Endless, Forever (2 page)

“I’ll pay it.  I keep trying to get my cousins to send me care packages, but they hate me.”  He ripped open the packet of tea and dunked it immediately into the water.  He was profoundly aware of Gabe still watching him, so he put on one of his softer smirks as he threw the remaining change into their tip jar.  “Thanks loads.  I’ll definitely be back.”

He hitched his pack up higher onto his shoulder before choosing the table furthest from the window, pulled out his laptop, and fired it up.  He had too much work to get finished, too much research for his thesis which wasn’t due for another year, but his topic of gender bias at the start of media productions didn’t give him a lot to work with.  He had a few websites he was checking out, and was attempting to get appointments with a couple heads of the Journalism department which was proving difficult.

He was aware of eyes on him, and glancing to the side, he saw Gabe watching as he refilled the pastry window.  Oliver smiled again, mostly to himself, but he knew he was being checked out and he was absolutely okay with it.  Someone
that
cute?  He was into it.

The next hour passed quick enough, so much so he didn’t realize he was about to be late for class, and he swore loudly as he slammed his laptop shut and began to fumble it into his bag.  Just as he was gathering up his phone and keys, there was a presence beside him.

His head snapped over, and his eyes widened to see the barista standing there.  Oliver’s eyes flickered over his nametag, ‘Gabriel Jabarin’, and he couldn’t help his smile.  “For the road?”  Gabe held out a smaller paper cup, the lid snapped on, but the tea bag string was hanging over the edge.

Oliver’s gaze fixed on Gabe’s longer, thin fingers.  He cleared his throat, dragging his gaze up to Gabe’s smirking face.  “Really?”

Gabe shrugged.  “You looked
really
stressed.”

Oliver closed his hands around the top of the cup, his fingertips brushing against Gabe’s, and he felt a tingle up his arm which he enjoyed.  “Oh, just another one of those, ‘Fuck me for choosing a horrible topic to do my dissertation on,’ moments.  They’re pretty common round here.  Or so I’ve heard.”

Gabe smiled, revealing mostly straight teeth, his canines turned out just a little giving his grin more character than most people had.  “I know that panic.  Intimately.  And it’s definitely a two cup of tea panic.”

Oliver wanted to say more, but the chime of the campus clock reminded him he had two minutes to make his five-minute walk before class began, and this particular professor took great joy in embarrassing people who were late—not that Oliver was ever bothered by extra attention.  But still, he was trying to be good this year.

“Well, I have to dash.  I’m already late, and it seems like it’s going to be one of those days.”  He gave him a mock salute as he backed up toward the exit, tripping a little over his feet as Gabe snickered, then he was out the door and off to his class.

***

“I swear, Ollie, it’s like you enjoy getting verbally assaulted by your teachers.”  Coco was lounging on the couch under the window, one foot tucked up against her chest, a cup of tea clutched between both hands.  “You literally had
no
reason to be late today.”

Oliver rolled his eyes as he lounged sideways in the recliner, his head hanging off the side.  “I have perfectly good reasons every time I’m late, love.  Today happened to be a second cup of tea.”

“Ay dios mio ayúdame,” she muttered.  “Listen, I got four texts from Leo today.  He’s begging for us to go out with him, but I don’t think you should.  You have papers due.”

“What are you, my mum?  Because I’m telling you now, if you want the job, it’s up for hire.  And anyway, I wasn’t going to say yes to him.  I’m still shattered from last night.”

“I just know how you are with him.”

Oliver sat up a little, giving her a challenging stare.  “And how’s
that
?”

“You don’t tell him no, even when you should.  He’s a grown boy.  He can go to the clubs and destroy his life all on his own.”

Oliver felt a twisting in his gut, because although his housemate didn’t know it, those were the magic words.  Destroy his life.  Oliver had dedicated too many of his hours, his tears, too much of his well-being in order to keep Leo safe, and he wasn’t going to stop now.

“Look, whatever I do is my business.  And you know I adore you, but…”

“Spare me,” Coco said, waving her hand at him.  “I know what you’re going to say, and I figured the least I could do was throw in my two cents.  I know you’re not going to listen to me, but what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t at least try.”

“Better one than I am,” Oliver said with a wide grin.

She let slip a long string of Spanish expletives before getting up and setting her mug on the low table.  She passed by the chair, giving his hair a ruffle as she looked down at him.  “I’m probably going out tonight too.  So if I see him, you know I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Course you will, love,” he muttered.  But the truth was, if Leo asked, he wouldn’t be saying no.  Oliver damn well knew he couldn’t let his spiraling brother out on his own.

