call up waffle house & tell em ima need it catered

Glenn does his best not to appear distressed, but it’s becoming more and more difficult to stifle the panic rising in the back of his throat. This is a conversation he’s had before, and not one he ever cared to have again, but here they were. He hadn’t worried about it before because he’d figured if Max couldn’t love him, then nobody could - until Alfie. But now everything was coming full circle, and it was getting harder every day to run away from the truth. “Yeah, you got another term for someone who drinks too much?” He doesn’t mince words. And he wants another shot (or seven) to dull the sting of this conversation so badly, he could scream. But Alfie’s right, as much as he hates to admit it: he is projecting. “Come on, Alfie, don’t act like that’s not what you were implying. Whether you said the word or not. I’m not an idiot.” His words tumble out venomously, and he has to stop himself from going further. Fucking prick, he thinks. Why are you trying to ruin this? I love you.

When Alfie demands (tearfully, and it doesn’t go unnoticed) to know if he could go to bed sober, Glenn wishes he could disappear. He’s frozen in place for a moment, alternating between screaming or storming out or breaking his hand trying to put a hole in the wall. Instead, he returns to the liquor cabinet, grabs the whiskey, and takes a swig straight from the bottle. He feels instantly guilty when he looks back and remembers the tears in Alfie’s eyes. “I don’t think you want to hear my honest answer to that,” he says quietly, savoring the burn in his throat from the alcohol. “Because my honest answer is that sometimes it’s either I drink, or I drive my car off the bridge.” It comes out harsh, like he’s blaming Alfie for it, so he tries to soften his voice and think of any way to salvage this evening. “Okay, look, I know…” he searches for the right words, “I know it seems bad, but I’m… I’m fine. I’m doing better than I was. And that’s because of you, Alfie. It’s all because of you. I love you.” He’s being so sincere he worries his teeth might break from how tightly he’s clenching his jaw. He releases just in time to feel the prick of tears behind his own eyes. “Please, just… let’s just talk about this some other time. Please.”

.

Alfie is slightly taken aback by the hostile tone in Glenn’s words. His reaction is almost as validating as watching him take several shots back to back. “This doesn’t have to be a difficult conversation, Glenn,” he says, realizing only afterwards how ignorant that was of him to say. It’s a disease, he thinks. The more Glenn goes on, the more Alfie understands he was sorely underprepared to bring something up like this. That, or he was underestimating just how deep this coping mechanism goes. Despite how much Glenn has opened up and let the younger man in, there are so many layers he hasn’t peeled back yet. This is one of them. “You’re so concerned about whether or not I’m calling you an alcoholic, you’re not even listening to what I have to say. I’m concerned.” 

Alfie watches as Glenn dismisses his concerns and takes a swig from the whiskey bottle. As he opens his mouth to speak, the other man beats him to the punch to prove Alfie was right about his initial thought: he was not prepared to have this conversation. I drink, or I drive my car off the bridge. Uncharacteristically, Alfie has nothing to say immediately and the silence in the room is louder than he’d like. He came to terms with the fact that Glenn suffers silently a while ago but to hear him acknowledge it aloud is a new kind of hurdle. “I don’t want you to do that either,” he says pathetically. The fight to hold back tears is a losing battle and his shoulders begin to sink. Again, he has nothing to say. “Can you promise me this is a conversation that will be had? At some point?”

Glenn can sense an even greater shift in Alfie’s demeanor, and for the first time in their relationship, he’s not sure what to do with him. He wants to smoke weed yet he seems dejected at the prospect of going on Tinder to find it, which Glenn can’t understand either. Even as he lays a trail of kisses from his jaw to his collarbone, he can feel how tense Alfie is in his arms, and it makes him anxious. He pulls back to study the younger man’s face, finding it just as morose as the sound of his voice. It’s happening again, he thinks. You thought you’d be able to avoid it, but you can’t. You can’t control yourself. He feels his palms begin to sweat. Are they about to argue on the same day they finally said ‘I love you’? Was it a mistake to say it at all? Glenn hadn’t felt any regret about it until this very moment, but maybe, somehow, he’d opened Pandora’s Box on their relationship.

Glenn, I don’t want all our time spent together to be us fucked up. Or you fucked up. It’s getting harder and harder to suppress the anger Alfie’s words rouse in him. “All of our time is not us fucked up together,” he says quietly, defensively. “We’re on vacation. I’m sorry if the flask thing threw you off or whatever, but I’m not, like, an alcoholic,” he says, and it stings to say the word at all. Glenn hates those words. Alcoholic. Addict. They taught him in rehab not to shy from them, but he hates them anyway. He hates the way they devour a person — the way it’s all they become. “It’s not a problem that you don’t want to drink tonight, but I have a problem with the implication that you think I’m, like, some kind of drunk?” He steps back and away from Alfie, wringing his hands together. The argument is flimsy, he knows that — especially considering the many nights Alfie’s spent wrangling his drunk ass into bed, cleaning up after him, holding him when he drinks so much, he cries. He thinks about all of it and wants to be sick. “I’m telling you that I’m fine. I’m not the only person in the world who day drinks. And I’m under a lot of stress, so I’m not going to stop either.”

