Freddy 

I sit on the bed, glancing at the clock. The blue block numbers blare out: 1:24 AM. I look at the two tools lying next to me, a phone and a kitchen knife. The smart thing to do would be to pick up the phone and throw the knife back in its drawer. I should call somebody. My parents maybe. No, they don’t need to see their son like this. There’s only one other person I can think of to call. But I hurt him too. Who knows if he’d even want to talk to me? But he of all people deserves to know. He deserves to mourn me. 

How do I tell him? What do I tell him? It’s been five years since I last talked to him, I can’t just pop up and say goodbye. It’s got to be meaningful. Heartfelt. I want him to know everything I’m thinking, not just the superficial things. 

I pick up the phone and scroll through my contacts. When I find him, I realize with a jolt that I never removed the heart after his name. I tap on it, opening a series of texts that I never responded to. Asking how I’ve been, where I am, what I’ve been doing. And then they just stopped coming. He stopped caring.

I bring up the keyboard, fingers flying over the screen as I start typing out my message to the one person who loved me more than anything. 

“Hello Ollie. It’s been a while, and I’m sorry. I hope you’re doing okay. I haven’t talked to you in a few years, but I miss you. I’ve missed you from the moment I left. I wish I hadn’t, but it’s no use talking about ‘what ifs’. I needed to let you know. I’m killing myself tonight. I want you to know that you’re the only thing I can think about. 

I remember when I first met you, when we were eighteen. Do you know that was almost ten years ago? You were my first friend at school.” 

My eyes prick with tears at the memory.

“My name’s Freddy,” I say, sticking out a hand to the boy in front of me. I had found his post looking for a roommate on the class page and commented. I think I was the only guy who was interested. 

“Thank God for you, Freddy,” he says, shaking my hand in a firm grip. “If not for you, I’d be stuck choosing between one thirsty girl or another.” 

“You had a host of girls throw themselves at you, and you chose me.” I laugh, “You don’t have very good taste.” 

“Is that so? What are you like, then?” 

“Well, I like art and getting drunk on the weekends, for starters.” 

“We’re going to get along splendidly.” He grins at me, then motions toward the house. “Come on, let’s get you inside. I’ll help you with your bags.” 

I grab one while he takes the other and I follow him to the flat. Walking through the door, I see a hallway all the way to the back of the house. To the right, the wall opens into a sitting area, a modern looking room with two upholstered chairs with no armrests and a glass table between them. A fireplace is built into the opposite wall. On the other side of the hallway are two doors. Bedrooms. 

“Yours is the second one,” Ollie is saying, dragging my luggage down the hall. “Here you are. You’ve got your own bathroom. I haven’t gotten much in the way of furniture. I figured it would be your space to design as you wanted.” 

I join him at the door, peering into the room. There’s a bed and a desk in the room but it’s otherwise empty. I nod. “Thanks, I appreciate that.” 

“The kitchen’s that way,” Ollie says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to make some lunch; do you want anything?” 

“Nah, I’m good, thanks.” 

“Suit yourself.” 

“We were good flatmates, we lived well together. I miss those days. If I could live in that place with you again for the rest of our lives, I think I’d be happy. Even if you were a bit of a lazy git. Do you remember the one time we ran out of tea? It was in the beginning of our second year living in that flat and I think it was the moment I realized I was in love with you. 

“Freddy! Freddy, we’re out of tea.” 

“Then go get some more tea,” I call from my bed.

“I don’t want to get more tea.” 

“Then don’t complain about it.” 

I’ve got my laptop open on my left and reams of paper spread over the quilt. I’m not willing to mess up anything, for fear of losing an important piece of my design. I can hear Ollie coming down the hallway. I roll my eyes. He pops his head around the doorjamb, narrowing his eyes at me 

“Are you sassing me?” I grunt in response, returning to my work. “And now you’re ignoring me! That’s not good.” 

I look up to see him coming into the room, hands raised, fingers wiggling. My eyes widen. 

“No,” I say, shaking my head furiously and holding up my arms to ward him off. “No, no, don’t you dare. This is important.” 

He jumps on the bed, sending my papers flying everywhere and tackles me against the pillows and I shriek as he starts tickling my sides. He’s stronger than I am so I can’t shove him off. I’m helpless. My shrieks turn into howls of laughter as his fingers move to my neck. 

“S-stop it. Stop it!” 

Finally, he relents, rolling off to the side. He rises to an elbow and he rests his head in his hand. “Go get me some soup.” He looks at me, his eyes dark with some emotion I can’t describe. His black hair is sticking up in places, in a way that one might find devastatingly handsome. In a way that I find incredibly attractive. I blink away the thought

I flick him on the nose. “I’m not getting you soup, get over it.” 

“Then at least take a break. You’ve been working since six.” He’s watching me, kind face tinged with a bit of concern. A fuzzy feeling bubbles in my stomach. 

He’s always fretting about me, making sure I’m not stressed out, that I’m eating enough, and getting out. Isn’t that what flatmates did? But his worry always feels different, like he cares a bit more than the average person. I trust him. I feel secure around Ollie in a way I’d thought was no longer possible. He makes me enjoy life again. I like being with him, going out to clubs and bars, getting disgustingly intoxicated. I like knowing that, even when we were home and working on our own projects in different rooms, he’s just around the corner if I need anything. I like the peace I feel with him. 

