Impatient - 1. Impatient

"So what goes in hard and dry, but comes out soft and wet?"

Patrick didn't even look up from his Rubik's Cube. "Gum."

Oliver frowned and tapped on his phone. "Okay, try this one. What do you call a man who cries while he masturbates?"

"A tearjerker." Patrick sounded bored now. "C'mon, give me a hard one."

"A hard one?" Oliver repeated with a grin.

Patrick stopped playing long enough to flip him off.

Oliver, still grinning, tapped his phone a little more. His grin widened. "Okay, try this one. What do a Rubik's Cube and a dick have in common?"

Patrick paused, then glanced over and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"The more you play with it, the harder it gets."

Patrick threw the Rubik's Cube at him and Oliver caught it easily, laughing.

"Those jokes are lame," Patrick complained. "What happened to those really funny ones you told last week? About the two lesbians in the closet?"

"The liquor cabinet?"

Patrick's eyes lit up. "Yes. And the one you told about Christmas. The one that your parents overheard and you got in trouble about?"

"The one about the hos?"

Patrick laughed. "That was a classic." He got up and crossed the room, dropping unceremoniously on top of Oliver's long form, stretched out on the bed. Oliver let out of huff of annoyance, but it was mostly for effect. Patrick's weight on top of him felt nice, heavy and protective.

He shifted his legs so that they cradled Patrick's hips in between them and pressed them groin-to-groin. He could feel the heat radiating from Patrick's fly, the slight heft of it against where Oliver was already beginning to swell. Oliver reached up and shoved the Rubik's Cube onto the end table. "You know, there are some people who can solve a Rubik's Cube while blindfolded."

"Probably lonely geeks that don't have anything else to do but play with stupid toys," Patrick decided, moving his hips in a slow, lazy drag that sent warm friction through Oliver, who couldn't help but shift his hips upwards to meet it. "I think we can find something more productive to do, don't you?" Patrick's fingers closed around Oliver's erection and gently squeezed. Oliver slid his fingertips up Patrick's hips, trailing around to the front to unbutton and unzip his jeans, then grabbed a fistful of Patrick's T-shirt to pull him down for a kiss. Patrick kissed like he did everything, intense and full throttle. Oliver loved it; the way he felt like Patrick was trying to devour him made him hungry for breath and cut off his ability to speak. Patrick's hands were warm on his ribs and his belly, then were tugging on his jeans. Oliver lifted his hips to help ease them down, and the resulting motion, pressing his erection firmly against Patrick's heat, made him shiver in anticipation.

Patrick pressed his lips against Oliver's stomach and it tickled, made him squirm a little bit. Then Patrick was tugging Oliver's briefs down his legs, tossing them onto the floor. Usually at this point, Patrick would climb on top of him, rubbing against him, until the slippery friction brought them both over the edge. But this time, Patrick stayed where he was, pressing a kiss into Oliver's thigh and pushing his leg up so that his knee was bent and his foot was flat on the bed. Oliver, curious about this sudden change in their familiar routine, had just lifted his head to see what was going on when Patrick gripped his length in one hand and took it into his mouth.

Oliver gasped, almost instantly overcome at the feeling of wet heat against his member. Patrick moved his mouth carefully over him, and he felt the first tentative touches of Patrick's tongue against him, sliding up slowly around the head and the slit, and he gasped again, gripping the sheets with suddenly weak fingers.

"Okay?" Patrick asked, lifting himself up off of Oliver's cock.

Oliver nodded. "Yeah. Try it again?"

He did, and Oliver felt amazing. The warmth and the wet quickly had him hard and almost aching for release, but he didn't want to come in his boyfriend’s mouth and so frantically pulled at Patrick, who finished him off with his hand.

Oliver came with another small, strangled gasp that Patrick smothered with a strong kiss.

Later, they were lying together naked in Oliver's bed, enjoying the last few rays of late afternoon sunlight.

"Here," Patrick said, pressing a small box into his hands.

"What is this?"

