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The drive back to campus feels shorter than normal, songs on the radio flying by with other cars on the highway the further Michael gets from his family and the closer he gets to the loneliness of an empty dorm. Normally he wouldn’t mind having the place to himself, especially because that means he can blast music as loud as he wants and no one else is going to take the shower with the good water pressure, but there’s something foreboding about it now.
His phone is still empty of messages from the one person he’s been waiting to hear from. Two weeks alone in the dorms wouldn’t be so bad if he had Calum on the other end of the line to keep him company.
He pulls into his parking spot right as snow begins to fall, a little earlier than predicted. He sends a quick text to his parents to let them know he made it safe, then grabs his bags and makes the trek to his dorm. It’s an older building elegantly nestled between the newer residence halls with better air conditioning or elevators that don’t break down every month, but there’s more character to it. The other dorms are boxy and made of dark brick, but this one is lighter with turrets at the top and heavy wooden doors. It looks more like a fantasy castle than a dorm building, and Michael’s mum had fallen in love with it immediately on their campus tour a few years ago. Now that Michael is living here it’s lost some of its luster, but it’s also the only building to have single rooms, and while having Luke as a roommate turned out alright in the end last year, he likes being able to have the room to himself all of the time.
Michael fumbles for his key card to swipe himself in, biting off one of his gloves so he can get it out of his wallet. Thick flakes land on his coat and hands, the kind that would probably be good for making snowmen if he still did stuff like that but that will be hell to drive in later. Hopefully the roads will be clear enough by tomorrow, and he probably has some ramen that he never made from last semester that he can heat up for dinner tonight.
Inside doesn’t feel much warmer than outside, but there’s no snow or wind. Michael stomps his feet in an attempt to get all of the snow off his boots, but freezes as soon as he glances up.
Nestled amongst the armchairs, big windows, fireplace, piano, and little side tables that make up the front lounge, Calum Hood stares back at him like a deer in headlights. He’s got a notebook and pencil in his hand and a textbook open in front of him, blanket wrapped around his shoulders in a way that Michael wishes he were. He looks exactly the same as he did when Michael last saw him a few weeks ago, except he’s fully clothed this time. He looks good. He looks cozy.
He looks like Michael is the last person he wants to see.
Michael clears his throat.
“I didn’t know you were back on campus,” he says.
“I’m taking a j-term and thought it’d be easier to focus here,” Calum replies, lifting the notebook halfheartedly. “It’s a prereq for my chem class this semester. It turns out that switching majors put me a bit behind this time.”
Michael nods. Calum started as a music education major, then switched to an elementary education major before realizing he didn’t want to deal with little kids. Now he’s studying to be a high school science teacher, which means he has a few freshman science classes he needs to squeeze into his schedule. He hadn’t said anything about a j-term to Michael when he registered, but they also haven’t exactly been communicating much since before finals.
“I didn’t expect anyone back yet,” Calum says eventually.
“I got permission to come back early so I can take a few more shifts. Gotta pay for college somehow, you know…”
Michael trails off, unbalanced and uncomfortable. It feels wrong to be reacting like this around Calum, just like it felt wrong to not hear from him during finals or break, but after a few more moments of uncomfortable silence and chewing his lip he hefts his bag higher on his shoulder and makes an excuse about wanting to get his room back to rights. He feels Calum’s eyes on him as he leaves, the weight of his gaze lingering even after Michael has entered the stairwell, dug out his key, and entered his room. When he takes off his jacket he immediately reaches for a blanket, wrapping himself up and trying to suppress the shivers threatening to erupt throughout his body.
He doesn’t remember the dorm being this cold when he left in December. He doesn’t know how the space between him and Calum got that cold, either.
-/-
Once he has a bowl of instant ramen in front of him and his stuff more or less put away, Michael calls Luke.
“Good morning,” Luke answers, a leftover joke gone stale from when they were roommates with opposite sleep schedules. It almost makes him wish for a simpler time when Luke was forcing him to go places like Welcome Week events and they were literally running into people like Calum and Luke was forcing them all to be friends even though Michael’s smoothie got spilled and Calum dropped his nachos. Michael would take being newly flustered over a hot guy who got a strawberry drink all over his favorite sweatshirt rather than having Calum not fucking talk to him.
