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This time Leo’s smile reached his eyes, making them bright and happy. It had been so long since Oliver had seen his sibling like this, and though it had been a year now, he never got tired of knowing they had made it this far. They were getting better.
“So, date tonight?”
Rolling his eyes, Oliver sighed, but the corners of his mouth quirked up. “Yeah. Sam wants to try this nouveau gastropub something or other in Chelsea. Haven’t been that way since mum, but he’s got his heart set on it.”
“You’ll be fine,” Leo assured him.
Oliver licked his lips, nodding. “I know. It just never gets easier to think about her. Even the last days of therapy, saying her name felt like razor blades in my mouth. The anger doesn’t go away.”
“No, and you know it won’t,” Leo said. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive her. But just don’t let it control you.”
“Thank you, Doctor-Therapist Leo,” Oliver said, grinning playfully. “Really though, I feel alright about it. And after all my research today, I could do with a pint and something really decadent.”
“Bring me cake,” Leo said. “I’ll be at home revising. I need cake.”
“Alright,” Oliver said with a snort, and managed to get out of the massive queue of cars and turn down their street. He found alright parking, and before long, the siblings were heading up to their flat so Oliver could get ready for the night.
Sam had promised to be there a little early, so Oliver hopped in the shower, putting gel in his hair before rummaging through his wardrobe. He went semi-formal—black slacks, a button-down white shirt, but no tie. He rolled the sleeves to his forearms, then quickly scrubbed his teeth, and went on a hunt for his shoes.
Just as he was struggling into his socks, there was a knock on his bedroom door, and he looked up to see his boyfriend leaning on the door frame. Sam didn’t have the unassuming beauty Gabriel had. He was more striking with sharp features, freckles, and a shock of reddish blonde hair. He had wide, green eyes, and a dimple in each cheek which Oliver found endearing.
He really did like Sam. He had a good sense of humor, a decent personality, and when Oliver had come clean about his past, Sam hadn’t judged him. He was quick to notice when Oliver was having an off day, or when he was feeling overwhelmed, and even quicker to offer a cup of tea, or even just silence in the room.
Oliver knew the relationship would go far if he let it. The only problem was, he constantly found himself comparing every little thing Sam did to Gabriel. And he knew how unfair it was. Sam knew a little about Oliver’s first and tragic relationship. He knew Oliver still carried a small torch for the one that got away, and he didn’t seem to mind much. Oliver assumed Sam was waiting for the years to tame his feelings for his lost love—but Oliver doubted anyone would ever measure up to the man Gabriel had been for him.
It was why at least three times a week, he considered splitting. Why half the time, the words, “We should break up,” danced on the tip of his tongue.
But before he ever got them out, Sam would do something sweet or endearing. He’d bring Oliver his favorite pastry, or a book he thought Oliver might like. He’d pick him up a woolly pair of socks, or take him for a tea all the way in Surrey at a new trendy café, and Oliver would lose his nerve.
Sam deserved better, but for now, they were happy.
“Hey, cariad,” Sam said, his deep voice and Welsh lilt booming through the quiet room. “How was your research today?”
“Horrid,” Oliver said with a small pout. He rose, holding his arms out for his boyfriend.
Sam chuckled as he pulled Oliver close to him. “Will a cwtch make it better?”
“No,” Oliver said, and turned his face up. “But it’s a decent start. And maybe a kiss as well?”
“Hmm,” Sam replied, his eyebrow raised, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. He bent his head down and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Oliver’s mouth as his arms tugged Oliver into a gentle little cuddle. “Well, how’s that for a start?”
“I think you could do better.”
Sam let out a small snort. “Always the critic. So hard to please.” He turned his face and gave Oliver a proper kiss, making the other man hum with pleasure.
Oliver ran his palms up Sam’s broad arms, resting on his shoulders. “Much better. I think the next thing I need is a good pint and some decadent chocolate.”
“Proper food first, and then the chocolate,” Sam warned.
“You are the least fun,” Oliver whined, but smiled as he went back to the bed to finish with his shoes. “How was your day, love?”
“It was alright. Joanne,” he said, referring to their Editor in Chief, “has been riding my arse like she owns it about this bloody Gentlemen’s Club article. Seems to think that I’d have some idea what men actually get out of these things.”
“Did you tell her you’ve been an out and proud, raging homosexual since upper sixth?” Oliver asked with a sly grin.
Sam rolled his eyes, tugging Oliver by the hand into the living room. “No, but only because she’s known for ages. At least since she caught us snogging in the supply cupboard and I had to give her my whole sordid history of blowing computer nerds in empty classrooms.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Well just fake it then, yeah? Or hire someone to ghostwrite it. I doubt she’d notice a difference.”
