LOGINAlex~
After I lay in bed eavesdropping, I kind of have a fade to black experience where I fall asleep and I woke up at 11am on Saturday morning. From where I lay, I can see Seth’s empty bed that looks untouched, like he hadn’t lay in it last night. I brush the thought of him aside because somehow, these days he seems to be occupying so much space in my head. I go to the bathroom and brush the morning breath out of my mouth before I lean against the sink and take a good look at my face. I look like I’ve been dragged through the gates of hell for a week nonstop. I guess that’s what having a bi roommate that makes you question your sexuality while you’re actively dating would do to a person. Before I leave the bathroom, I listen to know if he is in the room and do the same when I’m about to leave the room. Just as I tiptoe into the kitchen hoping he is gone for the day, I hear his voice, deepened my his sleep. “You doing alright?” Seth’s voice pulls me out of my own head. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, fresh from a shower, damp curls pushed back from his face, gym shorts riding low like gravity’s doing him a favor. I blink, trying to process the question. “Yes?” “Are you doing anything tonight? I’d like to show you some place.” “Tonight?” “Yeah. You know, humans occasionally go out and do things that aren’t drowning in coursework or pretending to enjoy their girlfriend’s Snapchat streaks.” I frown. “I have a paper due Monday.” He tilts his head, unimpressed. “And what better way to brainstorm than in a room full of questionable lighting and overpriced cocktails?” I squint at him. “What kind of place are we talking about?” He grins, all teeth. “Chill spot. Music, drinks, decent energy.” I narrow my eyes. “Is it a bar?” Seth shrugs too casually. “More or less.” My stomach does a small, traitorous flip. “What does ‘more or less’ mean?” He tries to suppress a smirk and fails. “It’s a gay bar.” I stare at him. “You’re joking.” His grin widens. “Not even a little.” My first instinct is to laugh not because it’s funny, but because I’m nervous and unsure what else to do. “Why would I… why the hell would I go to a gay bar with you?” After our conversation last night, he had huge guts to even suggest the thing. “Because it’ll be fun,” he says, like it’s that simple. “And maybe, just maybe, you’ll stop acting like the world’s going to end every time someone mentions the word ‘gay’ in your general direction.” I cross my arms. “I’m not—” I want to say homophobic but that’s be me lying, I’ve acted it at every turn. He cuts me off, stepping closer. “Don’t overthink it. No pressure. You don’t have to label yourself. Just… come. Have a drink. Watch people who actually know how to enjoy being themselves.” There’s a beat and I fucking hate that he’s making sense. “I don’t belong there.” “Sure you do. It’s not like there’s a bouncer checking Kinsey scores at the door.” I huff, unsure if I want to punch him or thank him. Probably both. “I’ll think about it.” He flashes a smug, lazy grin. “Not a no. I’ll take it.” I tell myself I’m not going. I even change into regular stay at home clothes, then I change out of them. Then I pace. When nine pm rolls around, Seth’s knocking at the door, dressed in black jeans and a snug navy tee that should be illegal. He looks like he belongs somewhere loud, lit, and dangerous. “You ready?” I want to say no, but my feet move anyway. Towards him and to the bar. The bar is nothing like I expected. From the outside, it’s almost unassuming low brick, tucked between a laundromat and a vape shop. But inside, it’s alive. Neon lights pulse low and steady, music thumps from invisible speakers, bass crawls up through the soles of my sneakers. There’s laughter, clinking glasses, flirtation that doesn’t even try to be subtle. And guys. Lots and lots of guys. Holding hands, kissing in corners and laughing with their heads thrown back. They look so free. I swallow hard. “This was a mistake,” I mutter, standing frozen just inside the door. Seth’s hand brushes my back lightly. “You’re fine. No one’s looking at you.” “That’s kind of the problem.” He gives me a look. “We’ll hang by the bar. You don’t even have to talk to anyone.” True to his word, he leads us over and orders a drink. I ask for a soda not alcohol because I need every ounce of clarity I can scrape together. A tall guy in a crop top nods at Seth and they exchange a quick hello, my nerves do what they do best, spike. “You know people here?” I ask, trying to sound casual. Seth shrugs. “Some. I’ve been here a few times.” “Of course you