17
Ryan hummed softly as he sipped his coffee, watching Oscar stand over the toaster and tap his fingers impatiently on the counter, as though that’d speed up the toasting process.
This was the best morning he’d had in a long time. The sun was streaming in through the kitchen window of Oscar’s tiny apartment, Oscar still hadn’t put a shirt on and didn’t seem likely to in the near future, and he’d insisted that while toast was about the best he could offer, he was making Ryan breakfast.
The gesture meant a lot.
Ryan felt like Oscar liked having him here. Even after he’d poured his heart out last night.
“You’re staring,” Oscar said, still peering into the toaster.
“I can stop, but I’d rather not,” Ryan responded, a smile spreading over his face that he couldn’t have stopped even if he wanted to. For the first time in well over a year, he could feel the clouds parting.
Not enjoying it would have been impossible.
“You don’t have to stop.” Oscar smiled in return, small and genuine. Oscar had all kinds of smiles, but this kind, this tiny, intimate quirk of his lips was the most precious, Ryan thought. It wasn’t one he offered everyone.
“Good.” Ryan sipped his coffee, letting his eyes follow the lines of light and shadow that played over Oscar’s back, taking in his lean, toned muscles and the way his deeply-tanned skin glowed in the sunshine.
“There’s something I want to tell you,” Oscar said. “But I need you to just… listen. Because I haven’t told anyone this in a long time.”
That sounded ominous, but all Ryan could hear was that Oscar trusted him. Trusted him with whatever this… secret, or something, was.
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll listen.”
He owed Oscar that much, if nothing else. Oscar had changed his life. Turned it on its head, even.
It was time Ryan paid him back.
“During the last year of my PhD, about five years ago now, I walked into an apartment a lot like this in Orlando, expecting to find a man I’d been in love with since high school curled up in bed,” Oscar began. “Instead, I found the place half-empty. All his stuff gone.”
Ryan’s heart sank, but he forced himself not to say anything. Oscar had asked him to listen, and he intended to do exactly that.
“I’d asked him to marry me a few days beforehand. He’d said he needed to think about it. I thought that meant, y’know, once I wasn’t drowning in coursework. Apparently it meant he was looking for a quick exit.” Oscar paused, taking a deep breath. “The last I heard from him was him mailing me back a rosary my grandmother gave me that he’d picked up by accident in his hurry to pack and leave while I was gone.”
A lump formed in Ryan’s throat, Oscar’s pain curling around his heart like a physical force, squeezing it hard. It hurt to hear this.
It hurt because Ryancared. Oscar had said he couldn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t want Ryan, but Ryan couldn’t understand how anyone could bring themselves to hurt Oscar, either.
Oscar was all warmth and smiles and jokes. He was the most fun person Ryan had ever met. He lit up every room he walked into.
And someone had just… left him. Without a word.
After he’d asked them to stay.
“Anyway, my life more or less fell apart. I couldn’t afford double the rent on the hours I was working, so I doubled them, which meant I fell behind on coursework and everything just kind of… went to shit. As you might expect.”
Ryan nodded silently, still intent on listening until Oscar made it clear that he was done talking.
“I got lucky,” he continued. “I got so lucky that my supervisor knew your aunt. She helped me through, gave me the job at the sanctuary, let me sleep in the guest room for as long as I needed… even paid part of my tuition. Called it an investment. In exchange for working there for one year after I graduated. Obviously, I just stuck around. That place… it’s home to me. It means everything. And it means everything that you’re trying to save it, too. I just… wanted you to know that. Since you shared your tragic backstory with me.”
Before he’d made a conscious decision, Ryan was on his feet, crossing Oscar’s tiny kitchen in a stride and a half and wrapping his arms around him.
They hadn't hugged before. Ryan had barely realized that he had a solid five inches on Oscar, how small he’d seem in his arms.
It wasn't a physical thing, though. Oscar felt tiny, right now, because he’d opened up. Because he wasvulnerable.
Ryan couldn't begin to process how much courage that took. It wasn't even something Oscar had to do. They could have kept on with… whatever this was, without ever talking about this.
