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Oliver’s face fell. “Ah. Well…” He stopped, letting his hand slip up the back of Gabe’s sweater, and he drew his fingers up and down his spine. “How about we only stay for a few drinks, yeah? Then we can take this party elsewhere. A naked-friendly elsewhere.”
Gabe quirked an eyebrow up at Oliver. “You seem like you might have already had a few.”
Oliver’s cheeks pinked a bit. “Well…maybe a few. Just a few. Couple. Few.”
Gabe tried to look stern, but his giggle left something to be desired. “Is there a reason you’re getting trashed on a Wednesday?”
“Not really,” Oliver said, pulling a face. He wasn’t drunk enough to ramble about his mother yet, which he considered a win. Especially since it felt like something was currently trying to claw its way out of his chest. “Maybe just feeling a bit reckless. And I want to dance.”
“I might have heat stroke if I go out there like this,” Gabriel said with a small sigh. His drink was delivered, and he took a long sip of the icy cocktail. “I don’t mind waiting if you want to dance a bit more, though.”
Oliver pouted a little, but tugged Gabriel closer. “I want you more than I want dancing. Just finish that and we can go.”
Gabriel hesitated but put his hand on Oliver’s cheek and stroked it with his thumb. “Maybe then you’ll tell me what has you upset?” When Oliver looked a little surprised, Gabriel laughed. “You’re a shitty liar, Ollie.”
Oliver’s pout increased, though was replaced with a quick grin when Gabriel leaned over to kiss him. “It’s nothing, really. Just…family shit. Don’t worry about it, okay?”
Gabriel’s face darkened a little at that. “Leo?”
“Nah. He’s off getting wankered with his new hot boyfriend. Just…I’d rather not talk about it, okay? I just want to get a little pissed and make out with myoldhot boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend,” came a scoff from right behind Gabriel, and Oliver’s eyes snapped up to a couple of guys he’d seen around on campus. The fraternity types, bleached hair, collared shirts, identical grins showing they were both mean and plastered.
“Are you two going to fuck off, or are we about to have a problem?” Oliver replied, ignoring Gabe’s sharp head shake.
The taller one laughed, pushing forward against Gabe a little. “Just think it’s funny that you’d call a dyke your boyfriend. I mean, look at those tits.”
Oliver felt rage well up in him, mingled with the swirling emotions of his mother’s death, and his mouth moved before he could even properly think. “I will fucking destroy you!” he screamed, launching himself at the two men. Gabe caught him by the shoulder, holding him back. “You transphobic pieces of shit!”
They were laughing, and Gabe looked furious. “Don’t do this,” Gabe hissed in his ear. “Let it go.”
“Let it go?” Oliver shouted, pushing Gabe back. “Didn’t you hear what they said? Jesus Christ, Gabriel…”
“I’m not going to make a fucking scene here in a bar,” Gabe said, his tone furious. “And I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. I just wanted a drink and a chance to unwind. I’m not fucking fighting some shithead cis-boys.”
Oliver was still breathing heavy, but the two men had moved on to the end of the bar, leaning over to talk to one of the bartenders. He was trying to catch his breath, but he was too drunk and too close to the edge to just let it go.
“You want to go home?”
Gabe looked immensely relieved when Oliver slapped a couple of twenties on the bar and started away. Instead of going for the door, though, Oliver took what was left in his glass and flung it at the two men, catching them right in the face with the dredges of his cocktail. Wearing a grin of self-satisfaction, he opened his arms as an invitation to fight.
“What the fuck you gonna do about it, mate?”
No one had a chance to find out. Security arrived to escort Oliver out of the bar, and Gabe came out a moment later, looking furious and embarrassed. He didn’t say anything, though he had Oliver by the wrist, and they were heading down the street in the opposite direction to Gabe’s.
“What the fuck,” Gabe asked as they rounded a corner and came to a stop, “were you thinking? You just got thrown out of a bar.”
Oliver shoved him off, looking furious. “You wanna just roll over and let those fucking douchebags misgender you, that’s your choice, Gabe. But I’m not going to just sit there and…”
“You don’t get to decide when I’m offended,” Gabriel cut in, taking a step back from his boyfriend. “You don’t get to decide when it’s too much. I don’t enjoy it. It doesn’t make me fucking feel good that my breasts invalidate my gender to garbage like that. But it’s not your place.”
Oliver wanted to listen. He truly did, but his mind was going too fast, and the pain was racing up his spine, consuming him from the inside. “Well fuck you then, Gabriel. I try to stand up for you andI’mthe bad guy?”
“Yes,” Gabriel said. “You are. You’re no better than they are if you’re not going to respect my choices.”
Oliver froze, blinking rapidly. The stress of the evening, the adrenaline now plummeting, sent his stomach into a violent spin. Before he could answer, he was grabbing the nearest wall, and his stomach unleashed a torrent of shots and beer onto the ground.
Oliver’s entire body trembled as his gut purged everything he’d had that night, the smell of partially digested alcohol making him feel even sicker. He dry-heaved when his stomach was empty, and as he started to rise, he realized he was sobbing. Refusing to turn, he gripped the wall, side-stepping the mess he’d made, and pressed his forehead to the cool bricks.