have,” I mutter, then regret it instantly. I sound like a jealous boyfriend. He raises a brow. “Problem?” “No. Just… surprised.” There’s a long pause. The music shifts to something with a faster beat. I turn to look at the crowd, doing my best to seem unfazed. I catch sight guys are dancing inches apart, hands tangled in each other’s clothes. I wonder what that’s like. Seth nudges me. “Relax your shoulders. You look like you’re waiting to get hit.” “I feel like I am.” He chuckles. “No one’s going to jump you.” “I can only hope.” We sip in silence for a few moments. I catch a guy across the bar staring at me not in a creepy way, just… curious. I immediately look away. “You’re allowed to look back, you know,” Seth murmurs, his voice just loud enough to cut through the music. “I wasn’t.” He says nothing, but I feel him smirking beside me. It happens maybe forty minutes in. We’re still parked at the bar when I hear a familiar voice behind me. “Alex?” I turn. Shit. It’s Jordan, he is wide-eyed and grinning like he’s just caught me shoplifting. “Didn’t know you swung this way.” My mouth opens and closes. “I—I don’t.” Marcus glances at Seth, then back at me. “Sure, man. Just… didn’t expect to see you here.” He claps my shoulder and walks off, still smiling like he knows something I don’t. I freeze. Seth notices. “You good?” “No. No, I am not good. I’m just wondering who else from class is here and is going to tell everyone.” Seth sighs. “So what?” “So what?” I whirl on him. “I have a girlfriend. A life. I can’t have people… people thinking…” “Thinking what?” Seth’s tone sharpens. “That you’re gay? Bi? Confused? Human?” I shut my mouth and look down at my trembling hands. He softens a little. “Look, it’s not a crime to be seen here.” “To you, maybe,” I whisper. “But people already talk. I can’t give them a reason to talk more.” Seth looks at me for a long time. Then nods once, like he understands even if he doesn’t agree. “Let’s get out of here.” The walk back is quiet. I keep my head down, heart still racing. Jordan’s voice echoes in my head. Didn’t know you swung this way. I don’t. Do I? Seth doesn’t push. He doesn’t say anything at all. Just walks beside me, hands stuffed in his pockets, footsteps slow and steady and my pace. When we get inside the apartment, I head straight to the kitchen and grab a glass of water. My throat is tight, my stomach still twisting. “I shouldn’t have gone,” I mutter. “No one forced you.” “I know.” Seth leans against the doorway. “You okay?” “No.” He nods. “Want me to go?” I glance at him. “No.” There’s a pause. Then: “I didn’t take you there to mess with you.” “I know that too.” He takes a slow step forward. “You looked… kind of sad. Watching everyone.” “They didn’t seem scared.” “You don’t have to be either.” I laugh, bitter. “Easy for you to say. Besides im a straight dude, remember.” Silence. I glance up. Seth meets my eyes, but he doesn’t say more. I set my glass down, suddenly exhausted. “Thanks,” I say quietly. “For dragging me there. I guess.” He smiles a little. “Anytime.” I head to my room, heart still heavy, but a little less alone. Behind me, I hear him turn off the kitchen light. And even though nothing’s really changed, somehow, everything feels different.Alex~I get to the arena too early.The building looks smaller from the outside than it does on TV, a squat concrete thing with banners taped crooked along the entrance and students milling around in clusters.I walk in with my hands in my jacket pockets and my shoulders loose.Inside, it smells like popcorn and rubber soles and there is a faint electric buzz that never quite goes away in places meant for crowds. I find my seat halfway up the bleachers, close enough to see faces but far enough back that I can take the whole court in at once.The floor gleams. The lights are aggressive. Music pulses through the speakers in short bursts, hype stitched together from bass and shouting.I text Seth even though I know he won’t see it yet.I’m here.Three dots appear almost immediately, then disappear, then come back.Good. Don’t leave.I smile to myself and tuck my phone away.People trickle in around me. A couple holding hands, a group of freshmen wearing matching hoodies, someone settles