"I got it for you. It's for your birthday. It's a few days early, but I wanted to give it to you privately."

"I thought what we just did was for my birthday."

Patrick kissed him. "That too."

Oliver wriggled into a half-sitting position and opened the box, removing a small silver pendant hanging from a slender silver chain. It was inscribed with a symbol that Oliver didn't recognize.

Patrick took it from Oliver's hands and hooked it around his neck. "It's Sanskrit," he explained, tracing the design. "It means patience." He looked up at Oliver, his brown eyes warm. "Because I hope you can be patient with me."

Oliver smiled weakly and leaned forward to kiss Patrick. Patrick kissed him back, then kissed his neck and his chest next to the necklace, before contently resting his head on Oliver's chest. Oliver absent-mindedly ran his fingers through Patrick's dark hair. Patrick’s unwillingness to come out had been the main point of contention in their relationship. Oliver agreed not to out Patrick until he was ready but refused to stay in the closet himself, coming out to his friends and family six months ago. No-one knew that he was dating Patrick, his best friend for years.

Except for Leah. She had been friends with Oliver for as long as Patrick had, and he couldn't hide anything from her. She was as unhappy about Patrick’s unwillingness to reveal himself as Oliver's boyfriend as he was, and was less understanding about Patrick's hesitation.

Oliver understood. Even these days, when gay marriage was legal everywhere and gay characters were portrayed in all types of media, Oliver knew that homophobia was still very much a thing. He also knew that even supposedly open-minded people could react quite differently to a gay friend or relative, more so if it was someone they were especially close to, like a son. So yeah, he understood, but it still stung a little bit. He had been willing to take the chance to be honest and open, and having his orientation out in the open was freeing and liberating, but having to keep his relationship hidden was galling. Patrick was obdurate in keeping his sexuality a secret. Being lovers in private but holding up a platonic charade in front of others was exhausting.

But Patrick had pleaded for Oliver to understand and to give him time. He would look up at him with those dark eyes, and Oliver would crumble underneath that soulful gaze. He sighed and Patrick looked up. "What is it?"

"I'm just wondering how patient you want me to be," Oliver said.

Patrick frowned. "Don't be like this, please."

"I know, I know, you need time. But---Well, I don't see how more time is going to change anything. It's not like you want to wait until you are in college or not living with your parents anymore, right?"

"Yeah."

"And it's not wanting to wait until you graduate from high school."

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, what are you waiting for, exactly? I mean, do you think something is going to change, if you continue to wait?"

"It's just--I just need some time. I want to wait until the right time and to work up my nerve. It's different for me, baby. I'm not brave like you."

Oliver pressed his lips into Patrick's hair. "You don't need to worry. I think your parents will be cool with it, just like mine were."

Patrick sighed and pushed himself up on his elbows. "Listen baby, I need to talk to you."

"That sounds foreboding," Oliver teased, playing with Patrick's dark hair.

"I'm serious. Listen, I'm really sorry but--" Patrick faltered for a moment, looking down at the sheets.

"What is it sweetie?" Oliver asked, combing a hand through Patrick's hair again.

Patrick sighed and dropped his head. "I'm not going to be able to make it to your birthday dinner this weekend."

Oliver frowned, trying not to look too disappointed. His birthday dinner was a huge deal. His parents always took him and a friend to a nice restaurant and gave him presents afterwards.

"Why?"

"You know how I'm struggling in some of my classes?" Patrick asked.

Oliver nodded. "Yeah, you're getting tutored, right?" It was one of the reasons that their afternoon liaisons happened less frequently, and one of the reasons that Oliver was looking forward to spending an evening with him.

"Yeah. Well, I have one test on Friday and another one Monday, so I have to do extra tutoring all week and then study over the weekend. They're important tests, otherwise I would just blow them off and hang out with you."

"You can't spare an hour or two?" Oliver asked.