I love him. 

“Yeah alright,” I say softly, my realization hitting me hard. “Now that you’ve scattered everything I was working on, I guess have to.” 

“Great, so since you’re on a break, you can get some tea!” 

I smile a little as I recall that moment, and many more like it. Ollie had been physical with me since we first moved together, brushing shoulders, playfully patting my cheeks, tousling my hair. It hadn’t affected me until then, though, when he held me down, running his hands down my sides. 

“I realized after that moment that I desperately wanted to give myself to you. I don’t think you ever realized something had changed for me when it came to you. I couldn’t look at you without wishing you would hold my hand a little longer and touch my face more often. But it wasn’t just physical. I wanted to tell you about my history, let you into my every secret. I wasn’t brave enough to invite you into my bed, but I thought I could build my way to it by inviting you into further into my life first.” 

I clench the mug, trying to calm the fluttering in my stomach. Ollie had pulled off his mask last night as we sat passing the bottle of rum back and forth. He had told me about his lowest points, his dreams and what was holding him back. He had trusted me enough to open himself up, to let me see past the flirtations and jokes. It was only fair that I do the same thing. But it isn’t just about paying him back for his honesty. I was ready to tell him everything. 

Ollie shuffles into the kitchen, his hair sticking up. He’s got his grey robe on, loose enough that his bare chest is exposed. I try to not imagine tracing my finger along the dark lines of his tattoo. 

“Morning,” he says through a yawn, pouring himself a cup. He sits at the table across from me, resting his head in one hand and stifling a groan. “Have you got as bad a hangover as me?” 

I shake my head, smirking. “I’m not the one who drank a bottle and a half.” 

He grimaces as he turns to look at me. “God, I’m never drinking again.” 

“That’s what you said last time too.” 

“I mean it. Throw out all the bottles, we’re a sober house from now on.” 

I smile softly, watching him swirl his cup before taking a sip. I study the dregs of my own tea, suddenly shy. I want to talk to him, but I don’t know how to start. I can’t just jump right into it, but I can’t think of a way to segue into the conversation. Maybe now isn’t the time. 

“What is it?” 

I raise my head, catching his surprisingly clear eyes. “What?” 

“You’ve got a look on your face that says you want to say something. So, what is it?” 

My fingers tighten and I’m afraid the ceramic will break under my grip. He’s observing me with a curious expression. Before I can lose my nerve, I say, “Can I tell you something? Something important.” 

Ollie straightens. “Yeah, alright.” 

“It’s… it’s about my past.” 

“Ooh, your mysterious past. I’m intrigued.” 

I hunch my shoulders. “You might not like me afterward.” 

He lifts an eyebrow. “Did you kill somebody?” 

“No! I didn’t do anything.” 

Ollie gets up to pour himself another cup of tea, filling my mug too. He rests a hand on my shoulder. “Then nothing you say can make me hate you.” He sits in his chair again, crossing his legs. His foot brushes my leg under the table. 

“There was this girl. Her name was Leah,” I say, choking on the name. “She was my girlfriend for two years at the end of secondary school. She was beautiful but—.” 

“But psycho?” Ollie interrupts. He nods sagely. “They always are.” 

“I think she was actually sick. I told her my plans for coming here and it’s like something just switched inside her. I started noticing bruises all over her body, but when I asked her about them, she would just wave it off. I was really concerned about her for a while until I realized that she had started telling people that I beat her.” 

“What the fuck?” 

“I didn’t notice it at first, because she was the sweetest when we were together or in public. But people started looking at me weird and avoiding me. My friend, Ian, confronted me about it one day and I was so confused. I’d never raised a hand to her in my life. And I tried to explain it to him, but he didn’t believe me. I went to talk to Leah about it and found her hurting herself. I broke up with her that day.” 

“Fucking good,” Ollie exclaims, his face furious.

“I still had to finish school,’” I continue, “So I had to deal with people hating me for the next couple months. But then we graduated, and things seemed to calm down a bit. I had planned to take a gap year and just be with my parents for a while. But then Ian showed up at my house one day when my parents were out.” 

Ollie says immediately, “I don’t like him.” 

My mouth twitches. “He said Leah had told him the truth. I, of course, had no idea what he was talking about, but he didn’t explain before he attacked me. He came at me so fast, I didn’t have time to defend myself and I fell. I just remember screaming at him and his fists pounding into my face. It’s how I got this,” I say, reaching up to brush the scar on my eyebrow. I realize I’m shaking. Ollie notices at the same time. He takes my hand, covering it with both of his in a tight grip. 

“I think he would have killed me if my dad hadn’t come home. He pulled Ian off me and kicked him out. I must have blacked out because I woke up in the hospital. Mum told me I had to leave as soon as I could, that it wasn’t safe for me at home anymore. I hated the idea of leaving them, but she was right. Everybody believed what Leah said so someone else was bound to find me and do the same thing if I didn’t go.” 

“What was she telling people?” 