“Did you know that Calum’s doing a j-term?”
Luke sighs on the other end of the line.
“I’m doing fine, Michael, thank you for asking. How are you?”
“I’m bad. Calum is here and no one warned me.”
“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t tell him that you would be back early, either.”
“That much was obvious.” Michael stirs his noodles, suddenly feeling like he doesn’t have the right appetite for this. “He looked like me showing up was the worst thing in the world.”
“Don’t exaggerate.”
“I’m not,” he says. “You should’ve seen him. He hates me now, and I still don’t know what I did wrong.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Luke says. “He misses you, too.”
“If he misses me so much, he should respond to my texts.”
Luke hums on the other end of the line.
“You’re both in the same place now. Maybe you can corner him in person.”
“I wouldn’t have to do that if someone would just tell me what happened.”
“What happened is that you two slept together and then Calum ghosted you,” Luke sighs. “If you want his reasoning, you have to ask him. I will not be a messenger pigeon for you two.”
“I feel like that metaphor works best only if he’s been asking about me, too,” Michael says. Luke doesn’t respond right away, a drawn out pause that makes Michael look up from his noodles. He wishes they were video chatting so he could see what sort of expression Luke is wearing. “Luke, has he asked about me?”
“I’m not doing this with you right now,” Luke says.
“You fucker, he has talked about me! Do you know why he ghosted me?”
“Stop using me as a go-between! If you want to know why Calum hasn’t replied to your messages, ask him yourself. You both need to get your heads out of your asses and communicate. I can’t believe I’m the one who has to say that.”
Silence descends and Michael pulls his phone away from his ear to see that Luke hung up on him. Michael huffs. A second later his phone lights up with an incoming call, a very unattractive picture of Luke staring at him from his screen. He considers letting it ring out and go to voicemail, but in the end he decides to take the high ground and answer.
“What,” he says flatly.
“Sorry I hung up on you,” Luke says. “I don’t like being caught between you both.”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “I don’t like it, either.”
“Will you try to talk to him? He’ll let you if it’s in person.”
“I guess.”
Luke hums. They stay on the phone a little longer, small talk filling the silence so Michael doesn’t have to be alone while he eats, but he knows he’s being a bad conversation partner, too distracted by what Calum may or may not have been saying about him to Luke. When they finally hang up Michael flops back on his bed and groans, wondering if he should just move to Antarctica and change his name rather than put himself through this.
-/-
He manages to go the rest of the night without any indication that Calum is there. They miss each other in the bathroom, but every sound in the hallway has the hair on his arms standing on end, wondering if it could be Calum or just the settling of the near-empty building. He sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning on the sub-par dorm mattress, cuddling deeper into his blanket in an attempt to find some much-needed warmth.
The last night he spent with Calum, and the first night they’d spent together in that way, Michael fell asleep warm. It was almost too hot, sticky under the covers and burning wherever their skin touched, but he loved it. He’d take the heat over the cold any day, and he hasn’t felt warm since he woke up alone, bed feeling too big without the other boy in it to act as his personal space heater.
That morning the sheets had still smelled like him, but they were cold. He’d left long before Michael woke up. Michael’s first morning back feels like a mirror of that day. Right before he fully wakes up he catches himself reaching for Calum and coming up empty. When he realizes what he had been doing, he forces himself to get up rather than stay in bed and wallow only because he can’t afford to be late to work on his first day back and he doesn’t trust the roads to be cleared yet. The college is situated on the outskirts of town, an odd placement that puts a woodsy area to one side and only a few smaller shops next to it. Michael hadn’t managed to land a job in one of those places, but the family-owned restaurant he works at pays enough to be worth the gas it takes to get there. He throws on a hoodie and slippers and shuffles to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Calum is already at one of the sinks when he enters. Michael doesn’t let his eyes stray from his face, refusing to take in the tan shoulders and torso or the drops of water glistening against him, leading down to the towel wrapped around his hips. He has a toothbrush in his mouth, foam gathering at the corners of his lips, lips that Michael has--
No. He can’t think about this now.
