.”

Fuck. He missed Scotty, in spite of the sometimes questionable company he kept. He took another sip of wine. “You would like Scotty. It’s a shame he’s so busy. He’s a really good friend and I’d like to introduce you some day, but I don’t think Cannon Beach is really his scene.”

He grinned when Wren whispered in his ear, the rather innocuous sentence about sweaters, and wearing sweaters, rendered rather dirtywhen it dripped from his lips like honey, his breath hot against his ear. Theo smiled something secret into Wren’s shoulder, hiding his face as something not altogether PG-13 flew through his imagination. 

Pull yourself together! Came his internal scolding. 

“You’re an amazingly good brother.” Theo praised, looking up at him wondrously. Robin seemed unshakeable, and the image of her devastated by a breakup seemed inconceivable. But the mighty fell hard, and she was lucky to have a brother like Wren. Theo frowned, as his thoughts inevitably turned to his relationship with his own sister. The last time they’d snuggled on the couch together had possibly been twenty years ago. Today, while they were brutally honest with each other (which was more critical than anything, now that he thought about it), their intimacy really had never extended beyond reluctant hugs goodbye whenever Theo had gone back to Boston or now, Oregon. And when he’d broken up with Ben, she’d already been married for a year and pregnant for a third of it, and otherwise preoccupied. 

Maybe he owed her a phone call. She felt awfully far away right now. 

He’d been vaguely aware of Robin’s meddling since the first time he’d had the both of them over, where Robin had fawned over the construction of his house while Wren had sat forlornly on his couch. And now that he thought about it, she’d offered to drive him home. And he couldn’t help but think it was sweet - her conspicuously volunteering Wren to help him with his wardrobe, ostensibly to get him out of the house (the dresser, he thought of guiltily now, was sitting in some Oregon dump. He wondered if he could retrieve it? It somehow, in this moment, felt incredibly important to the history of him and Wren as a couple).

That evening seemed so far away now. He couldn’t help but note to himself (only a little smugly) that Wren needed little prompting to get out of the house, now. Especially with him here, pulling Theo close and looking handsome and confident and … Happy? The thought made his cheeks feel warm, though maybe that was the wine. Fuck, had that really only been three weeks ago? 

Theo snorted as Wren expressed with somewhat cheeky dismay that Theo hadn’t had fun at prom. He shouldn’t have mentioned it, but he was still all smiles as he leaned into Wren’s embrace, snaking an arm across his stomach and tugging him closer. 

“Don’t be so sure that I wouldn’t have been interested! You could have helped me with my math classes. I nearly failed AP Calc, so fraternizing with the captain of the Mathletics team would have been to my benefit.” 

Theo bit his lip, catching the coy smile Wren probably thought he’d hidden behind his glass. He trailed a finger up his chest and lightly tugged on his tie, an edge to his smile as he pulled him closer. 

“Besides, I’m interested in him now. Doesn’t that count?” He bit his bottom lip, grinning dangerously. 

The flirting came too easily, and it was nice not having to hide it behind flimsy subtext. But he only noticed then that they’d caught the attention of a table nearby, where an older woman clearly out with her husband (he supposed he was making his own assumptions, now) had been sneaking glances at them all evening. Suddenly self-conscious Theo pulled away a little, though he was unwilling to shrug off Wren’s embrace. It was easy enough to ignore the occasional stare, especially in a city like Portland. But surely, Wren’s teasing had captured Theo’s entire focus once again. 

“It actually wasn’t even his worst poem, come to think of it now.” Theo felt the need to point out, and then with a small pang of unwanted guilt remembered then just how much Ben had liked him at the beginning of their relationship. He recalled Ben’s apartment in Cambridge where Theo too had slowly fallen in love with him, with the high ceilings and skinny bay windows, fluttering white curtains that crumpled where they met the uneven floorboards and the built in oak bookshelves. The candles Ben always seemed to have lit, how his apartment always seemed to smell like an old library. 

He looked up at Wren, watched the smile playing about his lips, wide and sympathetic as the man he was on a date with spoke of his ex-boyfriend, and Theo felt the guilt slip away. It was similarly easy to remember the way Ben seemed to get off on embarrassing him in public, the multiple breaches of trust, his weird exhibitionist tendencies… Fuck, it kind of felt good to make fun of him, while simultaneously realizing how little he’d been thinking about Ben over the past few weeks. 

And how much better that felt. 

“We’d just started dating so I kind of had to be polite, right? Not to mention … I was in my early twenties so I don’t think I realized how bad his poetry was.” Theo conceded with a laugh, closing his eyes in pleasure as he felt Wren’s lips against his temple.

It really had been terrible, awful poetry. He didn’t need to revisit it anymore. 

It was his turn to stifle a laugh at Wren’s story, and he couldn’t help but feel like he’d been one upped. 

“You went on a date with a drug-dealing investment banker?” Theo asked, incredulous. It seemed so out of character for him… Yet what did he know?

“Are you sure you weren’t on a date with Patrick Bateman?” Theo laughed. That was way, way worse than having personal erotic poetry read aloud to a bunch of American Literature students in the basement of some bar. He had a not-so-private laugh at imaging how Wren would react to a swat team bursting in on him during a date. He wanted to ask why it took him so long to figure it out, but decided to enjoy being one of Wren’s good dates. The feeling was too much. 

“You’ll be happy to learn that I have never been charged with a felony, nor have I ever owned a gimp suit.” Theo teasingly reassured him. “I also hate clubs. So I think we’re on the same page, at least in terms of date expectations. Though I'd like to meet the friend who thought you'd match up well with a drug dealer, though I'm worried he might not think I'm exciting enough for you.” 