I clench my jaw, not wanting to say it. Ollie just sits there, waiting. He would probably sit there for hours if that’s how long it took me to say it. “That I raped her.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” he snorts in response. He comes around the table, circling my body in his arms. “I appreciate that you trust me enough to tell me. I believe you.” I hold back a sob at the three little words.

 I stop typing to wipe a tear from my eye. I remember the way his arms felt around me, warm and comforting. With those three little words, he had made me realize I was safe. And I loved him for it. 

“After that, things changed for us. Where we had been close before, now we were inseparable. We went everywhere together. We were touching more often, and longer. People thought we were a couple long before we admitted it to ourselves.” 

“You’re really cute together, you know.” 

I turn to look at the girl speaking. She’s smiling at me, her face caked with makeup. She’s barely got a stitch of clothing on. I feel my face heat up. “We’re not together.” 

“Oh. Could have fooled me.” 

Ollie catches my eye and gives me a wide grin, motioning me to come over. 

“Excuse me,” I tell the girl, well aware that I’m not backing up my statement very well.

“There’s my beautiful blue-eyed friend,” Ollie says, flinging an arm around my shoulder. I subconsciously slip my own arm around his waist. He turns into me a little more. I realize that the people he’s been talking to are classmates and I blush as he tells them, “This here is the prodigy of design. He’s got a better eye than anyone in our class and I dare you to fight me on it.” 

I try to extricate myself from his hold, but he only pulls me closer, pressing his lips to my temple. “You’re going to be great,” he whispers to me. 

I freeze at the touch, the first time he’s ever done anything like it. An arm around me, sure. Leaning into me whenever we’re walking? That’s fine. But a kiss? That’s new. I don’t think I mind it. 

“Do you remember that time you made me dance? You always asked when we were in the club and I always said no, but that night was different. We had decided to take the Friday night in for once, but you still managed to get piss drunk, and you came into my room, demanding, and you wouldn’t stop until I did.” 

The music from Ollie’s room is getting steadily louder. On my bed, I tap my foot to the beat, flipping the page of my book. I don’t notice at first when he comes in, until he says, “Dance with me.” 

I look up to see him swaying his torso, surprisingly steady for how much his words are slurring. I shake my head. “I don’t dance, you know that.” 

“I know you don’t dance in the club. This is different.” He swings his hips to the side, closing his eyes for a moment to feel the music. 

I laugh at the sight of him. “You’re wickedly wasted.” 

“I know, and it feels amazing. You know what else feels amazing? Dancing.” He lurches toward the bed, reaching out to grab my hand. 

“Come on,” he whines, “It’s just us here, nobody’s watching.” 

I arch an eyebrow and turn my head, but I can’t help the twitch of the corner of my mouth. I return to my book, trying to ignore the tingle where Ollie’s fingers are entwined with mine. He pulls on my arm, and when I don’t respond, he yanks my book out of my lap, throwing it closed onto the bed. I give out a yell of protest. 

“It’s just us, you and me,” he repeats. He bends down until our noses are brushing. “Dance for me?” 

I feel a flutter of excitement at his words and his proximity, but I say, “I’m not drunk enough.” 

“I can fix that.” 

I let him drag me to the kitchen, then raid the liquor cabinet. He plies me with drink and with each one, I can feel my inhibitions loosening. The music doesn’t move me, but Ollie does. Watching him sashay around the kitchen is mesmerizing. I’m struck by the fluidity of his body as he rolls one way, then another, spinning in time with the melody. He stretches out a hand to me as the music changes to a slower song. 

“You promised,” he says

“I never promised,” but I take his hand anyway. I shuffle back and forth, not as musically inclined as Ollie. He laughs at my attempts. He puts his hands on my waist, digging his fingers in. I let him shift my hips for me, until I’m moving in time with him. 

Ollie steps in closer, running his hands up my chest. I shiver at the touch, feeling the heat of his fingers through my shirt. He murmurs, “You’re a good dancer,” after a minute. 

“You’re such a liar.” 

His expression is clouded but contemplative as he looks between my eyes and my lips. I feel my breath coming in shallow gasps as I wait for him to make his move. After what feels like hours of standing there, he just rests his head on my shoulder, our bodies now swaying out of time with the music. 

“We had our first kiss the next day. it’s probably simultaneously the most shocking and thrilling thing I’d ever experienced. It was exciting for me because I had dreamed of the moment for months, never thinking it would actually happen. You were always flirting with me, but you never took it any further and I had thought that I would be okay with that. But the moment your lips touched mine, I realized I could never have settled for anything less.” 

I let out a gasp, that kiss searing through my brain.

I storm into the room. Ollie’s sleeping form is curled in a ball on one side, beautiful and peaceful. His mouth is turned down in a cute frown. 

I flop onto the bed, raging, “You’re not going to believe what Michael just did to me!” 

Ollie jerks awake with a grunt. His hair is mussed from sleep and his eyes are bleary as he looks at me, confused. “Freddy?” he mutters, sitting up. He hasn’t got a shirt on, exposing the tattoo across the right side of his chest. For once, I’m not mesmerized by the whorls snaking down his arm as he moves to rub the sleep from his face. 