“Morning,” he says, clearing his throat to get it to work properly.
“Morning,” Calum replies around his toothbrush, consonants muffled. He spits into the sink and Michael makes himself focus on his own morning routine, meticulously putting toothpaste on his own brush and hoping it’s not obvious that even glancing at Calum is dangerous for him right now.
Neither of them try to say anything more, and Michael wonders if the silence is hanging as heavily in the air for Calum as it is for him. Before break, silences between them were the only types of silences Michael could stand. He’s fidgety by nature and gets uncomfortable without background noise, but Calum always managed to temper that a bit. Being around him settles something inside, something that right now makes Michael want to scream.
He’s about to try to break the silence when Calum picks up his bathroom caddy and leaves without so much as a glance his way. Michael tries not to let it bother him, but he misses the weight of his gaze. Calum used to look at him fondly, filled with enough affection that Michael could feel it in his heart. He doesn’t understand why that would have to change now.
By the time Michael goes to start his car for work, Calum has set himself up in the lounge again, laptop open in front of him. He’s turned on the fireplace, something that Michael thinks they're not technically supposed to do but that he’s certainly not going to call him on, and he doesn’t look up when Michael comes down the stairs. Michael lingers by the doorway longer than he should.
They’ve spent a lot of time in this room, whether doing homework on the couch, trying to play duets on the piano in the corner, or hogging the chess set by the window, figuring out how to play and passing the time.
The chess board is set up for a fresh game. In a naive fit of hope Michael walks over to it and moves one of the pawns forward. Calum doesn’t glance up from his computer, but he’s still in a way that means he knows what Michael is doing.
On his way out he thinks he hears someone say drive safe, but the howling of the wind is already filling his ears and he can’t be sure.
-/-
Michael gets sent home early because of the snow. He fights it all the way there, pulling in late because he had to move so slow, and halfway through his shift the manager calls it, deciding to close up for the day. Right after he clocks out Michael gets a notification on his phone for a severe blizzard alert, and he steels himself to face it before leaving behind the warmth of the restaurant. Outside the world is covered in a thick sheet of white, plows not able to keep up with the large flakes still falling from the sky, and Michael wills his car to survive the drive, windshield wipers going furiously in an attempt to keep him seeing as much as he can. The drive takes three times longer than usual, and when he finally spots his dorm through the snow it comes with a sigh of relief.
Calum is still in the lounge when he comes inside and stomps his feet to get some feeling back into them. With the snow came a biting wind, and even after barely being outside he feels frozen.
“I was getting worried,” Calum says, startling him. “It looks like it’s bad out there.”
“It is,” Michael says, taking off his hat and shaking snow off of it. He squints at Calum, in a different position and bundled in a blanket now, the big blue one that Mali got him as a grad present. Michael once again has to push away the urge to cuddle up to him.
“It’s fucking cold,” he says instead, because it’s true and if he doesn’t make small talk he’s going to blurt something embarrassing like I’ve been thinking about you all the time or why did you leave me or I love you I love you I love you I’m sorry please can we be friends again?
“Going to be a cold night for us, then,” Calum says. “The heating’s been shit this break. I don’t think they keep it up as high when there’s only one student here.”
“I’ve had a few cold nights,” Michael snorts before he thinks about it. “I mean--I’ll use some extra blankets.”
Calum nods once. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, then snaps it shut again, looking down at his computer. It feels like a dismissal, like Michael isn’t worth his time anymore, and it stings.
He should go upstairs, anyway. He needs to find some blankets of his own. He glances over the piano and the fireplace, eyes landing on the chess game by the window.
Someone has moved a pawn on the other side. He glances at Calum, then moves a knight, continuing the game. He wants to ask Calum to sit down and play a proper round with him, but one glance at Calum’s posture has him biting his tongue. He’s closed off, blanket wrapped around him securely and face tense, and Michael can’t bring himself to bother him, not when interacting with Michael seems to be the last thing he wants to do.
