“It didn’t feel like I did good.”
He takes a moment to think, then nods his head slowly. “You’re stronger than you realize, Gabe.” My brows furrow as I consider that. I don’t feel strong. Most days, I feel like the weakest version of myself. He takes a moment to consider his next words, and they don’t surprise me. “Does that happen a lot?”
I can’t take my eyes off his as I speak. “A few times over the last year.”
“What can I do to help?”
That lump in my throat is growing, and I don’t want to ruin this evening by crying. It’s turned into the best day I’ve had in a very long time. “What you did was perfect.”
We smile at each other, heads tilted on the back of the sofa, just looking at each other.
“Want to do one more?” he asks in a whisper.
“I’m tired,” I respond, feeling drained. My legs are jelly. My face is hot. I want tea. I also want to watch him do the “Footloose” elbows again until I cry. “Maybe another time?”
“Tomorrow,” he says, like it’s already a plan. He reaches forward to put the controllers on the table. The movement brings him closer, his shoulder brushing mine. He doesn’t lean in. He just stays there. And I don’t mind it, it’s nice, comforting even.
He starts singing something under his breath—“Play That Funky Music.” I’m smiling again. He’s so full of simple joys.
“I was terrible,” he says cheerfully.
“You were appalling.”
“You loved it.”
I tip my head to look at him again. “I did.”
His eyes meet mine, face much closer than it was before. For a second, the air tightens. There’s something unspoken between us, humming in the space. His lips part, tongue peeking out to wet his lower lip.
I look away and clear my throat.
I feel his eyes on me. Eventually, he stands, stretches until his back cracks, and winces like he’s an old man and not two years younger than me. “Okay, I’m inhaling whatever leftovers exist. You want something?”
“Tea… and Oreos.”
The Switch sits quietly on the TV unit again. It isn’t hidden. It feelsright, like it’s belonged the whole time. I like that it’s there, proof of one small, simple joy.
When he comes back, he hands me my mug and a small plate of cookies.
“Tomorrow,” he says again, settling down with his bowl on his knee. “Same time. I’ll be even worse.”
“Oh, I believe you.” That earns me another chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He’s got little laugh lines by his eyes, they don’t make him look older though, just… happy.
“Thanks for letting me take over your TV.”
“Our TV,” I say without thinking.
He looks at me for a long breath. “Our TV,” he agrees. “How you feeling about the event coming up?”
“Good,” I answer simply, and it’s the truth. In this moment, everything feels like it will be okay, the event, the store. Me.
“A man of few words. I like that about you.” He exhales a laugh, smile fond before going back to his food as I blush. Being quiet isn't something that everyone has appreciated about me in the past.
The silence between us is easy. The soft clink of Noah’s fork on the bowl is the only noise. I pick up my notebook and start writing while he continues eating. There’s a sweet simplicity to the moment that makes me grin.
When I look at him again, I realize how much he makes me laugh. Not just smile, but really laugh. Like it’s no big deal. Like it isn’t something I’ve been struggling to do for a long time.
Yesterday was a bad day, but he was there for me. I don’t usually get past moments like that this fast. Normally, I’d still be stuck in my head, going over every second on a loop. But tonight, I’m not. My chest doesn’t feel so tight. My hands aren’t clenched. I can just… be here and play a game without waiting for something bad to happen. The weight I’ve been dragging for years feels quieter here, like it’s sitting off to the side for once, letting me breathe.