Slipping out of the room, Coco tromped up the stairs. When Oliver heard the bathroom door slam, he eased himself out of the chair and wandered into the kitchen.  There were a few boxes of left over Chinese in the fridge, and he threw them into a pot, mixing up everything into one big mess, then flicked on the burner and waited.

As it simmered, Oliver heard footsteps and glanced up just as the tousled head of his brother came around the corner.  Leo was dressed in plaid pajama bottoms, no shirt, his thick, black tattoos shining against his pale skin in the faded afternoon light.  His eyes were bloodshot, puffy around the edges, but he was smiling and he seemed sober.

“Hungry?”

“Hell yes,” Leo said, dragging out a kitchen chair and slumping over the scrubbed wooden table.  “All I’ve had is dry toast.  My stomach finally stopped trying to claw its way out of my throat a few hours ago.”

“That didn’t stop you from texting all your mates about another night out,” Oliver pointed out.  He gave the food a stir, then threw the cartons of rice into the microwave.  “You seriously think that’s a good idea.”

“Fuck off, it’s a great idea,” Leo grumbled, scrubbing at his face.  He was wearing purple nail polish which was chipping, and he grimaced at it when he set his hands down flat against the table.  “What’s it to you, anyway?  I’m passing this semester.”

“Are you?” Oliver challenged.  “It’s not my business, but what the fuck do you think is going to happen if you get chucked out?  You think mum’ll be waiting with open arms?”

“Could go find dad,” Leo grumbled as he grudgingly accepted the plate of food.  He sniffed it, then got up to grab a bottle of soy sauce from the fridge.  Dousing his food liberally in the salty liquid, he shoved a huge bite in his mouth and spoke around searing-hot chicken.  “Maybe I’ll become a sex worker.  They make good money.”

“You’re nowhere pretty enough,” Oliver said.  “I sucked up all the good genes before mum shoved you out of that hostile womb of hers.”

Leo shoved two fingers up at his brother as he took another bite.  “Fuck you, I just need to know what I’m doing.  I don’t have to be as pretty as you.  I’m king of blowjobs.  What the fuck do you think this is for?”  He clicked his tongue ring against the front of his teeth.

“You are a complete fuckboy,” Oliver said as he took a far daintier bite than his brother.  “But I don’t have time to worry about you.  And I don’t feel like going out tonight.”

“So don’t,” Leo said petulantly, bowing his head toward his plate.  He cleared half of it in three bites, then swiped the back of his hand across his mouth.  “Who said you were invited anyway?  I didn’t text you.”

“I’ve got a paper to write,” Oliver said by way of reply, but he knew he was only trying to convince himself.  The problem was, every time Leo went out on his own, something happened.  Twice he’d ended up in the ER with alcohol poisoning, and Oliver would never get over the frantic call to rescue Leo when someone had handed him a drugged cocktail.  He’d arrived just as Leo was being hoisted into the back seat of a car, and Oliver had walked away with a black eye and his lip bashed to hell, but his brother was alright.

“…and he said that we could go out next Saturday, but I’m not even sure about him.”  Oliver realized Leo was still talking, rambling on about his group of friends.  “Like, I hate even
questioning
a person’s identity, but he just seems like he’s full of shit.  He keeps laughing on days Mikey wants to use female pronouns as though it’s some kind of fucking joke.  I mean, when will they understand that because some bloke goes around wearing lipstick, it doesn’t fucking impact their gender.  It’s not a
game
.”

Oliver sank into the chair and propped his chin up on his closed fist.  “So don’t go out with him.”  Having only half-listened, it was the only advice he had.

“Thanks for that,” Leo said with a fantastic eye roll.  “Couldn’t have worked that one out on my own.  Anyway, I’m going to have another sleep if I’m going to be out late.  I’ll try to be good though, alright?  I’ll make it to my lectures tomorrow.”

“Sure you will,” Oliver said, but didn’t argue further as he watched Leo head back up the stairs.  A moment later, the bedroom door slammed and Oliver slumped down, pressing his forehead to the cool tabletop.

He didn’t want to think of Leo as a burden.  Neither of them had asked for this life.  Leo had never asked Oliver to take the brunt of their mother’s abuse.  It had been the conscious choice of a scared teenager who couldn’t stand the thought of his brother being hurt.  The mentality of a teenager who was certain he was stronger than the little one—that he could take more because maybe he deserved it a little.