Michael looks back at the chess set, three pieces out of place, and heads to his room.
-/-
The night comes simultaneously fast and slow in the way that all boring winter nights do. Michael sits in his room scrolling through social media while the sun sets around him, and when he does eventually get up it’s only so he can make more ramen to eat. He had lunch at the restaurant and never did get to the grocery store, but he has a few snacks to munch on and if things get really bad he can always see if Calum has anything he’s willing to share.
Calum initiated conversation earlier, so things can’t be too bad between them, right? It’s still terribly stiff and uncomfortable, but at least he’s not getting the silent treatment anymore. At least Calum looked at him for a little bit.
He plays video games until he’s too bored to continue, then showers and crawls into bed. It’s still cold, just like Calum said it would be, but they haven’t lost power yet. Michael piles on the blankets and pillows, but his sheets are frigid, not yet warmed by his body heat and making him shiver. After a few minutes of tossing and turning he considers boiling water just to have a warm mug to hold in his hands.
Maybe it’ll be better in the lounge with the fireplace on. No one’s here to get mad at him for falling asleep on the couch, but then he’d have to haul all of his blankets down there, something that he doesn’t think he has the energy for right now.
He wishes Calum were here. It feels like all he’s done since getting back to campus is think about Calum, his presence in the building affecting him more than it would have if he was fully alone, but in a pragmatic sense he also really wants a warm body next to him right now. Two people under the covers are warmer than one, and he’s already put on socks and a hoodie. Wrapping himself in Calum would keep him warm on a physical level, and maybe it’ll settle him enough that he’ll actually be able to sleep without having weird dreams or waking up every few hours.
He hasn’t even gotten close enough to touch him since getting here. Before break, he and Calum were always handsy with each other, personal space a myth with the two of them. It feels wrong to have seen him and not immediately gone in for a hug.
He flops onto his stomach, trying to get comfortable without disturbing the blankets too much, but sleep isn’t coming easy. When a knock comes on his door, he’s immediately awake and alert. He wonders if it was a piece of a dream instead, given that there’s only one other person in the building and late night visits did not seem to be an option on the table, but after a few moments someone knocks again.
The light of the hallway is bright after the dark of his room, making him squint at the silhouette of Calum standing before him, wrapped in a blanket like he always seems to be right now. His hair is messy, no doubt from his own fitful attempt to sleep, and Michael wants to run his fingers through it and put it back to rights.
“Hi,” Michael says.
“I called maintenance about the heat,” Calum says. “They said they’re having a bit of issue with it and will send someone out, but with the road conditions it could be a little while. I think they forgot that there were people here.”
“Oh,” Michael says. “Okay.”
He stares at Calum again, cataloguing how tightly he’s wrapped up and the way he’s chewing on his lips. Michael waits for him to say what he really came here to.
“It’s really fucking cold, Michael,” Calum blurts finally, a little desperate.
“I know,” Michael says, not sure how to tell Calum that he’d set the world on fire for him if it would help.
“It’d be warmer if we were together. Like, scientifically speaking. If we cuddled, it would warm us up a bit.”
“Well, you are the scientist in this duo. You would know.” Calum finally meets his eyes, looking up through his eyelashes a little in a way that’s completely unfair. He’s already got Michael wrapped around his finger, heart skipping a beat at the simple occasion of having his attention again.
He has it so bad that it’s pathetic.
“Is that all?” Michael asks, trying to scrape together some of his dignity. Calum has been ghosting him for weeks, and a conversation about the bad heating isn’t exactly what Michael wanted from a real conversation with him. He’s too tired for small talk and much too cold to be standing here when he could be under the covers.
“You’re shivering,” Calum says. Michael hadn’t noticed the small tremors, but now that Calum pointed them out he can’t ignore them.
“Come on, Mikey,” Calum says, stepping closer. Michael wants to lean into him and the warmth he promises. “I promise it’ll be warmer if we cuddle.”
“Do you want to come in?” he asks. Calum nods, so he steps aside.