Alex~I clock in at twelve forty-eight, two minutes early, because I like the feeling of being ahead of something even when nothing else in my life feels like it’s waiting for me.Jamie is already there, perched sideways on the edge of the big table like the room belongs to them, laptop open, coffee sweating through the paper cup and leaving rings on the wood. The space smells like dust and citrus cleaner, the kind they use when they want a place to feel productive instead of loved. The windows are cracked open just enough to let the afternoon in, that half-warm, half-bored light that makes everything look unfinished.Maya swivels in her chair when she sees me. “You’re early,” she says.“I woke up early,” I tell her, which isn’t a lie, just not the reason.She hums, already turning back to her screen. Maya always does acknowledging you without making it a thing and I swear it’s a talent. Jamie, on the other hand, looks up like they’re about to read me aloud.“How is the paid laborer l
Seth~ I wake up already late for something. Alex is still in bed beside me, the sheets kicked halfway down, his shirt twisted around his ribs. He’s on his side, facing me, eyes closed but not deeply asleep. I can tell by the way his fingers keep flexing against the pillow, like he’s counting breaths. I don’t move right away. There’s a version of my life now where mornings feel borrowed, like I’m always leaving something behind even when I’m still in the room. I don’t want to rush this one. Not when he’s here. Not when the day hasn’t asked anything of us yet. The light is different this late. Sharper. It cuts across his face instead of spilling gently over it, catching on his lashes, the line of his mouth. He looks older like this. More settled. Not softer—Alex has never been soft—but anchored in himself in a way I don’t remember from earlier in the year. I wonder when that happened. Maybe I was too busy looking outward to notice. I reach out, brush my thumb
Alex~ The sheets are still warm when we crawl back into them. The curtains are half drawn. Afternoon light spills in sideways, catching dust in the air, striping Seth’s bare shoulder, my arm, the wall. By this time the campus is fairly active that we can hear activities going on. A skateboard cracking against concrete, a car door slamming somewhere too far to matter, voices of people. Seth lies on his stomach, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other stretched toward me. His hair is still damp from the shower he took after breakfast, darker at the ends. I watch the slow rise of his back, the way his breathing evens out only when he’s really relaxed, when he’s not thinking about drills or meetings or the shape of the next week. I slide closer, my knee fitting into the space behind his thigh like it belongs there. My hand finds the line of his spine, traces down, stops at the waistband of his shorts. He hums, low and content, without opening his eyes. “You’re heavy,” he
Alex~ I wake up first, which is rare, because Seth usually sleeps like he’s guarding something. Light and easily ready to throw his arm across whatever’s closest like it might disappear if he lets go. Today it’s me. His forearm is warm against my stomach, skin-to-skin, the weight of it anchoring me there. The room is so quiet in a way that only exists early in the morning. Pale light sneaks through the blinds, striping his shoulder, his jaw, the corner of his mouth that’s always slightly turned down even when he’s relaxed. I don’t move right away. I just lie there and breathe him in. His hair is a mess, curls flattened on one side, sticking up on the other. His lashes look unfairly long like this, resting against his cheeks, and for a second I feel that familiar tug this soft, ridiculous fondness that feels like it could ruin me if I stare too long. So I don’t stare, I catalog. The steady rise and fall of his chest. The way his fingers twitch occasionally, like he’s dr
Alex~ The dorm feels quiet in that late afternoon way, the kind where sunlight spills in through half-open blinds and the world outside seems almost irrelevant. Jordan is perched on the edge of my bed, knees bent, backpack at his feet, and he’s talking fast, half to himself and half to me about the final edits on his project. He gestures, letting the air take the shape of his words, and I watch him, listening more than responding. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him like this, casual and relaxed. He is a little distracted but it’s good. “I think I finally settled on the last color grade,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s subtle, barely there, but it keeps the mood from going too… theatrical, I guess. Too polished. You know what I mean?” I nod, though I’m not sure I do. “Yeah. Polished most times can kill authenticity. Sometimes too much clarity makes people miss what’s underneath.” He grins. “Exactly. That’s what I was going for. Lived-in, but intentional.







