The cries quieted, but the door remained locked. I leaned back on the wall, rubbing at my forehead to ease some of the building tension.
This shouldn’t be like this. I should be in that bathroom, holding Oliver and comforting him, not on the other side of a closed door, unable to do anything but wait.
I balled my fist. This was a new level of helplessness I wasn’t used to feeling. Part of me wanted to punch a hole into the wall, only to get rid of some of the pressure inside me.
After what felt like an hour, the door to my bathroom creaked open. Oliver stepped out. His eyes were puffy and red, his gaze falling down to the floor.
“I’m sorry, Olly.” It was the first thing I needed to get off my chest. “I didn’t mean to go at you like that. I let my insecurities take control. If I could, I’d take that moment back.”
Oliver wiped at his cheeks, under his chin. “What insecurities, Beck?” He looked through tear-streaked eyes. The light was off in my hallway, so Oliver’s face was lit softly by whatever light leaked over from the living room. There was a neon-green tint to the scene, coming from a small palm tree nightlight I had placed in the bathroom.
Oliver never looked more familiar to me. Even with what little light there was in the hall, I felt like I was looking at my soul mate, like I could paint a picture of him with my eyes closed and come out with a photorealistic copy of Oliver’s face.
“I’m scared of you leaving me. Scared that you’ll toss me to the side like a used toy.” I could see Oliver winding up to protest, but I cut him off. “And you haven’t done anything to make me think like that. Nothing at all. You’ve only given me more reasons to love you, every single day I find a new one. Whether it’s the way you tilt your head when you smile, or the way you always have to tie your left shoe before your right, or how you do these weird little bird noises every time you’re thinking hard about something. Every day, I find something to love. And with every new thing added to the list, it’s one more thing I’m scared of losing.”
“You won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere. I don’t want to go anywhere.”
“I know. Logically, I know that. It’s just in here.” I pressed two hard fingers against my chest. “I can’t shake the fear that our age difference is going to drive you away. Just looking in the mirror, I feel reminded by it. With every new crow’s-foot, every new forehead crease, it’s a visible reminder that there’s no way of bridging the time between us.”
“I don’t care about bridging it, Beck. I know that’s impossible. What I care about is walking across every other bridge in my life with you by my side.” Oliver’s hand found mine. His fingers, soft and thin, dipped between mine, locking our hands together. “And just for the record, you may see all that, but I don’t. All I see is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
“Even if I don’t know the difference between an Instagram and a Snapbook?” It was a little bit of a lighthearted joke that still carried plenty of truth to it. Seeing Oliver and all his popular social media accounts had made me feel self-conscious, only because it felt like such a faraway world from the one I had lived in for so long.
Oliver’s lips quirked into a smirk, a moment of much-needed levity during the storm. “Would it change anything if I said I’m jealous that you grew up without all that crap? I kind of wish I didn’t have to even think about the number of people ‘double-tapping’ on my photo. And I grew up with that shit. You know how messed up in the head that makes you?”
A laugh rose up out of me, strange but welcome.
“And that’s not to say they’re aren’t great things about all the socialmeeds. I get to see pictures of celebrities eating sponsored ice cream whilealsosimultaneously staying in touch with all of my friends from college. And then, all in the same ten-minute span, I could get a comment on a photo from my drunk aunt Laureen telling me that my smile was heaven-sent and that she wishes I wrote her more.” Oliver’s grin was growing. “See? Magical. But also a huge pain in my ass.” He stepped closer to me. “Unlike you. I want you, Beckham. And only you. That’s not going to change for anything.”
I believed him. I really fucking did.
But I needed to hear it said. Maybe it was the investigator in me, but I had to ask the question. “So me being sixteen years your senior doesn’t bother you?”
“Of course it doesn’t bother me. I’ve seen how quickly time can become irrelevant, Beck. Suddenly, a sixteen-year age gap is shortened to nothing through some tragic accident or sidewalk homophobic attack that leaves someone dead. I’ve learned the hard way that life is short for everyone, so why the hell am I going to make it harder for myself by fighting my love for you?”
Those stormy blue eyes were holding a category five hurricane. He meant every word he said. There wasn’t a doubt in my bones.
“Okay?” Oliver asked. I realized I was quiet. “I love you, forever and always.”
“I love you, too, Olly.” We leaned in for a kiss. It felt like we were stepping into an old dance routine, one which our bodies knew all the steps but needed a few seconds to warm up.
His lips, soft and warm against mine, instantly eased the turmoil that had rocked my world hours before. His kiss was a spread of cool aloe vera over a scorched sunburn.
After we shared that healing kiss, the two of us moved out of the cramped hall and into the living room. Oliver took a seat at the dining table next to the kitchen. The window was open, letting in a warm breeze from outside, rattling some of the blinds.
I went to reheat Oliver’s tea in the microwave.
“Thank you,” Oliver said when I set the steaming cup back in front of him.
I took a seat opposite him with my own mug. It was decaffeinated green tea with a dollop of honey thrown in, soothing every part of the throat as it went down.
“I take back what I said about the investigation.” Oliver’s words weren’t surprising. I knew he had been speaking through his frayed emotions. I knew that at the end of the day, what Oliver wanted most was to find the fuckers who did this. He wanted closure and he wanted to put Derrick’s killers behind bars, and I was sure as hell going to do it.
That’s when it hit me.
“Bloody hell.”
“What?” Oliver asked. “What is it?”