Matt leaned his head against the seat and closed his eyes. They were quiet the whole way to Oliver’s house in Laurel Canyon. He’d always known he’d want to live outside of the city, somewhere more secluded. He loved the pulse of life, the business of LA and Hollywood, but when he was at home he wanted to be away from it all.
As soon as they pulled into his driveway, Matt stirred. He sat up and looked at Oliver’s house and the land it sat on. He had a white, two-story home. It was nestled in trees on a hill. If Matt went out back, he would see a view of the city skyline, his pool surrounded by rock. “Jesus, it’s beautiful, Ollie.”
It was big—too much for one person, really, but it was Oliver’s oasis. He loved writing out by the pool or taking in the view from his office.
“Thank you,” he replied as Matt’s words hit him. He’d lived here two years and Matt had never seen it. Things like that were still strange to him. They’d been so close for so many years. It didn’t seem possible that he could live somewhere for two years that Matt hadn’t seen in person.
But then, he’d never been out to New York to see Matt. How could that be the case? He didn’t understand the way the distance between them had grown since Matt left.
They got out of his car and went around back to the trunk. Oliver grabbed a bag, Matt the other before he led his friend into the house.
The entryway was open, with a white bench against the wall Oliver had found at a yard sale. Some of the paint was peeling, but that gave it the charm he loved. “Do you want a tour now or later?” He figured he would give Matt a choice. He’d been awake and flying all night. The last thing Matt likely wanted was to walk around Oliver’s house.
“Later, if you don’t mind.”
“No problem. Just an FYI—living room is that way.” Oliver pointed to the left. “Kitchen that way.” Then the right. “Dining room is behind it. The hallway to the side of the stairs leads to my office and another bathroom. That way if you come down while I’m writing, you know where to go.”
Oliver went toward the stairs and led him up to the room Matt would be staying in. There were three rooms upstairs and one down by his office. He opened the door to Matt’s. “You have your own bath. The balcony looks out over the hills. It’s on the wrong side for the view of the city. You’d have to stay in my room for that.” Oliver winked at him and Matt rolled his eyes.
“Selfish. Always keeping the best shit for yourself.”
The two of them laughed briefly before silence took over. Matt didn’t look at him, but Oliver couldn’t look anywhere else. Matt was hurting. Oliver could see the pain in the slump of his shoulders, the dullness in his light green eyes. They were always so vivid but right now the color was muted, foggy with a deep ache that Oliver understood. It hurt to lose someone you loved. Even though Matt had never been his, that was how he imagined he looked when Matty left.
“You seem tired,” Oliver told him.
Matt nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah…I am. I figured I’d take a nap if you don’t mind.” Oliver frowned and Matt said, “Okay, I knew you wouldn’t mind.”
And then they stood there without moving. Things were awkward for them, and he really fucking hated that awkwardness. It had never been there between them, not since they became friends, not even when Oliver was mentally obsessing over Matt as a kid.
Oliver could walk away. To anyone else he probably should walk away. Matt was tired, and he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep very well with Oliver standing in his doorway like the creepy stalker he was afraid he was starting to become. But he didn’t move, just waited for what he figured would come. What he knew would come if things were the same between them as they used to be.
And Jesus, he fucking hoped things were the same. He could handle a lot of things but losing the bond and friendship he’d always had with Matty wasn’t one of them.
Finally, Matt let go of his bag, stepped closer, and wrapped his arms around Oliver. Oliver returned the hug, breathed him in, the mixture of coffee and cologne. He wanted the spicy scent of the cologne gone. It wasn’t Matt—not the Matt he knew—but it had become the Matt on billboards for cologne. His Matt carried nothing but his own scent on his skin—that somehow smelled like music on paper. “I feel like my whole fucking life is falling apart.”