.

Things were beginning to take a turn and Alfie would be lying if he didn’t anticipate this might happen. Maybe he should have spent more time figuring out exactly how to approach this for the first time; maybe he should have gotten some advice or thought more carefully about his words. But they were already this deep in and Alfie could feel Glenn shutting down. His heart sinks the moment Glenn steps away from him and verbalizes the one word Alfie was too in denial to attribute to him: alcoholic. “I didn’t say you were an alcoholic, did I? You said that,” he quips, immediately overwhelmed with regret. Alfie’s eyes dart to the floor for a moment as he tries to plan out his next steps but Glenn’s words interrupt his thought process and begin to stir another brash reaction from him. 

“You keep defending yourself by putting words in my mouth and it kind of feels like you’re projecting a little right now,” he delivers with vigor. He thinks about how this night could end one of two ways: he is able to get through to Glenn and they can talk this out or their frustration gets the best of both of them and Alfie ends up sleeping on the pullout couch. The more he thinks about it, the less he is willing to let this go. Not because he wants to have the last word or get Glenn to admit he does in fact have a problem, but because he has hope this could be the first step to him seeking the help he needs. Alfie knows his odds are not great. “Glenn, what do you think would happen if you just didn’t drink for one night? Do you think you would evaporate into thin air?” he folds his arms over his chest and already he can feel the tears welling up in his eyes but he fights it. “Do you think you can go to bed sober? Just answer that question. Can you?”

Glenn doesn’t think much of Alfie saying he doesn’t want to drink — they’ve had a long day after all, he’s probably just tired — but he is quite surprised when the younger man approaches him and takes the shot glass out of his hand. His grins falls into a frown as he realizes what’s happening, and he has to suppress the wave of anger that comes with his initial reaction. What the fuck? Who the fuck does he think he is? But he can’t talk to Alfie like that. He’s been down this road before, and his only choice is to try to play it cool. “Concerned about what, baby?” His voice is sweet. “If it’s about the flask, I don’t usually have that on me, I just wanted us to have some bourbon for the apple cider. It’s part of the experience.”

Glenn takes Alfie’s hands in his, fluttering his dark lashes up at his companion. “We don’t have to drink tonight, that’s totally fine,” he says, giving him a little squeeze. “Not sure if you’ll be able to sniff out any weed in the hotel, but I give you permission to download Tinder and look for some that way. Probably your best bet.” Glenn steps a bit closer, locking eyes with the younger man. He reaches up to caress his cheek. “I’m fine, baby. You don’t have to worry about me. Like I said, this place just… it gets to me sometimes. But I’m all right, okay?” He pecks him on the lips and hopes that’ll put an end to it, but then he breaks their embrace and reaches back for the shot glass. “I did kind of already pour this one, though, so I don’t want it to go to waste, yanno?” He downs it quickly then replaces the glass in the sink, holding both his hands up as if to say, That’s all! “Now…” He moves back and snakes both his arms around the younger man’s waist, leaning in to leave a trail of kisses from Alfie’s collarbone up to his jawline. “Where were we?”

.

I don’t usually have that on me, he tells him. Alfie wasn’t born yesterday. When Glenn says they don’t have to drink tonight, a sense of relief washes over him for a brief time but soon, his mind is off again. Maybe a little too much this time. So, he puts the whiskey and tequila away but what happens after Alfie goes to sleep? What if he steps away to the bathroom for a minute or two? Alfie quickly dismisses the thoughts and he realizes he’s been quiet for quite some time when he’s given permission to browse Tinder for weed. “Right, Tinder. I guess that always works,” his tone is halfhearted and he has an hunch Glenn will read right through him. He was supposed to play this cool and not ruffle any feathers broaching the subject but now Alfie feels he’s done just the opposite. He gathers himself and prepares for something that could backfire horribly.

“I–“ he starts and the nerves start to take the wheel. It certainly doesn’t help that Glenn’s mouth is now on his neck and just the way he likes too. Alfie holds his breath and then the impulse strikes. “Glenn, I don’t want all of our time spent together to be us fucked up together. Or you fucked up. Do you…does that make sense?” he is grasping for straws. As soon as the words leave his lips, he’s kicking himself for not handling it with more tact. But nevertheless, he stands his ground. “Is it a problem that I’m asking that of you? Yes or no?” 

Despite being unable to really doze off in the car like he planned due to his partner’s… erratic driving, Glenn is happy to be back in the hotel for the evening. He’s not sure he’d ever say it, but his favorite times with Alfie are the evenings when nobody bothers them, and they can just be together — it’s intimate in a way that Glenn treasures perhaps more than anything else. He laughs when Alfie speculates on the pumpkin’s sex. “If they’re our children, what’s with all the genital inspection? Who are you, Ron DeSantis?” His heart begins to pump faster when Alfie approaches him, and for a moment, he’s not sure what he’s going to do. But then he pulls Glenn into such an intimate embrace, he wants to cry. He snakes one arm around the younger man’s waist and the other through his soft amber curls, closing his eyes and simply savoring the closeness. “Thanks, ditto,” he chuckles. “You smell good too. You always smell good. I love you so much, baby.” Despite saying it all day long, this one feels the most intimate, the most special — and Glenn is floored at how healing it is.

