by Aidan Wayne
Sam Doyle: Well either way, I appreciate it, and I appreciate you. And also I just wanted to say... I hope you don’t think I’m only talking to you FOR the advice. I like all our conversations.
Sam Doyle: I just wanted to clarify that.
Dovid Rosenstein: Thank you. And don’t worry—I didn’t think you were taking advantage of me or whatever. If anything I kind of felt a little like I was bothering you. Because I was contacting you to just have conversation, instead of discussing YouTube.
Sam Doyle: Oh no! You’ve been absolutely lovely on all events.
Dovid clutched at his hair. “Absolutely lovely”? And Sam was talking about him. About their conversations.
Dovid Rosenstein: Good to know :)
* * *
“Are we live?” Dovid asked. “Guys, if you can hear us, the phrase of the day is ‘barracuda.’”
“Why ‘barracuda’?” Rachel asked.
Dovid shrugged. “It popped into my head.”
“Alright then, well, Timmy from Holland says ‘barracuda,’ Oliver from Florida says ‘barracuda,’ Sandeep from England says it, so does Alex, Reign47, Theintrepidmrox—awesome name, by the way—”
“Cool! Looks like we’re up and running. So hey, guys, this is Don’t Look Now with Dovid and Rachel. I’m Dovid, Rachel’s behind the camera, and today we were going to do a review of Applebubble, a new boba tea place that just opened up in the area, but then we were hit by basically a monsoon—thanks, end-of-April showers, and, frankly, Rachel and I refuse to leave the house. So instead it’s rainy-day livestream time!”
Dovid had released the information that he and Rachel would be doing a livestream around eleven, and Twitter and chat were bustling by the time they’d got everything set up at eleven-thirty.
Sam had even said he’d be watching. He’d gotten out of work and was home making dinner, and texted Dovid to say he was excited to actually be watching a livestream live for once. It made Dovid go warm all over, to hear that from him. Especially after watching Sam’s latest Brightforest video.
Fuck, he was so in love.
He cleared his throat and went through the motions of asking where everyone was from, and then opened the floor to questions.
“You look really happy,” Rachel read, from Antonio in California. “Did something good happen?”
“I look happy?”
“You are kind of beaming your head off,” Rachel said.
“Oh.” Dovid felt his cheeks. He was indeed smiling pretty wide. “Let’s just say that I have someone in particular watching today. They haven’t been able to catch any of my streams until now, and we’ve both been looking forward to them getting to watch a live one.”
Rachel sighed in exasperation. “Surprise, surprise, but the next thirty questions are all about you being in love.”
Dovid rested his chin in his hand and did not stop smiling. “I will neither confirm nor deny that fact.”
“Oh my god, Dovid. Just announce it to the world why don’t you.” Then, “‘Oh, oh, is the person listening the one you’re in love with?’ Sam from Canada.”
“Hi, Sam from Canada! And quite a lot of people are listening to me today, I think. Who knows? If I am in love, it might be with one of them.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Rachel said flatly.
Dovid shrugged. “I’m happy. Hopefully that makes for good entertainment.”
“You do realize that someone in particular, who, as we have established, is watching, might be making some assumptions now, right?”
“What can I say? I’m feeling brave. Hear that guys? You’re making me feel brave!”
“Oh, for pity’s sake—”
“Next question?”
Rachel sighed again. “Moving on, Natalie from the Netherlands wants to know if you’re going to be doing another baking segment soon, because she really likes them.”
“Oh cool, yeah, sure, Natalie, I can do that. Anything in particular you guys want to have me bake?”
* * *
Sam stared wordlessly at his screen.
Dovid couldn’t possibly have meant—
No, no that was...that was ridiculous. Not Dovid. Not smart, handsome, clever, creative, successful—
He couldn’t possibly be interested in boring old Sam. Sam was a nobody. He was terribly unexciting. He worked in IT. He liked quiet, and tea, and video games, and reading.
And yet...
And yet Dovid had said he’d liked that Sam liked all those things.
He’d said that he respected Sam’s opinions. That he thought Sam was one of the nicest people he’d ever met.
He’d said that Sam was special.
And...
And he’d just insinuated that he was in love with him.
Sam swallowed, throat dry. He couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t wished, hoped it were true.
But was he brave enough to bring it up when they talked next, if Dovid didn’t?
* * *
After the livestream was over and Rachel was putting away the lights and camera, Dovid helping to clean up the mess of boxes and wrappers and food—Rachel would help him sort through it all later—he eagerly checked his phone, hoping for a message from Sam.
There wasn’t one.
Trying not to feel too crushed, Dovid thought about what to do next. He’d basically gone and all but out-and-out declared his love for Sam on his channel during a livestream.
Sam had said he hadn’t minded the speculation.
But...
But he might have minded things now, now that they no longer were just speculation.
Dovid tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. Had he done the wrong thing? He’d wanted to come clean about his feelings, and this was one of the ways he knew how. He’d been giddy.
