“There they are! I thought you weren’t coming,” she said as she spied them now, getting off her stool behind the desk and walking around to pat Oscar on the cheek.
Laura was older than his mother but younger than Grandma. She was fat and warm and lovely, with a round face and thin metal-framed glasses over eyes as brown as Oscar’s. The purple shirt she wore today reminded Oscar of Aaron’s favorite hoodie, hanging on a hook in his own apartment. He’d worn it all day long, controller in hand, testing each corner of a level without breaking focus so he could pick Aaron up for their quiet date night.
“And miss seeingyou?” Oscar jerked his head back, eyebrows rising.
“Hi, Laura,” Aaron said, giving her a wave.
“Have some new ones in,” Laura replied. “And help yourselves.”
She headed behind her desk again, pushing a plate of cookies in their direction as she returned to her chair to read. Aaron picked one, splitting it in two and handing Oscar half, and then they zapped in the direction of the New Additions shelf.
Laura’s was the only all-queer bookshop in town, andAaron had never been before he started hanging out with Oscar. The first time Oscar had brought him, he’d marveled at each shelf, eyeing the BL manga, the sapphic sci-fi, the large wall of aroace and demi indie books Laura had collected.
When Oscar asked how come he’d never visited, Aaron had explained that ever since he’d moved here, all of his money had gone to rent or his surgery savings. There hadn’t been space in his account to buy books, too. The library had been his salvation. And Oscar understood.
For a while, Laura’s had been his library. She’d let him read so many of her books on his worst days and afternoons, and he’d promised to treat them with enough care they’d seem untouched straight after. Once, he’d accidentally bent a cover and quite nearly lost it. Oscar had already pictured himself begging on the street for money to pay her for the paperback when Laura had approached and taken the book, smoothing the cover and handing it to him.
“Happy birthday,” she’d said.
“My birthday’s in November,” Oscar had replied.
“Happy birthday,” Laura had repeated. It had been September then, just like it was now. Oscar still had that copy ofMauriceon his shelf, among the rainbow-colored volumes he’d later amassed.
“You like that?” he murmured, coming up behind Aaron and resting his chin on his shoulder to read the title.
Aaron turned the book over in his hand, thumb grazing the illustration on the front. Oscar had seen a million video edits of the characters in this book, the man in the red robes and the one in white, the demon king and the prince.
“I’ve been meaning to read it,” Aaron said, shrugging. He flipped it again, reaching to put it on the shelf. “Some other time.”
“I thought you were meaning to read it.”
Oscar pressed a kiss to his shoulder, and Aaron leaned intoit, his soft hair brushing Oscar’s cheek. He hadn’t cut it again since they’d started dating, and now it was overgrown and felt like silk. Oscar played with a strand, trailing it with his fingers, tugging on the short end at Aaron’s neck.
“Get it.”
“Next time.” Aaron set it down, running a thumb down the jacket, then walked away.
He was a sight in his day-old shirt untucked, black boxy pants sitting on his body like they’d been made for him. Oscar watched him from behind the glass door, showered in yellow streetlight, the main act in Oscar’s story. And Oscar would gladly be relegated to the role of Man Number 2 if it meant Aaron was the main character of his film forever. Although if he had it his way, it would betheirfilm andtheirlove story, and now every time he thought about Jonathan Bailey, his face rounded out a little, and his eyes turned blue; his hair had that reddish tinge to it, and his name was Aaron.
Aaron Aaron Aaron Aaron Aaron
The director in Oscar’s mind yelledActionas the bell on the shop door tinkled and Aaron turned, twisting in the light catching him just so, lips curving, eyes finding Oscar’s immediately.
And if this wasn’t love, Oscar didn’t know what was.
“Did you say goodbye?” Aaron asked.
Oscar nodded, looking for the words he could say to present him with his gift, the confession lumping in his throat. Oscar had never had anyone to give gifts to before. Nobody other than Grandma and Lina beyond his childhood.
In the absence of language, Oscar lifted the tote bag like an offering. Aaron’s eyes darted down, his expression twisting likeOscar had just presented him with a sacrificed lamb. He looked back up at him, shaking his head.
“For you,” Oscar murmured. His spit had turned to concrete, and it burned his throat on the way down.
Aaron peeked inside the rainbow tote, then jerked back. “What is this?” he asked, frowning.
“It’s the blessing book you wanted. With the gay prince and the demon. Heisa demon, right?” Oscar said.
“It’s a special edition, Oscar.” Aaron threw his hands up. “Isawthe price tag. What the hell?”