“The bastard knew I was going to go in this weekend. He was there, like he was waiting for me. And he was so creepy about it, just watching me while I worked. I left to go to the bathroom and when I came back, it was gone. He deleted it. He said it was an accident, but how do you just accidentally delete someone’s work like that? I spent hours, hours on that project and now it’s just gone and I’ve got to start all over again. I’ve only got two weeks to finish.” 

I look over when Ollie shifts. His eyes are glazed over as he stares at me, his mouth hanging open a little. I feel a pang of irritation. “Are you listening to me, Ollie?” 

He shakes his head as he admits, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Before I can retort, he surges forward. His hand cups my face, his skin warm, and I feel a spark where his thumb is touching my cheek. Suddenly, he’s kissing me. I flare my eyes wide as his hot mouth presses against mine in earnest. He moves his other hand to my face and tries to pull me toward him, as if we can somehow get even closer. My eyelids flutter closed as I melt into his kiss, resting my fingers on his bare chest. He twitches under my touch and I feel a huff of laughter slip out. 

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Ollie moves us so that I’m lying down and he’s bent over me. He doesn’t break our kiss for a second. The need is palpable, and I wonder vaguely how long he’s been waiting to do this. I find I don’t care, as long as he keeps doing it. When I pull him on top of me, he leans back, sitting on my legs and playing with the hem of my shirt. 

“Take this off,” he demands, breath coming in heavy pants. I sit up, yanking the fabric over my head. He kisses my neck, pushing me back onto the sheets. He progresses down to my chest, dragging the backs of his hands down my side. I can’t help but moan and squirm under his ministrations. He leaves a trail of soft caresses down my body, each one a blooming fire. I knot my fingers in his hair as he moves dangerously lower. I’m unsure whether I want him to keep going or not, but he makes the decision for me. He stops just short of the top of my pants, brushing his lips along my V-line in a way that has me writhing. His lips curl in a smile against my skin and he moves he way back up to my face. His kisses me roughly, briefly, before rolling off. 

Ollie lays on his stomach, propped up on his elbows. He shoots me a mischievous grin. “I didn’t know you could make noises like that.” 

I feel a blush creep across my face. He wiggles his way to my side, resting his head on my chest and draping his arm across my torso.

“I’ve been wondering what it’d be like to kiss you,” he says softly. 

“Was it everything you imagined?” 

“Better.” 

I run my hand down his arm, at a loss for words. The kiss, the feel of his body touching mine had far surpassed my own fantasies too. It gave me a thrill of pleasure, knowing he has been as curious about me as I have been about him. I think back on the three years of flirting and touching between us and wonder when it had turned into something more for him. 

I open my mouth to ask but I realize Ollie’s breath is coming out steady and slow. He’s fallen asleep again. I smile and snuggle into the bed, closing my eyes. 

“Kissing you was my single most favorite thing to do. And every evening we spent together after that was my favorite night. I enjoyed the feel of our legs entwined in bed, and your mouth on me, all over me. I loved exploring your body in the dark, hearing you mutter your curses when I touched your most sensitive spots. God, it was delightful. We must have had a solid week where we didn’t leave the flat. At the time, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. You were perfect.

I wanted my parents to meet you. I wanted them to know I was happy, and why. Do you remember how I agonized over what you should wear? I made you wear that ridiculous striped button up, because I thought it made you look more proper. I should have just let you wear whatever you wanted. They would have loved you regardless.”  

“Stop fussing, you look fine.” 

Ollie continues to play with his buttons. “It’s not every day I get to meet my boyfriend’s parents for the first time.” 

I pointedly look away from him. “Is that what we are?” 

There’s a heartbeat of silence, and then he grabs my arm, whipping me into his chest. His eyes are half closed with barely contained desire. He whispers in my ear, “Shall I do that trick with my mouth again to prove it?” 

I shove him away halfheartedly, blushing furiously. Not from embarrassment, of course, but because I remember the secret move he pulled on me last night, the way his tongue flickered out, and I craved it.

“Stop it,” I hiss through my teeth. “They’re here.” 

Indeed, it is impossible to miss it when mum and dad walked into the waiting area. The room instantly lights up. I wave to them, and the smile that spreads across mum’s face is phenomenal. I know I’ve got one that looks just like it. She hugs me tight, as if she can put three years of love into a single motion. 

“Freddy darling, how are you?” 

I give dad a hug too as I say, “I’m fine, mum. You look fantastic.” She’s not a conventional beauty, but with her hair pulled back in a loose bun and a pretty red dress on, she looks radiant. “We’re just waiting for a table.” 

I look back to see Ollie standing behind me, patiently waiting for us to finish. I reach a hand out to him. “Mum, dad, I want you to meet Ollie, my… my boyfriend.” 

Mum positively beams as Ollie shakes their hands. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Brown,” he says. 

She scoffs. “Pish posh! None of that. I’m Susie, and this is Hank.” Ollie smiles in acknowledgment. 

A waitress calls out, “Freddy, table of four!” We follow her to the back corner, lit by a small lamp on the wall. When we sit down, Ollie grabs my hand under the table. It’s a little clammy. I give him a reassuring smile and squeeze. 

“So, Ollie,” dad is saying, drawing our attention back to them. “You’re at Goldsmiths, too?” 

“Yeah, in the same class as Freddy.” 

“Is that how you met?” 