Having Calum in his room again when the last time included one of the best and most overwhelming experiences of Michael’s life is weird, to say the least. It’s like Michael can see two versions of him: the current Calum, wrapped in a blanket and closed off in every conceivable way, and the Calum from that night, laughing at all of Michael’s jokes and spouting off facts about gravity to explain how they kept getting closer and closer.
“See, everything with mass exerts gravity on everything else, except typically it’s not enough to be noticeable compared to the gravity of the Earth. Your gravitational field must be really strong today.”
“Are you calling me fat?”
“No, Michael, you idiot. Stop misinterpreting what I’m saying!”
Calum surveys the room, the safety light reflecting off the snow outside just enough to give him silhouettes to work with. Michael wonders what he’s remembering.
“How do you want to do this?” Michael asks when the silence has stretched on for too long. Calum shrugs, so Michael climbs up onto his bed, sliding under the covers and leaving a corner flipped up in invitation. Calum hesitates, and for a moment Michael thinks he’s going to turn tail and run, but he throws his blanket on top of the covers and joins. The bed is too small to avoid some awkward elbows and involuntary brushes of clothing, barely big enough for one person, let alone two. Michael holds his breath while Calum gets somewhat settled, pressed against the wall to give him as much room as possible.
“It’ll be warmer if we’re touching,” Calum whispers, words hitting Michael like a shout with the close proximity and otherwise silence of the room. If the lights were on, Michael would probably be able to count his eyelashes, but now his face is a combination of different shadows.
“How do you…” Michael trails off. Calum reaches out first, a cold hand wrapping around his own and pulling him closer. They end up with Calum on his back and Michael’s head on his shoulder, legs tangled together. Michael’s sure that Calum can hear how loud his heart is beating, but he can feel Calum’s own beating in a similar pattern so he can’t be too upset about it. He can hear every inhale and rustle of clothing, can feel the soft cotton of Calum’s shirt against his cheek and smell the faint remains of his soap.
He’s warm. It’s not the burning heat from their last night together, but it’s almost worse with the gradual way that Michael can feel himself unthaw in his presence, slow enough that he could forget it’s happening only to wake up as an irreparable puddle.
“Okay?” Michael asks, sending flashbacks to the last few times he had asked that question and Calum’s answers: always positive, whether a verbal yes or a nod or a fierce kiss and wandering hands.
“Yeah,” Calum says. Michael swallows.
Calum starts tracing a design on his back with his finger, barely-felt with Michael still bundled up. Michael wills himself to stay in the moment rather than slipping into the past or wishing for a different future.
It’s not bad like this. He gets Calum close at least, receiving that little piece of contact from him that he’s been craving. If this is the last time they’re like this, he wants to enjoy it if he can.
He shifts, Calum freezing under him for a moment until they both exhale and relax a little more.
Michael closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep.
“Michael?” Calum whispers after a few minutes. For a moment he considers not answering, sure that anything Calum might think to say in the dark of the night will be something he doesn’t want to hear, but all he’s been asking for the past few weeks is his attention, and it seems vindictive to reject it now.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
Michael should ask for clarification on what, exactly, Calum is apologizing about. He’s opened the door to this conversation, and Michael should take the opportunity to finally walk through and get their wires straightened out, but he can’t bring himself to do any of that, not like this. Not when Michael is breathing him in and stealing his warmth and there’s absolutely nothing between them to act as a buffer.
In the dark cuddled up together, Michael can keep pretending that Calum isn’t about to crush him. As long as he doesn’t ask for clarification, it’s like Schrodinger’s heartbreak: Michael can be both loved and lonely at the same time.
“Can we talk about it tomorrow?” he asks. “We need to talk about it, but I’m tired. And cold. Not tonight.”
“Okay,” Calum says. Michael waits to see if there’s anything else, but Calum just resumes tracing his secret design on Michael’s back.
Michael closes his eyes and hopes they don’t freeze to death in the night, twin skeletons found tangled together by some unsuspecting third party when the thaw comes. He’s not sure when he falls asleep and begins to dream, but in his mind Calum presses a kiss to his hair and Michael tries not to let such a simple action break him.
