“Because we’re friends!” He shook his head. “I’ve known you and Chance my entire fucking life. We’ve always said there would never be any fucking between any of us, and the second Matt came around you wanted him. What happens when he breaks your heart, Ollie? Then that brings unrest between all of us. And if he doesn’t…then shit like last night happens. It fucks with our core. You know you’re the heart of this group.”
Oliver closed his eyes, the weight of twenty-eight years of friendship suddenly on his chest. He should have seen this before. Why hadn’t he seen it before? He opened his eyes and looked at Miles, as the other man gave him his back. Miles knew he would speak and Oliver knew it would be easier for Miles if he didn’t look at Oliver while he did it.
“Nothing will ever change our friendship. You know that. Not Matt or anyone else. I love you. Chance loves you. Hell, Matty loves you too. We won’t walk away from you. I know that because—”
“Stop.” Miles cut him off. “I’m not going to do this. Just…just be careful. I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you.”
There wasn’t a part of Oliver that didn’t believe that. “Maybe you should start worrying about yourself a little more.”
At that, Miles turned back toward him and rolled his deep, brown eyes. “Don’t start to psychoanalyze me. I’m just trying to protect that big squishy heart of yours.”
Oliver chuckled. “It’s not squishy.”
“It’s a little squishy.” Miles walked over. They sat on the couch. Miles leaned against the back of it. “So you finally got yourself a piece of Matt’s ass. Was it as good as you thought it would be?”
There was zero surprise Miles had asked him that. “I’m not answering that.” He felt his face heat.
“You’re blushing. Holy Christ, you’re blushing. It must be even better than you hoped for.”
The two of them laughed, and it felt good to have the tension between them dissolve. It had been there ever since Matt called and said he was coming back. When they settled down, Miles turned his head toward Oliver. “Did you tell him you’re in love with him?”
Oliver’s throat began to tighten. The pressure radiated down to his chest. “He knows. You were right; he’s always known.”
“I—” Miles started but his voice cracked. He swallowed and then continued, “I think he’s just afraid of being hurt. It’s not you but that’s still not fair to you. Fear makes people do a lot of shit, and I don’t want you to get caught in the results.” Miles reached over and squeezed Oliver’s knee.
He wondered how much Miles’s own fears held him back or how often he got caught in his own trap. “I know, man. I know.”
They spent the next little while talking about Friday night—both his evening with Chance at Wild Side and Oliver and Matt at the symphony. He told Miles that Matt was composing again but that he wasn’t sure how long it would last.
Miles listened and wished Matt the best. Oliver had a feeling that the music wouldn’t last and soon, Matt would be back in New York, distancing himself from his life in Los Angeles again.
*
“You look better than you did when you first came home,” Matt’s mom said as they stood in the kitchen doing dishes together. He’d come over and had dinner with them tonight, deciding it was better before his shoot than after. It was the typical evening in the Daniels household—his father quiet, almost in his own world while Matt and his mom tried to keep the conversation going around them. Now, he’d headed into the living room to watch a game or something while they cleaned up.
“Rested, I guess,” Matt replied though he didn’t feel he looked any different than he had before. For a while, he’d felt better but now it was as if his insides were twisting up again, only in other ways. Ways that included Ollie. Ways that made him scared of where they were heading…or what they had done…because he didn’t know where to go from here. Because the mixed-up thoughts he’d had in his head regarding his friend scared him.
“There you go, shutting down. I hear it in the change of your voice. You and your dad are more alike than either of you realize.”
Matt huffed at that one because he and his father were nothing alike. They had never been no matter how many times Matt had wished he could be more like him when he was a child and no matter how much he knew his father wished Matt was more like him too.
“How’s Oliver doing?” she asked. Of course, she would switch the subject to something else he didn’t want to talk about.
“He’s Ollie. He’ll always be doing well.” And he would too. Oliver didn’t realize it but he was the strongest person Matt knew. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind Oliver would be exactly where he was, even if he hadn’t had the head starts his family had given him. Doing well and doing the right thing were engraved into his bones, sewn into every stitch that held him together.