“Well, we met because I needed a flat mate,” Ollie laughs. 

I sit back and listen as they continue to ask him questions about his family and where he came from and what he plans to do. He answers them easily, the nervousness that he started with dwindling away with every passing moment. I can tell my parents like him, though how you couldn’t like this charismatic, fascinating person, I don’t know. He’s talking animatedly about his goals after school, something about a trip to the continent before starting his career, when he looks over at me. His smile is magnificent. 

Mum turns to me. “And how are you doing there, Freddy? At school?” 

Ollie answers for me. “He’s top of the class.” A touch of pride resounds in his voice. “He’s comes up with the best designs and everybody loves him.” 

I give a shy nod at the joy on my parents faces. 

“Darling, that’s wonderful. You’ve always been fantastic at art.” 

I pull out my phone to show her my project, explaining each piece in detail. When the food comes out, we dig in, talking around mouthfuls, and laughing. It feels like being home again. They tell me they’re staying in London for a few days to see the sights, so Ollie and I offer to give them a tour of our favorite haunts. We leave the restaurant leaving a significant dent in their chocolate cake supply, walking off the food with a stroll down the street. After a while, dad calls a cab while mum hugs me again. 

“We’ll see you tomorrow darlings,” she says. Ollie sticks out a hand to her when she turns to him, but she waves it off and hugs him instead. 

Ollie and I watch the cab drive off and after it’s lost in the traffic, we start our way back to our own car. 

“They really like you,” I tell him unnecessarily. 

“Duh.” 

I shove him with a laugh but he pulls me back. “I really like you,” he says.

I lean in. “Well, I really like you.” 

He presses a hand into the small of my back, holding me against him. I brush his jaw with a finger. His breath comes out shallow at the touch. “I love you,” he finally utters. I catch his lips in a kiss, letting my emotions course through it. When we pull apart, he stares at me intently, expectantly. 

I just smirk. “Duh.” 

“I’ll admit the next year is a blur to me. We had settled into a routine. We still went out to clubs like a couple of idiots, but people stopped trying to flirt with us because it was obvious that we had become something more. The ardor never left and we shed our clothes with as much eagerness as before, but there was now a domestic feel to our relationship. And then there was that night when you kissed me, and it felt different. It felt… more. I don’t know how else to explain it.” 

We stumble through the door, laughing and holding each other up.

“Alright,” Ollie vows, “We’re never going back to that bar. Ridiculously overpriced. Didn’t even get us that drunk.” 

I let go of him for a second and he almost topples to the ground before I lunge in to steady him again. I’m laughing enough that my whole body shakes. “You can’t even stand up straight, Ollie.” 

“I’ve got rum in the cabinet,” he says, pointing toward the kitchen. “Onward!” 

“I think you’re drunk enough.” 

“Come on, Freddy.” The way he says my name sends a shiver down my spine. It feels different than normal. “Just a bit?” 

I relent to the imploring look in his eyes with a smile. We shuffle into the kitchen, grabbing the rum from the bottom shelf. Ollie opens it and drinks directly from the bottle, a solid four seconds passing before he passes it to me. I take a quick swig of it as he says, “Let’s go to the room.” 

I help him down the hall with great difficulty. When we get to his room, he lets go of me, using the wall to support himself. I move to the bed, drinking as I go. He motions for me to give him the bottle. He totters around the room, blearily looking at the decorations on his wall. 

“This one’s from my cousin,” He points to a sketch of his face. He spins on the spot, looking at me. He stares at me intently. “You have the most stunning blue eyes. I bet she could draw you and capture the way the sun makes them look like oceans.” 

I smile indulgently at him. He stumbles over to the bed, sitting next to me. The closeness sends tingles down my arms. He leans his shoulder into mine. “Let’s do a trip around Europe when this is all over.” 

I let go of a sharp, “Ha!” and look at him, shaking my head. “Where are we going to get the money for that?” 

“I’ve got some savings. And I’ll ask my parents to help.” 

I take another sip of the rum. “We can leave our mark all over the continent, so the whole world can know us.” 

I freeze when he grabs my hands, removing the bottle. “I mean it,” he says. 

My breath comes out in shallow gasps as he stands up to tower above me, letting go of me. I suddenly feel cold when he stops touching me. Involuntarily, I reach out, grasping his shirt in my fingers. I look up at him as he runs a hand through my hair. “What do you think? Just you and me, Freddy.” 

Just Ollie and me, traveling together, continuing our lives with each other. The last four years have been a dream. Living in this house, studying together, doing stupid things like getting piss drunk every weekend and kissing in the dark. I had always had the nagging thought in the back of my mind that it would all be over when we were done with school. That we’d go our separate ways when we were finished. I’d been dreading it for months.

I stand up, clinging to him to keep us from falling over. “You want us to stay together?” I can’t help the disbelief that’s in my voice. 

“Maybe forever?” he breathes. 

I slide my hands around his waist and he engulfs me in his arms. I smile as I lurch forward, nestling my head on his broad shoulder, breathing in the scent of pine and rum. What Ollie’s asking changes everything. He’s not just asking for another year together. He’s asking for more. And I realize that I want to give it to him. 