Despite the teasing, it was good to know Wren would like him to meet his friends. 

Kirk returned, laden again with small clay dishes and glasses of wine. He traded his artistically arranged pile of kobe beer for Wren’s foie gras, which he happily ate two portions of. They ate and they drank, and as his cheeks grew warm and flushed the background noise of the restaurant seemed to slink away, where it was just him and Wren laughing and touching. A course of sunchokes and truffles came and went, along with lobster and some kind of sweet, plump mushroom he hadn’t caught the name of. And he was having a good time. Wren was funny, and dry witted and all he wanted was to kiss him and bring him home and spend the rest of his days in bed with him. 

Finally, they were between courses. Kirk had blessedly given them some time to digest, as well as finish the remnants of the half empty wine glasses that had collected around their table. 

“Can we take a picture?” Theo asked, perhaps suddenly, glancing up at Wren and smiling as charmingly as he could. 

“I just want something to remember the night.” He explained, shrugging coyly. “You only have a second date once.” 

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone, flicking to his camera setting and holding the phone out. His wrist shook, and as an afterthought realized he might ask Wren to take it, before a woman had appeared by their table, reaching her hand out for his phone. 

Theo looked up, taking a moment as his eyes readjusted. It was the woman who’d been sneaking glances at them all night. She was tall and had expertly coiffed blonde hair and wore a pashmina loosely draped around her shoulders. She was smiling hesitantly, a long graceful hand held up to her chest as the other reached out towards him. Her own cheeks were slightly flushed, and she was wearing a pair of pre-fall 2015 Louboutins (his mom owned the same pair), while her husband/boyfriend/whatever paid the bill. Theo wondered if she was as drunk as he was. 

“You two are such a cute couple.” She was saying, and Theo found himself grinning widely in agreement as he glanced at Wren. “Would you like me to take your picture? You just look like you’re having such a good time, and I couldn’t help noticing --” 

“That’s what I just said!” Theo exclaimed, nodding enthusiastically. Was he talking too loudly? He glanced at her husband, who was rising from his seat and pulling his coat over his shoulders. He then gave him a small wave. 

“Thank you so much,” Theo continued, handing her his phone. She glanced at it, fiddling with the settings before seemingly satisfied, and bent down slightly to get the shot. 

“Smile!” She said, and as Theo tried to do his controlled smile -- the one where he knew he could manage the dimples from creasing his cheeks and the crow’s feet from appearing at his eyes -- until he felt Wren come close and press a soft, sweet kiss to his cheek. Theo burst out in laughter, unable to help himself, just as the flash went off. Smiling herself, the woman looked at the photo quickly, before passing the phone back to Theo. 

“Oh, that’s a good one. You’re both so handsome! It’s just so nice to see a couple like yourselves, especially in this political climate.” She enthused, clutching her hand to her chest. She looked like she wanted to say more, before taking a step back.

“Best of luck to you both!” She blew a kiss to them, and made her exit. 

Theo looked at Wren as the woman walked off, smiling unabashedly as turned to kiss him for real, unashamed and maybe a little bit drunk but tempered, as his fingers lingered at his jaw for a prolonged moment. He remembered then how he’d felt the first time he kissed him, like it had been something he’d been waiting for for an eternity, how good and right and impossible it had felt at the time. When he pulled away a smile was still on his lips, before he looked away. 

Theo reviewed the picture as he settled in against Wren. The image on the screen showed his body angled towards Wren, with his arm still wrapped around his shoulders and Theo’s face locked in unselfconscious laughter with Wren’s lips pressed against cheek, his jaw in a perfect hard angle and the corners of his eyes creased with mirth. It was a good one, he thought to himself, as his expression softened. 

Theo looked up, where the woman greeted her husband with a kiss and thanked the host. He looked up at Wren, smiling a crooked smile. 

“That was nice.” He couldn’t help saying, before quickly sending the picture to Wren and tucking his phone away. He didn’t want to touch on her comment about the current political climate, as the idea that Hillary might not win hadn’t really seemed like a possibility. But that was a concern for another night. 

“I didn’t want to say until now, but I’m kind of relieved we got to go out for dinner somewhere other than Cannon Beach.” He said, looking up to the ceiling and brows creasing as he looked for the right words. “Not that I don’t love Cannon Beach.” He said quickly, feeling like he’d just put his foot in his mouth. “It just seems … I don’t know. Like there’s less pressure here?”

And that’s what it had felt like, the entire time. Not so much at the meeting in the church, but with Robin’s presence, and how it had been at the beach and at his parents … It felt like so much expectation. Like there were always people pushing them this way and that. For the first time, it was just him and Wren, with nobody to interrupt them. And he found Wren was so much less inhibited here, and so much more liberal with his words, and the way he looked at him … And the way he touched him. 

And maybe he was drunk, Theo thought as he glanced at their table. The original bottle of wine he’d gotten was still half full, but the tasting glasses were almost all empty. As if by magic Kirk seemed to appear once again, laden with more wine and more dishes. 

“Can I ask what you first thought of me, when we met at the church?” He asked once Kirk had left, and he knew he was emboldened by too much wine but couldn’t be fucked.

Theo tugged on Wren’s tie and sent a shiver travelling up his back, and it was probably a good thing they were in public because if they hadn’t been, he wasn’t sure he would’ve had the self-restraint to stop himself from suggesting they recreate Theo’s prom night—hopefully with more satisfactory results—then and there. Theo’s smile was provocative and his touch was electric, and Wren was a little disappointed when he pulled away, but not even the older couple watching them from a few tables over could ruin his mood. He shot them a cold look, daring them to say something, before turning his attention back to where it belonged.

