#flat mates

Once he was well and cleaned, Elton turned the shower off before stepping out onto the icy cold tiles , he winced at the contact. Grabbing the towel he had left by the sink, he quickly dried himself off. As he slipped into some briefs and his favorite striped robe, he couldn’t contain the smile, practically hearing his mother curse at him when he would walk around her house in that attire.

Thankfully that wasn’t a concern anymore. Since he and Bernie moved into their own flat, they didn’t have to worry about a single thing. Elton was free to parade around in whatever clothes he felt like—or lack of. Both of them could lounge around all day writing tunes without being scolded at for being “lazy.”

It was perfect.

With a final shake of a towel through his hair, Elton was ready to grab some dinner. Just as he stepped out of the bathroom, Bernie was  right there .

“Jesus shit, Bernie! ” he exclaimed, clutching a hand over his heart. Bernie nearly fell to the floor as the door opened. A rosy hue rose to his best friend’s cheeks, making it nearly impossible for Elton to be upset. “What in God’s name were you doing leaning on the door like that?” Elton questioned, sauntering past Bernie to head to the kitchen.

”Sorry—was just trying to hear you sing,” Bernie admitted sheepishly, following Elton close behind.

“Whadya think?” Elton started preparing some leftovers for himself . “Want some?” He motioned towards the cold meat and vegetables before him.

“It was really good, you were really good,” Bernie began, grabbing himself a plate of his own. Elton glanced up at his friend through the frame of his thick glasses, grinning like a fool.

”Ya really think so?” He stuffed a forkful of cold veggies in his mouth, not bothering to heating them up.

“Course. You have such a beautiful voice, Elton.” Now it was Elton’s turn to b lush. Bernie fixed his own snack , and the two ate in silence. It was comfortable. Elton could recall all the silent dinners he had as a kid. Tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. He would be terrified to make a single movement, for fear that his father might snap at him.

But things with Bernie were different. They understood each other.

After dinner, Elton suggested they have some wine. It had practically become a nightly tradition. Elton rummaged through the refrigerator, bent over at the waist, looking for just the right bottle. He grabbed a bottle of Chardonnay, turning to display the bottle to Bernie, silently asking for approval. The grin that spread over Bernie’s face told him he made a good choice.

“Grab some glasses?” it wasn’t a question as much as it was a demand. Elton was already strolling into the living room, leaving Bernie behind with a shaking head and a small smile on his lips.

He plopped down on their couch, immediately sinking into the plump, fluffy cushions. Bernie joined him moments later with the glasses, sitting so that their knees touched. Elton would normally jump, try to move away, but not with Bernie.

Elton’s lips curled into a smile, popping the bottle open, pouring them each a generous amount of the dangerously delicious liquid .

“To my best friend,” Elton offered, holding the glass out for a clink.

”And to my best friend,” Bernie tapped his glass to Elton, each taking a swig of wine.

***

A few hours later, the bottle was nearly emptied, abandoned on the coffee table along with their glasses. Elton was slouched, an arm crossed over his chest as the other held the newest set of lyrics Bernie had thrown together earlier that day.

”Not really sure how I feel ‘bout it,” Bernie admitted, rubbing his face with both hands. Elton shot his friend a sideways glance.

”Oh shuddup Bernie, you know they’re bloody brilliant,” Elton’s reply was barely more than a slur, nearly missing as he attempted to set the bottle down on the coffee table. Bernie was always second-guessing his work. But Elton always managed to reassure him, usually once he actually put music to them. Before then, he wasn’t very convinced.

”It’s you that makes them great, y’know .” Bernie playfully elbowed Elton’s arm, staring down at his feet.

”Noooo,” Elton started, turning to sit criss-cross on the couch, facing Bernie, “ we make ‘em great,” the words falling off his tongue clumsily. Bernie shook his head in response, arguing with a drunk Elton was futile. The man was damn stubborn, especially when alcohol was in his system.

Elton returned to his previous position, sitting beside Bernie, their legs flush against another. “Bernie?” resting his head against Bernie’s shoulder , his voice was suddenly very quiet and calm.

”Hmm?” Bernie leaned his head atop Elton’s.

”You’re mah bes friend y’know,” Elton spoke softly. He never worried what Bernie might think of himself. In their short time knowing each other, they had already been there for each other through so much. No one understood Elton like Bernie did, and he realized that after their first meeting. In a way, he hoped no one else would ever understand him like that. Their friendship was special, and somehow they got lucky enough to find each other.