“I love you,” I say in response. “I love you more than anything. I’ve been so worried about this ending, about us ending. I thought you’d want to move on after school and I’d never see you again. I-I’ve been preparing for it, to be honest, even though it hurts to. But what you’re saying… you want to build a life together? With me?” 

“I love you too, Freddy, but you can be so daft sometimes.” He holds my face in his hands, tilting my head up. “We’ve already created a life together. We’ve built a house for our love. What I’m saying is I want to build a palace with you. 

I tell him, “Say my name again.” 

“You’re really fucking cute when you’re demanding,” Ollie laughs leaning his head into the space between us. “Freddy.” 

My whole body shivers as his breath caresses my skin. My insides tremble like he physically touched a nerve. 

“Your turn,” he nudges. 

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” I shoot a glance at those eyes again before looking at his lips again. “Oliver.” 

Ollie crushes his lips against mine without question. It’s not like our first kiss, or the hot and heavy moments we’ve had since then. This kiss is light, tentative, like we’re new at this all over again. But the longer we stand there, the more I want. So I press a little harder. Ollie’s hands slide up my back, pulling our bodies together. A moan passes through my lips and he uses the opportunity to slip in, brushing against the roof of my mouth and playfully circling my tongue. This kiss has got more intensity behind it, not just basic human desire or curiosity. I never want it to end. There’s a fire in the very center of my being, flaring at this new type of passion. 

We separate a few inches and Oliver says, “Alright?” 

I reach a hand out and tangle my fingers in his dark hair. “Who said you could stop?” I demand, before pulling Ollie’s face towards me again. 

“God, I wish I could go back and just freeze time right there. That was the epitome of happiness, hands down the highest point I’ve ever been at. You wanted me. I wanted you. It was simple. Easy. But when you got that text… I want you to know I’ll always hate myself for leaving that life with you. I hate that I got scared. Not of you, never scared of you. I was scared of her coming between us. You said you believed me, that you loved me. But how many times could she message you before you got sick of it? Before you realized you couldn’t handle the baggage the came with being in love with me. I was scared you might start believing her. So I left before that could happen. I should have trusted you to love me despite everything, as you had before. My number one regret is walking away from you. Number two is not kissing you before I did.” 

The villa we’re staying at looks beautiful in the morning sun. I stretch my legs out on the brick fire pit, enjoying the warmth on my face. A few feet away, the pool is a brilliant cerulean blue. It reflects the perfect puffs of clouds in the sky. We’ve been in Spain for a total of two weeks, but it’s already on the top of my list of favorite places. I’ll be sad to leave.

I sit up as I hear Ollie walk out. I take in the sight of him, his khaki shorts falling beneath his knees, a white shirt hugging his frame deliciously. I take another drink and then hold it out to him. As he gets closer, I can see his face more clearly. He looks uncharacteristically somber. “What?”

He hesitates, then touches my arm gently. “I… I got a text.” 

“I get those too,” I say, trying to flash a cheeky grin. He just stares at me with uncertainty in his eyes. Immediately, I panic, “Is it my parents?” 

“No,” he says, “Your parents are fine. It… it was from Leah.” 

For a second, I just stare at him. Then I blink a few times, trying to clear the confusion crowding in my mind. Because he can’t mean who I think he means. That’s impossible. I say as much. Ollie sits down on the chair next to me. 

“She got my number from the directory at Goldsmiths somehow.” 

“How’d she know?” 

“I don’t know.” His voice is soft, like he’s talking to an easily spooked animal. He’s got apprehension in his eyes.

“What did she say?” 

“The same bilge she tried telling everyone else. That you beat her and raped her.” I flinch at the word. “Sorry. I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what you wanted me to do.” 

I feel a flutter of anxiety in my chest, building until it’s choking me. I raise a hand to my throat. Ollie is calling my name, I think, but I can’t hear anything. All I can think of is her face, that mane of curly hair around deep set green eyes, taunting me. 

“Do you believe her?”

Ollie grabs my wrists and tips his head until our foreheads are touching. “It’s not true. I know it’s not true, and nothing she says is ever going to change that. It’s not true.” He continues to repeat himself me until I can see straight again. 

“What do you want me to do about it?” 

“Block her number.” 

“Shall I throw my phone into the pool?”

A little laugh escapes me. “No, it’s fine.” 

“Are you ready for Hungary tomorrow?” he asks, driving the conversation in a different direction. 

I smile, excitement bubbling up. “Already packed.” 

