The One That Got Away

By the time he shook his head a bit to clear it, Ty was peering at him with intense, green eyes from underneath the hoodie. He still seemed mostly asleep, but at least his eyes were open now, and he was holding the coffee cup close to his mouth.

“Not a morning person, I take it?” Oliver said with a careful smile.

Ty just snorted and sips his coffee then shuffled back out of the kitchen, leaving Oliver standing alone with his bowl of rapidly soggy Lucky Charms.

“Well,” Oliver muttered to himself once Ty was back in his own room, the door creaking loudly again as it closed behind him. “That went well.”

Ty was gone again when Oliver came home from his classes, and he padded to the kitchen, eager to saw if there’s anything to eat. He didn’t bring much food over from his dorm, beyond cereal and milk, but it would do for now. There was another note on the fridge, and Oliver couldn’t help but smile at the sight of it.

Oliver,

Sorry if I was a di*k this morning. Had a long night. Catch you later.

– Ty.

Word of the day: adduce. It means to give as a reason, or proof.

Oliver enjoyed the fact that Ty signed his little notes with his name; if this Chris Brown wasn’t home much, who else would possibly be leaving Oliver notes on the fridge door? He also enjoyed the little random tidbit at the end. First a quote, now a word of the day? It was a quirky, little thing, but it was nice.

Oliver kept an eye on the note, not thinking about anything in particular as he ate his cereal. When he was done, he rinsed out the bowl then let it sit in the sink and grabbed his bag and headed upstairs to his room.

His computer was the first thing he unpacked and it took Oliver about three seconds flat to have multiple windows open at once, alt-tabbing as if his life depended on it. This was how Oliver did things; he’d settled into a comfortable routine for his homework. He played the game between assignments, chatted with his friends over the voice chat client unless they were being particularly distracting, and surfed the internet for sources or news or just random bullsh*t. He was right between the final paragraph of his English paper and the third replay of Cat videos on YouTube, when the computer’s electronic voice informed him that Mayhem had signed on. A brief moment later, Tim’s voice came to life in Oliver’s air, crackling with speaker static for a second.

“‘Sup, bi*ch?” Tim said cheerfully, and Oliver used his pinky to hold down his microphone button.

“Hey Tim,” he said as he tabbed back to his paper, happy to hear from his best friend. He quickly finished his sentence and train of thought, saved the document with a satisfied nod at the screen before leaning back in his chair, wanting to give Tim his complete attention; they hadn’t spoken in a few days, and Oliver had missed him. “How are things?”

“Awesome,” Tim said, as always. “How are things going in Sh*thole, Nowheresville? You get all moved in with your new roomie yet?”

“Yeah.”

“So? How was it? Spill the beans, dude! Is he a good guy? Is he a party boy?”

Oliver was not quite sure what to say to that at first. “He’s… gay,” he eventually said, then immediately wanted to smack himself.

“Not that that’s got anything to do with it,” he hurriedly added, and quickly tabbed to make sure he and Tim were the only two people logged on at the moment. “It’s just… he hasn’t been around much. He seemed like a good guy though. Easy to talk to.”

“Well, good,” Tim said, sounding satisfied and seemingly willing to skip straight past the gay comment. “If he’d been a douche I might have had to come up there just to kick his ass.”

“What am I, your girlfriend?” Oliver snorted. “Thanks, but I don’t think you need to protect me, Tim.”

“Oh please,” Tim snorted. “Even if something were to go down, you’re about as dangerous as a box full of puppies.”

Oliver was only vaguely insulted at that, but he didn’t bother coming up with a comeback. Verbally sparring with Tim rarely led to any form of victory and would most often just degrade into a back and forth cycle of Your mama.

“Wanna play for a bit?” Oliver asked instead. “I thought we could get a raid going–what do you say, you and me, killing some pixelated monsters?”

“Nah,” Tim said, and Oliver’s smile faltered. “I’m headed out. Sophia, this chick I met, was taking me to Hollywood, man! I’m gonna go perv on some celebs, oh yeah! I just wanted to see if I could catch you first. I’m glad things are workin’ out for you, though. I’ll talk to you later, man.”

Oliver couldn’t help but feel disappointed at Tim’s quick departure. They still spoke frequently, and stayed in touch despite being on opposite sides of the country, but Oliver still missed his best friend; missed having someone around who understood him. Especially given his complicated history with Monique and her callous abandonment. Part of him was jealous at how easy relocating across the country seemed to be for Tim, when it was so difficult for Oliver.

“Later,” he said, not completely successful in hiding the disappointment in his voice, then put the headset down as the computer screen informed him Mayhem had signed off. Playing the game wasn’t quite as appealing without Tim around. Instead he watched Cat videos once more to cheer himself up–yep, they were still funny–and then glanced at the clock. He had been working on his homework for just over three hours, and his stomach was rumbling again.

Monique used to joke about the amount of food Oliver ate, but really now—he was still growing! He needed his nourishment! So he typed a quick brb food to his guild, pushed himself up from his chair and headed downstairs; maybe he would feel like playing the game after he’s gotten some food in him.

At the bottom of the stairs he briefly hesitated by the front door. More cereal, or should he venture out to get some real dinner? On the one hand, he would at some point need to get some food that wasn’t frosted cereal and sugar marshmallows, but on the other he was feeling exceptionally lazy.

He was deep in thought, just debating the merits of Lucky Charms versus Taco Bell, when there was the distinct sound of heavy boots hitting the front porch. Oliver didn’t have time to react before the door flew open, and for the second time in the span of a few short days, he found himself eating a face full of door and being knocked flat on his ass by Ty.

“Fu*k!” he heard Ty’s voice from above him, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain.

There was laughter then, a voice that didn’t belong to Ty, and someone else said, “Damn son, I haven’t seen anything that funny since we put roller blades on Clarence in his sleep!”

Blinking, Oliver looked up and saw Ty kneeling on the floor, a concerned look on his face. Behind him stood a guy around Ty’s age with shaggy, brown hair falling around his ears, blue eyes twinkling down at Oliver.

“Jesus sh*t,” Ty cursed “Do you like, hang out in doorways on purpose?” he asked incredulously. “Do you have a death wish? Do I need to call the men in the white coats?”

“I’m good,” Oliver croaked, and he let Ty pull him to his feet. “Sorry. Guess I was spacing out a bit.”

“I noticed,” Ty responded dryly, and he seemed to relax now that he was sure Oliver wasn’t hurt. “Guess I was lying when I said I wouldn’t try to kill you with my door.”