Patrick kissed him again. "I promise, the next weekend, we'll do something special, okay? Just you and me."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

The Crazy Cat was one of Oliver's favorite diners, mostly because it stuck faithfully to the '50s retro vibe that it boasted, from the decor to the music and the menu. And because of the apple pie. The apple pie was amazing.

"My cousin Dylan just started working here," Leah said as they walked toward the restaurant. Oliver could vaguely remember him, another cheerful, sun-browned child who would play Ninja Turtles with him and Leah sometimes, before going to a different middle and high school. "He might be able to give us a little bit of a discount. But I need to make sure to tip him well, or I'll never hear the end of it from my mom."

"Next thing you know, she'll be asking you to get a job," Oliver teased, and Leah rolled her eyes.

"Don't start. She's already talking about how Dylan makes so much money off of tips and has all this extra spending money. The other day, she actually brought home some job applications and keeps on making comments about her office thinking of hiring on some interns."

"Do interns get paid?" Oliver asked, as he walked to the restaurant door and held it open for her.

"Probably not." Leah smiled over her shoulder as she stepped through the door. "Such a gentleman!"

"Don't let it go to your head," Oliver said.

Leah sighed melodramatically. "Such chivalry though. Shame it's completely wasted on your fake boyfriend."

Oliver felt his face heat up and regretted, again, that he had told Leah about Patrick and him.

"He isn't fake," Oliver hissed as the hostess grabbed some menus and led them to a booth near the front window. "He's just not ready to come out yet, and I don't want to pressure him."

"If he wants to stay in the closet, that is his business," Leah agreed as she picked up a menu. "I just don't think it's right that he fucks you whenever he wants but won't even take you out on a proper date. You wouldn't let me get away with dating a guy like that."

Before Oliver could respond, because Leah just didn't get it, a tall waiter, complete with a soda jerk cap over his dark hair, glided up to their table.

"Welcome to the Craaaaaazy Cat," he started, and Leah immediately burst into laughter. Oliver had to avert his eyes to stare at the menu and couldn't help the grin that threatened to turn into a fit of giggles. It was a standard greeting at the restaurant, but this was the first time he had heard someone deliver it so enthusiastically. Across from him, Leah was nearly overcome with laughter. Each time she started to calm down, she would glance up at the waiter, who he assumed was Dylan, and break down into another fit of laughter, wiping at the tears streaming from her eyes. Dylan, for his part, went from looking amused, to embarrassed, and then faintly annoyed, and had started impatiently twirling his pencil in between his fingers.

Oliver, who was aware of the looks that Leah's hysterics were drawing, and who was getting a little embarrassed and impatient with her himself, gave their server an apologetic smile.

"Sorry," he said and turned to Leah. "This is why I can't take you anywhere nice."

Leah shook her head, wiping underneath her eyes, smearing her eyeliner. "Sorry, I just--I can't---" She dissolved into another fit of giggles.

Dylan sighed audibly.

"Drinks?" Oliver asked.

"Sure," Dylan said, brightening.

"We'll both have a Coke," he decided as Leah had collapsed on top of their table, hiding her face in the crook of her arm in an unsuccessful attempt to stem her giggles. Dylan gave him a smile and then glided away from the table.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Oliver hissed. Leah lifted her head, shaking it again as she wiped at the streaks of eyeliner and mascara that were smudged around her eyes, making her look like a deranged panda.

"I--I just--" She giggled again. "Oh my God, my mom is going to kill me, but that was so worth it."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "You are such a child sometimes, I swear. Go fix your face."

Leah squinted at her reflection in a spoon. "Oh fine. I'll be right back."

Oliver leaned back as Leah left and tried to will the heat away from his face. Leah had completely embarrassed him, not only by acting like she had, but in not telling him beforehand that Dylan was completely hot. He had a thing for dark haired guys, Patrick was proof enough for that, and he liked Dylan's lanky height and honey brown eyes as well. And his smile, the way it spread from a generic waiter's smile, to something sheepish and shy under Leah's laughter. Oliver found himself grinning as he recalled the ridiculous greeting. It had been funny, the way Dylan had glided in and slid to a stop while crooning out the name of the restaurant, but the open guilelessness, with no hint of sarcasm or sullenness was refreshing in a way, made it feel like Dylan actually enjoyed his job.