“Well listen, we can either spend our last day here going back into town or we can spend it in that marvelous four poster bed.” His gaze tracks down to my mouth and then lower, lower, before coming back up to meet my eyes. He smirks at me, lust clear on his face. I chew on my bottom lip, pretending to think, but he already knows what I’m going to say.

~~~

Going to Hungary the next day only takes a three hour flight. We’re waiting for our luggage, laughing about the couple who had given us such dirty looks on the plane, when my phone goes off in a series of dings.

“Someone’s popular,” he tease. I open my phone and the smile immediately drops from my face. 

I’m going to tell him

You think you escaped this? 

Just because you ran away doesn’t mean you can hide the truth.

You think you can build a life on a lie? 

“It’s her.” I mutter a curse under my breath. I had the phone to Ollie so he can read the texts. 

“Pathetic,” he says, deleting them. He hands the phone back to me.

The texts keep coming, a new one every day. They range from intimidating to insulting. She threatens to tell Ollie everything, and then to call the police. She calls me everything from a liar to a criminal to a scoundrel. Ollie laughs at the last one when it comes through. He traces circles on and says flirtatiously,”

“Well you are that.” 

She follows us to Austria, Germany and Poland. It’s almost funny after a while, especially when Ollie unblocks her number. 

“I want to see what she’s saying,” he says by way of explanation. 

There’s a flit of anxiety in the pit of my stomach about it.  Soon, it’s not just Leah texting us, but her friends too, and anyone from my hometown who knew about her lies.There’s too many to get rid of. No matter how many times I block a number, there’s another one to take its place. Or they find me through other venues.

 “For fuck’s sake,” Ollie yells. He’s two rooms away, but I flinch from where I am sitting on the couch. He storms into the space, waving the phone in the air. “This girl won’t fucking quit. Listen to this. ‘You are a deplorable human being, aiding and abetting a criminal and ought to be hung by your toes and dragged through the streets on the back of a car.’”

“I give her credit for poetry.” Ollie is too furious to laugh.

She’s harassing him because of me.  A part of me realizes how stupid that sounds, she’s harassing him because she’s unstable, but the rest says this is all my fault.

 I’m the one who ultimately brought Leah into his life. I’m the reason he looks like he like he’s ready to punch a wall. I’ve never seen him so angry. Suddenly, I picture him not as he is now, but maybe a few weeks down the road, haggard and pale. Waiting for the next set of insults. How much more of this can he take? Probably not much more, if he’s this fiercely enraged. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” I sputter, standing up abruptly. I brush past him and into the bedroom, pulling my bag out from under the bed. I’m not even sure what I’m doing as I pull clothes off the hangers.

“Freddy, what are you doing?” He sounds weary. 

“I’m leaving.” 

“Where are we going?” 

I spin on my heel. “Not we. Me. I’m leaving so you don’t have to deal with this bullshit anymore, so you can live a life without my drama.” 

“No you’re not. No you’re fucking not!” Ollie shouts wildly as I turn. He grabs my shoulder, whirling me around and forcing me to look at him. “It doesn’t bother me. I don’t mind the bullshit, the drama, the texts, none of it. I can deal with it.” 

“Why would you want to?” 

“Because I love you, idiot. This whole thing is madness, but we’re going to get through it together. You and me, remember? Frederick and Oliver, taking over the world.” 

I slide my hands around his back, leaning into his chest. I try to smile, but it doesn’t come to my lips. I can’t feel it. All I can think is that this might be the last time Ollie looks at me like that, with love and devotion and how it’s already being marred by fear. How much longer do I have before he learns to hate me, like everybody else? I pull away and shake my head. 

I turn to throw the rest of my clothes haphazardly into my bag. Ollie lets me. He just stands there, as if he’s rooted to the spot. I avoid looking at him. It’s better this way, I tell myself. It’ll hurt at first, but it’ll be better than watching him slowly fall out of love with me. He’ll forget about me eventually. He’ll find someone else to love, someone who hasn’t got as much shit to deal with. He’ll be happier that way. I close the zipper and lift the bag off the bed. When I face him again, he’s watching me with such deep sadness in his eyes. 

“We can do this,” he whispers to me. I feel my heart crack. 

“I can’t,” I say, my voice cracking. 

“If I had a genie and he said I had three wishes, I’d tell him I wish I’d had more time with you. I wish I had never left you. And I wish I could have one last kiss from you. God, I wish I could kiss you again.” 

My fingers stop moving. I read over the text feeling tears well up and fall over. I’ll cut first, then send after, so I don’t have to worry about getting a response. Yes, that’s how I’ll do it. 

I close out of my message and open the photos, finding ones of me and Ollie. I pull up a picture of us at a school function. He’s got his arm around my shoulder, I’ve got mine around his side, pulling him close. His body is turned into me, his head leaning against mine. We’re making stupid faces and I can’t help but laugh a little at it. I prop a phone up against a pillow, Ollie’s face staring up at me. He’ll be the last thing I see. 

I take a shuddering breath as I pick up the knife. I try to wipe away the tears, but they keep falling. My throat closes up as I realize this is it. Alone in a dark room in the middle of the night is how I’m going to die. Pathetic. I press the blade to my wrist, the metal cold and cruel. I clench and unclench my fist, steeling myself for the cut. 

I cry out as I drag the metal across the taut skin. It barely scratches the surface. I adjust my grip on the handle and try again. This time, the knife cuts harder and deeper. I bite my lip; I can taste blood in my mouth. I pass over the wound again, the pain almost unbearable. Red droplets fall on the bed sheet, making little patterns of death. I switch hands, grasping the knife in my left and outstretching my right arm. I can’t keep from screaming this time. I drop the knife, watching it bounce dangerously close to my foot. A giggle leaks out of me. I just destroyed my arms and here I am, worried about my foot. 

My mind is hazy. I fumble for the phone, hissing at the pain radiating throughout my body. I look at Ollie’s face, his puckered lips and dilated eyes peering back at me. I scroll through the other photos. There’s one where he’s got his lips pressed against my cheek while I’m grinning. I haven’t been that happy in years. The next one is an action shot of me jumping into his arms. It’s caught at the right moment where it looks like he’s holding me, but I remember toppling to the ground with him, laughing. I flip the screen once more and a video pops up. The footage is just closeups of his face. It’s shaky, but for a moment, there’s a clear shot of Ollie’s half smile, his eyes staring at the camera, his hand running through his hair. 

“Fuck off, Freddy,” he says. I inhale sharply. I play the video again. And again. And again. 

He’s beautiful. I’m glad I got to know him and love him. 

I lay down, dropping my phone. It buzzes on the floor, but I ignore it. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. 