“Yeah, I knew that was coming,” he quips, pulling away to give Alfie’s belly a little tickle. Despite the teasing, Glenn’s body betrays how hungry he also is with a loud growl from his own stomach. Not entirely surprising when it’s been empty all day minus half a doughnut and whiskey, but he’s surprised nonetheless. “Jeez, okay, we’ll order room service. But first —”  he breaks away, heading for the mini-bar, “I need a drink. I know you’re not a whiskey fan, so I got some tequila, orange juice and grenadine. Tequila sunrise, you know? Very popular among the locals,” he laughs, pouring himself a shot of whiskey and then a second for good measure.  He’s trying to weigh, given Alfie’s change in demeanor earlier, if he can sneak away to the bathroom at some point for a bump or two, but he decides he should probably play it cool for now. “Take a look at the menu and let me know what you want, I’ll call down,” he says, mixing a drink for Alfie.

.

Alfie squints his eyes at the mention of Ron DeSantis. Who? But he has been embarrassed too many times with answers he probably should already know. “Uh, no. I am not…that person,” he retorts in a tone a little too proud. They stand in their embrace for a bit longer before Glenn’s grumbling stomach interrupts their moment. The idea of room service sounded great and Alfie wonders if it’d be too much of him to order two entrees for himself. Breakfast was a long time ago and he barely ate anything the way it was. He plucks the hotel guest directory from the end table and opens to the menu that, to his surprise, has plenty to offer. He has only just begun to skim the appetizers and salads when Glenn mentions needing a drink. His eyes dart to the bed quilt and a familiar feeling of uneasiness begins to set in as he plots out his next steps. Then he watches Glenn pour a shot of whiskey…and a second one. 

“I don’t really want to drink tonight,” he says quietly, focusing his eyes back on the menu even though he isn’t reading. Alfie purses his lips and closes the directory, setting it aside on the bed. “What if we just chill tonight? Find some weed? I bet someone in this hotel has a plug. I’m good at sniffing them out.” The younger man stands to his feet and approaches Glenn yet again but not to hold him this time. His heart pounds against his ribcage and the feeling of uneasiness shifts to fear as he prepares to confront him. Alfie takes the first shot out of Glenn’s hand and sets it back down on the mini bar surface. “Baby…” he begins, not sure where he is going with this. “I, uh,” he swallows. Am I schvitzing right now? He bites the bullet. “I’m starting to get concerned about this, Glenn.” 

Don’t overthink it. Much easier said than done, but it’s essentially the same advice his therapist has been trying to drill into his head for the past three years. Getting lost in your own head is the enemy of happiness, it seems. He’s not sure why the thought of calling his own mother is so stressful, but he tries to push it away for now. That can be a problem for tomorrow, he tells himself. He and Alfie are so close that the younger man is practically sitting in his lap, and yet Glenn wants to be closer. And naked. “You’re right,” he says, bringing their clasped hands to his lips to place tiny kisses on Alfie’s knuckles. “I’ll just see what’s up. Maybe she has plans this weekend or something, I don’t know. But I’m not gonna stress about it. I know you’ve got my back, baby.” He won’t admit it, but hearing Alfie say Max’s name makes his stomach turn. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, before Alfie kisses him again, making his heart thump faster in his chest. He slips in a bit of tongue and tries to deepen the kiss before remembering they’re in public (in Ohio, no less) and begrudgingly pulling away. He stretches and groans as he gets to his feet, clasping the younger man’s hand in his own once more as they head for the pumpkin patch.

Glenn chuckles at Alfie’s insistence that he also get a pumpkin. “Sure, you didn’t think I was gonna let you have all the fun, did you? Besides, you’re gonna need my pumpkin-picking expertise, rookie,” he teases, poking Alfie in the ribs. When they finally make it to the patch, there are very few people left around, which Glenn is grateful for. “Okay,” he begins, as if he’s about to give a lecture, “the secret is to pick one that isn’t fully ripe yet so it lasts longer. You have to turn them over,” he demonstrates with the nearest gourd, “and knock on the bottom. If it sounds hollow, it’s already ripe. No good. If it sounds full, you’re in the clear.” The one he’s chosen to knock on makes a hollow ring. “See? No good.” He replaces it on the ground and gestures to the rest of the patch. “Other than that, it’s all about aesthetics. So of course you deserve the best-looking pumpkin here.” Glenn looks around and is pleased to find nobody paying them an ounce of attention. He comes up behind the younger man and wraps his arms around his skinny waist, pulling him close to whisper in his ear. “You’re lucky I don’t take you behind that shed and fuck you right now,” he purrs. “I haven’t been able to focus this entire time because I can’t think about anything but putting my cock in your pretty little mouth and cumming down your throat. So go pick us out some pumpkins so I can do that,” he says, giving Alfie’s ass a little squeeze and sending him on his way.