-/-
When he wakes up the bed is cold and empty again. It shouldn’t be surprising, certainly not after last time. There was less expectation to stay here, but everything is ugly in the cold light, shattering the fragile balance of the night before. Michael feels a pit in his stomach, but also a hot flare of anger.
Calum is the one who came begging for his company yesterday after completely ignoring him for weeks. Calum is the one who left without a trace after Michael showed him he loves him the best way he knows how. Calum is the one who keeps running away from this, but Michael is the one who keeps getting hurt and that’s not fair.
It’s a little warmer in the building now, the heaters likely getting sorted while they were sleeping, but Michael still grabs a blanket. No one answers Calum’s door and the bathroom seems to be empty. He heads downstairs to see if he has set himself up in the lounge again and knows he’s on the right track when he starts to hear piano music drifting softly towards him the more he descends the stairs.
Calum is one of the only people who ever uses the grand piano in the lounge. It’s slightly out of tune, just enough for Michael himself to notice but for Calum to complain about a lot. Michael has spent a lot of later nights in the lounge listening to him play, whether he was practicing back when he used to be a music major and take lessons or just playing for fun. Calum curses a lot when he practices, but Michael has also caught him with his eyes closed and a content smile on his face, letting the music take him away. Watching him like that, Michael sometimes wonders why Calum switched from music to science, but the rarity of the moments makes them all the more special.
He’s playing a piece that he’s been working on for a while. Michael tries not to disturb him, walking slowly towards the chess set where another piece has been moved in a continuation of the game. Calum must have pulled the curtains by the windows up, deep drifts of snow piled against them and sunlight reflecting off the white to set the entire room aglow. In this setting and with this soundtrack, the morning feels less frosty.
The last note hangs suspended in the air and Michael holds his breath until it dissipates. Calum sighs, breaking his posture to slump down, and turns to face Michael.
“You’ve gotten better at that one,” Michael says.
“Easier to practice when I don’t have to go to the music hall and no one’s here to use the piano.”
Michael studies him, taking in his rumpled appearance. He doesn’t look like he’s been up that long, still in the same pants he went to bed in and already folding the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands to keep them warm.
The sweatshirt he’s wearing is one of Michael’s. His heart flip-flops.
“Did you want to talk now?” Calum asks.
“Yeah,” Michael sighs. Calum nods once. He scoots over on the piano bench, making room, and Michael gingerly sits next to him. After a moment’s hesitation, he offers part of his blanket, nearly sighing in relief when Calum accepts it.
“I’m sorry for how I left, and for not replying to any of your messages,” Calum begins. “That was a jerk move.”
“It was,” Michael says. “You’re my best friend, Calum. If I had known that’s how you’d react, I wouldn’t have--” He stops, because he doesn’t want to say he regrets sleeping with Calum unless he has to. It would be a lie. He’d rather have Calum as a friend than nothing, but the will-we-won’t-we would’ve killed him eventually, and the night itself was amazing right up until Calum left.
“I don’t want to jeopardize that,” he says instead. “You mean a lot to me.”
Calum presses his lips together.
“Why did you leave?” Michael asks. “I thought we were on the same page. I mean… you wanted it, right? You said you did. I thought you did. I didn’t--”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Calum interrupts. “I did want it. I really wanted it. Too much, probably.”
“What does that mean?”
Calum sighs, looking down at his lap and fidgeting with his sleeves again. Michael wants to know why he’s so nervous. He wants to grab his hands and hold him steady the way that Calum does for him when he’s freaking out, but that wouldn’t be welcome right now.
“Michael, I can’t do something casual with you. You’ve said before that you’re not looking for anything serious, but I can’t be friends with benefits, not with you. Not when I’m in love with you. It’d tear me apart.”
“What made you think I wanted something casual?” Michael asks. “Apparently you couldn’t tell, but that night was kind of a big deal for me. I’m not exactly known for sleeping around.”