~~~

I open my eyes slowly and blink. 

I blink again. 

The glare from the clock lights the ceiling with a blue haze. I can see a small crack where the paint is peeling away. 

I failed. I’m still alive. Not that my method was guaranteed to actually kill me. Maybe that’s why I chose it. There is a part of me that still hangs onto life. Still, the rest of me feels a pang of disappointment. I know myself enough to know I won’t be brave enough to try again. Maybe I could hire a hit man. I let out a huff of a laugh. I move my arm to rub my face, yelping at the pain. I stare at my wrists. They’re both messes, with dried blood clinging to the edges of the wounds. I poke at them, sucking in a breath. Idiot. 

With a bit of a struggle, I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. My phone is face up, the little notification light blinking at me. I reach down slowly to grab it, turning it on. My eyes go wide. It’s from Ollie. 

Hey Freddy. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Oliver

Through the fog of alcohol, I have the sense to hesitates before hitting send. I’d just lost my girlfriend and I am wasted at the bar and am literally about to drunk text an ex-boyfriend. I am no better than the girls Cici and I make fun of at the club. 

Hey Freddy. 

As soon as it’s out there, I wish I had never sent it. I’m being stupid. But it’s out there now. After nearly an hour, I give up waiting. I slap some money on the bar and start to pull on my jacket when the phone vibrates. I fumble to get it out of the pocket, almost dropping it in the process. On the screen in a simple, 

Hey. 

I’m a little crestfallen at the short message. An obvious sign that someone wants to be left alone. But I try again anyway.

Where are you nowadays?

This time, the response comes almost immediately. 

Are you drunk?

Is it that obvious? 

Freddy doesn’t answer until I’m almost home. I wait until I’m in my room to read it. 

I’m in London. 

What are you doing there? 

The next texts come in rapidly. 

I’m looking for a job. 

I started my own business

Looking for new clients. 

I smile. Freddy had always wanted his own business; it’s nice to see he’s fulfilling his dream.

Where are you living? 

Different AirBnb places.

I send the next text without thinking. Come to Oxford. I miss you :( 

Silence. Then, You’re really drunk, aren’t you? 

A bit. 

I can almost see Freddy chewing his lip as he contemplates his words. I can’t. 

Frowning, I put the phone down. I don’t know why I feel such disappointment. It’s not like I actually expected him to say yes. We had been as close as two humans could be once. The distance that has grown between us hurts a little bit more tonight. I’m almost asleep when the phone rings. I answer it blearily.

“Hello?” 

“Hello Ollie.” He sounds rough, like he’s had as bad a day as I have. 

I let out a low chuckle. “Hello Freddy.” 

Freddy takes a shuddering breath followed by what sounds like a whimper of pain.

“Are you alright?” I ask. 

“Fine,” he says, his voice hoarse. 

I’m instantly concerned. “Freddy, what’s going on?” 

“Nothing, I just wanted to talk to you. Hear your voice. It’s been too long.” 

“It’s been five years.”

“Yeah.” 

“What’s been happening?” 

Freddy is silent, as if thinking about what to tell me. I don’t expect him to say, “I almost got married.” 

“Really?” I don’t let him hear how much the sentence cuts me to the core. 

“Yeah, a girl, Lizzie.”

“Oh.” 

“I ran away.” 

“Why?” I clamp down on the flutter of vicious joy. 

“She started talking about moving in together, starting a family. I’ve only ever wanted that with—.” He stops. With you, I can almost hear him say. I silently beg for him to say it. Instead, he continues, “I got scared, so I left. I just… left, without saying anything to her. I haven’t talked to her in four years.” 

I don’t know how to respond so I keep my mouth shut. 

“What about you?” he asks after a moment. 

I scoff. “Well I just lost my own girlfriend.” 

He makes a small sound like he’s trying to cover up a laugh. “Should have seen that coming.” 

“Thanks?” 

“Ollie, you’re the gayest person I know.” 

I grin widely. “Shut up.” 

The line goes quiet for a few minutes. Freddy says quietly, “You should get some sleep.” 

I blink the weariness from my eyes as I offer again, “Come to Oxford. I mean it. I’ve got a spare room in my house. I’m sure you could find a bunch jobs here. Just for a little while. What do you say?” 

Freddy hesitates. Finally, he says, “I’ll think about it.” 

“My house is always open to you, Freddy.” 

“I appreciate it.” 

I smile. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” 

“…Yeah.” 

I let him hang up first before putting the phone on the bedside table. I fall asleep while a smile on my face.