Ollie swallowed hard and made his way over to the couch as he clicked on the photo Sam had attached to his next text. All the air seemed to leave his lungs, and he fell onto his back across the couch as he stared at his boyfriend. Sam stood in Barry’s kitchen, obviously holding the phone up and out as far away from himself as he could. Backlighting from the open window behind Sam gave the photo some sort of dreamy ambiance. Or maybe it was just the subject of the photo itself. Sam’s thousand-watt smile lit up the screen, and his eyes sparkled with love and happiness and...
A deep sigh escaped Ollie, and he turned over onto his stomach on the couch as he stared at the photo for another moment. Seeing Sam should have eased some of the ache and longing that had built up over the last two weeks. Yet it just seemed to make him miss Sam even more.
The phone chimed, and another couple of messages popped up below Sam’s picture.
Sam (5:28 p.m.):You home?
Sam (5:28 p.m.):Because I’ve been waiting to hear your voice all day long. Not sure I can wait much longer.
Sam (5:29 p.m.):This is your way of torturing me for the terrible selfie I sent earlier, I suppose.
Ollie snorted out a laugh and sat up on the couch. One more message came through.
Sam (5:29 p.m.):I miss you so much.
His laughter died, and he hesitated for only a second before hitting the button to call Sam and then lifting the phone to his ear. It barely got out a single ring before Sam answered.
“Hey.”
Ollie’s heart did a flip in his chest. It was like this every night, really, but tonight, there was something different. Sam’s tone was deeper, huskier... needier.
“Hey.” A few seconds of a slightly awkward silence followed, but Ollie then cleared his throat. “You—you still owe me, you know. I sent two photos, but I only got one in return. Not quite a fair exchange, I think.”
He heard Sam’s wonderful, rumbling laugh, and he closed his eyes and let himself imagine that Sam was there with him, as he did every night.
“Please never make me do that again,” Sam said, still chuckling.
“What? Take a selfie? Was it that bad an experience? Because...” Ollie lowered his voice a bit, and he felt his cheeks heat up. “Because you looked incredible. Gorgeous. It was... a really, really great photo. And it was really nice to see your face. Like... really, really nice.”
“Yeah, um, same. I-I miss seeing your smile, love.”
Ollie heard Sam sigh, and it was shaky, a little unsure. He coughed to clear his throat. “How’s—how’s Barry? Still pushing for more than he’s allowed to do?”
“All the time,” Sam said. “But I think he’s decided he’s more than happy to let me cook for him at least.”
“Yeah? Did you end up making that pulled pork recipe today?” Ollie leaned back into the couch cushions and closed his eyes.
“Ah, yep, I did. It was amazing. Although I should’ve halved the recipe. We’ll have leftovers for days. At least Jaz will be here tomorrow, so she can help eat some. You’d love it, Oll. I’ll have to make it when I get home.”
“I can’t wait.”
After a short pause, Sam started talking again, filling Ollie in about how his day had gone. The topic drifted around,as it always did, from Barry’s continued progress to cooking to work to silly little things Sam had seen while jogging around the neighborhood. And somehow over an hour passed, then another. Finally, he heard Sam yawn.
“I should let you go,” Ollie said quietly, and he shifted to lie on his back on the couch. “You’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”
“I... should be home with you tomorrow.” Sam’s tone had some sort of wistful melancholy to it. “Tomorrow is...”
“. . . our two years,” Ollie finished.
“Yeah.”
Ollie closed his eyes as he felt a deep ache in his heart. He’d been trying to avoid thinking about it—how they’d be spending the two-year anniversary of their first date apart.
And the other “anniversary” was also looming, just another three weeks away. That one—the anniversary of the day he’d been assaulted—was the one hereallywanted to avoid thinking about. He remembered how bad it had gotten last year; the whole two weeks or so leading up to the day had been riddled with nightmares, flashbacks, and an ever-worsening anxiety. If he’d been alone then, if Sam hadn’t been there...
He shook his head. He was in a much, much better place now. He’d made a ton of progress, and he knew he had all the tools he needed to help himself. His appointment with Dr. Solvang a couple of days ago had reminded him of all that. And Dr. Solvang had also reminded him of the incredible support system he had—Sam was always just a phone call away, his mom was only just a short drive away. So if the worst happened, and Sam still wasn’t back home by then, he’d be okay. They’d figure something out. He’d figure something out.
But really, he just hoped Sam was home by then.