“It got worse?” he repeated, trying not to laugh and failing miserably. “He must’ve really liked you.” He wasn’t a poet and he’d never wanted to be one, but as terrible as the excerpt Theo had shown him had been, he understood the urge his ex must have had. “I can’t say I’ve ever had a poem written about me, never mind several.”

Not that he had dated anybody long enough for that, he guessed. His longest relationship to date had lasted six months and he wasn’t sure he could even count it, given how it had ended. But he had been on several terrible first dates, which at least made for some good stories, even if they had been awful at the time.

“You know, the sad thing is, I’m pretty sure Scotty thought he was setting me up with one of his tamer friends,” said Wren. “He just leads a very exciting life. I’m pretty sure I’m the most boring person he knows. So I wouldn’t worry about gaining his approval.” He smiled at Theo, picking up his glass. “I know he’ll love you.”

Wren had spent most of his life on the outside, in part by choice, in part due to a sense that he did not and would never fit in anyway. Even when he’d gotten older and left Cannon Beach, when he’d found he did like talking to people and making connections, he had never found it easy, and dates had been especially hard. Making conversation at work was fine—at least you had some inherent common ground—but socially? Whether on a date or otherwise, he’d always found it difficult to know what to say, and had always preferred to watch and listen and wait in the hopes that someday, something he witnessed would unveil the secret to making friends or going on dates or flirting or just being normal.

He felt like he’d found that enlightenment he’d been looking for. God, being around Theo was so easy, whether it was trading their dishes or telling him about more awful dates he’d been on or holding his hand or laughing at his jokes or showing him the awful Tinder profile Robin had set up for him a couple of years ago, or even sometimes just catching a glimpse of him a new, wonderful light, which made his words catch in his throat and left him dizzy and wanting more.

Was this how other people felt? All the time?

Even their silences were comfortable, and as they took a breather waiting for their last dish, Wren realised with pleasant surprise that in spite of all of the wine and the tiny portions, he wasn’t drunk, not really, or, well, at least not hugely, which was something else to set this date apart. He couldn’t remember the last time, prior to that evening, where he’d sat through a whole dinner without the urge to get wasted as quickly as possible to make the night go faster. But that hadn’t happened with Theo, not even with all the teasing, and it was weird because it had never occurred to him that maybe that wasn’t necessarily a good thing, and maybe explained a lot.

Theo’s request for a photo jolted him from his thoughts, and he smiled, shrugging a little. “Sure,” he said, sitting up a little, then shuffling a bit closer so Theo could get them both in the shot. “You don’t have to make excuses,” he teased, but he hoped he knew that he meant it, too. He’d never really been into being photographed, but, as with everything, it was different with Theo. He wanted to remember this evening. A photo was a way to make it last forever.

He was about to offer to take the phone when a person appeared in front of them. Looking up, Wren recognised the woman from the other table, the one who had been watching them all evening. She was smiling, now, and he got ready to defend them, only to immediately feel bad when she started to speak, teaching him a lesson in making assumptions about other people’s intentions.

“Thank you,” he said as she took the phone, squeezing Theo’s shoulder and leaning over a little. He knew he should probably be looking at the camera, but as she got ready to take the photo, he couldn’t help but watch Theo as he arranged himself into his pose. The lady told them to smile, but he was already smiling, and on impulse, leant in to kiss Theo on the cheek. He hadn’t meant to disrupt the picture, but she had already clicked the button, and just as his lips made contact and Theo laughed, the flash went off and the moment had been captured forever on film.

Wren drew back a little, giving Theo’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as he pulled back to thank the woman again, but Theo’s hand was resting on his jaw, directing him back towards him, and all of sudden Theo was kissing him, and Wren was kissing him back, and for an instant there was nobody else. When they pulled away, Wren’s head was spinning, and his cheeks were burning, but in a good way, and as Theo leaned back into him he thought that maybe he was drunk after all. He kissed Theo’s head as he showed him the picture, just above his ear, where his hair fell in a small, perfect curl, and nodded in agreement.

“I know what you mean,” he said, almost whispered. It was what he’d liked about New York the most, too.

He looked up as Kirk came back with their final course, unwrapping himself from Theo for the sixth time that evening. He’d just picked up his fork as Theo asked his question, and he chewed his lip as he thought about it. Had it really been just three weeks ago?

“Well,” he said slowly, trying to think back to that evening. “If I remember right, you laughed when Robin introduced us. And then you got my card, and scared the shit out of me. So… not great...”

He threw Theo a smile, then glanced down at at his plate, dragging his fork through the unidentifiable sweet mass artfully presented there. “But then you started talking to me. And, I don’t know. I guess I thought that we could be friends.” He set his fork down, and reached out for one of Theo’s hands, cocking his head towards him.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I really needed one of those.”

It was hard leaving the restaurant.

Not because Wren didn’t want to go home, but because he wanted to go home too much. They’d been comfortable in the restaurant, in their small corner, dancing across a line that stopped just short of inappropriate, but the rules were different out here. And while Wren knew he was being ridiculous, that anyone who had watched them laugh and flirt all night would find his thoughts unbelievable, every time he thought about taking Theo home, or about all the things he wanted to do to—with—for—him, he remembered the last time he’d taken him into the bedroom, and how his hands had felt against his chest when they’d pushed him away.

So maybe he was a little quiet on the way back, even though the walk back along the river was undeniably romantic, clear skies and his arm looped through Theo’s, though maybe tempered a bit by the conversation around wood. At first Wren thought that Theo was maybe flirting, but after he spent maybe a quarter of the walk gushing about Castagna’s hardwood floors and the rest trying to explain the difference between bamboo and acacia, he wasn’t so sure. And while Wren did his best to listen, the closer they got to the loft, the more anxious he felt.

