by Max Hudson
Lance peered out of his room door. Her room was locked and the main living room space was empty. Unless she was in the bathroom, she had probably gone out. He would have time to go and get his belongings from the front room and the kitchen space. A few games, a controller to the shared console... He was pretty sure there was something else, a few other things, in fact, but he couldn't think straight.
Lance turned back into the room. "She's gone but I'm terrified I'll forget something."
"Shall we do a sweep at the end to make sure you have all you need?" Stefan asked.
Lance nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks for helping."
"If you want, you can finish packing and I'll go grab my car. Make shit easier," Stefan said with a grin.
Lance paused, contemplating it. "Nah, it'll be two cases and two, maybe three bags. We can walk it. I'd rather have you here to help."
"If it's that little, then do you need me to- Oh," Stefan said, realization dawning. "You mean like, emotional, or like, defending... Okay. Yeah." He fell silent again.
"Yeah," Lance said, feeling himself blush. "I appreciate what you did for me back there."
"She is...something," Stefan said, seemingly in agreement.
Lance sighed wearily. "Yes. I wish I'd seen before it came to this."
"Is any of the furniture yours?" Stefan asked. "I can call the police and maybe they can help out."
"No furniture," Lance replied. "Well, the console is shared, and we bought the couch together, but I'm happy to be down a couple of hundred dollars rather than deal with arguing what I should be allowed to keep. This isn't a divorce."
"Fair," Stefan said, looking Lance up and down.
Lance suddenly realized he was still just in his boxers and began looking around for any clothes they hadn't packed yet.
"Like the cops would ever give a shit about this anyway," Lance said, pulling an old Christmas jumper on. "They'd probably arrest me for causing a disturbance or some shit. I don't trust ‘em."
"I guess so. I've never really had to deal with them," Stefan replied.
Lance hesitated as he pulled a pair of jeans from the top of the open laundry bag. "I have. They all have their shit. I guess all people do. I don't want to play coin toss to see if the cop we called is racist or sexist, or just a jackass, or fair, or whatever. It's just not worth bringing someone else into the building, you know, cop or not. I appreciate the suggestion but... If I'm not gonna die, I don't think the cops need to be involved."
Stefan nodded. "Yeah. I just- I want to help. Any way I can."
"You are helping," Lance replied with a slight laugh. "More than anyone."
"You didn't ask anyone else though," Stefan replied.
"I don't think I'd want anyone else to help, to be honest," Lance said. "I think I just don't want to be a burden to anyone. I don't want people to feel like I'm taking too much and not giving enough. You know me, and you understand me, and you seem to care. I dunno.”
"So, you feel like you've done enough for me that I can't complain?" Stefan asked with a grin.
Lance shrugged. "I don't think that. I just think you know and like me enough, and you would tell me if you wanted anything, so it's all cool."
"Most people would love to help you," Stefan replied. "People like you."
Lance knew this, of course, but it still felt good to hear someone as honest and kind as Stefan say it. It felt like it meant something coming from Stefan. Everything felt more genuine coming from Stefan.
Once both cases were taken down to the front door, Lance felt scared. "So, where do I go now? Maybe the student union has some way of getting me a house."
"You're staying with me," Stefan said, deadpan. "Unless you really don't want to."
"I thought you were just saying it to piss off Millie," Lance replied, a little stunned. "I didn't think that—”
"Like I said, my mom never uses her craft room. Well, rarely. And it has a spare bed. Technically it's a guest room too. So you can stay with me," Stefan explained. "Unless you would rather go somewhere else. I thought you didn't want to inconvenience other people, though. Just me."
Seeing Stefan smile a little at his own joke, Lance laughed as well. "I mean, if you want me to inconvenience you, I will."
"I would like you to inconvenience me," Stefan said.
Lance wrapped his arms around Stefan. "Thank you so fucking much. I mean, I know your mom has to agree, but thanks."
"Mom won't disagree," Stefan said, patting Lance on the back as they separated and reaching for a suitcase and the one bag of laundry they had needed to assemble. "She's Mom. Plus, she likes you. She still tells me shit about when we were little, like, all the time."
