by Laura Stone
Chapter Nineteen
Monday came, a day they spent doing laundry and packing for the trip to the airport later that afternoon. Oliver agreed to wear the outfit Seth picked out for his meeting at Silver and finally handed over his laptop, giving Seth the chance to look up David Falchurch’s reviews.
“I don’t know why you’re nervous. No one can compare with you, Seth.”
“That’s sweet,” Seth said, twisting to give him a smile. “And ridiculous. Now hush, and get back to folding socks while I do damage control.”
Oliver smiled to see their suitcases side by side on his bed as they packed.
“Oh my God.”
“What?” Oliver asked, dropping his socks and rushing to Seth’s side. Seth had his hand pressed to his mouth.
“Seth, what is it?”
Seth’s face broke into a huge grin. “He sucked!”
Oliver looked over his shoulder at the computer screen as Seth did a little wiggly dance. “Where has our city’s songbird gone?” Oliver read. “Falchurch may have originated the role, but Seth Larsen stepped in and made it his own. Having seen the chemistry between Larsen and Rogers, living and dying along with them as they performed, watching this usurper try to create an immortal love with Rogers was practically an insult.
“His voice may have gotten stronger during his time away, but his vocal range is painfully limited compared to that of Mr. Larsen. And again I ask: Where has Mr. Larsen gone? Thankfully I’ve heard from the production team that they intend to bring him back after this ‘experiment.’ Let’s hope they never attempt another.”
Seth was doing a rhythmic shoulder shake, singing, “Ha ha ha, ha ha ha.” Oliver turned and swept Seth up in his arms, laughing. “They love you! See?” Oliver kissed him loudly on the lips. “I get to say ‘I told you so’ when it turns out okay, don’t I?”
Seth threw his arms around Oliver’s neck and kissed him back. “Yes.”
Oliver pulled Seth off his feet in another bracing hug, held his face in his hands and beamed. “They want you! Told you so.”
Seth rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Oh my God, it really worried me, and I’m so relieved.” He sighed and rested his forehead on Oliver’s shoulder. “I can’t wait to get back and call my dad. He told me the same thing you did, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up just to have them squashed, you know?”
Oh, did he. “So you’re a permanent fixture on Broadway, huh?” Oliver asked.
“Looks that way,” Seth laughed, hopping up and carefully folding a pair of freshly washed jeans. He laid them inside his suitcase, sighed and turned to slip his arms around Oliver’s waist and rest his cheek on his shoulder. “That’s where I’ll be,” he said, both proud and wistful, as if he was telling Oliver where he’d be waiting, once again, for Oliver to choose him.
Oliver wrapped his arms around Seth, smoothing a hand up and down the flat planes of his back. His stomach was starting to twist into knots with anticipation for this trip and the meetings he had scheduled. He had no idea if Silver could meet his expectations, if it could truly compete with Cambridge. He didn’t know what would happen if it didn’t meet his needs and he found himself there in Seth’s apartment, packing to leave. For good. He just had to keep telling himself that for now it was still the two of them. They’d tackle the future when they finally knew what to expect.
They finally got everything packed and set by the front door. Janos was elbow-deep in a sandwich, and looked up from his plate with both cheeks full as they gathered their things.
Janos held a finger up to them to get them to wait, swallowed and wiped his mouth. He stood and clasped Seth by the shoulders and said, “Seth, you are a good guy. It was good knowing you. Safe travels,” and kissed him on both cheeks, letting him go with a squeeze.
“Oh, well. How… very continental!” Seth was positively flushed. “It was very good to meet you, as well.” He shot Oliver a bewildered stare, but Oliver was too busy holding back a laugh.
“I’ll be back in a few days, then?” Oliver said.
Janos gave him the same treatment: shoulder clasp and two kisses. He waved at them and went right back to his sandwich, eating it as if it held the secret to the meaning of life.
“Okay then, shall we?” Oliver said, suppressing laughter as they grabbed their luggage.
