There’s a cocktail bar for the adults and a mocktail bar for the kiddos—along with a pregnant Liz—and by the time kickoff starts, everyone’s got drinks and plates of food in their hands, and I’m satisfied by their hums of approval that I’ve done a good job.
Our group is equally divided as far as which team we’re rooting for—half of us die-hard Michigan fans, the other half weirdly devoted to State. Those on the right side of the issue (go blue!) include Marcus, Tiff, Laura, and me. Ben, Eric, and Liz are on the regrettable side. For Ben and Laura, being in a rival household makes things interesting every year as the two schools play against each other. Watching the two of them tear each other apart with their taunting is more entertaining than the game at times, but it’s all in good fun.
Luke, for his part, doesn’t care one iota about football, but he shows up to the party anyway, supporting my team in an act of solidarity, wearing one of my oversized U of M hoodies in a fucking tantalizing display of cozy attractiveness. But I can tell almost immediately that today isn’t a good day the moment he walks in the door. It’s evident in the way he holds himself. Even though he’s smiling, that undercurrent of angst is right near the surface, and he’s unusually quiet as the night goes on. It winds up becoming the only thing I can focus on.
He doesn’t pay attention to the game the entire time he’s here, but I notice him wincing and flinching with the noisy outbursts from the others as they either boo or cheer for their respective teams. He doesn’t complain, though. He seems wholly disinterested in being here, his nose buried in his phone instead. Normally, that doesn’t bother me. It’s not like I need him to love everything I love. I just wish he’d let me know what’s bothering him.
At one point during a commercial break, Luke subtly taps me on the knee, and for a moment, I’m hopeful that he might want to talk. But as I turn to him, he wordlessly nods toward the back deck with a small smile, and I follow his line of sight to see Ryder sitting curled up on Justin’s lap in one of the chairs outside. His head is on the other’s shoulder, and they have a blanket to keep them warm in the crisp October night air, a picture of pure coziness.
It’s just the two of them out there, having slipped away at some point in the evening when no one noticed. They’re within full view of the rest of the party, and yet, watching them, you’d think they were the only two people in the entire universe. The way Justin is rubbing his hand along Ryder’s legs so delicately almost feels too intimate to watch. It’s such a simple thing, but it’s honestly fucking adorable.
As Luke watches the kids with a rueful smile, I study his face closely, trying to imagine what he’s thinking. I have to believe it means something special to him to see young queer kids able to justbewith each other like that out in the open without worrying about what the rest of the world sees. I definitely find it hopeful for the future. I wonder if he wishes we were there, too… If he’s at all remorseful that I’m not at the point where I’d be comfy having him sit in my lap in a place like this.
Still, as covertly as possible, I brush my hand between our legs on the couch, tracing my palm over his upper thigh. Without turning back to me, I can see the outline of Luke’s smile as he accepts the quiet comfort in the only way I know how to give it.
Then he takes up his phone again, and every time I glance at the screen, I see that he’s scrolling through Instagram, hovering over photos and studying them so closely that I’m curious what he sees in them. From what I can see without blatantly staring, it looks bright and colorful, with people laughing and smiling in cool costumes. But he seems to grow more pensive, if that were even possible, his foul mood wafting off him in a near-tangible wave of energy.
When Michigan scores its third touchdown in the second half of the game, the group goes wild. Laura is especially vicious and loud as she taunts Ben for his losing team, having scored zero points the entire game so far, which is objectively very funny. But I notice Luke groan and rub his forehead irritably at the uptick in noise. He frowns and sighs, putting his phone face down in his lap with a heavy swallow.
“Are you all right?” I ask softly.
“I’m not feeling very well,” he replies, giving me an apologetic look. “I might go home, actually. I think I’ve got a migraine coming on.”
“Do you want to go lie down upstairs instead?” I ask carefully, giving a look that I hope conveys my desire for him to stay.
Luke briefly glances around the room before turning back to me with a weary look in his eyes. Eventually, he nods, and we stand up from the couch together. With a brief statement about Luke’s unfortunate state of pain and a flimsy lie about him wanting to go lie down in a guest room, I follow him upstairs and toward my bedroom, giving us a moment to speak privately once we’re away from any prying eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask gently, putting my hands to Luke’s face as he stands in the doorway.
With the physical contact, he loses the strength that was holding his composure together and immediately starts crying, his lower lip trembling. Shaking his head, he puts his hands on my chest, simultaneously pushing me away while clinging to my shirt like he doesn’t want me to go. “It’s nothing,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. I’m okay. I don’t know why I’m crying right now.”
“Did something happen?”
Luke shakes his head. “No. It just came over me suddenly.”
“Let’s talk about it. Please? Can we go lie down?” I suggest, but Luke shakes his head more vigorously and pulls away, putting space between us.
“Don’t. Please don’t leave your friends down there for me. I’m okay. I’llbeokay. I think I want to be alone for a bit. You should go have fun. Okay?”
“They won’t care if I don’t go back down there. They’re too invested in the game to notice what I’m doing.”
Luke gives me an incredulous look. “Ethan, you haven’t come out to them yet,” he says, though not unkindly. Even in this state, he’s just as compassionate about this fact as always, but my heart feels heavy. “It’ll be too suspicious if you come up here with me and suddenly disappear all night. There’s no way they won’t read into that.”
“I don’t want to leave you like this,” I protest, my soul crying out in agreement.
“Honestly, I really want to be alone right now, okay?Please? I’ll stay here tonight, but just let me be alone for now.”
In the end, I don’t know how to respond but with a slight nod, even though it goes against everything in my nature to let him go and stew alone in misery. Luke sighs in relief, pulling me closer and kissing me gently before briefly putting our foreheads together, and at least I can tell he’s being genuine. My hands instinctively find their way to his waist, drawing him closer. How I wish I could hold him there forever. Before I can argue against it, he pulls away and backs into the bedroom, closing the door behind him softly.
I stare at the barrier between us for a long moment, feeling like I’ve been cleaved in two. Half my heart is in that room with Luke, the other half calling me back downstairs with my friends, and both parties are none the wiser of my sudden turmoil. How am I supposed to enjoy the rest of the evening knowing that Luke is alone in my bed, likely crying himself to sleep? It drives me mad just thinking about it.
But he’s made it perfectly clear he doesn’t want me with him right now, so I have no choice but to obey. Eventually, I turn and head back downstairs. As expected, the rest of the group pays little attention to me as I sit back on the couch. They're too invested in the game. To me, it sounds like white noise now. I can’t focus on the screen. The image of Luke’s crying face supersedes everything like it’s been burned into my retinas.
I get so restless after a while that I have to get up, and I head into the kitchen to clean, even though the game’s not over yet. That’s usually the only thing that makes me feel better when I spiral like this—having something to do with my hands to distract me.
A few minutes later, Tiff wanders into the kitchen after me and silently starts helping without bothering to ask if I needed it. It’s definitely a nice gesture, but I was kind of hoping to have the room to myself so I could drop the ‘everything’s fine’ mask for five fucking minutes while I process my anxiety. I wonder if that’s how Luke feels.
“He’s homesick, by the way,” Tiff suddenly says, her words matter-of-fact.