What if they weren’t on the same page? What if he’d misjudged the entire evening?

Theo pressed the button for the elevator and the doors slid open. Wren shut his eyes as they stepped in, only opening them again at a break in the conversation. He felt a little distant as he watched Theo next to him, leaning against his side, silent and comfortable and totally fucking oblivious to the battle being waged next to him. Theo glanced up at him and he saw an eyelash on his cheek, nestled amidst the freckles. 

On instinct, he reached up to pick it off, then met Theo’s gaze and hesitated for a moment, before brushing his finger against it and holding it out to him in explanation.

It was the first thing he’d said since leaving the restaurant, and he tried to sound cheerful, he really did, but he could barely get the words out.

“Eyelash,” he said, swallowing. “Make a wish.”

Theo laughed, and Wren’s expression fell. He swallowed again, hard, and glanced at the floor, suddenly embarrassed. Of course. Despite his best efforts to just be fucking normal for a change, he’d failed, and now not only was he making a fool out of himself, he was making a fool of himself in front of Theo, and was it too much to ask to have just one night where that didn’t happen?

He looked up at the sound of his name, biting down on the corner of his mouth, and watched Theo lace his fingers through his own, and, despite himself, as he smiled up at him Wren couldn’t help but smile back. Maybe it would be okay, he thought, but didn’t have time to mull over that sentiment as Theo pulled him into the elevator. The doors slid shut and any guilt he felt over not holding them for their neighbour quickly died down, dampened by the lurch in his stomach that could have been the elevator, or could have been the sudden realisation that they were alone. Really alone.

And Theo laughed, and let go of his hand, and just like that, they were kissing, as though it had been that easy all along. Any doubts Wren had been harbouring, any worries which had planted themselves in his mind in the week they’d been apart, melted away. He leaned in to meet Theo halfway, tilting his head for a better angle as he dropped the bag of clothes he’d been toting around all evening. He slid a hand up beneath Theo’s blazer, settling on the small of his back, and cupped his jaw as he returned the kiss. God, it was that easy, and he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. He shut his eyes and tasted wine, sweeter than anything they’d drunk that night, felt the rhythmic throb of Theo’s pulse by the edge of his palm, the gentle brush of the hair on the edge of his hairline curling against his fingers, and as they drew back for air—but not too far—he found himself smiling again.

“Me neither,” he confessed. It might have been the wine but today felt unreal, like a dream or a fairytale, and he only knew it wasn’t because of the detail surrounding him. There was no universe where he could invent each individual freckle sprayed across Theo’s nose, or the laugh lines crinkling around his eyes, or the way his cheeks dimpled when he smiled. 

He was about to kiss him again when the doors to the elevator parted, and he had barely enough time to retrieve his bag from the floor before Theo grabbed his hand and led him home. Wren was happy to be led, backed up against the door with Theo tugging on his tie with much more purpose than earlier. His hand in his pocket had him shuddering with delight, and the next thing he knew he was being yanked indoors, to privacy.

He kicked the door closed behind them and dropped his clothes again, separating from Theo for a moment to extract himself from his laptop bag too. He’d just set it down when Theo dropped his cane, the sharp clatter against the floor making him jump, and then his hands were on his chest, and his tie wasn’t, and they were kissing, and Wren stumbled backwards in the dark over the threshold to the bedroom.

The moment he sat down Theo was on top of him, his thighs wrapped around his waist and his lips travelling down his jaw. An impatient part of him wanted to help Theo with his buttons, but he sensed that he needed to do it this way, so he leant back and shut his eyes and only opened them again when he felt hands pulling his shirt away from his shoulders. Theo’s expression made the breath catch in his throat, and all of a sudden he was aware of his heart pounding in his chest, of their proximity, of Theo’s gentle touch, the undisguised emotion in his voice, and he realised he didn’t know how he had gotten here, how he’d conned his way into the company of this handsome, charming, flawless man, never mind convinced him he was perfect.

His fingers curled a little at the feel of Theo’s lips against his palm, and as Theo let it go he moved to stroke his cheek, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth as he started on his own shirt. Wren kept a hand at his waist and buried his face in the crook of his neck, in the space between his collar and his skin, hoping that the action would express what his drunken brain couldn’t verbalise. He only pulled back when he felt Theo move, the fabric drawing away to reveal his pale, freckled shoulders.

Wren watched Theo touch his bruises, looking up to meet Theo’s eyes once he started speaking. He returned his smile and leaned into his caress, but he wasn’t sure what to say. Theo had spoken to him before about his body and he was so, so glad that he was able to make things easier for him, but hated that it was even necessary. And while he wanted to explore every single inch of his body, bruises and all, he didn’t want to dwell on them now, in this fragile moment.

So he held onto his waist and leaned forwards and kissed him, slow and sweet and full of longing, and when he pulled away he considered Theo for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Hey,” he said. “Come here.”

And then he grinned, and tightened his grip on Theo’s waist, and threw himself backwards onto the bed, pulling Theo down with him.

God, did that feel good.

Afterwards, it took a long time for the smile to fade from Wren’s face. He was sweaty and sticky, exhausted and ached everywhere, but lying in bed, entwined with Theo in a comfortable, sleepy silence, none of that mattered. It wasn’t just the sex. He couldn’t place the feeling growing in his chest, didn’t know if there was even a word for it. All he knew was for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

The question came unbidden, a thought that had been whirring away at the back of his mind since Theo had showed him his stomach.

“Do they hurt?”

He held Theo’s hand over his stomach and squeezed gently, craning his neck to look down at him. His other hand rested on the dip of his hip, holding him close.

“The bruises, I mean. Some of them look sore.”

