gloged

Porter tried his best to focus while working his shift. He’d been dropped off by Ciar who looked like he was ready to go back to bed for the morning, and was left by himself to do his usual custodial duties in the supermarket. He pushed a wide dust mop from aisle to aisle, sweeping up debris while his mind raced in circles. All he could think about was Ciar, and how he’d spent the last few days with him, and how he wanted to do nothing but spend the next thousand weeks with him.

Ciar was not at all his usual type. Granted, he didn’t really date around that much, but he had passing flings with people who he could vibe with. Casual, upbeat people that laughed easily, people who seemed on his wavelength. He’d date someone for a while, they’d each start to grow bored of the other, then usually part on good terms after a few months. Of course he’d had a couple of nasty breakups, but most of the time he tended toward people with the same kind of lax attitude that he had. Things were just easier that way.

Instead, he found himself drawn to this dreary, grumpy, overly stubborn guy that dressed in rags and complained constantly. He couldn’t help it–there was such a sense of reward to making Ciar smile that he couldn’t get with most other people. It felt like he was earning the trust of an exceptionally solitary cat. Plus, there was the material joy of seeing Ciar’s apartment get cleaned, and seeing him in clothes that fit. When Ciar actually let him help, it felt like he was really making a difference. It just made him feel good.

Ciar also, on top of literally saving his life, had stood up to his dad, which won a lot of favor in Porter’s book. He’d heard the little speech that Ciar had given at the table, even muffled through his bedroom door, and the reassuring words Ciar had for him after his breakdown still rang in his head. Regardless of whatever shortcomings Porter thought he had, Ciar seemed to, despite his general attitude, really see something in him. At the very least he was still open to keeping him around, even if at first he had not wanted to make new friends.

Porter’s hand stilled on his dust mop as he stopped pushing it. What did this mean? He had a new little crush, sure, but should he do something about it? Should he ask Ciar out? That kind of felt weird–he didn’t want to jeopardize the budding relationship they already had, especially since Ciar had gone from bitterly rejecting hanging out with him to letting him spend the night while they watched movies and laughed together. He worried trying to push him further out of his comfort zone would result in Ciar shutting back down again.

“He really is cute though…” Porter groaned to himself, running a hand through his bangs. It was gonna be hard to act like everything was normal the next time he saw Ciar.

From behind him, Porter heard his coworker calling down a nearby aisle. “Hey man, Ken wants you on trash. Can you start in the front bathrooms?”

Porter blinked down at his dust mop. “I’m sweeping.”

The other man shook his head, like he didn’t really know what was going on either. “Just finish up what you’ve got and head to the back. The cart should be ready for you.”

Shrugging, Porter did as instructed, pushing his pile of dirt to the back of the store and sweeping it into a dust pan, dumping it in the back trash before stowing his mop. As he was about to pull on a pair of latex gloves, he felt his phone go off in his pocket. He checked around to make sure the coast was clear before pulling it out, realizing it was a text from Ciar.

CIAR: Hey, you’re welcome to come by after work if you’d like. Not for cleaning, just to recuperate. I can try making some more food with the ingredients you bought. Let me know.

Porter’s heart leapt into his throat. If he was going to play this cool, he was going to have to try a lot harder not to get excited whenever Ciar wanted to hang out.

PORTER: yeah!! i’ll be by after my shift!! sorry if i smell lol

Ciar responded relatively quickly.

CIAR: You can use my shower. I’ll need those clothes back anyway.

PORTER: yes please!!

CIAR: Gotcha. I’ll pick you up.

Was Ciar’s dingy little apartment going to become a new home away from home? Only time would tell. Porter stuck his phone back into his pocket, heading for the wheeled trash bin with a renewed spring in his step.

—--

When Ciar came to pick up Porter after his shift, Porter could tell how drained he was just by looking at him. It seemed like the day of cleaning before had really knocked him on his ass. Porter was okay with taking it easy today–work had also worn him down, and all he wanted was a shower and to put his feet up. He climbed into the car, sending a quick text to his mom to let her know where he’d be before they got on the road.

“How was work?” Ciar asked through a yawn.

Porter smiled at him. Damn, he was cute when he was tired.

“Not too bad. They’re gonna be waxing the floors in a couple of days so they want us deep-cleaning around the baseboards and stuff. Just to make sure crap doesn’t get sealed in. There were also two backed up toilets, which is always fun to deal with.”

Ciar winced. “Even if it wasn’t hard on the body, I would not love doing janitorial work. I can’t imagine the smells you have to tolerate.”

Laughing, Porter waved a hand. “We get a lot of protective equipment. Honestly it’s not too bad, the worst of it is usually trash cans.”

“Really?” Ciar inquired.

“Oh yeah. People throw away nasty stuff. Plus, you can scrub a toilet and wash everything away. Trash cans are exposed to the open air so the contents of bags usually smell worse. Gross business all around.”

“Blegh,” Ciar agreed.

Porter gave him another sidelong glance, shifting in his seat. “So if we’re not cleaning, what do you want to do today? More movies?”

Ciar sighed with a seeming air of embarrassment. “I’m not sure. I spent most of the day sleeping. Sorry I’m not terribly interesting, but if you want to hang around my place for some reason, we can figure something out. Maybe a video game or something.”

“I don’t mind just hanging out with you,” Porter assured him. “If you’re tired I don’t even mind if you want to sleep. I can just chill on the couch and play on my phone.”

“That doesn’t sound like any fun,” Ciar grumbled. “I don’t want to be a bad host. Maybe a pot of coffee will wake me up.”

“I certainly won’t say no to coffee, but don’t feel like you have to perform anything for me. I’m just happy to spend time with you.” Porter replied.

Ciar returned his gaze, a bit skeptical. “Why?”

“Hm?” Porter was caught off guard.

“I mean, I know we said we were friends, but you’ve more than paid me back for the train thing. You’ve done way too much to help me already, I don’t want to put you out more than I already have.” Ciar’s expression was serious. “You don’t have to hang around if you feel obligated to. I’m not fun or exciting. I’m a tired homebody that doesn’t have a lot of hobbies to share. I can barely cook and even with the progress we made yesterday, my place is still a mess. Are you sure you want to waste your time with me?”

Porter chanced a gentle hand on Ciar’s arm, which the other man didn’t brush off. “Ciar, you are fun. You’re a really interesting guy! Yeah, you’re cranky and low energy, but I like hearing what you have to say and learning more about you. I’ve had so much fun the last couple of days, even if things didn’t all go according to plan. I want to keep getting to know you. Is that so hard to believe?”

Ciar, sheepish, turned away, focusing on driving. “I can’t say I understand it, but I don’t mind the company. I won’t push you away if you really want to be here.”

“Well I do. Even if I’m an extrovert or whatever, I like chilling around the house just as much as the next guy,” Porter insisted.

The car pulled into the apartment parking lot, Ciar stopping in a spot and shutting off the engine. As they got out, Porter lingered behind to let Ciar lead the way up to his front door. Inside the apartment, it looked like Ciar hadn’t touched the remaining mess this morning, but Porter didn’t mind. He wasn’t going to push the guy to overwork himself, especially seeing that as soon as Ciar had his shoes off, he was already shuffling to the coffee pot in the kitchen. He drifted after him, hovering nearby as Ciar filled the pot with water and started measuring out grounds. For a moment, he felt the urge to place a hand on Ciar’s waist, to pull him in close, but he resisted. That would have been way too weird to just spring on him. Porter instead just floated a few feet away, watching Ciar work and feeling his stomach fluttering.

“What do you want for dinner?” Ciar asked, opening the fridge.

The domesticity was already making Porter giddy. Damn it, he needed to get a hold of himself! He was just visiting a friend’s place, nothing else.

“How about that pork we picked up? We could make it with the curry sauce and instant rice,” he suggested.

Ciar took the package of meat out and set it on the counter. “Got it. I can handle cooking. You go ahead and take a shower. I’ll set out some new clothes for you.”

Cheeks pink, Porter nodded, heading toward the bathroom. There was already a clean towel on the edge of the sink for him. Even if Ciar was shy and hesitant to hang out, he was awfully considerate. Porter closed the door and stripped off the sweaty clothes he’d worn to work, piling them on the floor and starting up the water. It was a shame Ciar didn’t have a tub. It would have been really nice to soak out some of the ache in his joints.

Stepping into the shower, Porter felt a slight rush hit him at the idea that he was naked in Ciar’s apartment. He felt a little guilty for getting excited, though this was a private moment–nothing wrong with letting his mind wander, right? Sure, he liked Ciar, but how much did he like him? He was cute, certainly, and funny, and his grumpy demeanor was charming. Given how careful he was with burdening others, he was also quite kind and caring, and he wasn’t too bad at pep talks when he needed to give them.

“You are a very kind person. You are a good person, Porter. A worthwhile person.”

Ciar’s words spun around in his head, making him grin privately to himself. Even though Porter was a bubbly social butterfly, he did not have high self-esteem. Hearing Ciar affirm to him that he was worth something hit home more than he might have liked to admit. He could picture Ciar’s pretty face, his dry voice, the firm hand on his shoulder as he told him what he needed to hear.

“You’re a good person, Porter.”

He ran his wet hands over his cheeks. Ciar was great. Ciar was really great. He wanted to keep talking to him and learn as much about him as he could. That at least was clear.

But was he hot for Ciar?

“He’s slim, a little on the short side,” Porter mused, “Lovely gray eyes. Dark undereye bags. Always frowning. Sometimes pouting a little.”

Ciar was definitely attractive, but the idea of rolling right into something sexual with him was offputting to Porter. They were just getting to know each other. Was that really what he wanted? To get Ciar undressed and corner him in the shower, just the two of them? Hot water, hot skin, smells of soap and shaky breaths…

Okay, maybe he wasn’t completely immune to the idea.

He shook himself from the thoughts, deciding it was a better idea not to get a boner while at his new friend’s house. Instead he took to using Ciar’s minimal hair care products to start lathering up his head, lamenting how dry his thick blonde locks would inevitably be once he was finished. He privately reminded himself to get Ciar some proper conditioner the next time they went shopping together. Reaching out the glass door and grabbing a cloth that Ciar had left for him, he scrubbed his face and chest, using the same three-in-one soap that he’d used on his hair. Once clean and rinsed off, he shut off the shower, taking a moment to shake the water off his body. He hung up the washcloth and grabbed the dry towel, starting to wipe the dampness off his skin.

Suddenly, he heard a knock at the door.

“One second!” he called.

He quickly wrapped the towel around his waist, checking in the mirror to make sure he wasn’t exposed.

Ciar’s voice met his ears. “I have your clothes for you. Do you want them now?”

“Yep, you’re good!” Porter shot back.

Opening the door, Ciar entered holding a pile of clothes. He seemed a little tired and unfocused at first, but upon seeing Porter in nothing but a towel, he went rigid, his cheeks immediately going pink. He cleared his throat, setting the stack of clothes on the edge of the sink, averting his eyes.

“Here, just bring the old ones to my room and put them in the dirty laundry basket.”

Porter caught his expression immediately. What was that about?

“Sorry, I realize you haven’t seen me this naked before,” he said sheepishly, his own face flushing a bit.

Ciar backed up a couple steps, still not looking at Porter. “Uh, yeah. You’re…in good shape.”

Porter couldn’t fight a grin. “Thanks?”

Crossing his arms, Ciar shook his head like he wanted to stop talking. “I’m a little jealous. But that’s not the point. Just uh…just get dressed. Idiot.”

He shut the door, leaving Porter to himself. Grabbing the button-down shirt that Ciar had brought him, Porter giggled privately. Was Ciar getting flustered too? Maybe he was having the same kind of thoughts as Porter. At the very least, he had a noticeable reaction to seeing Porter unclothed and dripping wet. He’d have to file this away for later teasing in case things ended up going the route he was hoping they would. If they eventually ended up in a relationship, this was some very cute early behavior.

Now dressed and feeling confident, Porter headed back out to the kitchen, smelling curry and pan-fried pork. Ciar was busy pushing the meat around the pan with a spatula, making sure things were evenly coated in the seasoning. The rice was steaming on the back burner, visibly fluffy beneath the glass lid of the soup pot, and the coffee was warming in the turned-off machine on the counter. It seemed like Ciar was largely successful in making their dinner, which Porter was all too pleased about.