He saw Dylan gliding back in their direction with a tray of drinks in his hands and craned his neck to see how he could move that way. He wasn't wearing skates, which was his first thought.

"Are those Heely's?" Oliver asked incredulously as he saw Dylan shift his weight to stop his forward movement as he approached the table.

"Yeah," Dylan said, giving him another smile as he set down the glasses of Coke. Oliver felt himself blushing. Leah came up behind him, her face scrubbed clean of most of her eye makeup and slid into the booth.

"You're going to fall and bust your ass," she announced. "Why the hell are you wearing those things at work?"

"Because I can move around faster on 'these things' than my regular sneakers. And because management wouldn't let me use a Hoverboard," Dylan retorted. "You wanna hear about our specials?"

"Yes," Oliver quickly responded. He didn't really need to--they were perfectly visible on a large board over the counter--but he was enjoying Dylan's smile and voice. After they had ordered and Dylan had glided away, Oliver turned a stern look at Leah.

"You didn't tell me your cousin was a hottie," he pointed out.

Leah wrinkled her nose. "Gross. Don't talk about my cousin that way."

"Oh please, stop. I know exactly what you're doing, so you can stop pretending that you don't have an ulterior motive over there."

Leah shrugged innocently. The lack of her usual heavy eye makeup made her eyes seem even larger. "Can't hurt to see some of the other fish in the sea, that's all."

Oliver smiled and was about to reply when he saw a familiar mop of hair pass by the window next to him and craned his neck to watch as Patrick approached the door of the diner.

"Hey, Pat is here," he said and was getting ready to stand up and wave to him before he stopped. Patrick was with someone, a pretty brunette that looked around the same age as him or a little older. His arm was around her shoulders, and she was smiling and had an arm around his waist. They stopped behind another couple who were waiting to be seated, and as Oliver watched, dumbstruck, Patrick turned and gave the girl a long kiss. On the mouth.

Oliver dropped his eyes down quickly, staring at his hands. He heard Leah shift across from him, and when he looked up, he saw she had twisted to watch Patrick and his date, who were still lingering up front. Leah spun back around and dropped into her seat. She was obviously shocked; her mouth was open and her eyes were round. She looked more wide-eyed than ever, and Oliver couldn't help but think of a slow loris or an owl when he looked at her. That tripped something inside his chest, and he found himself starting to laugh. Just a chuckle at first, but it quickly grew into full laughter that grew each time he thought of her wide-eyed expression.

Leah, at this point, looked more concerned than surprised and this, too, struck him as ridiculously hilarious. He laughed even harder.

"Olive...honey..." Leah started, reaching over the table to put her hand over one of his. Oliver dropped his head onto his arm, like Leah had done earlier, seized by laughter that was beginning to verge on hysterical. Finally, giggling madly, he sat back up and pulled his hand free to wipe at his streaming eyes. He stood up abruptly and nearly collided with Dylan, who was on his way to the table with their food.

"Whoa!" Dylan exclaimed, neatly circumventing him and safely placing a wobbly tray of food on their table. He grabbed at Oliver's arm to steady himself and gave him a smile. "Where's the fire?"

"Excuse me," Oliver mumbled, feeling his face heat up from embarrassment. He glanced around the diner, then saw where Patrick and the girl had been seated. He approached, noting with another pang that Patrick was holding the girl's hand, the way he often held Oliver's, with a stroke of the thumb over the knuckles. He drew a deep breath and took a few more steps forward until he was next to their table, staring at his traitorous friend.

Patrick looked up. Their eyes met. Patrick's face and body betrayed nothing; he didn't drop the girl's hand or lean away from her, his smile didn't vanish. But something in his eyes, a brightness that was always there, dimmed slightly. It told Oliver that their relationship, or farce of one, was over.

