Page 86 of Septembers

One glass turned into three as Dae told him about the lady sitting next to him on the plane who filled him in on the gossip from her small town (the absolute nerve of Helen using Angela’s recipe for the pie-baking contest after she’d slept with her husband) and Theo told him all the tricks of the building; Stairway Bill hits on everyone, but it can be a confidence boost from time to time, and the super is basically a figurehead, since his wife calls all the shots, so compliment her when she gets a blow-out and she’ll let the delivery guy go right to the door instead of waiting outside.

Slowly but surely, the coffee table became a graveyard of bottles, candy wrappers, and chip bags. Theo had picked up flavours that didn’t exist in Korea: dill pickle, ketchup, and all-dressed, and even though Dae complained about the sodium content, he moaned at the first crunch of every flavour.

Which was fine. It was just a moan. People moaned for all kinds of reasons.

They joked, laughed, and teased, and Dae didn’t hold back his smiles. Each dimple seemed like a promise. He was there. He wasn’t a two-dimensional wish on Theo’s computer screen, he was right in front of him, breathing the same air, sitting on the same hilariously named couch, eating the same snacks—and maybe it could always be like that. Maybe he would never leave again. That was what those dimples said.

“Theo, are you okay?”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“No, I meant about Nick.”

The silly, foggy fun-bubble burst, and a guilty, hard feeling cemented around his chest. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

His expression was all empathy and concern. “Okay, but if you do⁠—”

“Why’d you start Bob is Not Your Neighbour?”

“What?” He laughed. “It’s been years. Why ask now?”

Because dirtbag cheaters didn’t deserve sympathy from their best friends. “I’ve always been curious. I was just respecting your privacy.”

“Ah. And now?”

“Now I’m buzzing from Koreans-take-drinking-seriously soju, and I don’t give a shit about your privacy.”

“Okay.” He turned towards him on the couch, tucking his leg beneath him. His knee touched Theo's thigh, but it didn’t seem intentional. Leaning into it to chase his heat also wasn’t intentional, and Theo would swear to that in a court of law.

“Do you remember that I went to horse camp?”

“I have not stopped thinking about the fact that you went to horse camp from the moment you told me, so yes, I remember.”

Amused eyes. The wink of a dimple. “Well, I brought one of my notebooks with what I thought were just dumb little doodles, and this girl saw them, and they made her laugh, and I don’t even know how to describe it.” His voice was practically twinkling, as if reliving the joy of his past. “Her face lit up in a way that also lit me up. Someone was laughing because of me. I hadn’t experienced that in a long time, and I just…” He shrugged. “I wanted more.”

Theo wanted more for him too. More laughter, more amusement, more love. He deserved it all. “Why didn’t you ever tell anyone it was you?” Dae stared at him pointedly and it took Theo a moment too long to realize what the look meant. “Other than me. I don’t count.”

“Right. You never count.” He shook his head with indecipherable frustration. “We’ve talked about this. I just want people to be able to interpret them the way they want to.”

“Okay, but like, if I know a song is written by a certain singer that doesn’t stop me from finding my own meaning in it.”

He laid his head on the back of the couch, thinking about it for so long that Theo wondered if he’d forgotten the question. But then Dae rocked his head to the side, his face open with a vulnerability Theo hadn’t been expecting. “It’s the only place where I can be completely honest. I know they’re just drawings, but they’re part of me, and if people know they’re mine, I don’t think I’d be able to be as open without worrying that they’ll read into it.”

That made sense. Except… “You’re not scared I’ll read into it?”

A slow, almost sad smile. “You never read into anything.”

Theo needed out of the moment, out of the soft tingling in his stomach, out of the pull Dae had on him, refusing to let his gaze go, and out of the desire to close the space between them and finally feel what it was like to press their lips together.

It was the alcohol. Theo knew that. He wouldn’t be this weak otherwise. This stupid. His blood was running too hot through his veins and…other places. He needed something to say: a joke, a jab, a simple observance about the fucking weather—anything. But he had nothing. His every sense was filled with Dae. The heady smell of him, the way his hair fell across his forehead, his intense, dark eyes, and the sound of his breath, which, if Theo wasn’t imagining things, was getting heavier.

“I read.”

Dae blinked, calculating, probably trying to decipher what that possibly could mean, but failing. “What?”

“You said I don’t read.”

Dae somehow cocked his head while keeping it resting against the couch. Adorable. Then he burst out laughing. “I said you don’t read into things, Theo.”