"Such as?" Lance asked. "Anything embarrassing? Or funny?" He picked up the second suitcase. It physically hurt his joints, it was so heavy, and he regretted not having ones on wheels. He knew the bag and case Stefan was carrying were both heavier than this last one. Stefan was stronger than Lance, sure, but it wasn't fair to complain when Stefan was going out of his way to help like that.
Stefan shrugged. "Nah, just...mom stuff. I think she has fond memories of us growing up together. You have been my friend for so long, and you were kind of the only friend I had most years."
"It always surprised me that you wanted to be my friend," Lance replied. "I know a lot of people want to be my friend. I know people like me. I'm not oblivious. You are so different from me, because you seem to like your own company."
"I do, but I like your company too," Stefan replied.
Lance smiled, remembering the night. "Well, obviously. But...thank you for being my friend, and more. Thank you for everything."
"It's no problem. I like you," Stefan insisted.
Lance carried on walking, silently this time, focusing on managing the case for the rest of the way to Stefan's apartment. Although his arms were painfully sore as he walked up the stairs, Lance felt happy and relieved. He had somewhere to stay, with a man he had loved for years and was just getting to know and love in a new way.
Stefan's mother wasn't home. Stefan showed Lance the guest room and they left the bags there before sitting down in front of the TV and opening a bottle of cola.
Sitting on the couch by Stefan's side, Lance felt dizzy. This time it wasn't a good kind of dizzy. It was like the culmination of the physical activity and the mental distress hit him all at once. His hands were still shaking. He had never been kicked out of anywhere before. He had never had such a bad breakup before. It was completely and utterly exhausting.
He could barely hold his glass of cola when he lifted it for a sip. He wanted to wrap his arms around Stefan and just cry. Stefan seemed so calm and pensive. Stefan had done so much already. It wasn't fair to burden him with even more emotional baggage. So, Lance just sipped his cola and tried to calm himself by focusing on the screen and letting his mind go blank.
Chapter Eight
"I dunno, I just feel like- Why me, you know?" Lance said, stirring his coffee continually.
Stefan nodded. "I know."
Seeing how shaky Lance's hands were, Stefan had decided that more caffeine and plenty of sugar was in order and made coffees. Lance had barely touched his, just getting lost in the slight foamy swirls on top, seeming exhausted and depressed. There didn't seem to be anything Stefan could do to help Lance feel better about what happened. All that could be done was let Lance get over it in his own time.
Stefan tried to put his arm across Lance's shoulder, but Lance stood up and walked back to the kitchen. Through the door Stefan saw him adding more sugar. Was that really the reason he stood up? Or was it a convenient excuse to avoid Stefan's arm? As Stefan wondered whether or not to even bother asking Lance about this, he heard the key turn in the lock and knew it was too late for that sort of conversation.
"Hey Mom," he said as she walked in the door, making sure to alert Lance.
"Oh, hey Mrs. James," Lance said, lifting his coffee to sip it, already shaking again.
&
nbsp; "Hi Lance, nice to see you here," she said with a broad smile, walking into the kitchen past Lance and setting her bag on the counter. "What brings you here? You haven't been around much lately, I was starting to wonder if Stefan and you had fallen out or something."
"About that, Mom," Stefan said. "Uh, Lance is gonna wanna stay with us if, uhm, that's okay? Millie kicked him out. Like, for good."
"Oh dear," she said, setting down the mug she had been preparing and walking back to the doorway, embracing Lance the same way she would embrace Stefan after a bad day. "How are you, honey?"
Lance just shrugged, blushing a little.
"Can he stay, then?" Stefan pressed. "Just a little while. Until he gets a place again."
"You sound just like you did when you'd beg to let him have a sleepover. He's practically family!" Stefan's mom replied with a laugh. "Of course he can stay. Don't want to leave him out there on his own."
Lance nodded, still uncomfortable under Mrs. James's arms. "Thank you," he said, looking down at the mug of coffee he couldn't lift to drink because of the embrace.