* * *
Traveling was fun, but traveling with someone was even better. They held hands during takeoff, smiled when pressed back into their seats from the gravitational force, and continued to smile once they’d leveled off at cruising altitude. It was too noisy to carry on a proper conversation, so Seth pulled the armrest up and tugged on Oliver’s sleeve to get him to scoot closer so he could see the vast ocean out of Seth’s window. They settled in with their books and zoned in and out of sleep for the duration of the flight.
They disembarked, sharing a few looks of exaggerated exasperation as they moved through customs. Seth quietly said, “This way,” as he pointed Oliver to the direction of the cab stand.
Seth rested his head on Oliver’s shoulder, sighing softly, as they stood in line. A very chipper man with a thick accent quickly took their bags and stowed them in the trunk of his cab as the two slid into the back seat. Seth gave him directions to his apartment in Brooklyn Heights and flopped back against the seat to be gathered up in Oliver’s arms as they drove through traffic.
“I’m excited to see your place,” Oliver said after several minutes of quiet.
“Well, it’s not much, but at least it has an actual kitchen and not just a microwave and mini-fridge, like my first New York apartment.”
They fell back into silence. Oliver rubbed soothing patterns into Seth’s shoulder and arm and watched the city pass by. It was as if he’d gone through the looking glass and was stepping into their imagined future at last, except that everything was so unsettled. It wasn’t a happy, elated homecoming, but a nerve-wracking “what if?”
Seth tried to pay the fare when they pulled up to his six-story apartment building, but Oliver waved him off. “They’re paying my expenses, you know.”
“At least we have an elevator,” Seth said as they lugged their suitcases up the concrete stoop. Seth’s place was on the fifth floor, and the ride was quiet. Even Seth’s voice had steadily grown quieter; they reached his door and he said, “Here we are,” quietly and opened the door.
He dropped his keys on the console by the front door—there was a small decorative bowl for just that purpose. Across from that was a shallow closet (“One of two! Very exciting.”) for their coats, and as Oliver reached for the doorknob to open it, his heart gave a staggering thump. It opened to the right, just as the door in his dream had. There were pictures on Seth’s wall, as well; pictures of him in different casts, and in every one of them he wore a joyous smile.
Seth was happy in these pictures. Seth had been happy before Oliver came in like a tornado, ripping up everything in his path. Maybe, if this whole situation didn’t end up working in their favor, he would take away Seth’s chance at being happy again.
“Oliver? Are there no hangers? If you see a wire one, don’t use it. I keep the ones from the dry cleaner’s in there to remind me to recycle them.”
Oliver cleared his throat, forced himself to smile and replied, “No, it’s fine, and thank you.”
“Well?” Seth said, smiling and cocking his head to the side. “Don’t you want a tour?”
Laughing, Oliver let himself be led a few feet into the center of the apartment. Seth stood behind him, hands on his shoulders and pointed him left. “That’s the kitchen, and don’t be jealous of the Formica counters. They’re very chic.” He turned Oliver ninety degrees to the left. “The entryway, but doesn’t it look different from this angle?” Oliver laughed and let Seth turn him another ninety degrees. “I know it’s only one foot long, but my realtor and I agree that this is my hallway. Bathroom on the right, bedroom on the left.”
“I’ll take a right, then, if you don’t mind.”
“I’ll be in here when you’re finished,” Seth said, kissing Oliver on the back of his neck and rolling his suitcase into his bedroom.
Oliver took care of necessities and washed his hands, letting the soothing cool water run over his wrists. He glanced at the toothbrush holder next to the faucet. It had space for two brushes, but there was only one. The nerves that had been building slowly over the past few days were having a full-scale riot in his gut. It was all so close, everything he’d wanted. A cozy place for the two of them, a happy and fulfilling life, in which they were both achieving their dreams, and love waiting at home at the end of the day.
But what if? He couldn’t bring himself to think about the alternative. To come home after his meetings and look at Seth’s crestfallen face when he explained that he was sorry for getting Seth’s hopes up again, but it just wasn’t going to happen? He pressed his cool, damp palms over his eyes and tried to control his breathing.