Shit, fuck, he’d just done the equivalent of proposing to someone in a public place. He had done that; the internet was as much a public place as any. More so. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He must have made Sam uncomfortable. And now there was no way to take it back. He could not put the video up on YouTube, but there were still all the people who’d tuned in, who’d be buzzing.
And Sam knew. Sam knew now, he had to know. Dovid hadn’t been subtle and now—
Now Dovid might have gone and just ruined everything.
* * *
Sam picked up his phone. Put it down again. Moved to write a message and stopped. Dovid hadn’t sent him anything. The last thing Sam wanted to do was assume. Assume that Dovid really had been talking about him, and not somebody else. Somebody else who was probably attractive and funny and interesting. Who was more extroverted.
Who lived on the same bloody continent.
He went to wash his dinner dishes, to at least give himself something to do, instead of think about what Dovid could possibly have meant. If he had meant those words for Sam. Sam wanted them to be. God, did he want them to be.
He finished his dishes and set them to dry, checked his phone. Still nothing.
Should he send a message first? Maybe that’s what Dovid was waiting for. If Sam at least sent out a message, he wouldn’t have to stew like this just wondering.
In the end, he tried for something simple, unambiguous.
Sam Doyle: Hi, Dovid. I was able to watch your livestream today, like we talked about. It was so interesting to see it while it was actually live! And it was nice to see you so happy :)
There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?
Either way, he’d sent it off now. Nothing else to do but wait. If Dovid replied and acted normal, Sam would know he couldn’t have possibly been talking about him.
If he didn’t...
Sam would just wait and see.
* * *
Dovid got Sam’s message and instantly got all twisted up into knots. What did Sam mean, it was n
ice to see Dovid happy? Did he get the message? He didn’t sound upset, but it was easy not to sound upset when things were just words on a screen.
Did he know what Dovid had meant? Had he maybe thought it had been a joke?
“For fuck’s sake, just ask him,” Rachel said, exasperated. “He’s spent this much time talking to you, he has to like you.”
“Liking me is different from liking me back,” Dovid pointed out. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll have ruined, like, the best relationship I’ve ever had.”
“You’re not even in a relationship with him!”
“He’s my friend, Rachel. He’s my friend and I value that.”
“Yes, but you’re also totally dopey about him and want to kiss his face a bunch.”
“Maybe,” Dovid muttered. “My point still stands.”
“If you don’t ask him, I will.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“I mean it. You two need an intervention.”
“If he doesn’t—”
“If he doesn’t what? He’s mentioned being shy in his videos like a dozen times. I bet he doesn’t even know what to do. I’ll just ask him what he thought about the video. Bam. Easy.”
“Please don’t.”
“Then you need to actually make a decision about what to do. Because you’re driving me nuts.”
Dovid took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, I’ll—I’ll talk to him.”
“You better.”
* * *
Dovid Rosenstein: Hey, Sam! Could we talk?
Sam Doyle: Of course. What’s up?
Dovid Rosenstein: I mean talk talk. On the phone. If that’s cool with you?
Sam swallowed, but made himself call Dovid’s number.
“Sam! Hey.”
“Hi, Dovid. How’re you doing?”
“Really good now that, uh, now that I’m talking to you.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. I got your message. I—I’m glad you liked the video.”
Sam tried for a smile. Dovid sounded about as nervous as Sam felt. Why? “I really did! It’s amazing how many people talk to you from all over the world. And it’s so interesting. I feel like I learn a dozen more neat facts about you every time I watch another one of your videos.”
“I’m glad. And, uh, about what else you said. My being happy? Yeah, I was happy. I was really happy. Because you were watching me.”
Sam’s breath caught. “Dovid—”
“I was talking about you. In—in the video. I was talking about you.”
Sam opened his mouth, but couldn’t manage a sound. He squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed by those words. Dovid loved him. Dovid loved him. Dovid thought Sam was someone worth loving.
“Sam? Sam, please say something.” Dovid’s voice was small and afraid, and Sam never wanted him to sound like that ever again.
“I—” He still didn’t know what to say. “I was hoping you were,” he blurted out. “But I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to assume.”
“Well. Now you’re not assuming. Because I’m telling you. It—it doesn’t bother you?” A pause, followed by, “You...you were hoping I was?”
“Yes,” Sam said. Easily. It was easy to say it aloud, now that he knew Dovid felt the same way. “Yes, of course. Dovid, you’re wonderful. I said it before, that anyone would be lucky to have you. I meant it then. I mean it now. The thought that you like me makes me so happy. I don’t—I don’t know what I can say.”
“Oh god, you just said so much. I’m really happy. I’m so, so happy.”
Sam knew his smile was watery when he said, “I’m so glad.”
“Yeah. Yeah I...”
“Yes?”
“I wish I could see you,” Dovid said quietly.
Sam was about to say you can or offer to Skype when he remembered why Dovid couldn’t.
“What else could I do?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“So you could see me. Without, um, actually seeing me. How would you like to—I could do something. If you wanted. I’m not quite sure what but—erm. I’d try?”