“Michael--”
“I’ve been crushing on you since we met, okay?” Michael says, turning to face him more fully. “I wasn’t looking for something serious with anyone else because I’ve been hung up on you. That night was one of the best nights of my life, and then you weren’t there in the morning. I thought I had fucked up. I thought I had ruined one of the most important relationships in my life.”
“You didn’t,” Calum says, grabbing his hand. “I should have talked to you instead of running away. That’s on me.”
“Yeah it is,” Michael sulks. “Why didn’t you? Why’d you just assume what I wanted instead of bothering to ask me? That hurt, Cal.”
“I know.” Calum grimaces, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I thought I knew what you wanted. Or didn’t want, I guess. I didn’t consider that you could like me until you kissed me, and you’ve never shown interest in an actual relationship. I wasn’t ready for you to reject me.”
“But I wasn’t going to,” Michael says. “You’re you. You’re the exception.”
“I didn’t know that, though. We didn’t exactly sit down for a conversation. Our mouths were otherwise occupied that night, if I remember correctly.” Michael opens his mouth to protest, then snaps it shut.
He doesn’t remember exactly what he said in the heat of it, but he remembers biting back I love you, knowing it was too early to be throwing that phrase around, no matter how true it was. Maybe he ended up hiding the sentiment a bit more than he anticipated.
“You still should’ve talked to me,” he says.
“I know,” Calum replies, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better with that.”
Michael squeezes his hand back.
“So,” he says, “you like me?”
“Yeah,” Calum says. “A lot.”
“You got that I like you, too, right? I said that. I’ve had it bad for you since we met.” Calum frowns.
“You took a while to warm up to me. I thought you were still holding a grudge because I spilled your smoothie.”
“No, you had me tongue-tied,” Michael says. “I had to figure out how to function around you. You’re really hot and it made me flustered.”
“Shut up,” Calum says. He’s blushing, crimson staining his cheeks enough for Michael to see, sending a strong thrill of satisfaction through him.
“I’m serious,” he needles. “You’re ridiculously attractive, dude. You’re not going to hear the end of it from me now. I’ve said it once and now there’s nothing to stop me from saying it five times a day.”
Calum laughs and tucks his face into Michael’s shoulder. Michael feels his own happiness bubble up inside him, threatening to burst. He brings Calum’s hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it in an attempt to release some of the pressure.
“Are we boyfriends now?” Calum asks.
“Fuck yeah,” Michael says. “Unless you don’t want to be, but that’d be lame.”
“I want to be,” Calum says quickly.
“Good,” Michael says. “Then we are.”
“Good.”
They sit for a while, and this silence feels comfortable again, like their old ones. Michal could stay suspended in this moment like the final note of Calum’s piano song and feel content with it rather than uncomfortable. That more than anything lets him know they’ll be okay.
“I’m cold,” Calum says eventually.
“We should move by the fire.”
“We should eat breakfast,” Calum counters. Michael hums and gives Calum’s neck an exaggerated sniff, making him squirm and giggle again.
“You should shower,” he says.
“Fuck you. That’s rude.”
“I could join you?” Michael offers.
“These showers are not big enough for two people,” Calum says. “Nice try, though.”
He stands and kisses Michael on the forehead, tucking the blanket back around him.
“Can I kiss you properly?” Michael asks. Calum nods and leans down again, the gentle press of his lips both familiar and thrilling, sweeter in the morning light.
“Breakfast, then I’m going to shower alone, then I think we have a chess game to finish.”
“Or we could make out all day while we have the lounge to ourselves.” Calum considers him, tilting his head and giving a wry smile.
“We can do that if you win the chess match.”
“Deal,” Michael says. It’s an easy bargain, because Michael is better at chess than Calum is, and with that prize on the line nothing’s going to distract him.
“Breakfast,” Calum repeats, tugging on his hands until he’s standing, too. Michael leans forward and kisses him again, just because he can now. Calum beams and leads him to the stairs, Michael tripping over his blanket and Calum’s laugh filling the room.
It could just be the heating kicking in more, but Michael isn’t sure he needs the blanket right now, not when Calum is here warming him from the inside out.