He kissed the top of his head and stayed there for a moment, breathing in. He could still taste him, he realised, there, lingering on his tongue.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he mumbled into his hair. “I just. If they hurt, I’ll be more careful.”

His memory of the last hour was punctuated only by sensation. 

Wren’s kiss, slow and consuming and heated, the way it left him breathless. The way he met his eyes, his gaze dark and brow creased with intensity. Theo’s admission had threatened to turn this into something far too serious, when it was supposed to be fun. And of course Wren was full of surprises – the way he mischievously grinned, the feel of his hands lifting his hips and pulling him tight against him, with laughter exploding from Theo’s chest as he smiled against Wren’s lips and pushed his fingers through his hair, yelping in delight as Wren wrapped his arms around him tight and Theo toppled against him. 

And the feelings. The way his breath caught in his throat, lips parting as something thunderous and coiling rolled through his belly. An ache in the centre of his chest, and the hot feel of Wren’s skin against his, damp and intoxicating. His wild breathing (panting) in his ear, breath hot and timed perfectly with his own, the brush of lips and the scrape of teeth against the soft spots of his throat as Wren kissed him in that place right beneath his jaw that left him breathless and wanting and aching.

He was ruined then, where Wren pulled away and kneeled before him at the end of the mattress, his lips soft and tender where they were pressed against the bruises marking his skin, at the tender parts of his stomach. He was intense and focused in a way Theo hadn’t yet seen – he was perfect. And as Theo tilted his head back towards the ceiling, he was fireworks and bright lights, and the tear of fast cars down a deserted road, and the warmth of Sunday brunches with mimosas and eggs benedict and hiking up foggy Oregon trails, mist rolling over hills and wet leaves and --

-- Fuck. He was he lost to him.

“Oh, my God. Wren.” 

Theo tumbled from Wren’s waist, falling to join him in a pile of fitful breathing and damp skin. His voice was torn up in his throat, all hoarse, ragged. He felt like warm, bubbling butter toffee as he melted into Wren’s side, as the aftershocks of his orgasm rolling through him. Again. And again. His skin felt electrified, his muscles weak and trembling and slack as he settled in against Wren’s chest. He felt the man responsible for his current state exhale beside him, a slow, satisfied rumble in his chest, and Theo’s eyes slipped shut as his arms pulled him closer, feeling his hand settling in at his hip while a slow smile spreading across his face. Wren’s heart was hammering in time with the rise and fall of his chest, and Theo smiled contently, exhaustedly, as he slung an arm over his stomach and curled his ankle around Wren’s knee, pulling him closer still. 

The beside lamp was on, casting a warm light throughout his Portland bedroom. Outside, traffic rumbled down the street in a gentle, comforting reminder that they weren’t alone. A cool breeze drifted in from the open window, cooling the sweat that had gathered between his shoulder blades. Theo let himself curl into Wren’s chest, where his skin was hot and pressed along the long length of his body, and he smelled fucking delicious, like sex and sweat and clean laundry and he could feel himself being pulled under by the slowing of his heartbeat as the silence drew out. 

It was good.

It took a few seconds for him to register Wren’s question, dragging him from somewhere near unconsciousness. As his voice rumbled somewhere in his chest for a second time, inquisitive and gentle, Theo frowned, slowly opening his eyes as he tried to pull together a coherent answer to his question. A truthful answer. 

“A little.” Theo murmured against his skin. His voice was little more than a rattle, a whisper through the trees, evening fog snaking through the branches. He didn’t meet his gaze, even as he felt Wren shift beneath him to look at him. The two of them lay naked, wrapped in each other’s arms and legs, though Theo felt far from vulnerable. 

“Not worse than anything else, at least.” Theo added after a moment, frowning. He didn’t really want to elaborate, not now. So, he continued. “I forget about them a lot of the time, until I see them in the mirror. They look worse than they feel.”

He felt fine now, however. Maybe a bit of tightness in his lower back, a little weakness in his thighs and some shaking in his hands. His chest was sore from the exertion, but other than that? He felt good. Except --

“Oh, fuck. I need to take my injection. I completely forgot.” 

It was a worry for another time – maybe later tonight, if he remembered. Now, it was difficult to be too concerned. He gripped Wren’s hand where he felt it against his fingers, a twitch of his wrist, a flex in his knuckles. Just when it seemed like he might fall silent, upset by the line of questioning, Theo stretched, languid like a housecat, rolling his weight onto Wren’s chest as a low sound of absolute pleasure rolled through Theo’s body, running his fingers across the expanse of his chest as he grinned, slow and lazy. Satisfied and sleepy. Absolutely loving their proximity, their intimacy. And the way Wren looked at him – intense, with something softer behind his eyes. 

“Thank you for asking.” Theo said then, resting his cheek against his chest. And then, as he considered Wren’s words a little more, tried to remember if he’d ever felt like this with Ben. 

He wasn’t sure, and the realization was enough to cast the thought from his mind. 

“Besides, that was fantastic.” Theo all but purred, hiding his smile behind his forearm. He pulled himself up to nestle against Wren’s shoulder, planting a lazy kiss on his cheek. “If there’s more of that in store, the last thing I want is you being careful with me.” Theo added in a whisper, nuzzling the spot between his earlobe and jaw. 

“Oh, God. I don’t want to move, but I need to shower.” Theo groaned, only a little dramatically. The task, however, seemed insurmountable. The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile, and he lifted a hand to touch Wren’s jaw, before pushing his fingers through Wren’s damp hair. 

“Would you care to join me?”

Wren found that he liked the feeling of Theo’s bare skin pressed up against his.