First thing in the morning, he’d meet with the people at Silver. He’d get a better idea of what he needed to do; and if it was to stay in England, he would just have to come back to Seth’s apartment and tell him. Maybe he could convince Seth this time… He clutched at his stomach and breathed deeply.
He had brought this on himself; he needed to make things as easy for Seth as possible, no matter what the outcome.
Since they were still on Cambridge time, it was close to midnight on their body-clocks and they decided to order in and get a good night’s sleep before their big day. Seth—anxious to prove that he’d earned his role—wanted to work with his vocal coach all the next day to undo any damage from not performing for a week and come back with a splash.
Seth hadn’t lied about his sofa, or rather, loveseat. (“They call it that because you have to love whoever you’re sitting next to, since you’ll practically be in their lap.”) Oliver was grateful that he loved Seth, then, as he sat against the short, square armrest with Seth laying back against him, holding a takeout box of spicy noodles in one hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other. He fed them both while they caught up on the news.
It could end like this: shared food, shared space, shared lives. Oliver could come home after a long day, swing through a deli and pick up some of Seth’s favorite things for dinner; maybe he’d come home to find that Seth had done that for him. There could be bills and junk mail with both of their names on it.
Or he could ruin everything. He could shatter Seth’s world again and spend six more years being intellectually fulfilled while his heart remained empty. His hand convulsed slightly on the armrest, and he ran it up and down Seth’s bicep. He needed to hold on to the fantasy a little while longer.
Oliver offered to clean up while Seth took a shower and got ready for bed. He was bent over at the waist to retrieve an errant packet of duck sauce when he heard Seth make a pained noise in the bathroom. Quickly he dashed to the bathroom door, knocked and called out, “Seth? Are you okay?”
“Oh my God. I missed proper water pressure so, so much.”
Oliver pressed his forehead to the door and rolled it from side to side. “I thought you were hurt!”
“No! Sorry! Just… you’ll see when you get in here. But I’m going to need a moment alone with my shower head, thank you. “
Oliver laughed, his panic ebbing. He pressed the flat of his hand against the door and forced his breathing to settle. It was fine. It was all going to be fine, he told himself, and headed back to the kitchen before taking his turn in the bathroom to see if the shower lived up to the hype.
Feeling rather blissed out after a hot shower, Oliver entered Seth’s bedroom, rubbing a towel over his hair with another one secured around his hips. Seth had a smug expression on his face, legs crossed at the ankle as he reclined back against his headboard, where he’d been reading.
“Holy shit.”
Seth laughed. “I told you!”
“It’s… oh my God.”
“I didn’t want to be rude while I was a guest in your home, but seriously, Oliver. Your shower… it’s like being spit on by angry cats. You can’t tell me you want that for another six years.”
They both went still at that. Seth blushed, ducked his head and tucked a card into the book he’d been reading. Oliver’s heart was racing, and that blissed out feeling had suddenly all but disintegrated. Seth looked down at the book in his hand and shook his head, as if he was mad at himself. He murmured, “Sorry,” and then hopped off the bed to pull the blanket and sheets down.
“Get ready for your second ‘oh my God’ of the night,” Seth said, a little too brightly.
Oliver cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting for Seth to finish that thought. Seth laughed, bent over at the waist and pressed his face into the mattress, his back shaking up and down. “I meant the mattress,” Seth said, his voice muffled by the downy bedding.
Oliver was determined to keep things positive on this last night before they had an idea of what was to come. He chuckled as he slipped into the cool, thick sheets and immediately closed his eyes and moaned, upon stretching out, “Oh my God. It’s like sleeping on a flock of geese.”
“If they were made of silk,” Seth said as he shut off his bedside lamp.
“Got anymore ‘oh my God’ things for me?”
Seth’s laughter melted into a hum as he settled into his fluffy pillows. They both turned on their sides to face each other. Seth reached out and ran his fingers through the hair over Oliver’s ear; Oliver immediately felt the volume of his worries dial down just from the contact.