"Hey," Patrick said casually, still smiling. "Oliver, this is Alyssa."

The brunette beamed at him. "Hi."

"Oliver is my best friend; I've known him ever since we were in diapers."

"Nice to meet you," Alyssa said, extending her hand.

Oliver ignored it, his eyes fixed on Patrick's smiling face, sad eyes, and lying mouth. "How could you?" he whispered.

Patrick didn't say anything, just sat there, smiling, his eyes growing distant and faded. Soon, it was a stranger sitting there, a grotesque parody of someone who used to be a friend and something more.

Patrick was saying something, but Oliver couldn't even make sense of the words. It just sounded like noise. He found his hand going up to his neck, to the choker hanging there. Could remember Patrick giving it to him with a kiss and how Patrick had touched it, begging for Oliver to give him just a little more time.

Lies. All lies.

Oliver shook his head and pulled the choker off, hearing the clink of the cheap clasp breaking. He threw it on the table.

"We're done," he announced, then spun on his heel, heading for the door before he started bawling and embarrassing himself even further. He mercifully made it to the door before the tears started, blurring his vision.

He swallowed them back determinedly, wishing for the hysterical laughter that he had before, but that was gone. All that was left was the devastating ache in his chest, a bitter mix of betrayal, anger, hurt and loss. He hurried the rest of the way home.

Leah was the first to show up, knocking, then pounding on his door until he answered. She didn't say anything, just stepped inside the house and wrapped him in lavender-infused hug. He returned it gratefully, resting his head briefly against hers.

"Please don't laugh at me or tell me 'I told you so'," he choked out.

"Don't be stupid," Leah replied, not releasing him. "I only laugh when your dumb ass does something stupid, not when your dumb ass gets your heart broken."

"I deserve it," Oliver mumbled and pulled away, embarrassed. Leah had warned him time and time again that Patrick might have just been playing with him, that his reluctance to be open about their relationship went far beyond just being shy or worrying about what people thought. He hadn't been willing to listen. "God, how could I be so stupid?" He wiped at his eyes with his sleeve.

"No one deserves to be cheated on!" Leah said. "You don't deserve any of this, and you're not stupid. The only mistake you made here was to give your heart to someone who took shitty care of it. He is the stupid and despicable person here. Now sit down and I'll get your ass some hot tea, okay?"

Oliver sat, burying his head in his cold hands. He hadn't been home for long and had spent several minutes just wandering around aimlessly, in a sleepwalker's daze. His broken mind kept replaying fragments of the afternoon--the kiss that Patrick had given the other girl, the arm wrapped around her shoulders, the way he had held her hand, and the way something had faded and died in Patrick's eyes when he looked up to see Oliver standing there. The last one bothered him the most, and he played it over and over in his mind. Patrick knew what he was doing, what it would mean for their relationship, and went through with it anyway. Like he was throwing away the last decade of their friendship. Why?

There was another rap from outside and Oliver looked up in time to see Leah approach the door. She pulled it open and the atmosphere in the room immediately chilled. The warm, compassionate care from Leah was gone in an instant as she scowled.

"How dare you even show your face right now?" she snarled. "Get the hell away from here."

"I came to see Oliver, not you." Oliver could hear Patrick's voice floating in from the open doorway.

"Shut your damn mouth and get out of here," she snapped. She moved to shut the door, only to have Patrick block the motion and slam it back open. Leah jumped back in alarm.

"I'll call the fucking cops on you," she warned, but Oliver was already unfolding himself from the couch and getting to his feet. "It's okay, Leah. I'll talk to him."

Leah remained in the room, glowering with her arms crossed, so Oliver led Patrick into the bathroom, which was the nearest room where they could have a little bit of privacy. His bedroom was too achingly intimate after what had just happened. He flipped on the overhead fan to mask their words from Leah, who he was sure was camped out right outside the door, desperate to catch every word. He knew all of her involvement came from a place of love and concern, but he wanted to keep this ugliness contained between the two of them, the cheater and the fool who had been gullible enough to fall for Patrick's deception.