.

Alfie has not a single clue what Glenn is trying to explain to him about the pumpkins but he couldn’t stop watching him with a dopey smile if he tried. He follows suit and knocks on the bottom of the pumpkin. “Ah, yeah. That one definitely sounds…broken. Heh,” he says, pretending to know exactly what he’s looking for. His eyes wander around the crops, not quite sure where to begin his hunt. “But the best-looking pumpkin is right here,” Alfie coos as he reaches out to pinch Glenn’s cheek. He turns on his heels and begins in the opposite direction when Glenn suddenly snatches him by the waist and pulls him backwards. He stifles a laugh, not because it’s funny, but because he’s been thinking about the exact same thing since they pulled into the parking lot. “I don’t know about you but I think that would make me pretty lucky actually,” he retorts, grinding his ass against Glenn’s crotch before wiggling himself free. “Too bad you’ll have to wait until we’re back in Columbus for any of this,” Alfie flamboyantly gestures towards himself and this time actually begins his pumpkin pursuit. 

After loads of internal debate and overwhelming disappointment whenever the hollow ring tainted a perfectly fine looking pumpkin, Alfie locates two flawless gourds and the couple makes their trip back to the hotel.

“Look at our children!” Alfie announces, plopping his pumpkin down on their bed to stare in awe. “She’s so beautiful. Is it a she? Does she have a pumpkin-ussy? Let’s ask the expert,” he rolls the pumpkin over on its side to expose its bottom and darts his eyes to Glenn for his take just as he’s removing his jacket. “Oh yeah, baby. Take it all off now,” he teases - sort of. He abandons his gourd on the bed and steps up to Glenn closely, their noses nearly touching. Alfie considers jumping on him and having his way right then and there. Instead, he leans down to rest his cheek on his shoulder instead and snakes both arms around his waist. He closes his eyes and they stay like this for a moment. “Mmm, I really do love you,” he murmurs. “And you smell good. And you got a cute little ass,” he squeezes. “I’m hungry. Those donuts were not a meal.”

Glenn starts to feel uneasy as the conversation progresses, and he almost wishes he could take it back. Why would you say that? Why, of all the stupid things you could say, would you say that? In truth, he’s fairly sure that his mother would say no — or she’d request to see him by himself, which would upset Alfie even more. He tries to remember the conversation where he told his mother about Max, but the memory is so obscured by his attempts to forget everything to do with him, he can’t recall anything that was said. He does remember clocking the discomfort in his mother’s voice, but he couldn’t be sure if it was because his father was standing right behind her listening or not. He cracks a small smile when Alfie assures him how good he is with moms. “I’m sure you’re great with moms,” he says, “it’s just… my mom…” He trails off again, unsure of how to even describe her. “She’s just… she’s kind of let my dad take over her life. I don’t know. I kind of feel like I don’t even know her sometimes.” This is morbid. Not the pumpkin patch vibe. “I don’t know, maybe it’s a bad idea…”

He scoots even closer to Alfie, pressing their bodies together and wrapping his arms around the younger man’s waist. Yawning, he rests his head on Alfie’s shoulder. “Yeah, there’s still plenty of stuff for us to do,” he says, eyes fluttering shut. Alfie then poses an excellent question: when was the last time he spoke to her? “Uhh,” he tries to remember, “fuck, I honestly don’t know. A few months ago, I think? She called me and asked for money to fix the stove or something. Which, come to think of it, she must not have told my dad, or he would’ve been really pissed.” He shifts a bit uncomfortably in his seat at the next query. “No, she…. doesn’t know.” He hopes that doesn’t upset Alfie, but he’s not sure how it couldn’t. “I just… haven’t really talked to her since we got together. And they’ve never met any of my boyfriends. They never met Max,” he says the name so quietly, as if the mere mention might conjure him. “But she would like you. I know she would. It’s impossible not to.” He steels himself, making a hard decision. “I’m gonna call her tomorrow. I’ll… just see what’s up. I want to tell her about us.” Glenn leans up to sneak a quick kiss. “I just realized we haven’t actually been to the pumpkin patch yet. Do you want to head over there? I can’t let you leave without a pumpkin.”

.

“Oh but I know I’m great with moms,” Alfie really makes sure to drive home the point but the more Glenn goes on, he knows there is residual anguish when it comes to his parents. When he voices his concern about the idea of them meeting, the younger man is quick to protest. “Don’t overthink it,” he starts, reaching again for Glenn’s hand to offer a reassuring clasp. “No pressure, okay? If we see her, we see her. If we don’t, we don’t. Just call her first, ask her how she’s doing, you know? Catch up and then…see what she says.” He knew that Glenn’s thought process operated like dominos - one thought leads to another and then another and another until he has fully become averse to whatever the original idea was.