Oliver had always been obstinate.  He lived forever hearing stories about how he’d been the worst baby—crying constantly, fussy eater, never slept.  He’d been worse as he grew up—had terrible marks in school, was constantly getting calls from his teachers to ask his mother if there was anything she could do about her defiant son.

So maybe taking the hits for the more sensitive of the two was just something he had to offer their messed up little family.  He
was
over it, after all.  He might have taken more risks than most people, treated life and relationships with far less care, but he was alright.  He had to believe that.

With a sigh, Oliver pushed himself up from the table and went to the bathroom for a shower.  He knew there was no chance Leo was going on his own, but he had a few hours to try and get some work done.  He kept it quick, then wrapped a towel around his head as he sat down at his desk, and opened his laptop.

His research was coming along, slower than he anticipated, but he’d get it done.  His dissertation would be written and ready for a defense on time.  He was determined to prove to anyone who ever doubted him, he could do this.  He was not the product of his bad choices, he would
not
be defined by his experiences.

He was valid.

He had to believe that.

Chapter Two

“Gin and tonic, love,” Oliver drawled to the cute bartender who was tapping her long, red nails on the polished marble.  She’d been hitting on him for the better part of an hour, and he had no desire to dissuade her from the notion that he was an available, straight man.  He had eyes on his brother at the moment, who was currently dancing with a group of people.

Leo was definitely drunk, but in good spirits it seemed.  So long as Oliver didn’t get distracted, he could head off any danger.

“Is this seat taken?”  The voice was heavy, rich, dripping with a slow, Southern accent.

Oliver’s gaze snapped up to a very tall, fit blonde with broad shoulders and wide smile.  He had at least six or seven inches of height on Oliver, which showed especially in his long, heavy fingers.  He didn’t wait for an answer either, lowering himself onto the barstool.

“What are you having?”

Oliver felt his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.  “Gin and tonic, but I’ve already ordered.”

The man’s blue eyes lit up, a sunny smile crossing his face.  “Where you from?  That is the cutest accent.”

Oliver felt his cheeks heat up, grateful that the crappy lighting could hide his blush.  Normally he wasn’t so flustered over being hit on, but this man was seriously good looking, and Oliver hadn’t planned for it at all.  “London,” he said eventually.  “Chelsea, to be specific.  I’m very posh, you see.”

The man laughed, sounding delighted as he leaned in toward Oliver.  “Posh.  Is that what you call fancy?”

“It’s what we call rich and horribly snobby,” Oliver said, grinning back.  He leaned back just a little, looking at the man through lowered lashes before he extended his hand.  “Ollie.”

“Just when I think you couldn’t get cuter, you go and tell me your name’s
Ollie
.”

Oliver let one shoulder drift up in a half-shrug.  “It’s my cross to bear, really.”

Taking Oliver’s hand, the man pressed their palms together in a slow, languid shake.  “I’m Lucas.”

Just then, the bartender came back with Oliver’s drink, giving Lucas a look which seemed like a cross between incredible irritation, and also like she was a bit turned on that two good looking men were clearly hitting on each other right in front of her.  “You drinking?” she asked.

Lucas smiled at her, and Oliver noticed a faint tinge to her cheeks.  “That I am.  Just a beer.  Whatever lager you got on tap, sugar.”

She nodded, giving Oliver a slow, lingering stare before wandering over and filling a frosted pint glass full of the light amber liquid.  She set it down a little harder than necessary and leaned over on her elbow.  “Starting a tab?”

Lucas grinned, sliding a card toward her.  “I am.  This, and whatever he’s got going.”

“Oh no, honestly,” Oliver began, but Lucas silenced him with a slow hand on his forearm.

“Let me.  Least I can do.  Show you this good old American hospitality and all that.”

The bartender rolled her eyes as she took the card, and Oliver had to laugh a little.  “That’s very nice of you, but honestly I’ve been living here for several years now.  The American charm, sadly, no longer has an effect on me.”

“Well maybe folks just aren’t tryin’ hard enough,” Lucas said, not removing his hand from Oliver’s arm.  “So tell me, Ollie, you a student?”

“Yes, though I might be lying to cover up why I’m perving over University students at the campus bar,” Oliver said, winking.  “I’m in the graduate program.”

“Excellent to hear.  What are you studying?”