“Nice job, buddy! Smells great,” he greeted, stepping up behind Ciar.

Ciar was still a little flushed, but he smiled haughtily. “Wasn’t too hard.”

Deciding to chance an earlier behavior, Porter placed his chin on Ciar’s shoulder. To his surprise, Ciar didn’t push him away, continuing to stir the pork.

“I’m proud of you,” Porter said warmly. “You did an awesome job.”

It was deeply satisfying to see the blush on Ciar’s cheeks darken, and he scoffed abashedly.

“Like I said, it’s not a hard meal. Should we make any veggies to go with this?”

Porter shrugged. “I think this is enough. The curry mix has, like, carrots or something in it, right?”

“I’m not sure. There’s lumps of some kind,” Ciar noted, picking up the package and examining it.

“Well I’m hungry now. I don’t want to wait for veggies,” Porter decided.

Ciar gently pushed his face off his shoulder, moving the frying pan away from the heat and turning off the stove. “Grab a couple of bowls and some mugs from the cupboard. I’ll serve things up.”

Porter did as instructed, also going to fish a couple of forks out of the dishwasher but finding that Ciar had already unloaded it. Smiling, he instead got the forks from their proper drawer, setting up the dishes where Ciar spooned fresh instant rice and curry pork into the bowls, pouring the coffee shortly afterwards. Porter added bottled creamer from the fridge to his own, picking up a bowl, mug, and a paper towel, walking to the couch and sitting down. Ciar took a seat beside him, his own meal in hand, which he set on the coffee table and opened up his laptop again.

“What do you think? A movie?” he offered.

Porter cleared his throat quietly. “Well uh, you mentioned that you and your family eat together sometimes. What do you guys normally do?”

Ciar quirked an eyebrow. “We usually just talk. About life and all that, we catch up.”

Stirring his rice and pork, Porter smiled fondly. “My family just kind of disperses and eats in our own areas of the house. We rarely even have the same thing for dinner–the pizza was unusual. I think Marcy told mom that we had company over. It might be kind of nice to just eat and talk, you know?”

Ciar picked up his own bowl, closing the laptop. “Sure, that sounds alright. What do you want to talk about?”

Considering for a moment, Porter asked, “You used to be married, right? How was that?”

Seeing Ciar’s face immediately fall, Porter felt a jolt to his gut, like he’d made a big mistake. Instead of getting angry or defensive though, Ciar just picked at his food, letting out a small sigh.

“It was great when we were young,” he explained, taking a bite and chewing contemplatively. “We dated for a few years before we got married. It was honestly a lot of fun. She was like my best friend. Things just…didn’t stay good, I guess.”

Porter frowned, giving him a gentle look. “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”

“Some of it was,” Ciar admitted. “I was neurotic and had a temper problem. You can probably tell what I would have been like. I was under a lot of stress too, with my job at the time, and I wasn’t very easy to get along with. I tried to be kind to her and show her that I still loved her, but she got impatient and frustrated with me. I can’t really blame her.”

“Well, it’s big of you to admit where you messed up,” Porter assured him. “A lot of people would just say their ex was a psycho and move on. You’re taking accountability.”

Ciar shrugged offhandedly. “The writing was on the wall that we weren’t going to work out, but things really crashed and burned when I got sick. I think she started to feel trapped with me. I became completely helpless for a while and she needed to take care of me. I’ve recovered considerably since then, but our relationship never really bounced back.”

Porter grumbled a bit. “Not very cool of her to start making distance when you were down. Isn’t marriage in sickness and in health?”

“I don’t know. I know that wasn’t all of it. Like I said, I was not easy to get along with.” Ciar ate another mouthful of pork and rice, waiting until he swallowed it to continue. “I couldn’t give her the life she wanted. Eventually we had a massive fight, and it pretty much cemented that we were over. We got divorced about four years ago.”

“A bit recent then,” Porter acknowledged. “Have you tried dating since?”

“Eh, a little, but I haven’t had much success. I think I just don’t have much to offer a partner right now. I’m too jaded and tired all the time. I’m not really any fun.”

“No way, you’re totally fun,” Porter disagreed, shaking his head. “Yeah, you take a little time to get going, but you can be really engaging and charming when you want to be! You don’t need to feel bad about being sick or tired, you’ll find someone that can go at your pace.”

Ciar peered up at him, adopting a soft smile. “Thanks, Porter. That’s nice of you to say.”

Part of Porter’s brain was shouting “Pick me! Pick me! I like you, I can be SO patient!” but he knew it was a completely inappropriate time to say something like that. Just because he had a puppy crush on Ciar did not mean that he could meet every need the other man had. It was a lovely thought, kickstarting a relationship between them, but he’d have to pace himself. Ciar was a few years out from his divorce, sure, but it clearly still stung. He didn’t want to make things worse by rushing into something that neither of them were prepared for.

It was Ciar who spoke up next, pulling Porter from his thoughts. “Do you date much?”

Blushing, Porter chuckled. “Uh, here and there, but I haven’t really had anything serious or long-term. I think my longest relationship was about a year. Other than that I just kind of date people who I gel with and we usually go our separate ways after a few months.”

Ciar nodded. “Very different from how I’ve done things, then.”

“Yeah…” Porter took a bite of pork, giving Ciar a searching look. “Do you think there’s anything wrong with how I date?”

“Oh no, not at all,” Ciar assured him. “I honestly think it’s a lot smarter to be casual about things. I got in way too deep, way too young. I believed in soulmates and all that crap. It led me to put up with a lot of things I probably shouldn’t have. If I was smart I’d have called things off years before we actually got divorced.”

Porter whistled softly. “Were things that bad?”

It took a moment for Ciar to decide how he wanted to respond. “At points. But mostly, we just weren’t good for each other. She made me feel so paranoid all the time, like I was constantly going to upset her. I’m sure I made her feel like she was going to get yelled at for no reason.”

“Did you yell at her?” Porter wondered.

“I tried not to. But I’m not perfect. Of course I would never hurt her–we were both very good about that–but I can admit I wasn’t a very good partner. It was probably stressful to be married to me, especially toward the end there.”

Porter hummed as he took another bite. “It’s good that you know that. Everyone has experiences they need to grow from. I bet if you wanted to try again, you’d be a much better partner to someone new.”

Ciar scoffed, sounding slightly bitter. “First I’ll need to scrape my life together. I’ve got too much to focus on right now to worry about dating. Or anything really.”

Right, that was a good point. Porter settled back on the couch, trying not to let himself feel deflated. Ciar was sick. Ciar was trying to untangle a web of depression and bills and medical turmoil that probably occupied his every waking thought. Of course he wasn’t interested in dating right now. He probably wanted to make sure that he had the basics sorted out before he put himself back on the market in any capacity. That made sense. It didn’t sit right with Porter though.

“What about living your life?” he inquired.

Ciar looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Like, yeah you need to worry about taking care of yourself, but that’s more than just in the money and medical senses,” Porter explained. “You’re a human being. You have to have fun sometimes. If you spend every moment worried about something, you’re never going to enjoy your life. You don’t have to get out there and start dating right now, but don’t you want to do things that make you happy?”

“I…I’m not sure,” Ciar said honestly. “I don’t have money to do anything. I don’t want you to keep paying for things. I really don’t have any friends. Unless you could yourself, which I supposed you’d have to at this point. I don’t…do anything, really. I pay bills, I eat, I sleep. I wait to see if I’m going to get a letter in the mail telling me the government will support me. Until then I just try not to spend too much of the pocket change I’ve got.”

Porter set his bowl down, giving Ciar a serious look. “We can have fun together. Doesn’t have to cost anything at all. I can keep coming over and we can watch movies, we can play the games you already have, you can come to my house and we can keep skating. We could go to the boardwalk or the beach, we could go to the park, the library, anywhere that’s open. We could do it together. You don’t have to just sit here alone in your apartment and stew. You need to live your life, Ciar.”

There was a glimmer in Ciar’s eyes, like he wasn’t sure if he should be reassured or just startled that someone seemed to care about him this much. He let out a hollow chuckle, setting his own bowl down.

“I’ll never understand what you see in me,” he joked.

Porter straightened up, scooting a bit closer. “I want to support you. I want to be your friend. Hell, I’ll take you to meet some of my friends! We’ll expand your circle, get you out of this little den you’ve dug out here. Your life can be so much more than just waiting for something good to happen. You have to find that good and take it. That’s what living life is about.”

Ciar was surprised at how impassioned Porter had become. They’d both fully stopped eating, and there was a fire in Porter’s voice and expression that stirred something warm in Ciar’s stomach. He cared about him. He really sincerely cared.

“Thank you, Porter. I’d…I’d appreciate that.”

Nostrils flaring a bit, Porter lowered his head. “Hey uh…can I give you a hug?”

Ciar considered for a moment before nodding. “Sure. That’d be nice.”

So Porter closed the distance between them, scooping Ciar up under the arms and pulling him in close. He wrapped around Ciar’s small frame, astonished at how easily he could encircle him. Ciar’s hands pressed into his shoulders, and he leaned down to bury his nose in the crook of his neck. It was a kind, tender hug, and Porter felt a flood of butterflies swarming his stomach. He meant every word he’d said. Whether or not Ciar was open to the idea of dating, Porter wanted to be his friend. More than that, he wanted to teach this shy, tired shut-in how to actually start enjoying his life.

“Porter? You can let go now.”

Porter jumped a bit when he realized that Ciar had stopped hugging him. He quickly released the smaller man, clearing his throat.

“Right, sorry!”

—--

The night carried on easily, the pair of them resuming their meal and deciding to talk about some less serious topics. Once dinner was finished, Porter took up the responsibility of cleaning the dishes, deciding to also load the dishwasher as thanks for Ciar cooking. Ciar decided he could start sorting out some of the mail that Porter had set aside the night before, separating a tall stack of bills and a number of other expired forms and promotionals that would go right into the garbage. Eventually both the dishes and mail had been whittled down considerably, leaving a little more space in the kitchen.

“So what’s your night looking like?” Ciar inquired.

Porter checked the time on his phone, sighing. “I should probably get home soon. I do have work tomorrow and I can’t keep wearing your clothes.”

“Okay, no worries. Want me to give you a ride?” Ciar offered.

Porter looked sheepish. “If it’s too much for gas, you don’t have to.”

Ciar waved him off. “You’ve done plenty to help me offset the cost of gas. I’ll be just fine. You ready to go?”

“Yep, let me get my shoes on.”

Once properly dressed, the pair of them headed down to Ciar’s car, hopping in and getting on the road back to Porter’s house. It was a comfortable drive where they made light conversation, not really discussing much, before Ciar pulled into the familiar driveway.

“Same time tomorrow? I’ll try cooking again,” Ciar suggested.

A bubbling warmth spread through Porter, and he smiled. “Yeah, I’ll be by after work. This time I’ll bring some decent conditioner and stuff though. Your three-in-one absolutely nuked my hair, I can already feel it.”

Ciar grinned. “Sorry, your highness. Please grace my shower with acceptable serums for your precious locks.”

Porter gave him a gentle, affectionate punch to the shoulder. “Thanks for the ride. See you tomorrow!”

“Yep, see you.”

As Porter closed the door and headed back up to the house, he watched the black sedan back out and turn back onto the road, driving off until it disappeared through the treeline. He unlocked his front door, dropping off his shoes and heading in with his old dirty clothes in a bag in one hand. The stuff Ciar had lent him before was back at the apartment, and he was currently wearing another set of clean clothes that Ciar had lent him. They were of course shabby, but not oversized on his taller, stockier frame. Wearing them made him feel a tingling sense of connection to Ciar, like they were bonding over something small. When he started to head toward his room though, he bumped into Taylor, who gave him an immediate surprised once-over.

“Those aren’t your clothes,” she noted.

Porter shrugged dismissively. “A buddy lent me some stuff to wear. I didn’t want to hang around his place all gross from work.”

“Which buddy? The hero guy?” Taylor prodded.