It stings for Alfie to learn that even when Glenn makes a selfless gesture such as replacing an entire stove, he’s still met with rejection from his parents. Again, he can’t help but realize their respective relationships with their parents was always going to be the biggest discrepancy between them. Alfie couldn’t even introduce Glenn to his parents for obvious reasons. “I mean, I’m not really surprised that she doesn’t know,” he says, hoping his words don’t come off any sort of way. “Oh, wow…and you were, like, engaged to Max,” he struggles to conceal the disappointment in his voice but he’s bad at that shit. Nonetheless, he has hope that even if he doesn’t have the chance to meet his mother this trip, there will be plenty of other opportunities in the future. Alfie rests his hand on Glenn’s thigh before giving him a promising squeeze. “Yeah, exactly. Just see what’s up. You know I have you back, babe. It’s scary…but you have me.” He draws Glenn’s face in with his index finger and their lips connect again, this time slowly. “Can I trust you to babysit the apple cider donuts while I pick out a pumpkin? Just so we’re clear, you’re getting one too. That’s an executive decision I’ve made.” Alfie pulls himself off the bench and like he’s done a million times before, he drags Glenn up to his feet to set off for the main event. “You’re fucking my brains out when we get back to the hotel, yeah?”

Alfie seems like he’s having a good time, so Glenn’s not sure why he keeps asking - maybe he is nervous after all. Only you could be anxious after a fucking Xanax. It’s a talent. Asshole. But his disappointment with himself softens when Alfie reminds him that he loves him. “No, you don’t seem that way at all,” he says, “I just… I really want you to be having a good time. I don’t know. Sometimes being here…” he trails off, looking around indiscriminately, “Sometimes it fucks with me, you know? Fucks with my head. Like I… I forget who I am and… regress into a teenager or something.” He pauses to observe the moon coming up over the hillside, and for a moment, he really is lost in time. It’s 1998, and he’s a freshman in high school at his first state fair, getting drunk for the first time in an older friend’s van. It had been so sweet, right out of a movie — so perfect he’s been trying to replicate it ever since. A shiver runs down his spine, and he shudders back to the present. “I love you too,” he says quietly, and, without thinking, reaches for the flask and takes a swig. He freezes after he does it, wondering if he should try to explain or just move on, but he decides to pour a bit in his cider and then replace the flask in his pocket without another word.

He senses a shift in Alfie’s demeanor — almost imperceptible, if Glenn didn’t know him so well. But he can sniff out the slightest change in Alfie’s mood like a bloodhound, and he’s got a pretty good idea what brought it about. He doesn’t argue about driving, mostly because he’s tired and wants to fall asleep in the car like he used to as a child. When Alfie touches his face, he holds his breath. I love you a lot, okay? I don’t want you to forget that. Somehow Alfie always knows what he needs to hear. Yes, they’d said it a thousand times since this morning, but he needed to hear it again. He closes his eyes and leans into Alfie’s palm. “I won’t forget,” he promises. After a moment, his lashes flutter open and meet a concerned bright blue gaze. “I’m in love with you, Alfie.” More words he’s hardly ever spoken falling out of him like nothing. But he felt he needed to be more specific. I love you was a given at this point. But he needed him to know it was more than that. He grabs the hand on his cheek and moves it down to clasp them together on the table, scooting closer to fight off the evening chill. Raising his cup, he takes a sip of the cider and is pleasantly surprised to remember he’d put whiskey in it after all. “I’ve been thinking about… asking my mom to have lunch with us,” he says after a quiet moment. “I don’t know if she’d do it. I don’t even know if he’d let her. But… I haven’t seen her since last Christmas. I could ask. Or I could be setting myself up for disappointment. I don’t know… what do you think?”

.

Alfie couldn’t even imagine what it would’ve been like to grow up in any home that wasn’t like David and Wendy’s. Anytime Glenn mentioned his family or his experiences of growing up in Ohio, he spoke with such resentfulness. Both come from two very different worlds and yet, they are able to set all that aside to create a perfect one for themselves. He tries to keep the thoughts about Glenn’s sobriety at bay, despite the fact that a conversation about it will need to happen sooner or later. There is a comfortable silence and Alfie takes the opportunity to snatch another apple cider donut.

He can’t take his eyes off of Glenn as he melts into his palm. It’s nice that they can always enjoy each other’s company like this, even when they’re not saying anything at all. “I’m in love with you too,” and he has never been more sure of anything in his life. Alfie tries to hide his surprise when the possibility of meeting Glenn’s mother comes up. Last he understood, he wouldn’t be meeting his parents anytime soon, if at all. What would meeting his mother even look like? Would she spit on him and leave? Would she end up loving him, exchanging numbers, adding him on BeReal? Would she comment on their age gap? Would she think he’s stupid? He doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, so he attempts to obscure the anxiety stirring in him. “Oh wow, really? I mean, you know I’d totally be down for that. I’m really good with moms. Like, basically an expert,” he laughs, mostly at himself. “It’s almost Christmas again, Glenn. That’s a year since you’ve seen her,” Alfie nearly gawks at the thought of not seeing Wendy for nearly a year. That is his mommy. “I think if it’s really something you want and are comfortable with, you should call her. And if for some reason she’s…busy or something, we can still do a bunch of other things together, right? You have to show me all that this great state has to offer.” Alfie didn’t hate Ohio - he didn’t even dislike it. But he hated that Glenn felt distressed anytime he visited. “When is the last time you spoke to her? Does she even know you have a boyfriend?” he nudges his forearm and shifts in his seat. “How many boyfriends have your parents met?”