“Journalism.”  Oliver paused to take a slow drink, smiling that she’d used the top shelf gin.  The burn was slight, but pleasant.  “It was that, or run off and join the circus, but one day I’d like to steal my dad’s company from under his feet, and I don’t think the board would willingly follow a trapeze artist staging a corporate coup.”

Lucas looked at him, then threw his head back, laughing.  “Fuck, I am so glad I came out tonight.  You come here a lot?”

“Come on, now,” Oliver said, letting the tip of his fingers count along Lucas’ knuckles.  “You can do better than ‘come here often’.”

“Well, I’d like to offer a trip back to the bathroom stalls where I can swallow your cock, but I thought that might be a bit forward.”

Oliver’s cheeks instantly heated up, and he cleared his throat.  Grabbing his drink, he downed half of it in one go, grinning as he swiped the back of his thumb across his lower lip.  “That would have been…something. 
If
you had offered.”  Something niggled in the back of his mind.  He was meant to be doing something other than this, but Lucas’ smile was broad and eclipsing everything else in the room.

“How about we chat a bit more, yeah?  Maybe not lower our inhibitions too much so we can actually make it to a stall.”

Oliver’s teeth shone over his bottom lip with his grin.  “I think I’d like that.”

Fifteen minutes passed, and Oliver learned Lucas was in engineering, getting his under grad degree before he transferred—he hoped—to MIT.  He was openly gay, and had initially started at the University on a football scholarship, but blew out his knee during his first game.

“My parents can afford it, so it’s really no big deal,” he said, sipping on second half of his pint.  “But I think they were hoping to use the bulk of my college fund toward MIT.”

“It well and truly boggles my mind, Americans and their cost of University.  It’s terrifying, in fact.  So much influence in the world, and your politicians actively try to dumb down the youth.  Aren’t you terrified?”

Lucas laughed, shaking his head.  “I try not to think about it.  Why, is it better over across the pond?”

Oliver rolled his eyes.  “It can be.  We’re not less racist, but we like our education.  And our tea, which yours is complete shit by the way.  Not that I should be surprised as you lot threw it all into the harbor for your teenage act of rebellion.”

Laughing again, Lucas reached over boldly, curling his hand around the back of Oliver’s neck and pulled him close.  “You’ve got a clever mouth, Ollie.  You clever in other ways?”

“Well…I’ve never had any complaints,” Oliver said, a little breathless as their noses brushed together.  “You want to find out?”

Lucas did, apparently, but it lasted all of fifteen seconds before a hand was on Oliver’s arm, tugging him away from the kiss.  Growling in the back of his throat, Oliver turned his head, his eyes going wide when he saw a somewhat panicked expression on the face of the barista from earlier.

“Er. 
Gabe
?”

He frowned.  “Do we know each other?”

Blinking, Oliver released his hold on Lucas, though didn’t move back far.  “From the café earlier?  Is something wrong?”

Gabe stared at him, then his eyes went wide.  “Oh shit, that was you!  And yes, I…your brother’s Leo, right?  Because he’s kind of…he sort of…”

It was like being doused in ice water, the way his brother’s name could yank him from his post-kiss euphoria.  He didn’t even look back at Lucas as he threw himself from the bar stool.  “What’s wrong?”

Gabe threaded his arm through Oliver’s as he dragged him back down the dark corridor where the bathrooms were.  “I just saw him snort something, no idea what it was, but we should get him out of here.  He’s vomiting all over and really belligerent.”

Oliver froze just outside the stall to the lady’s bathroom.  “You here with him or what?”

“No,” Gabe said, shaking his head.  “I got invited out with some of our group, the one he’s part of…”

“From Uni?” Oliver demanded.

Gabe nodded.  “It was a group of us tonight, and I noticed someone following him to the bathrooms.  I came in just as he was doing the line.”  He pushed open the door and Leo was there, slumped in an open stall, vomit on the side of the toilet and down the front of his shirt.  His eyes were half-lidded and his mouth was curving around what Oliver assumed were colorful swears.

“Fucking hell,” Oliver mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Leo, what the bloody fucking
hell
have you done.”

“Sod off,” Leo said, or Oliver assumed he said as his tongue seemed too thick to move properly.  “Lemme ‘lone.”

Oliver felt a combination of rage and exhaustion combating for precedence, and he lowered his head, letting out a long, resigned sigh.  “How long has he been in here?”