“Yeah, Ciar,” Porter confirmed. He tried to elbow past her, but she was blocking his way.

“Why is your face all red?”

Porter rolled his eyes. “It’s not, your eyes are broken. Let me go to my room.”

“Are you going to his house tomorrow too?”

“Are you going to be annoying all day?” Porter spat.

He reached out to grab her arm and physically move her, but she held up a fist in a sort of martial arts block.

“Are you dating him?” she asked pointedly.

Porter tried to play it cool but could feel his cheeks burning. “No. We’re just friends.”

Taylor, catching his reaction immediately, gasped with all the subtlety of a three-car pileup. “You like him! Ooh, you like your hero boy!”

At this, Porter turned to the side and managed to shoulder past her, heading to his room. He ignored her jeering from behind him and slammed his door, hoping the noise would prompt her to shut up. Sighing, he sat back on his bed, staring at the tiny room packed to the brim with things he liked. It was a good representation for how he felt. Boxed in. Compressed and with constant breathing down his neck, and he could only escape in this little corner of his life, or away from home entirely. Ciar’s apartment didn’t feel like this at all. Even with the boxes still stacked up and some mess here and there, it was open. It was just him and Ciar, hanging out in a simple little space, where they didn’t have to worry about being trampled by thirty other people crammed into the same house. Some of which he was not interested in seeing at all.

He started musing over the idea of the pair of them living together. Maybe he could help Ciar with rent, and the two of them could redecorate the apartment to make room for both his stuff and whatever Ciar had in those boxes. He’d mentioned figurines–maybe they could thrift some shelves and displays, really get the place feeling homey. He’d bring his favorite coffee mugs and plates and add them to Ciar’s modest collection. He’d have his own toothbrush on the bathroom sink in the little plastic rack next to Ciar’s. Since they both had queen sized beds, he could migrate his own frame into the space where Ciar’s bed was, then stack both mattresses on top. It would be a little tall, but probably pretty comfortable, right?

A warmth spread over his face again, and he turned to pull a pillow to his chest. Sharing a bed with Ciar. Falling asleep next to him, maybe an arm draped over his side. Would they get too warm cuddled up close? Did either of them snore? Or drool? He giggled to himself, the idea of something so sweet and domestic making his stomach flip. He’d really never felt like this about anybody. When he dated people, it was simple, casual, just kind of a spur of the moment decision. With Ciar, it was like every new thing they discovered together was a treasure. Every moment he got to spend with him was exciting, even when they were cleaning or bored or just sitting back in Ciar’s sedan barely talking. How had he fallen this hard this quickly?

“I want to kiss him…” he sighed to himself.

Holding Ciar was such an unbelievable treat. It had only lasted a handful of seconds, but he could still remember the curve of his back, the way his ribs and spine felt beneath his shirt, the smell of his hair, a mix of that cheap shampoo and a hint of sweat. Had he been allowed in that moment, he would have scooped Ciar into his lap and completely wrapped him up, held him tight so he wouldn’t slip away. He wanted to nuzzle and kiss every inch of his face, jaw, neck, just bury himself in his pale skin. It was making him dizzy, trying to bring himself down from the heady bliss of the fantasy he was lost in. It was going to be hard to keep acting like everything was normal at Ciar’s tomorrow.

Well, as much as he was doing that already.

—--

Ciar lay in bed that night with Porter’s words swimming through his head. Even with his usual exhausted spiral pulling him into the darkness, he couldn’t shake the warmth he felt thinking about what the other man had said to him.

“Your life can be so much more than just waiting for something good to happen. You have to find that good and take it. That’s what living life is about.”

As much as all the “life is precious” jargon had washed over him in the past, something about the way Porter spoke made it easier to believe. Or at least understand. He’d taken in the wealth of experiences on display in Porter’s room, and he could see firsthand the philosophy by which he lived his life. Ciar had been somewhat jealous of how rich Porter’s experiences had been, but he’d made a good point. A lot of wonderful things didn’t cost money. Sure, it was a significant barrier to living freely, but it wasn’t the end of all things. He could find ways to enrich his life. He could start trying to actually live a little more than he had been before.

“I want to support you. I want to be your friend.”

Ciar chuckled to himself. He still couldn’t fathom what Porter saw in him, but it seemed like he was having fun lately. For whatever reason, Porter wanted to keep getting involved in his life and get him to experience things. He wanted to come over after work for dinner and just talk, even if they weren’t watching anything together. It was evident that no matter how much it confused and baffled Ciar, Porter just liked him.

“He’s so kind,” Ciar mused. “Maybe he just likes a project.”

Allowing himself a sense of comfort at the idea that Porter was simply fond of him, Ciar cuddled up into his sheets, letting out a soft sigh. If Porter wanted to keep coming by, he certainly wasn’t going to stop him.

He was honestly having fun too.

—--

The next day, after work, Porter eagerly waited outside the grocery store waiting for Ciar’s sedan to pull up. As it rolled to a stop, he hopped in the passenger’s seat, pleased to see Ciar wearing a pleasant expression. He seemed a lot more rested than the day before.

“What are you thinking for dinner?” Porter inquired.

Ciar pondered for a moment, pulling out of the shopping center parking lot. “Something with that frozen asparagus. Let’s see if we have any good meat entrees left.”

“What about the chicken breast? We’ll have to thaw it, but we could do that with some kind of sauce. You have condiments in the fridge door, right?”

“Pft. Nothing good. Ketchup and stuff. Well, actually…” Ciar chewed his lip as he studied the road, considering. “Yeah, you know what, let’s try it. I’m feeling adventurous today.”

Beside him, Porter whooped, pumping his fist.

As Ciar pulled back into his apartment’s parking lot, Porter eyeing the building eagerly from the passenger’s seat, he started to get some serious cold feet. Yeah, Porter had let him see his entire house and his exceedingly cluttered bedroom, but Ciar’s apartment was an entirely different beast. Months if not years of depression nesting had resulted in the place being barely walkable, let alone liveable. When was the last time he’d even had company? He stopped the car, turning off the engine and giving Porter a stern look.

“Wait here. I’m gonna clean up a little before you come in,” he insisted.

Porter cracked a smile. “Sure bud. I’ll wait.”

Ciar got out of his car and walked up the outdoor staircase to the third floor, unlocking his apartment and stepping inside. As he flicked on the lights, he outright flinched at the state of his entryway. His typical walking path had been carved out between bags of trash and boxes that he’d never bothered to unpack, even though he’d lived here for a few years. It wasn’t filthy per se–he was relatively careful not to let food rot so he wouldn’t have bugs or mice–but it was in a pretty dismal state. He shuffled past his couch, which was covered in loose mail and a laundry basket of unfolded clothes. No idea if those were clean.

“I only have a few minutes. If I take the trash out he’ll see me, but…that’s most of it,” Ciar grumbled, chewing his lower lip. “Maybe I can…uh…I could load the dishwasher?”

He sidled into the kitchen, turning on the light. There was only one small patch of counter space where he prepared simple, cheap meals. Otherwise the dishes towered on every surface, looming down on him as if blaming him for neglecting them for so long. Intimidated, he shut the light back off.

“Something else, okay…quick, think, think!”

Growing frantic, he decided to check his bedroom. Maybe he could distract Porter long enough that he wouldn’t pay attention to the rest of the apartment?

Lights on, he inspected his room. This was also full to the brim with trash, dishes, and clothes. It also actively smelled bad. Grimacing, he leaned into his small bathroom to grab a can of air freshener, spraying it around his bed. Maybe he should strip off his sheets?

Fuck, where was Porter going to sit? On his awful mattress? On the single square of open carpet?

Deciding to tackle the most offensive thing in the room, he pulled his bedding off and wadded it up, stuffing it into a basket that seemed to contain other dirty clothes. He had another set of sheets, right? Reaching a bit to get to his closet, he dug through the upper shelf, grabbing anything that looked like fabric. Though he knocked a few small boxes down, spilling some papers across the floor, he did manage to find another set of linens. They were old and faded, a bit musty, but it was a hell of an upgrade compared to the funk he’d been rotting in.

As he stretched the duvet cover over his mattress, he heard a sound toward the front of the apartment and froze. Someone was knocking?

“One second!” he shouted, trying to hurry.

He managed to finish with the sheets, pulling his comforter over the bed and smoothing things out. That was better, right? Another knock came from his front door, and as he heard the telltale sound of hinges squeaking, he realized with horror that he’d forgotten to lock it.

“Ciar?” Porter called.

Scrambling, Ciar shuffled out of his room and back to the entryway, his face pale and his eyes wide. He stopped in front of Porter, holding out a hand to keep him from taking another step into the apartment.

“I told you to wait outside!” he spat.

Porter held up his own hands defensively. “You were taking a while and I got bored! C’mon it’s not…that bad…”

Ciar glowered up at him. It was obvious in Porter’s expression that he hadn’t expected Ciar’s apartment to be in quite this state of dysregulation. He cupped his chin, scanning the small area, trying to find something productive to say.

“Hmm. Wow.”

Deeply annoyed, Ciar crossed his arms. “It’s a wreck. You can say so. It’s a miserable nest of garbage and crap that I try not to look at when I walk to and from the kitchen.”

Porter gave Ciar a noncommittal shrug. “It doesn’t smell awful. And I haven’t seen any rats or roaches, so that’s a good sign.”

It was difficult to maintain anger when he was feeling so defeated. Ciar slumped a bit, his tone softening.

“I don’t take care of the place. It kind of got away from me.”

Sympathetic, Porter gave him a light pat on the shoulder. “Hey, you’ve been going through it. Can’t blame you for not keeping things spotless. Believe me, I know how hard it can be to walk it back once things get out of hand.”

Ciar turned on the rest of the lights, and Porter got a proper look at his entire apartment. It was a disaster for sure, but it wouldn’t be impossible to clean. Most of this was just garbage that needed to be taken out. He reached down and picked up a black plastic bag, holding it up to Ciar.

“Is this trash?”

“Uh, yeah,” Ciar confirmed.

Nodding, Porter grabbed a few more. “These?”

“Also garbage.”

Once his hands were full, he shuffled back toward the door. “Where is the dumpster?”

Ciar frowned. “Don’t start cleaning my apartment.”

“Shut up,” Porter replied good-naturedly. “Where’s the dumpster?”

“Ah, it’s…” Ciar made a wrapping motion with his hand. “Down and around to the left. There’s a blue sign in front of it, pretty easy to spot.”

With a grunt, Porter opened the door and made his way back outside. Ciar, not willing to let Porter be the only one putting in work, decided to divert back to the kitchen. He opened the dishwasher, finding it empty and dried out. Unearthing the flattened old scrub brush buried beneath the piles of cups and plates, he switched on the water, starting to clean stuck-on sauces and crumbs off before placing the dishes in the plastic washer rack. He got through a handful of mugs, sticky with old tea and coffee, before Porter returned. The other man didn’t even stop for conversation, heading back to the small living room area to start searching for more bags.

“Are these trash?” he called.

Ciar stuck his head up over the chest-high divider that separated the kitchen from the living room. “Anything in a black bag is trash.”

Porter whistled. “Damn boy, the dumpster isn’t that far. Makes my job easier though.”

Ciar kept working on the dishes, leaving Porter to collect several more bags before heading back outside. It was very embarrassing to have Porter seeing his place like this, let alone cleaning it, but Ciar figured it was best not to turn his nose up at the help. This was years of buildup finally getting scraped down. It had seemed like an impossible task on his own, even starting with small chores, but Porter had decided to tackle the problem immediately. If he was willing to lend a hand, Ciar might as well take it. He knew he’d be grateful when he could actually see his floor again.

It took a few more trips before Porter had gotten all the garbage out of the living room. By the time Ciar was done loading the dishwasher, filling the detergent cup and turning it on, Porter was panting and leaning on the divider counter.

“Why does this place have so many stairs?” he wheezed.

“Sorry. Thanks for doing that,” Ciar said sincerely. “I don’t have the stamina to go up and down the stairs over and over like that. I would have stopped after the first handful of bags.”

Porter gave him a weak thumbs up. “S’no problem. I’m tough. I’m fit. I can handle it.”

Ciar smiled. “Dishwasher’s loaded. I can do another round once it’s finished.”