"What do you want?" he asked, glad his voice was steady, even though it sounded rough and coarse.

"Well, I hope you are happy, making a scene like that at the restaurant. Alyssa is completely freaked out, and she was so excited to meet you."

Oliver laughed, bitterly. Was he really just hearing this?

"I just found out my best friend, my lover, the person I trusted more than anything in the world cheated on me, and you expect me to care about how your girlfriend feels? Jesus Christ, do you have a pair on you."

Patrick frowned. "Don't be so dramatic. I was going to tell you."

"Don't be dramatic? Don't be dramatic? You're cheating on me and acting like it is no big deal, of course I'm being dramatic! I loved you! I trusted you! How could you do this?"

"Look, I didn't want to hurt you--"

"Well, you messed up on that count!"

"Can you shut up and listen for a minute?"

"Fine. Fine, I'm listening." Oliver crossed his arms and fixed Patrick with the most venomous glare he could muster.

"Okay. Listen. Alyssa has been tutoring me, since my grades in math and history aren't that great. And the more time I've spent with her, the more I started to like her. She's smart and sophisticated, and she has a great sense of humor. I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid of hurting you. I still really like you Oliver, but I like her too. And I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. So I took Alyssa out for a date this afternoon to see how strong my feelings were--"

"That is such bullshit!" Oliver interrupted. "This was no first date. You were already hugging her and kissing her. I'm not stupid."

Patrick's eyes darkened with anger. "You're acting like a baby, like a fucking child. Alyssa is so much more mature, there's no drama with her. Is it any wonder I started wanting something different?"

The words hurt far more than Oliver thought they could. He shook his head, turned away. "I don't even know you anymore. I thought we were friends. I thought we had something special."

"We did," Patrick said, his voice softening. "I'm not perfect, Oliver, and I've been trying to figure this out."

"You should have told me. Told me that you had feelings for someone else, rather than string me along with lies and fake promises."

"I wasn't sure. I wanted to wait until I was sure, so I wouldn't make a mistake. I didn't want to ruin things between us."

"I don't believe you," Oliver said. "I don't think you had any intention of ever telling me anything. You know what I think? I think you thought you could have the best of both worlds. Sex from your best friend and...and whatever the hell it is you're getting from Alyssa, I don't really want to know. But life doesn't work that way. You have Alyssa, but you lost me. I'm not your secret boyfriend anymore. And I'm not your friend. And I don't want to have anything to do with you. You make me sick. Now get out."

Oliver reached out and opened the door. He saw Leah scuttling away out of the corner of his eye and would have laughed if it were a lighter situation. He finally looked back up at Patrick. The other boy's jaw was locked, and there was a hardness in his face and eyes that Oliver had never seen before. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he spun on his heel and stalked out, slamming the front door behind him. Oliver let out a long shaky breath, quickly sitting down on the toilet before his legs could start shaking. He felt like he had just been through one of the most grueling gym sessions ever instead of breaking up with his boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. Ex-friend. Memories popped up, unbidden, of younger days when they would explore the woods and play with branches, pretending to sword fight. Memories of sleepovers, of staying up too late playing video games, of walking home together after school. Late afternoon stretching into evening, talking quietly in his room and Patrick leaning forward to kiss him the first time.

Tears sprang to his eyes and the room swam in front of him, familiar images distorted. Then hot streaks were scorching down his face, and he felt Leah's arms come around him again.

Leah held him through a messy sobbing fit, then made him drink some hot tea and shower before his parents got home. Oliver had pulled himself together enough by that time to get through dinner and homework, and when his parents commented on his solemn mood, he simply told them that he had a fight with Patrick. Their cheerful reassurances that it was just a quarrel and that they would overcome it and resume being friends again twisted the knife's edge even deeper in his chest. Even if Oliver found some way to eventually forgive the betrayal, there was no way for them to continue their friendship. That had died the minute that Oliver had approached Patrick at the table and had seen the recognition and resignation in Patrick's eyes.