He liked opening his eyes to catch a glimpse of freckles dotting the pale skin of his back and shoulders. He liked the feel of the warmth radiating from his body, hot and heavy, and the feel of soft, fine hair brushing his feet as he tucked them between his legs. He liked being able to reach over and stroke his stomach, the ridges and soft edges of his chest, without navigating past a barrier of clothing. He liked feeling his breath tickling his chest, his heart beating into his side. And he liked being able to run his hands over the expanse of his body, to feel the sweat and stickiness and heat, and he liked both knowing that he had done that—that he’d had that kind of effect on him—and drawing out vivid memories of his name nestled in Theo’s mouth, amongst all the other sounds—sighs and moans and groans—punctuating his pleasure.

He shivered as Theo stretched, and moved the arm trapped beneath him to run his hand up his side, coming to a stop a couple of inches above his navel, where his ribs dug into his wrist. Absent-mindedly, he traced an invisible circle across Theo’s skin, a small frown creasing his forehead at the murmured thanks. Theo didn’t have to thank him for making sure he was OK. He only stopped when the other man gripped his shoulder to pull himself up higher and kiss him on the cheek, the tone of his voice chasing away any unpleasant thoughts, and he laughed, twisting over to face him. 

“Oh,” he teased, “so you enjoyed that, huh? For a while there, I wasn’t sure. You were making all these awful noises...”

Wren closed his eyes for a brief moment, enjoying their proximity, before opening them up again at the sound of Theo’s voice. When he’d had boarded the bus that morning, he could never have predicted how the day would end; he’d been too busy worrying about whether he’d made the right decision or not. Now, even though the last thing he wanted to do was get up, a shower with Theo seemed like a perfect way to round off the evening.

He pretended to consider for a second, before kissing his forehead, then the tip of his nose, then his lips. Stroking his cheek, he smiled at Theo, and whispered, “After you.”

Climbing out of bed felt like the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, but watching Theo as he led him into his en suite made it a little easier. The new angle led to new discoveries—the fact that his freckles weren’t, apparently, confined to the upper half of his body, the curve of his ankles and the sway of his hips. Wren found himself mesmerised, and a part of him wanted to reach over and pull Theo back into the bedroom.

The bathroom was all cool grey tiles and white fittings, with the shower set into a glass cubicle on the left—a far cry from the one at his parents’. There was no soft, worn curtain here, or yellow paint, or hanging plants, or half-filled bottles of home-made shampoo. But he barely noticed their surroundings as he slipped into the shower after Theo, tugging him close as soon as he turned the water on.

He buried his face into Theo’s hair, resting his arms over his stomach and stood there for a moment, focusing on the water streaming over them, on his heartbeat, on the way his chest fit so neatly into the curve of Theo’s back. Leaning down, he kissed the crook of Theo’s neck, then travelled up to kiss his earlobe, giving it a small nibble before whispering, “Has anyone ever told you you have a really cute butt?”

Slowly, he spun Theo around to face him, sliding his hands down his back to cup it, pulling him in for a kiss. And he kissed down his jaw, and neck, and throat, then, bending over, down his chest, half-kneeling, down his stomach, taking a lazy detour past his bruises, until he was down on his knees, slipping a hand up between Theo’s thighs.

Wren looked up at him, then, meeting his eyes through the warm stream of water, and smiled. 

“Is this okay?”

He laughed at Wren’s teasing, burying his face into his chest as he smiled into his skin. 

“Oh, leave me alone!” Theo replied, voice muffled and just above a rough whisper. It was true: there was nothing loud about Wren. He was an amalgam of subtleties and intensities. Where Wren lacked in volume he made up in quiet, deliberate intensity: hands gripping his hips, the breath catching somewhere close by in his throat, the pulse of his Adam’s apple as their laboured breathing synchronised. Hs chest, heaving with intent, the quick intake of breath as Theo leaned forward to whisper something suggestive in his ear.

“Besides,” Theo began, a shrug and a bit of a smug smile playing about his lips. “It was completely within your power to put an end to it. Yet….” 

He ran his hands up Wren’s chest, starting at his navel and ending at his jaw, slowly and indulgently, feeling every soft edge of his body.

“…Here we are.” Theo smirked, though it disappeared quickly when he felt Wren’s lips against his. 

With Wren’s help, Theo reluctantly dragged himself out of bed, sitting for a moment at its edge while he gathered his bearings. His knees felt weak, and just a bit shaky. He was sore, and his muscles complained with every moment. Just as he thought that the prospect of standing felt more than a little impossible, Wren was reaching out with both hands to help him up. 

The slight nag of discomfort didn’t go away immediately. As he led Wren to the shower, he couldn’t help but suddenly feel ultra-aware of his nakedness. There was something much different about lying in bed, where it was all touch and warmth and hands sliding up bodies. Satisfied smiles, and kisses to go with them. Now he felt a little exposed, conscious of the way he had a hard time picking up his left foot, which contributed to his jaunty, awkward gait, and made him feel only a little self-conscious. In bed, he’d felt in control, he’d felt sexy. 

But he shouldn’t have worried. 

Theo turned on the shower, where the sound of the water bounced off the cement tiling in a static din. He liked his showers tepid, since anything much warmer made him nauseous and sore, though for Wren’s benefit he bumped it up to a lukewarm. But, as he turned to apologize for the temperature of the water Wren was already wrapping his arms around him, pressing his body close, and pulling Theo closer. The surface of Wren’s skin was cool and Theo leaned into his chest, feeling his shoulder blades press into the solidness of his body. And he felt immediately calmed. 

Funny, that. 

At Wren’s question, lips close and hot against his ear, Theo breathed a laugh, shutting his eyes as he felt water sprinkling against his shoulders. 