Perking up a bit, Porter held out a hand for a high-five, which Ciar returned. “Nice work. Let’s figure out this laundry situation next.”

Oh god, Ciar did not need Porter to be handling his dirty socks and underwear. “Let me do that.”

He walked out of the kitchen, now with more available space, and lifted the basket of loose clothing from the couch. Judging by the odor already apparent, these definitely needed to be cleaned.

“Where are your laundry machines?” Porter inquired.

“This building doesn’t have them,” Ciar noted. “I have to go to a laundromat.”

“Hmm.” Porter crossed his arms thoughtfully. “Okay, we’ll do that last. Round up the dirty stuff and set it by the door.”

“What, today? Right now?” Ciar asked with surprise.

“Yes, today. You have a car, right? It’s not even that late, the sun’s still out.”

Ciar hefted the basket to the open space by the front door and set it down. Were they cleaning the whole place today? All of it?”

When he turned back to Porter, he saw the other man holding an empty shoebox that he vaguely remembered was on top of the garbage. The lid was slotted underneath the box, and Porter was digging through the pile of paper spread across the couch cushions.

“I’m putting all the mail in here,” he explained, holding up the box. “I’ll help you sort it later on. What matters right now is consolidating everything.”

Ciar watched him work, astonished at how quickly the room was opening up. He decided that his next task was collecting laundry, snagging a couple of white plastic bags from under the kitchen sink before braving his bedroom. In here, most of the clothes were on the ground in piles. He started grabbing handfuls of them, stuffing them into a bag until it was full, then starting on the next one. Once he’d cleared his floor, he dragged the dirty laundry to the front room, stacking it beside the first basket. Then came the container that held his bedding. He pushed things down with his foot, packing them into the plastic bin, before collecting it and bringing it to join the others. As far as he knew, that was all the laundry that needed to be washed.

Porter raised his eyebrows as he caught sight of Ciar hauling all the clothes from his room. “I didn’t think you had this much considering the shirts you normally have on. Do you even wear all of this?”

Catching his breath, Ciar glanced at the bundles thoughtfully. “Some of it. I’ve had a lot of this stuff for years.”

Now holding a box full of paperwork, Porter set it on the kitchen divider. “Then after we wash it we can sort out some donations. You got a bunch of new shirts yesterday, so you can straight up throw out the ones with holes, right?”

“All of this today?” Ciar asked exasperatedly.

Porter shrugged. “My work week starts tomorrow. I say we get as much done as we can, y’know?”

Ciar looked back at the mound of unwashed clothes, frowning.

“I don’t know if I can afford to run all this.”

“I got you, buddy,” Porter assured him. “This would be, what, twenty bucks? Thirty? Maybe?”

“Something like that. You really don’t have to do so much for me.”

“Yeah yeah, keep singing your song,” Porter said dismissively. “It’s my money, I’ll spend it on what I want.”

Ciar sighed in resignation. “Fine. Thank you again for helping me.”

Porter gave him a playful grin. “Oh, we’re just getting started. You haven’t let me see your bedroom yet.”

Ciar blanched. Yes, the laundry had been picked up, but it was still pretty disgusting in there.

“Give me five minutes.”

He quickly grabbed another trash bag and hurried to his room, scooping up the loose garbage on nearly every surface and cramming it inside. Porter watched him dash in and out of the doorway, first with the plastic bag, then with stacks of dishes to refill the area around the sink. It was kind of funny seeing him bustle around like he had somewhere to be.

“You don’t have to run,” he joked.

Ciar leered at him. “You don’t know how bad it is.”

Undeterred, Porter just stuck his hands in his pockets. “You act like I’ve never seen a mess before. You know I grew up with four sisters, right? Like five wild kids in a house is gonna create a tornado every day. I can handle your one-bedroom apartment no matter what you’ve got hiding in it, I promise. Even if it stinks a little.”

Relaxing just a bit, realizing he had a point, Ciar returned to his bedroom to gather up some of the mail laying around. He brought it to the kitchen, adding it to the box Porter had collected, then poked his head back through the doorway to appraise the situation. His room actually smelled okay from the earlier air freshener, and there was enough space for both men to stand in the middle of it. The bed even had sort of clean sheets on it. This was probably as good as it was getting right now.

“Okay, you can come in,” he called.

Eyes bright with curiosity, Porter headed into Ciar’s bedroom. It was small, completely undecorated and seemed equipped for function only. Now that a lot of the clutter had been removed, only the drab basics remained: bed, dresser, desk, chair, and a wooden shelf with a television on top of it. A couple of video game systems were hooked up beneath the screen, caked in dust like most surfaces he could see. It pretty accurately reflected the mental state of someone as troubled as Ciar, even with the mess largely contained.

“You spend most of your time in here?” Porter wondered, sounding almost sad.

Ciar, slightly defensive, scooted off to the side, taking a seat on his bed. “Things have been kind of rough. I don’t have money to go out and do anything, and I’m usually too worn out to clean. This is just…what I can do.”

Porter wasted no time plopping down beside him, losing his balance a bit with the long drop to the frameless mattress. He straightened up, giving Ciar a supportive pat on the arm.

“We’ll get this place livable. That’s a good first step to feeling better, right?”

Groaning, Ciar flopped back to lay on the comforter, closing his eyes. “I’m already getting tired. Do we really have to go to the laundromat today?”

Smiling, Porter laid down next to him, rolling onto his side. “We can take a break. We’ve made some good progress.”

They both let their bodies settle into the mattress. Despite the lack of structure, it was quite soft, thanks in part to a foam topper giving way under their backs. Ciar glanced at Porter, who was still facing him, though now the other man had his eyes closed. It was really unnecessarily nice of him to attack the mess in Ciar’s apartment with so much gusto. In less than an hour they’d cleared out a sizable amount of what had haunted Ciar for half the time he’d lived here. Sighing softly, Ciar turned his gaze up to the ceiling, staring at the blank stretch of featureless paint. Everything in this place was white and bland. Compared to Porter’s bombastic, eclectic room, his was outright boring. It said nothing about him except that he rarely had energy to do anything but stay slumped under his covers.

“I used to collect figurines,” he blurted. “I think one of the boxes in the living room is full of them. I never took them out because I have no place to display them.”

Porter kept his eyes shut, humming with intrigue. “Maybe we can hit up a thrift store one of these days and get you a shelf. You might have room for it once we get all the garbage and laundry out of here.”

Ciar chuckled. “Definitely not today. You’re gonna be lucky if I can stay awake driving the car.”

Smiling, Porter rolled over onto his back. A comfortable silence settled between them as they both breathed, equally pleased that something had gotten done today.

“Hey…” Porter started, taking a chance to look over at Ciar. “You think maybe I could stay the night?”

Ciar raised his eyebrows. “You want to sleep in this mess?”

“Well it won’t be a mess when we’re done with it,” Porter reminded him. He rubbed his hands together in an anxious gesture. “I was thinking, maybe it’d be nice to be somewhere other than home tonight. What with my dad and everything. It’s okay if you don’t want to though.”

Considering for a moment, Ciar offered a shy, “I mean…yeah I guess. Are you fine sleeping on the couch? I probably have some more blankets but I can’t attest to how clean they are.”

A big wide grin spread across Porter’s face. “Hell yeah! I got no problem with the couch!”

“I can’t feed you either,” Ciar pointed out. “Dinner or breakfast.”

“That’s all on me, baby!” Porter replied as he stretched his arms up, exhaling as his shoulders popped slightly. “Some time you have to let me buy you some groceries. It would be cheaper than going out to eat all the time.”

Ciar felt a bit guilty. “That’s true, but you don’t have infinite money. Aren’t you a custodian?”

“I have savings,” Porter assured him. “This isn’t a huge deal at all. I don’t pay rent at home, remember? All I actually have to spend money on is food and my phone bill. Don’t even need to worry about gas.”

That was a good point. Ciar allowed himself to lean into Porter a bit, both figuratively and literally as he gently nudged him with his elbow. “Alright, fine. Let’s go to the laundromat and then the grocery store. We can get some stuff for dinner and breakfast instead of ordering takeout. It would be cheaper anyway.”

Porter folded his arms behind his head. “Awesome. What do you know how to cook?”

Ciar faltered a bit. “Uh, not much. Do you know how to cook?”

“Most of what I eat is like, sandwiches and pizza and stuff,” Porter noted. “I buy complete meals and stick em in the freezer. Sometimes I do those premade salads, those are pretty good.”

Furrowing his brow, Ciar tried to think of something he knew how to make. “I bet we could figure out eggs and toast for breakfast. And uh…maybe…”

Porter also wracked his brain for ideas. “Dinner could be…I mean frozen pizza isn’t too bad. We could do something like that.”

“We had pizza for lunch,” Ciar noted.

“True. Uh…hmm.”

Sitting up, Ciar reached into his pocket for his phone, starting to search options for beginner meals. “Well we’re both adults, right? Cooking is not that hard. We can find an easy recipe and just…make that, I bet. Something with meat and vegetables and a starch. Simple.”

Porter watched him type with intrigue. “I want steak.”

“Do you know how to prepare steak?”

“I do not,” Porter sighed.

He too sat up, peering over Ciar as he scanned a couple of websites, scrolling past the cavalcade of popups and filler text to get to the actual recipes. Without thinking, he set his chin down on Ciar’s shoulder, watching him thumb through pages. Ciar, surprised, gave him a quizzical look.

“Can I help you?”

Porter blushed a bit but figured he could play this off casually. “This is helping. I’m comfy.”

Ciar was a little perturbed, though he didn’t entirely mind the contact. He decided to let it go, continuing to scroll on his phone for a bit longer, until he managed to find some basic instructions on how to prepare steak.

“Oh hey, here we go. If we can get some steaks, I guess we can just cook them in a frying pan. I have one of those.”

Porter peered up at Ciar, grinning. “Hell yeah, we can do that!”

“Alright,” Ciar replied, shrugging Porter’s face off of his shoulder and getting to his feet. “Should we go to the store now?”

“Nah, let’s clean a bit more first,” Porter suggested.

Ciar grimaced as Porter also stood up.

“This is a lot for one day, Porter. If you’re staying the night, can’t we break it up a little? Some today and some tomorrow?”

Porter, getting excited again at the prospect of a sleepover, put his hands on his hips, the wide smile still plastered on his face. “Alright alright, that’s probably a good idea. Maybe we can go wash the laundry, then get stuff for dinner, come back and cook it, and uh…I don’t know, hang out the rest of the night?”

Relieved, Ciar nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. I don’t want to get too tired. Going to the laundromat is gonna take a lot out of me as it is.”

“Cool. Should we get the clothes down to your car?”

“Uh…” Ciar winced. “Lot of stairs. Might be two trips.”

“Will you be able to handle it? I know I’m bullying you a little but I don’t want you to overwork yourself,” Porter said warmly.

“Ah…it’s fine. I’m being a baby,” Ciar conceded. “I can do it.”

Porter turned and strode out of the bedroom, Ciar following behind. “Just let me know if it’s too much. We can always stop to rest if you need it.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

—--

Once they’d packed up the car, driven to the laundromat, and gotten the clothes rolling in the machines, Ciar and Porter had little else to do besides sit across from each other at a small table and talk.

“You’ve met most of my family, why don’t you tell me about yours?” Porter suggested.

Ciar sat back in the plastic red chair. “I’m quite close with my mom and brother. It’s been the three of us since my dad died, but that was when I was a kid.”

“Ah, sorry to hear that,” Porter said sadly.

“We weren’t terribly close. It sucked, but it’s life. Most of the old shirts I wear were his.”

“Wow, you kept them for that long, huh?” Porter noted. “Are they mementos?”

Ciar had to ponder this for a moment. “No. I can’t say I really miss him.”

Porter was stunned at his honesty. “Oh. Well. I guess that’s for the best, right? I can’t say I have a close relationship with my dad either, but I don’t know how I’d feel if he died.”

“I was really upset at first, but over time I accepted it, and I realized that he wasn’t great to us kids or my mom,” Ciar explained. “We’re a lot closer than we were when he was alive. I’m okay with how things turned out.”