“I feel great,” Glenn replies, and he means it. Their lips are so close, practically brushing, that he could probably sneak in a quick kiss without much fanfare, but he decides against it. Not nervous or anything? That was a bit odd. Did he seem that way? “Not nervous at all,” he confirms, giving Alfie’s hand a squeeze. When the hayride finally lets them off, Glenn waits for Alfie to decide on their next destination - until he spots the corn maze. “Doughnuts sound great, but let’s take a quick detour.” He grabs Alfie’s hand and leads him in, winding around a few corners to make sure they’re alone before pushing the younger man up against the stalks and smashing their lips together. Glenn snakes his hands underneath Alfie’s shirt, gripping his waist and savoring the warmth of his skin under his fingertips. When he finally breaks their embrace, he’s breathless. “Sorry,” he mutters, smirking, “I just had to do that. I was losing my mind back there. Oh, and I love you, by the way,” he adds, pecking him on the lips. They make a wrong turn in their attempt to exit and have to loop back around, but they make it out eventually and head for the confections.

The cinnamon and apple aromas coming from the bakery make Glenn’s mouth water, and he remembers once again that he hasn’t eaten all day. He orders a dozen apple cider doughnuts for them to split and two hot apple ciders, which they transport to a nearby picnic table to enjoy. He’s about to break apart a doughnut when an idea comes to him. “Here, bite the other end of this like we’re Lady and the Tramp,” he says, stuffing one end of the doughnut in his mouth. Alfie obliges and the pastry crumbles in between them, making a mess in both their laps. Glenn’s too busy giggling to care. “Nice, very classy,” he says, wiping a bit of brown sugar off of the corner of Alfie’s mouth. “The things I would do to you right now if there weren’t a bunch of kids around.” The sun has vanished and the sky is deep blue, and Glenn finds himself getting lost in watching his companion once more. “I’m so happy you’re here with me. Are you having a good time?” He feels his flask move in his pocket, and he remembers that he still has whiskey on him. “Oh shit,” he says, fishing it out and placing it on the table between them. “Forgot I brought a little bit of whiskey for us to put in the apple cider. That’s real Ohio shit,” he explains, unlatching the cap and helping himself. He slides it over to Alfie with a naughty grin, pulling him closer once more and kissing him with no regard for who’s watching.

.

One minute, Alfie was leading Glenn to the long-awaited apple cider donut stands and now, he was being felt up around the bend of a corn maze where children could pop up at any moment to witness their sinning. “I just had to do that,” he mocks the older man and before he could get too far away, he draws him back in by his belt hoop. Alfie palms the bulge under Glenn’s denim and gasps at his discovery. “This hard already? Whew. Have you been walking around with this thing the whole time?” As he begins to unbuckle his belt to free his cock, they’re interrupted by the sound of rustling leaves and the scurrying footsteps of children. Alfie is quick on his feet and unfolds the map of the corn maze, shielding Glenn’s crotch in the process until he can sort himself out. Once they’re out of earshot, he can’t help but laugh. “We could’ve ended up on a predator database for that one, you know? Maybe we should try to behave ourselves. Lame,” he snorts. “I love you too, by the way.” Alfie steals one more kiss before they make it out of the maze.

Finally, the moment Alfie has been waiting this entire trip for - apple cider donuts. “A dozen. You so get me,” he drools, unsure if it’s over the baked goods or the man he has his arms wrapped around. The laughter continues when Glenn suggests they try eating the donut together and even more so when the whole thing nearly falls apart all over them. “I know I’m a slob when I eat but that one is on both of us,” he gestures towards the mess before picking up the salvageable bits of the treat. He attempts to make up for Glenn’s failed gesture by feeding him a broken end of a fresh donut. “Here ya go. You deserved this one for your effort,” he begins. Alfie sighs contently and he feels like he’s vibrating. If I’m dreaming, I’ll wake up right…now. But he doesn’t. “Yeah, I am. I’m having a really good time. Do I seem like I’m not having a good time? You asked me that twice now, so I’m getting nervous that I’m not telling you how much I love you enough. The last one wore off, so I love you, for the record,” he says playfully but his smile falls when Glenn pulls out the evidence to confirm Alfie’s suspicions from earlier. He tries not to dampen the mood or even think too hard about the fact that Glenn just casually had a flask on him at a pumpkin patch. Or that he also had that flask on him before they even got into the car. Alfie kisses him back, his heart fluttering when he does but sinking the moment their lips part and he remembers the red flag. “I’m actually okay but…you go ahead and I’ll drive.” Before Glenn has an opportunity to protest, Alfie snatches the rental car keys from his jacket pocket and drops them in his own with a counterfeit grin. He opts to keep things light and not ruin the good time, but the reality of Glenn’s demons continues to reveal itself. “I love you a lot, okay?” Alfie puts his hand on Glenn’s cheek, acting on the hunch that he needed to be reminded of that. “I don’t want you to forget that.”