“So. We’ll see how tomorrow goes, hmm?”
Oliver opened his eyes to find Seth just inches away, watching his fingers move through Oliver’s hair. His heart clenched painfully with how much he loved Seth; everything was hanging in the balance, and here was Seth, soothing him.
“God, I love you so much,” Oliver said, bringing their foreheads together. He wished that things had just gone perfectly all those years ago, so they wouldn’t be in this mess now.
Seth lay back against the pillows and motioned for Oliver to snuggle close. “I love you, too,” he said, kissing Oliver’s hairline as his arms tightened around him.
As tired as he was from a long day of travel, Oliver couldn’t fall asleep quickly. He watched the streetlights play across the bedroom wall, laid his palm on Seth’s chest to feel the gentle rise and fall as he breathed, and hoped with everything in him that Silver would be the right choice.
* * *
Oliver woke up before Seth; his body was still used to a different time zone, so it seemed late. It wasn’t so bad, though—just after six—so he quietly got out of bed, pulled the blanket up over Seth’s shoulder to keep him warm, and went about making coffee. It took him a few moments of poking around to find all of the things he needed to make them breakfast.
While the coffee was brewing, he pulled out his laptop up to check his email. Dr. Jones had sent an itinerary for the day: meet her in her office off of Washington, tour the campus and meet with one of her colleague’s students, who could give Oliver a more in-depth tour from the perspective of a doctoral candidate.
He was searching subway routes on Google maps when he heard a yawn; Seth was standing in the living room, stretching with sleep-mussed hair. Something warm and peaceful unfurled inside Oliver at the sight.
“Coffee?”
“Mm hmm,” Oliver answered. “I didn’t know which mug you liked best, so, I set out an assortment.”
Seth snorted. “Excellent array of sizes and materials. I’m impressed.” He dropped a kiss on Oliver’s head and went about pouring a cup. “I don’t care what it’s served in as long as it ends up in me, to be honest.”
“No special mug?”
Seth’s eyes flicked to the mug next to Oliver’s computer. “No.”
Oliver looked at the ceramic travel mug he was using—he’d chosen it because it had reminded him of the paper cups from the Coffee Bean back in Atchison, where they went every day after school. His hear
t rate picked up at the thought that Seth might have bought it for the same reason. Oliver gave up the bar stool to Seth before he could protest.
“I’m making breakfast, silly.”
“Oh! Well, then be my guest,” Seth said, smiling as he sipped his coffee.
Simple scrambled eggs, toast and juice made a perfect breakfast; since Oliver was so nervous about the day, he didn’t think he could stomach even that much, but Seth insisted he eat something.
Seth took his plate away and gave him a kiss. “Now go get ready so I can see how cute you look all dressed up again.”
Oliver felt almost disconnected from reality as he cleaned himself up and dressed. In Seth’s apartment. In New York City. While he prepared to interview a school so that he could possibly move here and they could actually have a life together, as they’d dreamed.
He tried to focus on the tasks at hand—brush teeth, wipe counter, comb hair, give up on hair, pick a tie—so he didn’t have a full-fledged panic attack about the huge, looming “what if” hanging over their heads.
What if the school was wrong? What if the school was just okay? What if the school was perfect? Oh God, what if it was? Would they just pick up as if nothing had happened? Would Seth help Oliver find an apartment, or would Oliver convince Seth to maybe find a bigger place with him? Oh, God, if he decided to go back to Cambridge, would Seth even let him stay the night or would he kick—
Oliver hung onto the edge of the sink and shook his head, telling himself to get a grip. He rolled his eyes at his reflection and headed to the bedroom to finish dressing only to find a nice light-colored sport coat and coordinating button down-shirt waiting for him.
Seth popped his head into the bedroom and asked, “Casual but intellectual?”
Oliver couldn’t help but smile, not when Seth’s thoughtfulness helped take the edge off of his developing panic. “Perfect,” he answered, his smile widening at the relieved look Seth gave him in return. He winked at him and backed out. Oliver looked around for the tie he’d packed and didn’t see it.