Porter hummed thoughtfully. If something happened to his dad, would he be in the same indifferent state as Ciar? Would he miss him? Would he cry at first but eventually realize that he was happier without him? It was a difficult question to ponder, especially considering that even being around his dad was hard right now. For whatever reason, the guy just loved digging into Porter, and he didn’t understand why. They had gotten along when he was a kid. Why did he seem to want to pick apart every choice Porter made as an adult?

Ciar watched Porter quietly stew, waiting for a long moment before speaking up. “Anyway, it’s years behind me. I’m more interested in focusing on the future.”

“Yeah…” Porter replied, clearly a bit spaced out.

Ciar realized that maybe this topic was weighing on Porter. “Hey man, it’s crazy when something like that happens. A parent passing away. You never know how you’re going to feel until that moment hits you. Right now if you’re not sure how you feel, that’s okay. Relationships are complicated.”

Porter’s mouth quirked in a small smile. “You kinda read my mind.”

“Figures this would make you think of your dad.” Ciar reached over and patted his arm. “You don’t have to know how you feel about everything right now. What’s important is making sure that his nagging doesn’t get to you. You’re doing a great job in a lot of ways, no matter what he says.”

Taking a deep breath, Porter nodded, seeming to shake himself out of his head. “It’s hard to remember that, but I get you. Thanks, Ciar.”

Ciar returned his smile. “No problem. I’m only saying it because it’s true.”

“Still, it means a lot.”

—--

Once the laundry was finished, they stopped at the grocery store where Porter worked so he could use his employee discount. While Ciar only wanted to grab a few things, Porter insisted on filling up his fridge, handwaving any protests as he pushed the cart down the aisles.

“I’m gonna be eating this stuff too, right? Don’t make me starve!”

By the time they had finished shopping and had gotten back to Ciar’s apartment, the car was quite full of both laundry and food. It took a number of trips to get everything back indoors. Once the last basket had been dragged inside and plopped down by the couch, Ciar was wheezing, and he had to sit down on a newly-available cushion to catch his breath.

Porter, in much better shape, took it upon himself to start putting away groceries. “So tonight let’s cook the steak and broccoli, and some instant mashed potatoes? That’s a whole meal right there!”

Ciar nodded, holding his chest. “Yeah, that sounds good. Give me just a minute, I’ll come help.”

Chuckling, Porter opened the fridge and started stacking items inside. “You go ahead and rest. I don’t need you keeling over before the food’s even ready.”

Too winded to argue, Ciar let Porter finish unpacking the groceries, only getting up to join him once he wasn’t panting anymore. He picked up and inspected the packaged steaks that Porter had picked out. They were nice cuts, a luxury he hadn’t had in ages. He could only hope they didn’t screw up actually cooking it.

With Ciar’s phone propped up on top of the dusty coffee maker, screen open to the recipe, the pair of them got to work figuring out how exactly to prepare a steak. It wasn’t rocket science, but Porter managed to fry them a little more well done than they were hoping for. Though with the broccoli steaming in the microwave and the instant potatoes prepared fairly easily on another burner, they decided to take the win that they were at least unlikely to get food poisoning. Each topping their respective steaks with a healthy glaze of bottled sauce, they served up the successfully cooked dinner and went to sit on the couch, setting their plates in the newly available space on the neglected coffee table.

“Want to watch a movie?” Porter asked.

“Sure.” Ciar grabbed his laptop and opened it, searching a streaming website and scrolling down the list of featured options. “Did you have one you wanted to watch? Or do you want to just see what’s there?”

Looking over his shoulder, Porter jabbed a finger toward the screen. “Ooh, let’s do this one! I’ve heard it’s really terrible!”

Smirking, Ciar clicked on the link, pulling up the summary and scanning the listed plot details. “You like schlocky horror films like this? I didn’t think you’d be very into blood and gore.”

“I love a good awful movie,” Porter assured him. “Especially if the effects are bad. You wanna check it out?”

Ciar shrugged. “Yeah, okay, seems interesting enough. Let’s see what kind of disaster we’re in for.”

He set the laptop up on the coffee table, hitting play and letting the sound of whirring chainsaws and canned screaming fill the small living room. They greedily tucked into their meals, pleased that even with some cooking mistakes, it tasted pretty damn good. Ciar especially chewed his slightly tough meat with glee, always happy for a rare home-cooked dinner. As they sliced steak and speared broccoli, the movie blundered on in the background. A killer dressed in a trenchcoat and a burlap mask terrorized a college campus full of actors that looked way too old to be in their roles, swinging a clearly plastic chainsaw and spraying the drab sets with too-red blood. The pacing was awkward and the line delivery left a lot to be desired. As they watched the students converge after the night of a gruesome murder, debating how to catch the mysterious slasher, Ciar pointed his fork at the screen.

“It’s the janitor, calling it now,” he stated.

Porter hummed in consideration through a mouthful of potatoes. “He’s like the one guy with any speaking lines besides these kids. Unless they’re gonna pull somebody new out of nowhere, you’re probably right.”

Characters wandered from set to set, expositing with blunted reactions to the continuing string of murders. As the movie tried to weave in intrigue and a darkening tone, Ciar was repeatedly pointing out inconsistencies in the writing, the weird editing, and the lackluster effects. He didn’t even notice right away that while Porter was agreeing with most of what he said, he was growing visibly tense beside him. When the food was finished and the plates were abandoned on the table, Porter had crossed his legs up on the couch, holding onto his shins with an unusual rigidness. He was playing it cool, but when a quiet scene was suddenly interrupted by the killer jumping out from behind a wall, Porter yelped in surprise.

Ciar flinched, startled by his reaction. “Dude, are you scared?”

Flushing, Porter shook his head. “No! It just caught me off guard!”

His indignant pout was enough to make Ciar break out into a grin. “You need to hold my hand? I promise it’s not real, mister chainsaw bag man isn’t going to get you.”

“Shut up!” Porter whined, pressing his hands to his face.

Playfully jabbing him with his elbow, Ciar settled in on the couch, now keeping an eye on Porter’s reactions as the film carried on. Despite his protests, Porter was visibly unsettled as the killer hunted down the frightened college students. It was actually kind of funny to see him so rattled by what they had so far agreed was a pretty poorly-made movie. Once the big climax hit and the murderer was finally defeated, Porter let his body relax, quietly exhaling as the ending credits began to roll.

“You were right. That was pretty awful,” Ciar chuckled.

Even though he was still a bit embarrassed, Porter smiled at him. “Yeah. They got in some cool shots and the killer was honestly pretty intimidating, but the writing was garbage. It felt like an amateur student film that happened to get the lighting right in a few scenes.”

Ciar got to his feet, picking up the two plates and taking them to the kitchen, immediately rinsing them off so as not to start a new stack of sticky, filthy dishes.

“You think you can sleep after that, tough guy?” he teased from over the divider counter.

“Ha ha,” Porter replied in an unimpressed deadpan. “I’m fine. It wasn’t scary.”

A pause lingered in the air.

“So I can shut off the lights?”

“Ah, we don’t need to uh…” Porter cleared his throat, taking out his phone to check the time. “Night’s still young, we don’t need to go to bed yet. How about like…a palette cleanser?”

Taking pity on him, Ciar walked back into the living room, hands on his hips. “You want to do another movie? Unless that’d keep you up too late. I know you have work in the morning.”

“Another movie would be awesome,” Porter said with relief. “You pick this one. Something with color and good vibes.”

Ciar pondered for a moment. “I have a small DVD collection. Just a few of my old favorites. One of those maybe?”

Porter nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, show me a favorite movie! That’s a great way to get to know somebody.”

Stepping over to one of the stacked up boxes to the side of the room, Ciar popped open the cardboard lid, digging through until he found the plastic case he was looking for. He held it up for Porter to see.

“Have you seen this one?”

“Nope,” Porter confirmed, giving a thumbs up. “Teach me the wonders, movie man!”

A little shy to show something he genuinely loved but equally excited to share it, Ciar sat back down on the couch, taking the disc out of its case and sliding it into the laptop’s drive. This new movie started up with a slow visual crawl over a quaint town, a relic of the previous generation, complete with a chipper narration to set the scene. Porter reclined back on the couch and watched a young man venture into frame, bright in the face. It was a stark contrast from the grisly horror movie they’d just finished.

“This seems pleasant,” he commented.

Ciar was curled up next to him, hands folded in his lap. “Just wait. It goes way off the rails.”

The scenes played out in a slow, dreamy fashion as the story got started, lulling Porter into a calm state, before flickers of intrigue popped up among the mundane. Something wasn’t quite right with this little idyllic town. He felt himself drawn in as cracks began to show in peoples’ facades, the paint peeling a little at a time, until the end of the first act was capped off with a startling twist. Unlike the campy film before where Ciar and Porter had talked through the whole thing, they were both quiet and rapturously focused as they watched this flick play out. Porter was astonished at how invested he was getting in the lives of these characters, how gripped he was by the dialogue, the performances, and how his heart fluttered in his chest as the tension in the story bloomed in front of them. At a quiet moment, he chanced a look to his side at Ciar, who was absorbed with delight in something he’d probably seen dozens of times. A light blush dusted Porter’s cheeks as he smiled. It was fun getting to see the usually dour Ciar getting so wrapped up in something like this.

“Oh, this is the best part,” Ciar whispered, pointing to the screen.

Porter let himself get lost in the film’s climax, out-loud gasping at the final reveal, and watching with rapt attention as the winding story reached its conclusion. By the time the credits were rolling, he was slumped back in his seat, reeling with the emotions he’d been treated to over his viewing experience.

“That was so good,” he blurted, staring up at the ceiling. “I can see why it’s one of your favorites.”

Ciar was uncharacteristically giddy next to him. “Right? I love this director and I think this is far and away the best film she’s ever done. Plus the two leads have unbelievable chemistry.”

“The guy gave a stellar performance,” Porter agreed. “I also thought the fella that ran the diner was really good too. His little speech toward the end there almost got me to choke up.”

They spent another chunk of the evening discussing the nuances of the film, Porter noting what he’d had strong reactions to and Ciar chiming in with things he’d only noticed on repeat viewings, along with trivia about the making of certain scenes. At one point they both had their phones out, researching the actors and what else they’d been in, what other works the director had made, Porter pointedly asking if Ciar had any more films by her in his catalogue. As they got carried away chatting about movies and looking up other cool information to share, the night started to stretch on. Porter didn’t even realize what time it was until he felt a yawn strike him.

“Ah shit, we should probably go to sleep,” he sighed. “I don’t like rushing right out the door when I wake up. Need my getting around time.”

Ciar got to his feet, reaching behind the couch to grab a pillow and blanket from a pile on the floor. Luckily he didn’t use these much, so even though they hadn’t been recently washed, they were reasonably clean. Porter appeared to be the exact height to fit on the couch laying down without having to scrunch, which he was pleased to discover as he tucked the pillow under his head. He plugged in his phone on a spare charger that Ciar had provided, making himself comfy under the similarly offered blanket.

“Thanks again for letting me stay over. Tonight has been really fun,” he said warmly, glancing up at Ciar.

Returning his smile, Ciar reached over and shut off the living room lamp. “No worries. Get some rest.”

“You too. Sleep tight!”

Ciar headed to his room with his own phone held out as a flashlight, looking around in the dim glow at the newly available space on the floor. He didn’t have to carefully sidle over the mess that had haunted him for months, he could just stride quietly to his bed, stripping off his day clothes and dropping them in the now-empty hamper. With a soft sigh, he climbed under his covers, laying back and stretching out on top of his mattress. He turned his head to the side and saw his walls, saw the corners of the floor around the unburied few pieces of furniture. It didn’t smell like garbage, or sweat, or stagnant piles of dishes anymore. There was still work to do to get it properly clean, but just having the open space was making him feel so much more relaxed.

A twinge of guilt was bubbling in his stomach at how hard Porter was working for him, but he could set it aside and just appreciate all the help he’d been given today. Tomorrow he could do something nice to show him his gratitude. Tonight, he could sleep comfortably.