Patrick and Oliver studiously avoided each other at school the next day. They didn't share many classes, and Oliver started sitting with Leah and his other friends at lunch. His birthday came and went with little fanfare; he went to a movie after school with his friends, and when the weekend came, he invited Leah to join him and his family for his traditional dinner at a popular Teppanyaki restaurant. She had been there for him throughout the breakup and, at the very least, deserved some scallops and steak.

The food was excellent, as always, the cook entertaining and Oliver felt in slightly better spirits as he walked back home with his parents and Leah. His older brother had come home from college for the occasion as well. He felt warm and buoyed by their company but still plagued by the lingering ache of Patrick. He wondered how long it would last, or if it would always be there, every day, every hour, an empty void aching to be filled by someone who loved him like he had loved Patrick.

He was in the living room a little bit after Leah had left, playing a video game in fierce competition with his brother when there was a knock at the front door. He hardly noticed it until his mom came to tell him there was a friend of his out front. A sweeping feeling of deja vu overcame him as he got to his feet. When he stepped out onto the porch, he wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed to see Dylan sitting out there instead of Patrick.

"Hey," he said, sitting down next to Dylan on the porch steps. "You know you can come in if you want."

"I know. I can only stop by for a minute," Dylan said. He was still in his uniform from the restaurant, complete with his Heelys and a shirt decorated with a grinning cat and spirals in place of its eyes. "Leah told me that you just had a birthday."

"Yeah."

"She also said that you were having the worst week ever."

Oliver chuckled. "True on both counts. But I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough," Dylan said. He shifted a little, then gave Oliver a box. Oliver recognized it as one of the take out boxes from the restaurant. He set it down in his lap and opened it. There was a slice of fresh apple pie inside, warm and fragrant. A tiny candle was perched on top, ringed with a bit of whipped cream.

"I hope you still like apple pie," Dylan said as he leaned over and lit the candle with a Bic lighter. It threw shadows over his hands and face, glowed against the confines of the box.

"Happy Birthday, Oliver," Dylan said.

"Should I make a wish?" Oliver asked.

"Of course," Dylan said. Oliver smiled and blew out the candle, then carefully pulled it free of the pie and cream and sucked the lingering sweetness off the wax.

"Thanks," Oliver said, closing the box and smiled at Dylan. "This is cool."

"Well, birthdays are special, and so are you," Dylan said, then reddened slightly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound all Mister Rogers on you."

"No, it's fine. It's nice to know that someone cares."

Oliver was a little surprised when Dylan reached over with one arm and pulled him into a casual hug. But not enough to pull away. Dylan was warm and solid against him, and Oliver could smell the lingering scents of the other boy’s cologne, something earthy and musky, along with the warm scent of apples. It was nice, and he was almost sorry when Dylan pulled away.

"Well, I have to get going. But if you ever do want to talk or hang out or anything, you can stop by my place, it's near where Leah lives. I’ll even let you play Michelangelo instead of Splinter, since you are having a rough time.”

“Oh my God,” Oliver said, burying his face in his hands and remembering how often they had played Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Dylan laughed. “Or you can just stop by the restaurant, and I'll hook you up with free apple pie."

Oliver chuckled. "That would be great, thanks."

He stood up at the same time as Dylan and found himself studying the other boy’s smile. Patrick had never smiled at him like that. "Okay," Dylan said, finally dropping his gaze. "I'll see you later then."

"Later," Oliver agreed. He watched the other boy skate away, moving with ease over the pavement until he rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. He smiled again, remembering the brief hug and Dylan’s smile. He liked it.

The ache in his chest was still there, but softer, tempered. And something else was there now--hope, anticipation, kindling slowly but a spark was forming there, and Oliver let it warm him.

It had been the worst week of his life, but as Oliver turned to go back into the house, he found hope that it might be turning around.

~END~