"Oh, sorry honey," she said, letting go of him. "If you want to talk about it, and your parents aren't the right people, then I'm here, okay?"
"It's not really something I want to discuss with, uh, anyone," Lance replied. "But, thanks anyway."
"Oh, and good riddance to her. If she kicks out a nice boy like you she is probably awful. Never go back to people like that," she added, returning to making her herbal tea.
Stefan was just glad that Lance had somewhere to stay guaranteed. He had not been sure his mother would agree. After all, it was technically her crafting room. She was a wonderful woman, but he never knew when she was using that room for anything at all. Lance wasn't sure why, but he had a hard time accepting that anyone was genuinely not feeling put out. He worried that they were just being polite. Even when it came to his own mother, he couldn't feel sure.
"When do you boys want lunch?" she asked, opening the fridge and looking around. "We have spaghetti and we have meatloaf."
"Spaghetti is fine," Lance replied nervously.
"I'm sorry," she said. "If I'd known you were coming I'd have made something else, but we have a load of spaghetti to finish up tonight."
"It's no trouble at all, seriously," Lance insisted. "I am happy to have anything. You've done enough for me already."
"I'll do it," Stefan said, standing up and walking into the kitchen. "I can reheat some sauce and boil pasta. You enjoy your tea."
His mother nodded and smiled. "Thanks honey."
As she gathered her bag in one hand and her mug in the other, he set about getting the food ready. He wasn't going to let her cook lunch just after getting home. She might have only worked a morning, but she had worked. He had been resting.
Stefan stood in the kitchen, reheating the sauce on the stove, listening to his mother and Lance laughing and chatting in the front room as his mother sorted the bedding for the spare bed. It was like nothing serious had even happened. It was like they were just kids again and Lance was only staying over. She hadn't panicked or acted rashly. She hadn't been angry or unduly upset. She had just adapted.
It was odd to Stefan, how something which seemed small to him could elicit a strong response from those around him, and yet something which was really as big as a whole new resident in their apartment was just accepted as their new reality. His mother welcomed Lance as though he were another son.
She was right, though. Lance was family. They had known each other for ages. It was just the right thing to do. She probably hadn't thought twice about it. Stefan was just surprised that his mother cared as much about Lance as Stefan himself did.
Stefan heard the gentle pat of her slippers on the floor as she walked in. "I can take care of that from here," she said. "The bed in the spare room is all set up for him now."
He nodded. "Thanks Mom." She really was a wonderful human being, down to the core.
Stefan walked out, seeing Lance resting on the sofa, apparently watching something on TV, but more just blankly staring through the screen. So close, yet so far away.
"Mom is finishing cooking," Stefan said.
Lance looked over his shoulder, smiling gently, and nodded. "Thank you so much for all you are both doing."
"It's nothing," Stefan replied, sitting down on the couch by Lance and resting his hand on Lance's thigh.
Lance blushed a little and looked back to the TV. "No, it isn't. It means so much to me."
Stefan had wanted to spend the night with Lance, but Lance seemed a bit cagey, a bit unsure. Stefan didn't want to make him any more uncomfortable. So, he decided on the guest room for good. It felt odd, after last night. It wouldn't be fair to force Lance into his bedroom. It would feel like taking advantage of such a good friend, to convince him to spend the night in Stefan's arms.
His hand on Lance's thigh, Stefan felt a little reassured. Truth be told, he had wanted Lance to object to the spare room. Stefan had wanted Lance to tell his mother they were seeing one another now, and that they would share the room. It felt weird to consider saying it himself. Especially if Lance saw last night as just a one-off event. And yet, Stefan had deeply hoped Lance would want this to carry on. The fact that Lance allowed Stefan's hand to rest there was enough reassurance that, whatever happened next, for now, Lance was open to the possibility of dating his best friend.
Stefan felt bad for hitting on Lance again, just to work out his own insecurities. Of course, Lance needed a little time to himself. Of course he would want to sleep in a bed on his own, be able to relax a little, think things over, maybe even cry for what he had lost with Millie.