Dovid laughed. “God, I lo-like you so much. Honestly, if we were any closer it would be touching. That’s one of the ways I see. Um, scent too. People smell different. Their natural odors, their shampoos, body wash, deodorant, if they wear aftershave or perfume. Rachel always smells like coconut and tea tree oil.”
“I wear a cologne,” Sam said. “Um. I could...send you some?”
“What, really?”
“I mean, if that’s not too weird.”
“No, no, that would be awesome. Actually, uh—” He cut himself off. “No, nevermind, sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You haven’t even asked anything. Go ahead.”
“I...” Dovid sounded flustered. It was cute. “If you have maybe, um. A shirt? That you don’t mind, um, parting with? Like an old one.”
“I have sleep shirts,” Sam said. “Would that work? I could send you one.”
“Fuck, you mean it?”
“Of course I do. I wouldn’t have offered if I weren’t sure.” He hesitated before adding, “And to be quite honest, I, ah, very much enjoy the idea of you in one of my shirts.”
“Fuck.”
“Was that alright to say?” Sam asked uneasily. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable—”
“You have no fucking idea what you do to me,” Dovid said. “Believe me, the last thing that sentence did was make me uncomfortable. I love the idea of wearing one of your shirts. Please send me one. I’ll text you my address.”
“Alright.”
“If—if you don’t mind sharing your own address, I could send you one of mine too.”
“Oh,” Sam said. “I think I’d like that very much.”
* * *
“I told you so,” Rachel crowed. “Did I not tell you so?”
“Yes,” Dovid said happily. “You absolutely did. You were right. You were so right. I can’t believe it. He likes me back.”
“He likes you back.”
“He’s going to send me one of his shirts,” he said gleefully.
“Dovid.” Rachel came up to him and clapped him on the shoulder. “I am very happy for you. When he eventually visits, let me know so I can say hi in person, and then go visit Mom and Dad for a week.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you’ll want to pound him into the mattress or vice versa, and I refuse to be around to listen to that through the bedroom walls.”
“Oh my god, Rachel.”
“What? Is it not true?”
“No, it actually isn’t. I don’t even know if Sam is sexual. I didn’t ask. And it’s never come up in his videos.”
“Huh. That’s a tricky question to ask too. Not everyone goes around wearing buttons.”
“Not to mention I can’t see the buttons. But no, yeah, I... It won’t be an issue for probably a long time.” As much as it sucked, Dovid didn’t exactly have any plans to go to Ireland anytime soon, and he wasn’t about to ask Sam to come to Seattle for a visit. Even if Dovid really wanted to be able to be with Sam in person. Just to touch him. Hold his hand.
Kiss him, if Sam was into that.
“Alright, I have no idea where you went,” Rachel said, “but come back down to earth. We have social media to attend to.”
“Fine, fine.”
* * *
Sam Doyle: Good morning! I hope you’re doing well. I just wanted to let you know that I got your package. Thank you so much! I wasn’t expecting quite so many things, but the candies and snacks all look very interesting.
Sam Doyle: And the shirt is perfect, thank you. It obviously doesn’t fit quite right (I’m afraid I’m rather tall and gangly), but it’s really soft, so it’s nice to sleep in.
Dovid
grinned.
Dovid Rosenstein: Hey! Glad you liked the care package. I woke up in YOUR shirt this morning, which was basically the best. And that’s interesting to know you’re tall! I never actually asked before, what you look like.
Sam Doyle: Oh, well, I could describe myself? If you wanted.
Dovid Rosenstein: Oh yeah, please :)
Sam Doyle: Alright. Well, as I said, I’m quite tall. 189 centimeters. Long-limbed, you know. My mum always used to say I was all elbows and knees. I never quite grew out of that stage.
Dovid Rosenstein: Okay, I just googled the conversion and wow, you’re 6’2”? I’m only 5’10”.
Sam Doyle: Oh yes, I remember you saying. But that’s still tall!
Dovid Rosenstein: Haha, don’t worry, I’ve never cared about my height. Rachel’s only 5‘6”, and she’s forever going on about how unfair that is. Anyway, keep going?
Sam Doyle: Okay, well, um, I’m a redhead. Which I understand is so ridiculously stereotypical, but there it is. I’m clean-shaven, because I look abysmal with a beard. And I’m absolutely covered in freckles. I spend three minutes out in the sun and there always seems to be more of them. My ears stick out a bit—they’re rather big.
Sam Doyle: I’m not all that much to look at, to be honest.
Dovid Rosenstein: I have a hard time believing that. But also, like, guess how much that matters to me?
Sam Doyle: It doesn’t bother you? I mean, even if you can’t see me, most other people can.
Dovid was suddenly furious. For Sam to react like that, someone must have obviously said something to him. Maybe when he was younger, or recently, and maybe more than once. And that was just so patently unfair.
Dovid Rosenstein: Fuck ’em. You’re amazing, and you’re beautiful. Am I not allowed to have an opinion, just because I can’t see?
Sam Doyle: No, no, of course not. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to imply your opinion wasn’t important. Of course it is. I—you’re right. Actually, your opinion is rather the most important one.