Page 45 of Septembers

“Of course not, but I don't take any pleasure in it.”

After lunch, there was nothing they could do to stop Theo from helping to clean up, especially since most of the adults were halfway drunk. He couldn’t believe it was only three in the afternoon. He felt like he’d lived a whole week in that house.

Once everything was (he hoped) in its rightful place in the kitchen, he went to the living room to find Dae missing, so he wandered up the stairs and found him in his bedroom, folding clothes into a duffle bag. Theo leaned against the doorframe and knocked on the wall. “Making a getaway?”

Dae must’ve heard him coming because he didn’t even flinch. “Interview clothes.”

Right. Interviews, internships, jobs, things seniors had to think about. “It’s the second week of school. Don’t you think you’re jumping the gun a bit?”

“I don’t know when I’ll be back.” He waved him in. “You don’t have to hover.”

Dae’s room was more cluttered than his room in their place. Drafts of his creatures plastered his walls, and he’d shoved his notebooks wherever they fit on his bookshelf, desk, and in his closet.

“I’m guessing Bob isn’t a secret from your family.”

“Ah…” He looked at the sketches with a half-smile. “Yes and no. Min knows about the website. My parents just think I like to doodle.”

“Can I snoop?”

He nodded. “I’m surprised it took you this long.”

Theo poked around the notebooks first, laughing at the more absurd drawings. He’d never felt someone’s attention on him more than he did in that room. There was a charge to the air that he hadn’t been expecting when he first came in.

“What is this?” He picked up a not-so-hidden box by the desk. Dae lunged for it, and they both toppled onto his bed, spilling the contents of the box onto his comforter. It was filled with achievements: ribbons, awards, and trophies. Dae tried to gather it up, but Theo plucked a plaque from the pile and held it away from him, reading as Dae tried to wrestle it away. “Dae Moon, first place winner in endurance…”

“Theo, I’m begging you.” Dae held his wrist and tried to pry the plaque from his fingers, but Theo switched it to the other hand.

“And reining,” Theo continued. “Most improved in jumping and sportsmanship.” Dae pushed him onto the bed and held him down with his body while his fingers clawed the plaque away. Theo was laughing too hard to care. “You said you’d tell me if I behaved!”

Theo reached for it again, but Dae threw the plaque back into the box and pinned both Theo’s hands to the mattress, leaning over him.

“This is you behaving?” His face was stern and his muscles tense, but there was amusement in his voice. His joy—any level of it—was glorious to behold, even if their position was crossing the line Theo had promised himself he wouldn’t go near. “We’re putting the box away and never speaking of this again.”

“Please, Dae.” Theo surprised them both with his sincerity. He didn’t know what came over him, but he didn’t want to snoop. He wanted to be shown.

Dae’s grip on his hands softened, and the blacks of his pupils devoured his irises. Maybe he was just now realizing how many places their bodies were pressed together: Dae’s thigh draped over Theo’s legs, trapping him in place, their stomachs so close to brushing together, a deep breath could’ve made contact.

What happened in Hamilton…

No. Theo told his hardening dick to shut the fuck up. That was the last thing this situation needed. He was getting too comfortable, too lax, too far past the line. So instead he focused on his original goal.

“Please. I want to see.”

After an inward battle that Theo watched play across his face, Dae whispered, “Why?”

Theo didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one he could put into words. So instead he repeated himself. “I want to see.”

Dae closed his eyes, giving up, giving in, Theo didn’t know. But he climbed off him and they both sat up, legs tucked under themselves like they were sitting for story-time, unsure how to proceed.

“Here.” Dae pushed the box towards him. “Go ahead.”

Theo took the plaque back out and studied the carving of a little man on a majestic horse. “How many kids were in the camp?”

“Around two hundred.”

“And you won? How old were you?” The plaque was surprisingly heavy, and Theo used the weight of it to keep his body from betraying him further, digging the corners into the pads of his fingers, creating a different sensation for his brain to fixate on.

“Ten. I had a really good horse.”