“Yes,” Theo whispered, tilting his head back to rest against Wren’s shoulder, sinking into the feel of his lips on his skin. His breath against his neck. His teeth against his earlobe, gentle and careful but certainly present, sending something curling and wanting into the pit of his stomach. He shivered a little as Wren kissed the back of his neck, having just unknowingly found the one spot on his body he was ticklish. 

“But it feels the best when you say it.” Theo freely admitted, voice low, opening his eyes to glance up at him, the corners crinkling into a wide, tired, smile as he realized he was telling the truth. 

He sunk into him, pliable and loose, hands folding over Wren’s where they were folded, where he could feel the other man’s thumbs edging against his hip bones, fingers fanning over his stomach, pulling him close. And then there were hands on his shoulders, gently directing him to turn in place to face him. Theo breathed through his teeth at the feel of his lips against his jaw, tilting his head up to give Wren the access to the most vulnerable parts of his throat. 

Theo’s hands found themselves around Wren’s waist, where he was hard angles and the perfect small bones of his hips. He slipped through his fingers, though, lips travelling to brush against Theo’s chest, where he could feel his breathing pick up as he picked up on what the other man was doing. Head bowed, hair speckled with drops of water, Wren kneeled before him smiling.

He felt speechless. And as Wren’s hands slid up the sensitive parts of his thighs and touched him so perfectly, where he was all shoulders and beautiful, big, smiling eyes, Theo thought to himself that he’d never seen anything so lovely in his life. 

He nodded, hands shakily moving to run through his hair, fingers curling into a gentle caress. 

From far away, he realized Wren might not have heard his assent. He swallowed, looking down, where he met Wren’s startlingly intense gaze.

Fuck, he was beautiful. 

“Oh. Please, Wren.” Theo whispered, once he found his voice. "Please."

It hadn’t taken long for Theo to sink to his knees, joining Wren on the tiled floor where he curled into his chest and tried to get control of his breathing. His shoulders shook, and he lifted his head to brush his lips sloppily against Wren’s neck, before raising himself up high enough to kiss him deeply, sensuously, hands at the back of his neck as the water fell over them. 

After a few minutes Theo helped Wren stand, taking his hands in his and not letting go immediately. Once he did, Theo set about immediately helping him wash, perhaps taking liberties with his touches and lathering and scrubbing, becoming well acquainted with his curves, the expanse of his chest, and the hard plane of his back and shoulders. He didn’t think Wren had ever been so clean. 

Once they’d left the shower, he figured the sheets ought to be switched as well, which he requested Wren do while Theo dug through his suitcase for the second set of linens he’d brought with him. He tossed them to Wren once locating them, a set of Egyptian cotton sheets with colourful embroidered flowers drifting across the bedspread. 

He asked Wren to help with his injection, which the other man handled surprisingly well. And once, comfortable in bed with the blankets drawn over his waist, Theo had instructed him how to do it.

“There’s an alcohol wipe in the box, which … Yes, obviously you know what to do with it. Don’t give me that look. Okay, pinch the skin. Yes, like that. Now, give the syringe a flick to get rid of that bubble, and stick the pointy part in while pushing down to a count of ten... Clip the needle, toss the rest in the trash. There, easy.” 

And Theo had gotten to watch as that fucking adorable look of intense concentration washed over Wren’s features, creasing his brow and setting his jaw. And how his hands, big and elegant, had felt against his skin. Gentle and sure and competent. As Wren pulled the needle away, Theo smiled widely in relief as the expected sting of pain failed to make itself known. 

“That didn’t hurt at all.” Theo murmured. He looked down at his stomach, touching near the injection site as Wren slipped a Band-Aid over it. There wasn’t any blood, either. 

“You did a good job.” He added then with a small smile, leaning forward to kiss him. 

After taking his handful of meds, washed down with the glass of water Theo kept by the side of the bed, he settled in against Wren, feeling the other man immediately pull him close. The surface of his skin was still just a shade cool, Theo noticed once again. It was just another one of Wren’s funny quirks. 

Theo was silent for a moment, sinking into Wren’s warmth where his arm was tucked just under his head, other wrapped around his stomach, minding the bandage. His eyes felt heavy, his muscles sore. He was exhausted, but clean and comfortable and wrapped up in the arms of the sweetest, smartest man on the planet. 

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” Theo whispered, intertwining their fingers where Wren’s hand rested at his stomach. After a second, he twisted up to look at him, giving him a quick smile. 

“Not just, the end. I mean, that was fun too. Lots of fun. But I just…” 

He settled back in against him, sighing contently. He thought of the way he’d spoken to Mira when describing Wren, and smiled to himself. 

“I like spending time with you. You’re so funny, and smart, and handsome. And fucking hot as hell… And I just can’t get you out of my head.”

The glow of the lamp on the bedside table highlighted the curves and angles of Theo’s body, his shoulders and ribs and the sharp planes of his face. Wren couldn’t make his expression out from where he lay, too close to pick out any detail, but he could feel the contentment in his movements, in the way he held his hand and in the timbre of his voice. Warmth bloomed in his stomach, in a place just below his navel, spreading up to his chest. He was happy, he realised. Still. In spite of his crazy afternoon, and the occasional moments of self-consciousness which had peppered his day, the feeling had lasted since meeting Theo at his office, and showed no sign of fading. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so consistently good for so long. It was exciting and scary and weird. And even though optimism, however cautious, had been something else he’d been lacking in lately—in even shorter supply than joy—the thought did occur to him that maybe… maybe it might be here to stay.