“Seven, maybe eight minutes,” Gabe said.  He reached up, giving his tight curls a ruffle.  “Is he usually like this?  This is the first time I agreed to go out with this group.”

Oliver gave him a small grin, shaking his head.  “Well, if anyone can make you regret every single one of your life’s choices, it’s Leo.”  He knelt down after that, grimacing as he pushed two fingers against Leo’s sticky pulse point.  It was rapid, but not fast enough for concern.  “What did you take, you stupid arse?”

“Nothing,” Leo groaned.  “S’nothing, was nothing, I…”  He heaved again, and Oliver hopped back just in time to avoid the splatter.

“Buggering fuck,” he cursed.  “We have to get him out of here before the staff finds him.  Any chance you can help me get him outside?”

“Yeah.  Actually I live like a block away if you want to come over to mine?”  Gabe was tugging on the sleeve of his shirt, his eyes wide and worried.  “I mean, as long as you don’t think he’s going to die or something.”

“Nah, he’s going to puke it out, sleep it off, then hate everything for the next few days,” Oliver said tiredly.  “You have roommates?”

Gabe shook his head.  “It’s actually my aunt’s place, but she’s off in Israel for the next thirteen months.”

“Good, because this might get messier before it gets better.  I’ll replace anything he ruins though, promise.”

Gabe gave him a slightly dubious look before coming over and grabbing one of Leo’s arms.  Oliver took the other, and together they managed to get him on his feet, easing him toward the door.  With his foot, Gabe propped it open while Oliver eased them into the hall, and the three of them made it down to the far exit.

It led straight to the alley, and when the night air hit them, Leo heaved again.  Gabe and Oliver dropped him unceremoniously, and he hit the pavement with a smack as his stomach unleashed another torrent of crappy, bar-bought drinks.  Oliver grimaced at the splattering sound, but eased Leo up once the puking stopped.

“Does he do this a lot?” Gabe asked softly as they eased the younger one back to his feet.

Oliver sighed.  “I wish I could tell you no, but he’s been on a fucking spiral lately.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Leo spit at Oliver.  “M’a fucking delight.  Fucking role model.  You bas’ard.”

Oliver rolled his eyes as they made it to the main street.  He looked up and down, keeping his eye out for cops.  The last thing they needed was to get stopped, but Gabe swore again his place was close, and sure enough, it was less than a block up.

There were stairs, which Leo stopped to vomit on only once, and only a little.  Before long, they’d hauled him up three flights, and reached the landing.  Gabe let Leo go to get the door unlocked, and Oliver immediately demanded the bathroom.

“Second door on the right,” Gabe called as he threw his keys into a small bowl by the door.

“I’m going to throw him in the tub and let him sleep it off there.  Help contain the mess.  You’ve a pillow or blankets he can use?  Ones you don’t mind getting ruined?”  Oliver didn’t wait for a reply, half-dragging Leo to the door, and he kicked it open.  The tub was small, but Leo would fit, and he didn’t put up a protest when Oliver shoved him in.

All loose limbs, Leo collapsed against the cold porcelain and his eyes fluttered closed.  Coming to a kneel, Oliver reached out, brushing sticky fringe from his brother’s forehead, and he let out another, pained sigh.

“What the fuck am I going to do with you?” he muttered.

Leo peered one eye open.  “Fuck you.”

“Theme of the night.  Thanks for the cock block, by the way.  I almost got some from a fit bloke from Texas.  You owe me.”

Leo let out a huge snore in response, and Oliver rocked back on his heels, looking up when Gabe appeared in the doorway with a small pillow and threadbare blanket.

“It’s the only thing my aunt won’t lose her mind about getting ruined.”

“It’ll do,” Oliver said, and eased Leo into a more comfortable position.  He backed up, then flicked off the light and stepped into the hall.  “Thanks, mate.  Really.”

Gabe gave a shrug as he led the way back into his living room and flicked on a couple lights.  The place was illuminated by a soft, yellow glow, and Oliver got a short look around.  The place definitely looked like it had been lived in for years, knick-knacks on every shelf, picture frames littering the walls, and an old afghan draped along the back of an old, but comfortable looking couch.  The TV in the corner looked like someone had dropped it right out of the eighties, and by the look of the houseplant hanging low vines on the sides, Oliver assumed it didn’t work.

“Your aunt’s place, you said?” Oliver mused as Gabe went into the kitchen.

“Yeah.  She wanted me to come and stay so she could travel for a while,” he called back, voice muffled.  “You want some beer or water or something?”