"I will leave my bedroom door open," Stefan said, feeling his heart race a little. It just needed saying. Just in case.
Lance leaned over, resting his head on Stefan's shoulder. "I can spend the night in your room if you want me to," he said softly.
Stefan shook his head. "It is about what you want."
Lance sat up and looked Stefan in the eye, but Stefan wasn't quite sure what it meant. He was about to ask, just trying to work out the right words. At that moment, Stefan's mom came in, carrying a tray of food for Lance. "Here you go. Don't go starving yourself just because a girl ticked you off," she said.
Lance nodded and took the plate. "Thank you so much."
"It's no problem. Do you want a big helping to finish the pot, Stefan?" she asked, turning to her son.
"Yes please," Stefan replied.
"Your mom is really nice," Lance said. "I'd forgotten how nice she is. I missed hanging out with you, like before."
"I missed having you around more," Stefan replied with a chuckle. He reached over to put his hand on Lance's leg, but Lance crossed his legs that instant. It seemed intentional enough. "Are you OK?"
"I'm fine, don't worry," Lance replied. He didn't sound fine.
"Nah, if you feel lonely or scared or anything you can come to my room and hang out," Stefan suggested, trying not to sound too eager.
"I will consider it," Lance said, showing an obviously forced smile.
Stefan's mom returned with her plate and Stefan's. There was no more time to ask Lance whether he really wanted to carry on with what they had started. No chance to ask why Lance had rejected Stefan's hand suddenly. It wouldn't be right to talk about such intimate things in front of his mother.
Sitting on the couch again, eating spaghetti bolognese, Stefan wondered why Lance suddenly didn't want him. Maybe he was pining for Millie? Maybe last night was a mistake? It would be nice if Lance would just tell him, but it would be wrong to pressure him. Stefan was certain that Lance would explain himself in good time. They were friends, after all.
Chapter Nine
The food was good, at least, and the company too. Lance wasn't used to such a quiet atmosphere. At his home, when he was growing up, everyone had always been loud and happy people. Most of his other friends, as far as he could recall, lived in loud homes as well, full of children o
r full of energetic adults.
Had Stefan's house always been so quiet? He couldn't remember there ever being much noise. As a kid, Lance had not thought much about it, but he had been the main source of noise when he went to visit. Even the TV volume was so low, he could barely hear it. Lance felt bad for judging it, but his own home and his life with Millie had always been a bit livelier. It felt empty without much sound in such a large living room with two people. All Lance wanted was for them to turn up the TV or talk, to drown out his own thoughts. They seemed happy enough eating in relative silence, with some historic documentary quietly playing in the background.
In any other situation, with any other person, Lance would start talking over it, or ask for the TV to be turned up, or something. That was just how Stefan was, though. In Stefan at least, Lance liked that. He liked Stefan for himself. He couldn't force Stefan to be louder. He just wanted to be able to be himself too.
If they didn't want to talk, then Lance would talk to them.
"Hey, Stefan, you doing much this weekend?" Lance asked.
Stefan looked up from his plate of spaghetti. "Nah," he replied.
"I'm thinking of hitting some clubs over the weekend," Lance said with a shrug. "Just have fun. Want to come too?"
Stefan hesitated. "Maybe, if you will be there."
"Not really your scene, is it?" Lance asked.
Stefan nodded. "Basically."
"I mean, we can do something you like, if you really don't want to go to a club," Lance said. "I just mean, I want to go out somewhere for fun and to take my mind off things. So, if you want to go anywhere else, we can."
"To be fair, I spend most weekends indoors, on my own," Stefan said, a faint flush spreading across his cheeks. "I am not sure I could think of a place that opens on the weekend."
"You've always been the same, haven't you?" Lance asked with a slight laugh. "Even as a kid you would spend all day inside on video games."
"But you liked it," Stefan replied. "You would always come over and we'd just sit around, playing on that old setup my uncle gave me, bringing me weird retro games to try out."