—--

Porter woke up the next morning to the beeping of his phone alarm. He yawned, stretching and groggily sitting up. He was a bit stiff, but the couch had served him well. Blinking hard, he checked the time on his phone and if he’d gotten any messages. One from his mother, asking if he was going to be home for the night. In all the fun with cooking and the movies, he’d completely forgotten to let her know where he’d be. Oh well. Not the first time he’d bunked at a friend’s house without telling her. She probably wasn’t too worried.

“Oh good, you’re up.”

As he looked into the kitchen, he saw Ciar approaching with two ceramic mugs, both steaming lightly. The shorter man was wearing a loose-fitting T-shirt and pajama pants, his hair a bit messy as if he’d also only recently woken up. He approached the couch, setting the two mugs down on the coffee table.

“I wasn’t sure how you liked your coffee, so I just made it how I make mine. Hope that’s okay. I also made us eggs and toast. I think I did a pretty good job,” Ciar said proudly. “I’ll bring it out here. You hungry?”

Porter stared at him, standing in his pajamas, hands on his hips, wearing a wry smile that was uncharacteristic of how he’d known Ciar to be. He was clearly happy, clearly feeling more rested and content than he had in a while. Maybe due to the cleaner apartment, or the good food, or a night with a friend that he probably hadn’t had in ages. Porter could see it in his face–something had changed in Ciar overnight.

And as Porter woke up to this, instead of his sisters yelling and his father shouting insults on the other side of his bedroom door, he felt a sharp pang hit his chest. This was nice. This was so nice. Waking up in a quiet and peaceful apartment to a sweet, cute guy having made him breakfast before work. What was better than that?

Wait, cute?

Oh.

Oh no.

He watched Ciar return to the kitchen, watched him run a hand through his bed head and grab two plates, placing them beside the coffee on the table and taking a seat next to him on the couch. In that moment, he felt a handful of memories flash through his head. The pair of them watching movies, skating on the old ramp together, Ciar telling him that he was worth something. The moments in the mall where he’d made Ciar laugh and smile, the way Ciar had trusted him when he was vulnerable. The wild look in Ciar’s eyes as he knelt over him by the train tracks, gripping his shirt and screaming in his face.

His heart was pounding. He couldn’t tear his eyes away as Ciar picked up his own plate, taking a forkful of food and stuffing it in his mouth. As he sat, unmoving in his seat, Ciar realized his eyes were on him, and he looked up.

“You alright? The food is good, it won’t bite you.”

Porter blinked hard as he was shaken from his thoughts.

“Uh…y-yeah. Thanks,” he murmured, grabbing his own plate.

Smiling, Ciar elbowed him in the side.

“You can use my shower if you need it. I also have some larger clothes that will probably fit you, and I don’t mind if you wear them to work. I’ll give you a ride out too,” he said kindly. “I owe you big time for yesterday. Thanks again for helping me get a start on cleaning this place.”

Porter nodded, his lips pulled tight. “No problem. And thanks.”

drew my boys cosplaying Ryuki and Date from AI The Somnium Files because I recently finished the third game and i love these two a lot 🧡💜

physique test for the boys 🙏

Ciar felt like he wanted to pay Porter back for their mall trip the day prior, so he was actually the one who reached out first the next morning.

CIAR: Hey, how about I come over to your house? My apartment is trashed, but maybe we could hang out or something?

Porter was scrambling to type back a coherent reply.

PORTER: OMG yeah!! i mean my house sucks but you can come over!! im sure my parents and sisters wouldnt mind!!

Hesitating a bit, Ciar thought about how he wanted to respond.

CIAR: Is that okay? I don’t want to bother your family.

PORTER: its totes fine, theyre not gonna care

PORTER: come over whenever!! just let me know when youre on your way

With a yawn, Ciar rolled out of bed, still wearing the T-shirt Porter had bought him. He figured since he was a smelly mess the day before, he ought to clean up a little bit. He slouched his way to the bathroom and tossed off his clothes, stepping into the shower. Sure, he was using cheap soap and three-in-one haircare products, but they smelled pretty good. As rude as he’d been yesterday, he really did owe it to Porter to put in a little more effort. The guy had seen him at his worst and was nothing but kind and supportive. He could show some of his nice side too.

Once he was clean, he shut off the water and toweled himself dry. He brushed his teeth and combed his hair, taking a moment to pick at his face in the mirror before drifting back to his bedroom. Clean underwear and socks, obviously, and maybe a fresh pair of jeans. Would it be weird to wear one of the shirts Porter had gotten him? Nah, he’d probably be overjoyed to see it. Ciar picked out a brightly patterned button-up and put it on, leaving the top couple of buttons open the way he liked it. Just because he was wearing clothes that fit him properly did not mean he had to completely change the way he dressed.

As he stepped back to the bathroom to put on some deodorant, it occurred to him that he might be meeting Porter’s family today. All the better reason to clean up, right? He wanted to make a good first impression. Porter hadn’t talked much about them, but they all lived together, so he didn’t want to make things weird by showing up with stinky, worn out clothes and unwashed hair. Who was to say what Porter may or may not have already told them about him? Even if he’d only known Porter a few days, he seemed like the type who needed to tell everybody he knew when something big happened to him, and having his life saved was a pretty significant deal.

Ciar stuffed his wallet and phone in his pockets, using his keys to lock his front door before hooking them to his belt loop with a carabiner. The weather outside was fairly mild. Good for driving. Maybe he’d crack the window on the way there to help dry his hair out.

CIAR: I’m heading to yours.

His phone pinged before he even reached his car.

PORTER: see you soon!! :D

—--

Pulling into Porter’s driveway–he knew the route by now–Ciar had a moment to study the house he’d be visiting. It was kind of modest considering that several people lived there. How many sisters did Porter say he had again? There was also a bit of built up clutter around the outside of the porch. The bikes he remembered seeing on his first night here, but also a chest freezer that wasn’t plugged in, some plastic barrels, and a number of other miscellaneous objects that looked like the exact thing that an adventurous dad at a yard sale might take home. He stepped out of his car, approaching the porch where he could see the front door. Before he made it, Porter burst outside to enthusiastically greet him. He was wearing a dark patterned crop top and baggy jeans with chains on them, coupled with a brightly colored belt. Apparently he’d also decided to dress up for their little hangout.

“Come in, come in!” he exclaimed, grabbing Ciar’s wrist and pulling him toward the house. He took a moment to admire Ciar’s shirt before opening the door and letting him through.

The inside of the house was…busy. Ciar would never throw stones considering his own mess of an apartment, but this space was very definitely lived in. The entryway was a small patch of tile that was bordered by plush carpet, faded with age, next to a beaten-down couch. Ciar took off his shoes, walking behind Porter as he led the way deeper inside. Every surface had some kind of knick-knack or evidence of people, like mail or a forgotten mug of coffee. There were also tons of photos lining the walls they passed. Counting in his head, Ciar determined that Porter had at least four sisters. Did they all live under the same roof? Even with a whole house, that seemed uncomfortable at best. They had to be knocking elbows constantly.

As if to answer Ciar’s question, Porter was stopped by a young woman who shared his mop of wavy blonde hair. She blinked at Ciar, then waved.

“Who’s this?” she asked Porter.

Beaming, Porter threw an arm around Ciar, pulling him into a one-armed hug that Ciar visibly recoiled away from. “This, dear sister, is the man who saved my life!”

“Oh right, the hero!” She grinned. “Hey there! Thanks for stopping Porter from getting squished like an ant!”

Evidently he had been talking about Ciar. Blushing and glancing away, Ciar cleared his throat.

“Hello,” he greeted quietly. “I’m…Ciar.”

“Marcy,” the girl said brightly, extending her hand.

Ciar shook it.

“Nice to meet you,” he murmured.

Marcy chuckled. “Quiet guy? He’s pretty scrawny compared to you, Port. I’m shocked he managed to push you off the tracks.”

“He jumped, Marce! Like through the air! It was pure animal force!” Porter gushed, squeezing Ciar’s shoulder for emphasis.

Ciar was looking like he very much wanted to change the topic of conversation. “Porter mentioned that he lived with his sisters and parents. Are you all here today?”

“Chelsea doesn’t live here, but the rest of us do,” Marcy explained. “Mom’s at work but she should be home in an hour or so. Dad said he was going to run errands before picking her up. I don’t know about Taylor or Kendra. Kennie has been seeing this new guy so she might be out with him. Probably took her bike.”

Apparently hearing her name, a girl then shouted from another room. “I’m here! I’m washing dishes!”

Marcy nodded. “Taylor’s in the kitchen.”

Porter finally let go of Ciar’s shoulder. “We’re gonna go hang out in my room. Don’t bother us.”

Marcy stuck out her tongue. “I don’t want to bother you. Ciar, you’re welcome here as far as I’m concerned. Make yourself at home.”

Ciar gave her a timid smile. “Thanks. I won’t take up too much space.”

“You’re good,” Marcy assured him. Then she flipped the bird to her brother and wandered off in the other direction.

Porter rolled his eyes and kept walking, Ciar trailing behind him. They headed down a small hallway past a few closed doors, stopping at the last one on the right. Porter opened it, stepping aside so Ciar could walk in past him.

“Welcome to the Porter shack!” he declared, puffing out his chest proudly.

The space definitely screamed “Porter”.

Every wall was completely covered in expressive posters of various bands, some amateur art pieces, and a veritable collage of photographs which seemed to mostly be of Porter and his friends. There were a couple of skateboards hanging up near the ceiling, along with some string lights and several sports flags. Also notable was a large dresser with a couple of open jewelry boxes, a basket of apparently used laundry, and a closet almost bursting with different clothes. Ciar was kind of astonished that it all managed to fit into such a tiny room. He took a few steps onto the visible patches of floor. There was nowhere to really sit except on Porter’s bed, which he noted had an actual frame, unlike his own floorbound mattress. The posts at the end were home to a ton of bracelets and necklaces, and what appeared to be paper bands from various concerts or shows.

“Wow,” Ciar commented, drinking it all in. “It’s…packed.”

Porter nodded. “This is the only space in the house that’s mine. I’ve filled it with all of my things.”

Ciar studied his surroundings a bit more. “It’s…kind of cool. You can see a whole lifetime of experiences in all this stuff. Not a lot of room to walk around though.”

Smiling, Porter took a seat on the bed, patting the open spot next to him in invitation. “I don’t spend a lot of time at home. I mostly hang out with my friends or go to work.”

Deciding it was better than standing, Ciar sat down beside him. “Do you have work today?”

Porter shook his head. “Nope. Not until tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay. Cool.”

Ciar awkwardly looked down at his hands. He had intended to spend some time with Porter to make up for yesterday, but he realized he didn’t really have any plans for what to do. He kind of stared at the floor, noticing that despite the clutter, Porter’s room was weirdly clean. Everything was stacked neatly and there wasn’t any loose garbage or dishes like in his own room. It might just be that he didn’t tend to hang around here often.

“Oh hey,” Porter started. “Are you feeling any better than yesterday?”

Flushing, Ciar replied with a shy, “Uh, yeah. Thanks for…all that. It was really embarrassing.”

“What do you mean?” Porter wondered. “You were having a medical episode. You can’t help something like that. I'm glad I was there to help you.”

“It’s…I mean…” Ciar huffed. “I don’t like people seeing me like that. Especially people I don’t know very well.”

Porter bumped his shoulder against Ciar’s. “Don’t even worry about it, man. Like I said, it was no trouble sitting with you until it was over. Don’t beat yourself up, okay? It’s no skin off my nose.”

Ciar figured since the topic was already out there, he could push past the weird feelings to actually properly make it up to Porter. “I wanted to come over today and kind of redo our…whatever yesterday was. Our hangout thing. We can do whatever you like today, okay?”

A big dumb grin spread across Porter’s face. “Anything I want?”

Ciar got the sneaking suspicion that saying that was a bad idea.

“Uh…yeah?”

Porter got to his feet, hands on his hips.

“Do you know how to skateboard?”

Ciar raised his eyebrows.

“No?”

Reaching up to the wall, Porter grabbed a board and handed it to Ciar.

“Well today you’re going to learn.”

All the color drained from Ciar’s face.

“Do I have to?”

“You said anything,” Porter reminded him.

Ciar stared at the board, then back up at Porter.