Glenn feels outside of himself watching Alfie close out their check. The dreaded words he had feared to say again for so long… there they had come, spilling out of him like it was nothing. Like it was natural. He’d only ever said them twice before: the first time to Lily, who’d chuckled and said he was drunk, and then to Max. So it was no small feat for him. But if he wanted to say it — so badly, in fact, it had been plaguing his mind for weeks — why fight it any longer? Or at all? What form of self-flagellating, Catholic guilt bullshit was behind his constant rejection of his own happiness? So he’d said it, and Alfie said it back as Glenn knew he would, and what was once understood but not spoken became a common knowledge between them. A lifeline to tie them together. I love you. They seemed complex, but they were simple words, actually. Glenn was learning that sometimes love could be a very simple feeling indeed.

Two and a half hours of what may have been the best sex of his life later, Glenn lies in bed with Alfie’s head on his chest, staring contentedly out the window and running his fingers through the younger man’s honey-colored curls. He’s not drunk, but he feels like it. He thinks if he were to die at this very moment, he’d look back on his life with no regrets. Everything had brought him here, exactly where he’s meant to be: with Alfie. “And I love you,” he says with equal adoration to his companion. “So much.” He pulls him up for a kiss, hungrily breathing in Alfie’s scent like a sweet, expensive perfume. “Now go take a shower, and I’ll do my best not to join you so you can actually focus. We’ve got about two hours of daylight left.”

Once he hears the water running, Glenn slides off the bed and goes to his suitcase, digging through until he finds his flask and a small pill bottle where he keeps his Xanax. His hands are shaking, and he’s not sure if it’s from the day’s events or the lack of food in his stomach, but it’s enough that he needs to take a Xanax to calm down. He knows he should eat, but on days where his emotions run high, he finds it almost more pleasurable to be fighting off hunger pangs. It makes everything crisper, sharper, heightens his senses, makes him feel more wholly. And he wants to feel every moment of this day with Alfie. He pops the pill and washes it down with whiskey, taking a long swig before replacing it in his jacket pocket, and begins the process of getting ready.

***

An hour of burnt sunlight and a 30 minute drive later, they’ve made it to the pumpkin patch just in time to catch the last hayride of the day. With dusk setting in, Glenn is pleased to find the ride mostly full of other couples rather than screaming children, albeit all heterosexual and mostly covered in camo. He leans against Alfie’s shoulder anyway, entwining their fingers between them to make it less conspicuous. He took a few more swigs of his flask while Alfie was in the bathroom, and he’s feeling nice and loose. “This is romantic, huh?” he grins, locking eyes with the younger man. “Sunset hayride, cornfield, autumn leaves falling… you’re getting the real growing up in Ohio experience right now. How do you feel?”

.

So far the pumpkin patch was living up to what little Alfie knows about them from the movies. The petting zoo, the gift shop that sells homemade maple syrup, and of course, pumpkins for days - they definitely weren’t in California. The two of them squeezed onto the hayride amid the other couples but they stood out like a sore thumb in central Ohio. Glenn wasn’t kidding when he said there was a stark difference in culture but Alfie couldn’t care less about that. “It is romantic. I think the closest we would get to this in California is a shuttle through a vineyard in Napa Valley,” he says, melting into Glenn’s side once the vehicle set into motion. “I feel good. I’m really happy to be here with you,” he turns his head to meet Glenn’s eyes and notices their lips are just inches apart. He decides to spare the rest of the hayride from any excessive public display of affection but not before he catches a familiar whiff on Glenn’s breath. The mimosas, remember? Right… “How are you feeling? Good? Not nervous or anything?” 

Alfie is still reeling from their exchange of words over breakfast and every time he looks at Glenn, he’s reminded of it again. He is about to become very annoying about being his boyfriend. Thankfully, the rest of the couples surrounding them seem to be too entranced by the autumn views to be paying any attention to them. Despite how breathtaking the scenery is, Alfie’s only focus is Glenn. “Listen, I don’t want you to be upset or anything but…I know we paid $15 for this scenic hayride but I get to look at you for free,” he stifles a laugh and nudges Glenn in the ribs. Alfie is caught off guard by another whiff but this time of whiskey or bourbon, which he’s positive they weren’t having at the hotel restaurant.

The hayride lets them off on the other side of the pumpkin patch and Alfie is already pulling out the attraction map he picked up at the ticket booth. “Look at all of this shit to do,” he holds the map in front of Glenn’s face, perhaps a little too close to see. “What do you want to do? Go get apple cider donuts? Good idea.” Alfie reconnects their hands and begins heading in the direction of the food booths. There is plenty to see and do at the pumpkin patch but he can’t help but get distracted anytime he glances over at Glenn. “You know, I’ve known I was in love with you for a while. Just didn’t know when or how to say it. I’m glad you beat me to the punch on that one,” he gives his hand a squeeze.