Somehow, inexplicably, Theo liked him. It had been hard to imagine at first, but he was starting to believe it, every small brush of skin, every kiss, every over-the-top compliment chipping away at the layer of doubt he’d been carrying around since they’d first met. It was getting harder and harder to deny; he liked him. He liked spending time with him, he thought his stupid jokes were funny and he trusted him enough to let him help with his injections. Each step forward let him breathe a little easier. This wasn’t some horrible joke.

He could feel his face growing hot, then, as he held Theo close, and gently pressed his lips to the space between his earlobe and his neck. His skin was still a little damp, a little cold, and his hair lay flat, still wet from the shower. He liked it. 

“I had a lot of fun too,” he murmured. “Thank you. For everything.”

He was glad he’d come up, he realised; glad he’d been able to do more than just sit around at home, moping. The bus ride, and buying a suit, and meeting Theo’s friends, and going out for lunch, then dinner, and taking a walk by the river, and just the entire day… it had all felt so normal, and it was weird to think that even just yesterday it would’ve seemed so out of reach. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent a day like this, just out doing things, with friends or someone he liked. Not being dragged out by Robin, or swapping pleasantries with people coming and going from the store. Not getting wasted with Scotty, or getting take-out at his desk with his colleagues, or going through the motions of a miserable first date with some faceless person he would never see or hear from again. 

Was that sad? Maybe. But he didn’t care. It had only been a week, and they’d spent most of it apart, but it felt like so much longer. He’d spent so long on the outside looking in, he hadn’t realised it was possible to just step in. It was like… like he’d spent his whole life trying to solve an impossible puzzle, and Theo had come along and shown him how, breezy, effortless, easy, the same way he made everything look.

He could get used to this, he thought. Late nights sprawled in bed, holding Theo in his arms, listening to his breathing against a backdrop of distant traffic. Kisses in the shower. His pulse beneath his fingertips. The sweet, heavy taste of him. His bright smile. The way he laughed, the note of genuine delight always so prominent. His sharp sense of humour, and self-assurance, and expressiveness. How he wore his heart on his sleeve, always. He wondered if Theo ever worried about breaking it; if he knew just how much Wren wanted to wrap it up and keep it safe.

“Theo?” he whispered, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. But there was no reply. Just the sound of quiet, even breathing, and when Wren lifted his head, he could just about make out closed eyes, the outline of his lips, slightly parted. Asleep. Serene.

Wren settled back against the pillow, let his aching body sink into the mattress, and shut his eyes. He could feel Theo’s pulse now, steady and strong, and the rise and fall of his chest beneath their entwined fingers. Another thing to get used to, he thought, as he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, the first thing Wren noticed was the sun. It was brighter than he’d been expecting, shining directly into his eyes through a gap in the curtains, and he had to raise a groggy hand up to his face to avoid being blinded. His other arm felt heavy, and he realised it was still, somehow, trapped beneath Theo, who still looked fast asleep. They’d spent the whole night embracing. The thought warmed him, even as he pulled away, trying his best not to disturb the sleeping figure. Sitting up, he lowered his hand, and looked over at the other man. The soft morning light suited him, lent his skin a healthy-looking glow and coloured his hair a nice honey, especially at the edges where it curled. He noticed a few more things he’d missed the night before, a freckle on his ear, the ghost of laugh lines indenting the corners of his eye, and sat there for a moment, enjoying the opportunity to just observe him in a rare moment of stillness. 

He wanted to lie back down and slip his arms around Theo again, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, and while hugging him was enticing on its own, he had a feeling that might wake him up, which was the last thing he wanted to do. Besides, he was hungry. The meal last night hadn’t exactly been filling, and while he’d been too nervous, then preoccupied, then tired to do anything about it earlier, he couldn’t ignore the gnawing in his stomach any longer. So it was with regret that he kicked off the covers and pushed himself out of bed.

First thing on the agenda: get dressed. He’d left his duffel bag by the mirror, which was, thankfully, one landmark which hadn’t gotten lost in all the chaos of the night before. Tugging on a t-shirt and a fresh pair of boxers, it took him a moment to remember he’d left his jeans in the hallway. A part of him didn’t particularly want to run into Jeremy while half-dressed, but a bigger part of him decided he didn’t care, and after listening at the door for a moment or two, he decided he’d take the risk. 

Luckily, the loft seemed empty—though someone had picked up Theo’s cane and his tie, so either Jeremy had been and gone or they’d fallen victim to a very courteous burglar. Nobody had stolen his jeans, though, and he pulled them on in the hallway, before shoving his tie into the carrier bag and slipping it over his wrist. He picked up Theo’s blazer and cane too, and grabbed an apple from the kitchen before heading back to their room.

Next: figure out what time it was. Jeremy had gone, or was maybe still in bed, so it had to be either really early or really late. Wren thought he’d left his phone on the bedside table, but it wasn’t there, and it didn’t look as though he’d knocked it off or dropped it, not even under the bed. (He did find a pillow stuffed into a very familiar sweatshirt, though, which he extracted and carefully placed back on the bed.) He’d definitely had it before dinner—he remembered texting Theo to say he was running late—and for a moment he was worried he’d left it in the restaurant, but he found it eventually, tucked into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, still crumpled into a pile on the floor along with the rest of his clothes from the night before.

He fished it out and perched on the end of the bed as he tapped the screen to turn it on. The first thing he noticed was a text from Theo, which he must have sent over dinner last night—the photo the nice woman had taken of them. He’d forgotten about that. But the smile faded off his face when he caught sight of the time. Shit. Ten past nine. And it was Friday. Theo was going to be late for work.

Wren cast a stricken look back to where Theo lay, still sleeping. He didn’t want to wake him up. But he also didn’t want him to get into trouble.

After a moment of deliberation, he got up and knelt by his side.

“Theo?” he said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Theo, you need to get up. It’s nine o’clock. You have work.”