“I don’t think endangering my life is a good way to pay me back for saving yours.”

Laughing, Porter grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. “C’mon, at least come with me to the ramp in the back! I can show you a few cool tricks!”

Ciar, now a bit curious, held the skateboard as he followed behind Porter, the pair stopping to grab their shoes. “You have a ramp?”

“Yeah, my dad built it when we were kids,” Porter explained. “It’s a little small, but it’s a good place to practice.”

As they made their way out the back door and into the yard, Ciar was astonished to see that yes, there was an actual skateboard ramp off to the side, surrounded by grass that would hopefully cushion an inevitable fall. He swallowed nervously as Porter ventured off to the garage, opening the huge scrolling door and stepping in to grab his own board before returning. He also, thankfully, had a couple of helmets in his other hand.

“You’ll have to use Marcy’s helmet, but she probably won’t mind,” he said chipperly.

He plopped the light blue helmet onto Ciar’s head. Ciar irritably adjusted his glasses, shifting the straps so he could buckle them under his chin.

“What about my elbows and knees? My wrists?” he pressed, looking exasperated.

“You’ll be fiiine,” Porter insisted. “C’mon, it’s not hard. I’ll show you the ropes.”

He stepped out onto the ramp, walking up until he was at one of the peaks. With one foot on his board, he dropped down, skating the length of the ramp and popping up on the opposite side, grinding along the edge until he could turn and drift in the other direction. Ciar watched him ride the board back and forth, the chains on his pants jingling. He’d occasionally get some air where he’d grab the deck, pulling his legs in before planting his feet back down. Considering Ciar had no idea how to do this, it was moderately impressive.

“I can do way cooler tricks at an actual skate park,” Porter assured him, glancing where Ciar was standing in the grass. “You want to give it a try?”

Ciar held his own board firmly to his stomach. “No.”

Stopping at the high end of the ramp, Porter picked up his board and climbed back down. He approached Ciar, setting the board aside and extending a hand.

“C’mon! You said anything,” he insisted.

Nostrils flaring, Ciar ignored his hand and walked out onto the ramp, dropping the board wheels-down at his feet. He certainly wasn’t going to be performing any tricks, but just standing on the board shouldn’t be that hard, right? As he placed one foot on it, he felt it immediately wobbling. Trying to steady his balance only got him so far. Each time he lifted his other shoe for even a second, the board threatened to go flying out from under him. How exactly was he supposed to do this?

“Do you want help?” Porter offered.

Ciar furrowed his eyebrows. “No, I can do it.”

He continued to raise his foot slightly, then lower it again. Over and over. Growing increasingly frustrated as he was unable to stand on the board. Porter watched, lip bitten, trying not to laugh at how visibly angry he was getting.

“Are you sure?”

Heaving a sigh, Ciar took his foot off the board. “Just tell me how to do it.”

Porter approached him, again holding out his hand. This time Ciar begrudgingly took it.

“Okay, start by centering your weight. You need to turn your front foot forward a bit more. Then once you’re ready, quickly lift up your other foot. You got it?”

Ciar clung to him more than he would admit, using Porter to keep steady as he placed his first foot, then lifted the other. After a moment of shaking legs, he was able to stand somewhat solidly on the board.

“Hey, there we go,” he said with relief.

Porter grinned. “See? Not so hard.”

Immediately after this feat was accomplished, Ciar stepped off the board completely.

“I don’t want to get a concussion. Standing on the board was plenty,” he snipped.

Shoulders slumping, Porter conceded defeat. “Alright, maybe not today. Thanks for giving it a shot at least.”

Ciar took off his helmet and handed it to Porter. “Next time we’ll go to an ice rink. Then I won’t look like an idiot.”

Porter perked up. “You ice skate?”

“Yeah, a lot better than I can stand on a plank of wood with wheels. It’s too stressful not having it connected to your feet.”

“Do you roller skate?” Porter asked.

Ciar touched his chin thoughtfully. “I used to. Roller blade, actually. It’s been a few years since I’ve done it though.”

“Hold on, I’ll be right back,” Porter blurted, putting the helmet back on Ciar’s head.

He ran over to the garage, dug around inside for a moment, then came back holding a pair of faded white roller blades. They were well-worn, but still in decent condition.

“Do you know your size? These are Taylor’s but they look like they might fit you.”

Ciar, more inclined to try something he was familiar with, took a seat at the nearby picnic table. He removed his shoes and pulled on the skates, lacing them before properly fastening his helmet. They did actually fit pretty well.

“Yeah, this is more my speed,” he said, sounding pleased.

He toddled slowly across the grass, already more on-balance with the roller blades, and stepped onto the skate ramp. With a few minutes of getting his bearings, he was able to glide with relative ease, dipping back and forth on the smooth wood. Porter whistled, clapping his hands.

“I didn’t think you had a sporty bone in your body!” he teased.

Ciar braked and crossed his arms. “I do some stuff besides just sitting in my room all day. When I was a kid I wanted to be a figure skater. I got a lot of practice time in when I was growing up since my dad worked pretty close to a public rink. He’d drop me off when I didn’t have school and my mom would pick me up a few hours later.”

Smiling wide, Porter collected his skateboard and joined him on the ramp. “That’s awesome. Why didn’t you pursue it?”

Shrugging, Ciar started moving across the wood again. “I wasn’t very athletic. I had good form but no stamina, and I didn’t have the structure to keep at it like a professional skater. It was just something I enjoyed doing in my off time.”

Porter watched him roll smoothly over the lip of the ramp, turning and drifting back to the other side. “You’re pretty graceful, even if you’re out of practice. I bet you could pick it back up.”

“Eh, not as a pro. But for fun, sure.” Ciar stopped beside him, looking visibly perkier since he’d gotten a chance to show off a little. “We’ll go to an ice rink soon. I can watch you fall on your ass.”

“Hey, I know how to skate!” Porter protested. “I’ve done it before!”

Ciar smirked. “How recently? Were you any good?”

“Like…when I was ten! And I didn’t even fall that much!”

Chuckling, Ciar poked him in the arm. “Let’s get you back in practice then. You come with me to an ice rink, I’ll go with you to a skate park. Just ask Taylor if I can borrow these.”

Porter was grinning wide. “Deal!”

Suddenly, a shout came from the back door as an older woman poked her head out. “Porter, Marcy said you have a friend over? Did you guys want some pizza?”

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Porter answered before Ciar got a chance to. “Yeah, thanks Mom! Grab two plates!”

Ciar took off his helmet, glancing at Porter. “That’s nice of you guys. I don’t have to eat while I’m here, you know.”

Porter rolled his eyes. “Have you never been a guest at someone’s house before? You’re getting pizza. Now take off your skates so we can have some before the girls eat it all.”

They packed up their skating equipment, Porter stowing what went in the garage before grabbing Ciar’s abandoned board and leading the way inside.

“I’ll take this to my room. Meet you in the kitchen!”

And so Ciar was left alone for a moment. He looked around, not quite familiar with where the kitchen was. He wandered toward where he could hear talking, peeking around a corner to find Porter’s mother talking to Marcy and another girl he hadn’t met yet. Likely Taylor. As he made himself visible, they stopped their conversation to acknowledge him.

“So you’re Ciar!” Porter’s mother chuckled, her wide smile a perfect match with her son’s. “We’ve heard so much about you the past couple of days!”

Ciar blushed, glancing away. “Ah, yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Sorry? You saved Portapotty’s life!” Taylor shrilled, already holding a paper plate with a few slices of pepperoni. “Though it is getting annoying. He keeps retelling the whole thing with even more stupid details, like how a flock of doves flew out behind you when you leapt for him. You’d think he actually met god.”

Flushing even darker, Ciar kept his eyes on the floor. “It wasn’t a huge deal. It was an impulse thing, and he’s already paid me back.”

“Yeah well, I think it’s sweet. He like, idolizes you,” Marcy offered, picking up her own plate.

Did he really have that big of an impact on Porter? What he’d done was pretty brave, he had to admit, but if Porter really hadn’t shut up about him for the past several days, he must have been pretty taken with Ciar. No wonder he was so insistent on staying in touch.

On cue, Porter walked into the kitchen, striding right to the paper plates. “Yup, Ciar’s pretty great. He’s a real hero.”

Normally Ciar would have hidden his face in his collar, but he was wearing a shirt that actually fit him properly. Instead, he just kept his head down and shuffled into line for pizza, hoping that the conversation wouldn’t focus on him too long.

“Oh, this is the guy?”

A louder, masculine voice echoed from the other room, and an adult man followed in to join the discussion. He was broad, rosy-faced, and had dark brown hair that was graying at the temples. Unlike Porter’s mother, who bore a striking resemblance to her son, Ciar had to determine from context clues that this was his father. Except for their complexion and maybe their ears–Porter’s slightly stretched out from his plugs–they didn’t really look alike. They were also both tall, but considering that Marcy was on eye level with Ciar, this was likely just a fairly tall family. The man approached Ciar, staring him down inquisitively, making him feel quite exposed. After a moment, the man’s mustache quirked up in a wide smirk.

“Nice job, son. If Porter’s word is anything to go by, you really stuck your neck out for him.”

Porter’s father clapped Ciar on the shoulder, clearly a behavior that Porter had adopted himself. There was an atmosphere about this man that seemed to alter the air in the room. Ciar noticed that Porter had become a bit more stiff, and the idle chatter between the girls had gone quiet. It made Ciar feel even more uncomfortable speaking to him.

“I’m sure he’s embellished the story,” Ciar murmured, not meeting the man’s eye.

Smile widening, Porter’s father stepped over to one of the counters, leaning back against it.

“So, what do you do for work?” he inquired.

They were immediately starting on a touchy subject. Ciar briefly met Porter’s eyes, exchanging some indistinguishable mutual thought, before he turned to look up at Porter’s father. This was the type of man with whom first impressions were everything. Alright. He could navigate this.

“I work in insurance sales. Customer service, mostly from home but I occasionally go into the office,” he blatantly lied.

Porter’s dad chuckled. “Sounds like busy work! But it probably pays the bills alright, eh?”

Ciar shrugged, quickly falling into character. “Yeah. I enjoy it well enough.”

“Y-yeah! He’s told me all about it,” Porter added. “He uh…he sells lots of great insurance plans. It’s a robust profession.”

At least Porter was willing to corroborate his fib. His father stepped brazenly in front of both of them, ignoring the line and grabbing a few slices of pizza for himself.

“Maybe you can show Porter how to draw up a budget,” he joked, winking at his son.

Porter visibly deflated a little. “Ah ha, yeah.”

“I’m pretty good at math, I’d be happy to help,” Ciar replied smoothly. It was a lot easier to keep his head up when he was lying than when he had a spotlight shone on his authentic self. Being called a hero made him feel sheepish. Pretending he had a decent career? That he could handle. He was privately glad that Porter had talked him into getting some well-fitting clothes–he couldn’t imagine selling his image as a working man in a tattered oversized smock.

Collecting his lunch, Porter’s dad wandered to the adjacent dining room. The large wooden table was covered in clutter, so he set his plate in an open area and began grabbing stacks of things off the surface, setting them on other nearby furniture.

“Let’s eat in here today. I want to get to know Porter’s friend better,” he decided.

There was a murmuring of agreement from the girls, and they followed behind to help clear off the table. Ciar, grateful for a chance to help, also grabbed a few piles of miscellaneous items and placed them somewhere else. Porter took his chance to snag a few slices of pizza, only joining after the table had been exhumed.

Anyone who hadn’t grabbed food returned to the kitchen, and after a moment, they were all sitting in chairs around the table. It was evident immediately that this was not something they normally did. Nobody was making eye contact, and both Marcy and Taylor had started eating without saying a word. Ciar turned to Porter, who also had taken a large bite, staring off into space and not acknowledging the rest of his family. Ciar, who ate meals with his mother and brother as frequently as he was able, felt palpable tension in the air. Were they just not accustomed to all hanging out together?

“So,” Porter’s father continued, barely acknowledging the general unease. “I ought to introduce myself. I’m Duncan. You’ve already met my wife Emilia, and our girls Marcy and Taylor. Now tell me your name.”