Glenn watches in genuine surprise as Alfie pushes his food to the side. God, this can’t be good. He ever so subtly reaches for his mimosa, sure he’s going to need it and probably another one after it, all things considered. His stomach is turning until Alfie assures him that Miriam doesn’t think he’s a piece of shit. Rooting for us. Wow. Imagine that. Despite what seems like good news to him, Alfie seems anxious — a word Glenn would hardly ever use to describe him, and it makes him more uneasy by the minute. “That’s good,” he says, breathing a small sigh of relief. “That’s really good. I was really worried about that, honestly.” He fidgets with his napkin while he waits for Alfie to address his question. Maybe this is too heavy for a breakfast conversation. He feels a bead of sweat break out on his forehead. Or maybe it’s overdue. If you keep running away from these things, they’ll just keep coming back —

“Of course I have,” he replies to Alfie’s question, relieved to see an excited grin spreading across the younger man’s face. “I think about our future all the time.” He grabs for Alfie’s hand again, searching for some of that strength, that reassurance that everything would turn out fine. But when Alfie starts to speak again, Glenn feels the knot in his chest begin to unravel, replaced by a growing warmth that spreads down into his belly and out through his limbs. He feels like he’s floating, and his only anchor to the earth is his younger companion’s hand. Every sentence unleashes a new flood of emotion in him that he no longer thought possible. No matter what, the future is always with you. I don’t even have to try, it just is. He doesn’t think it can get any stronger until Alfie reveals that he isn’t worried about the network, or for that matter his father, at all. Glenn desperately wishes he felt the same. But Alfie says he’s talented, and he’s young, and he has a future outside all of this. They both do. Perhaps his own gaze had been too narrow for too long. And it’d be nice if I were by your side through all of that, you know?

He’s truly stunned into silence for a long moment. And when he finally goes to speak, Glenn finds his throat constricted; all he can manage is a shaky “Alfie…” He clears his throat and tries to collect himself, but he feels the tears welling in his eyes, and it seems pointless to fight them. “Alfie, I… I don’t even know what to say,” he says quietly, casting his eyes down. “The fact that you would… uproot your whole life and move to New York… for me…” He takes a deep breath and attempts to steady himself once more. Usually I have to tell you not to make a scene in public, but this is not the usual scene you make. “Nobody’s… nobody’s ever seen me the way you do. And uh… I wish I felt the same way about the network and your dad as you do but… I don’t even care. The network, the show, my career, I… I’d lose it all in a heartbeat rather than lose you. I love you, Alfie.”

.

Alfie isn’t sure how a quick breakfast before the pumpkin patch turned into such an event. Here they were, pouring out each other’s hearts and unspoken affections for each other over a burrito and avocado toast. He holds his breath for Glenn’s response but he wasn’t prepared for what he would be on the receiving end of. I love you, Alfie. He wonders if he heard that incorrectly. The words echoed in his mind for several moments but he doesn’t have much more time to think about it before they start falling out of him too. “I love you too,” he says it as if he has a hundred times before. “A lot. So much. It’s gross. But I love you and…” he isn’t sure where he’s going with this, so he  stops and shakes his head to gather himself. “I just really love you and I haven’t loved anyone like this…ever.” Glenn is all he ever thinks about. Alfie knows very few people get to find a love like the one they have here. “You’re just…”

He turns swiftly in his seat and scopes out the dining room to gesture to the waitress to bring their check. Alfie directs his attention back to Glenn who has barely touched his food. “You can get that to go, right?” he grimaces at the thought of getting toast to go but whatever, there’s not a toast shortage or whatever. “I’m sorry, I just really need to fuck you right now or I’m going to put my head though something,” he says a little more quietly this time. The waitress approaches their table and Alfie already has his card and cash tip ready for her, his body language insisting she be quick about closing them out. “Is now a good time to mention I’ve been chubbing at the table since we sat down?”

Two and a half hours have passed since the two made it back to the hotel room and they’ve made no effort to get ready for the pumpkin patch. In fact, they have only moved from the bed to the shower to the couch and back to the bed. Finally, they’ve made time for a breather in between all of their fucking to perhaps get some plans on the books. “I need a shower if we’re going somewhere because, uh…” Alfie takes one look at himself in the mirror across from the bed before going on, “because yeah. We can do a sunset trip to the pumpkin patch, right?” He knows if they’re going anywhere, they need to start getting ready soon but Alfie just can’t bring himself to unlatch his body from Glenn’s. He rests his chin on bare chest and pouts at the thought of having to get up. “Hey,” he says, waiting for their eyes to connect. “I love you. I’m going to keep saying that. I love you. I did it again. I love, love, love you,” he coos and boops Glenn’s nose with his index finger. “And as much as I love to look at and be all over your naked body, it’s now time for apple cider donuts, babe.”