Ciar faltered a bit but managed to maintain eye contact. “I’m Ciar.”

“Ciar! That’s an odd name,” Duncan chuckled. “Where are you from, son?”

Quirking an eyebrow, Ciar gave him a somewhat confused, “Here, sir. I grew up in a neighboring town and moved to this city when I was a teenager.”

Unlike Ciar’s placid demeanor, Porter seemed noticeably agitated. He kept glancing at Ciar, giving him a searching, “what is going on?” look. Ciar just lightly inclined his head toward Duncan, in what he hoped was an “I’m handling it” gesture. Entirely unfazed by their silent exchange, Porter’s father took a hearty bite of pizza, speaking through his full mouth.

“It’d be awfully nice of you to put in a good word at your company for Porter,” he suggested. “He could use a proper job.”

Porter grimaced. “An insurance company isn’t going to hire someone without a GED, Dad.”

“Then maybe you should get on that, huh?”

Ah. Duncan was clearly the type of person who wanted things a certain way and wasn’t shy about making that known. Ciar determined that it was the correct decision to outright lie to him. He probably wouldn’t take too kindly to knowing that Porter’s new friend was unemployed.

An awkward silence fell over the table, only broken after a long moment by Marcy piping up. “How did skateboarding go, you guys? I saw you from the window.”

“Ah, not bad,” Ciar noted. “I stood on the board.”

Visibly pleased for a change in topic, Porter turned his full attention to Marcy. “He’s no skateboarder, but I dug Taylor’s old roller blades out of the garage and he’s pretty good on them! Apparently Ciar is an ice skater, right?”

Ciar nodded. “I’ve been skating since I was a kid. Don’t ask me to get on any kind of board though. I’m worried I’ll fall and crack my skull open.”

Duncan took another bite of pizza. “Did you graduate from high school, Ciar?”

A heavy weight was back on the entire table. Ciar glanced up, astonished at how this man had no tact for what was clearly an uncomfortable topic for his son. Was he trying to embarrass him or something?

“Yeah, I did,” Ciar said blandly.

“Any college?” Duncan prodded.

“No, I couldn’t afford it. I just started working right out of school.”

Tutting with disappointment, Duncan replied, “Shame, you seem like a smart guy. How about helping Porter study then? Get him out of janitorial and into something respectable.”

“How about we change the subject?” Porter blurted, narrowing his eyes.

Emilia, now aware that her son and husband were starting to glare at each other, interjected with a cheerful, “Did you boys get a chance to see the garden outside? It’s just a little side project, but with the warm weather I’m getting a lot of new sprouts!”

Ciar immediately took the line. “I don’t think we went to that part of the yard, but I’ll ask Porter to show me. Are you growing flowers or vegetables?”

“Mostly herbs, but I’m trying my hand at some tomatoes and zucchinis this season,” Emilia explained. “Apparently they’re pretty easy, but I don’t have a ton of practice with gardening, so it’s sort of a test run for a proper crop next year.”

“Speaking of crop,” Duncan started. “That’s a nice shirt, Ciar. Covers your stomach. I appreciate that.”

Porter curled his lip. Ciar could tell this conversation was already getting out of hand.

“Porter bought it for me, actually. It was a very kind thing for him to do.”

Taylor jumped into the conversation to keep things on track. “It looks so comfortable, and I love that pattern! Where’d you get it, Port?”

Still maintaining eye contact with his dad, Porter said tersely, “The mall, that one outlet store on the far end. It was on sale.”

“Ooh, I love that place!” Taylor chirped. “Take me next time, okay? They have the best skirts this time of year!”

“Yeah, they do,” Porter agreed with a very deliberate tone.

Duncan scoffed. “They don’t come in men’s sizes.”

Finally at his breaking point, Porter stood up, picking his plate up off the table. “I’m going to go eat in my room. Ciar? Feel free to pop by if you want to join me.”

He stomped out of the dining room and back down the hallway, shutting his door loudly behind him. As soon as he was out of earshot, Emilia heaved a sigh.

“Duncan, do you have to pick a fight with him while we have company over?” she groaned.

Duncan was unbothered. “He has his belly sticking out like a teenage girl. If he didn’t want me to say anything, he shouldn’t wear that crap.”

Taylor winced. “Dad, Porter’s an adult. He can wear whatever he wants.”

“Not in my house,” Duncan snorted. He then turned his attention to Ciar, catching him very off guard. “You did a good thing saving our boy, but my god, can you whip some sense into him? All he does is smoke and pull pranks and wear women’s clothing. It’s an embarrassment.”

Ciar felt his face getting hot, and a tightness pulling in his neck.

“Porter is not an embarrassment.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Duncan stopped mid-bite to look back at him with intrigue.

“Hm?”

“He’s a very kind man,” Ciar continued, surprised at his own building anger. “Maybe he doesn’t have the most glamorous job. That doesn’t make him a failure. He’s an expressive and interesting person and he’s done a lot to help me since I’ve met him. I don’t appreciate you talking about him that way.”

Chucking, Duncan gave him an imperious smirk. “He’s my son, I’ll say what I like about him. Maybe he left a good first impression on you, but you’ll get to know him and see how lazy and unmotivated he is. Hopefully having someone like you around will give him something to strive for.”

Ciar clenched a fist on his jeans. “You know what? I lied to you earlier. I don’t have a job.”

“You don’t?” Emilia chirped, surprised.

“No. I’m trying to get disability. I don’t work. I’ve been relying on favors and credit to get by. If anyone’s a lazy, unmotivated person, it’s me.”

Duncan met Ciar’s fierce glare, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Well that figures. Porter found himself another winner to hang out with.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Alright, you said your piece. Go ahead and sulk in his room with him if you have such a high opinion of him. I’m done with this conversation.”

Unwilling to entertain him any further, Ciar got to his feet and grabbed his plate. He skulked wordlessly out of the dining room, approaching Porter’s door and knocking sharply. After a moment, Porter opened it, sitting back down as Ciar stepped inside and shut it behind him.

“So you’ve met the folks,” Porter said grimly.

Ciar looked like he was ready to punch a wall. “Does your dad hate you?”

Shrugging, Porter picked up a slice of pizza and took a contemplative bite. “Maybe. He certainly doesn’t like me.”

Ciar took a seat beside him on the bed, staring at his own plate of food. “I just…it’s like all he wants to talk about is what he thinks is wrong with you.”

“Yeah, that’s dad,” Porter sighed.

They both chewed for a moment, letting some tension settle in the quiet little room. In the distance, they heard a new conversation sparking up, too far away to understand but enough to know that Emilia was clearly annoyed with her husband. Porter finished what was left of his pizza and set the plate aside, leaning so his back was to the wall behind his bed.

“He’s right though.”

“What?” Ciar wondered.

Porter gave him a sidelong glance. “You’re gonna find out that I’m not put together at all. I’m all talk, all looks. I’ve got nothing going on upstairs.”

Ciar could hear the sting in his voice. His own tone was somewhere between gentle and incredulous. “What are you talking about? You might be kind of an airhead but you’re not some worthless idiot.”

Porter laughed, shaking his head. “All I do is fuck around, man. I’ve been working shitty dead end job after shitty dead end job, jumping to something new when I can’t stand it anymore. I’ve never even tried to finish high school. I smoke weed all the time and spend all my money just because I have nothing else to do. I’m not an accomplished person, like, in any way.”

“What’s wrong with fucking around?” Ciar countered.

“It’s a waste of time?” Porter offered.

Ciar scoffed, setting down his own unfinished plate of food. “Porter, you actually go out and do things. Look at all this stuff! Photos, concert bands, memorabilia, you’re actually living your life! Who gives a shit what job you work?”

“My dad, evidently,” Porter huffed.

Ciar leaned in a bit, frustrated. “You know what I’ve been doing the last few years? I get up, I drag my ass to the kitchen, and then I eat meals in bed while rewatching old TV shows. Every day. Sometimes I go to the grocery store. Today was the first time I’ve put on any kind of skates in ages. I do not give a shit if you’re a janitor. That’s not even a bad job to have. You are living your life as best as you can, Porter! Who gives a shit what your dad says?”

Porter, a little taken aback, met his intense gaze.

“I mean…I’m pretty useless. Yeah I’m fun, I make jokes, but I’m not very good at anything that matters, you know?”

Ciar shook his head vigorously. “Porter, if you hadn’t been there yesterday…listen, I know I felt like that whole episode was humiliating, but you handled it so well. You kept me from leaving the mall. You kept me safe and took care of me. We barely know each other!” He reached out and grabbed Porter’s wrist, squeezing like he’d done for him the day before. “You are not some idiot fuckup, Porter. You are a very kind person.”

Struck with emotion, Porter turned away, his cheeks flushing and his eyes welling up slightly. He managed to avoid crying, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“I…thanks,” he murmured. “I…I felt like…”

Ciar took his hand back, but kept his eyes on Porter. “Go ahead.”

Porter almost seemed embarrassed to admit what he was saying. “I kind of felt lately like I wasn’t worth anything. You saved my life, and I…I kind of didn’t care about it.” He looked back at Ciar, his eyes watery. “I felt like, why bother, right? But it was such a meaningful thing to do. You gave me a second chance, and I felt like…if I could pay you back, it might make up for…how I am.”

Gently, Ciar placed a hand on his shoulder. Physical contact didn’t come naturally to him, but it clearly meant something to Porter, as he unconsciously leaned into the touch.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Ciar insisted. “Are you annoying and pushy? Are you way too energetic and lacking in self-preservation skills? Yes. But you are a good person, Porter. A worthwhile person. You don’t need some impressive title or a wife and kids or whatever else to prove that. I only met you a few days ago and I can already see how much you have to offer the world.”

Sniffing a bit, Porter smiled. “I feel like I’m guilting you into being nice to me.”

“Believe me, if I didn’t want to be nice to you, I wouldn’t. I’m very good at that.”

Despite himself, Porter barked out a laugh, and straightened up.

“I’ve really taken you out of your element, huh?”

Ciar patted him more firmly on the arm. “Yeah. You’re making me be friends with you when I pretty adamantly didn’t want to.”

At this, Porter’s smile widened.

“We’re friends?”

Ciar fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I guess. At this point we’d have to be, right? We’re already making plans to go skating and other stuff together. It’d be weird if we were doing it as like…acquaintances.”

Porter nodded. “Yeah. That’s what dating is for.”

A very odd pause echoed between them. Realizing what he’d said, Porter backpedaled immediately.

“Uh, I mean…you know,” he fumbled, making a rolling gesture with his hands. “Getting to know somebody, you know? Right? Like you go on outings together to learn about each other? You know what I meant, right?”

Ciar gave him a quizzical look but ultimately returned his awkward smile.

“Yeah…I think I follow. We’re past the weird introductory phase and now we’re getting into kind of friends territory. We’ve both seen each other in some uncomfortable situations, anyway.”

Relieved that he wasn’t making things weird, Porter clapped his hands together.

“Okay. Well since we’re friends and this place sucks, I vote we blow this popsicle stand,” he announced.

Ciar picked up his plate again. “Can I finish my pizza first?”

“Yeah, go for it. I can wait.”

—--

After pizza was eaten and the conversation was carrying on in the dining room, Porter and Ciar crept around to the back door, collecting their shoes and deciding to exit through the yard where they wouldn’t be seen. Ciar was sure to stop by Emilia’s garden, admiring the new sprouts, before they headed to the black sedan parked in the driveway.

“Where do you want to go?” Ciar asked, climbing into the driver’s side.

Porter hopped into the passenger’s seat. “I don’t care, man. Maybe back to yours?”

“Ah…it’s not ready,” Ciar admitted. “I’d be embarrassed having you see my place like this.”

Porter quirked an eyebrow. “Bro, you got to see me being pretty damn embarrassed today. I think it’s fair to even the score a little.”

The day was still pretty young. Maybe Ciar could have Porter wait out in the car while he tidied up inside for a few minutes?

“Uh…I…sure,” he conceded. “Just…don’t judge me, okay?”

Smiling, Porter relaxed back into his seat. “Don’t worry, I won’t. You saw my messy room. I’m sure yours isn’t much worse.”

Ciar winced. He had no idea what he was in for.