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Lisa accepts to help them.
Lisa also moves out of the ruined apartment this night, leaving behind her a wad of dollar bills and an overwhelming feeling of emptiness. It clings to every movement, seems to echo relentlessly against the walls.
“I need time to get my shit together,” she says. Her voice is a little hollow, and it is so reminiscent of the night Ari found her lying in the bathroom in a puddle of her own vomit, empty pills boxes scattered on the floor, that Ari's chest suddenly feels too tight, like a hand is squeezing his heart from the inside.
When she closes the door behind her, Ari flops down on the squeaky couch and glances at Sam. He's staring straight ahead, gaze absent, like he isn't even here anymore.
Ari knows a thing or two about not being here.
He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Decides that he really has to say something, if only to break the eerie silence.
“Well,” Ari says. “This sucks.”
It sums up their lives pretty well, all things considered.
**
This night, Ari can't sleep. He is no stranger to insomnia, but this time is different. He doesn't even toss and turn like he usually would. He just kind of –stares at the ceiling, and tries very hard not to think about anything.
Someone has drawn a dick on his wall.
There is a dog barking in the distance.
Toby's yo-yo is on his bedside table, next to an empty box of condoms.
I miss you , he thinks, rolling over with a sigh. I miss you, you fucker.
He shouldn't be angry. He shouldn't, and he knows this. He should be a good person, and accept that Toby left because he needed to get better. But Ari isn't a good person, he's made peace with that fact a long time ago, so he wants to find Toby and shake him and tell him why don't you want to get better with me?
**
“Are you okay?”
“Nope,” Ari answers. He feels like a huge stain in Alex and Chris' otherwise pristine apartment. They're gone for the night to some sort of lesbian get-together where they probably talk about indie films and vagina and drink deluxe cocktails, Ari doesn't even know. He's pretty sure they just wanted to give Lisa some space, so he can't even resent them for taking her away.
The paintings on the walls look expensive and there's a bay window.
For fuck's sake.
“Are you?” he asks, because there is a tentative smile on the corner of Lisa's lips, and the shadows under her eyes are a little less dark. Lisa shrugs and takes a sip from her glass of wine –French red wine, the fancy kind.
“Getting there.” She laughs, brittle. “No, wait. That's a total lie. I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing.”
Ari laughs, too, and the bitterness of the wine makes him ache for a smoke, something that hasn't happened in a long time. Addiction is for rich people. He just can't afford it.
“Honestly? I don't think I've met anyone who knows the answer to this question.” He pauses, considers. “Except Dana, I guess.”
“Yeah?” Lisa's voice is a little shaky, like she's trying very hard not to cry. Once more, Ari wishes he could be the kind of person that finds the right words immediately. Instead, he awkwardly pats her on the leg and nods.
When he looks up, she's smiling a little, eyes shiny.
He guesses maybe he isn't that bad, after all.
**
Things start...working.
It's slow-going, painstakingly so, but it works.
Ari has always hoped that there would be a moment when everything would click, and suddenly his life would start making sense. It's a little irrational. These things just don't happen in real life.
Instead, he feels just a little bit more content when he comes home at night, even after a day of shooting as much inane shit as before. They're in charge, the three of them. They're a team. It shouldn't make that much of a difference, but it does. There's no schedule to follow, no Oscar to yell at them (even if Ari missed the bastard for like, half a second). Ari wouldn't call the fucked up shit they used to film experience, but apparently it counts because two months in, they start making money. It's not much, but it's a start.
Ari still misses Toby.
He –fuck, he knows it's weird. They basically haven't talked since Toby left, and even if they had, it's not like they actually dated, you know? Or maybe they did. Or maybe they didn't, but they could have, and the mere possibility would tear his heart apart if he was a little more dramatic.
But he isn't, so he just toys with Toby's yo-yo and wonders if Toby found someone else to look at with stars in his eyes.
God, he hopes not.
**
Lisa moves back in without much of a fuss. One day, it's just Sam and him, still a bit off-balance with silences where there shouldn't be, and the next there are boxes of tampons in the cupboard above the sink and they're three again. It feels good, and Sam smiles a lot more, now.
**
“You know, maybe you should call him,” Sam says while Ari is packing up their equipment after a long day of filming the preparations for a big-ass wedding. Ari frowns, but doesn't look up.
“Who?”
Sam sighs.
“I don't know, man. Toby? I mean, you're just so –weird, lately. It's freaking us out.”
Ari shoulders the strap of the bag and leaves the room.
“Yeah, forget it,” Sam mutters behind him.
**
He didn't expect that he'd actually do it, that he'd call Toby out of the blue after two months of silence, but he does.
In his defense, it's been a long day. The fucking longest, the kind of day that makes Ari think that really, his life isn't that different from before. They work for rich white guys and their trashy kids, they film birthday parties that cost more than what he earns in a year. They film useless shit. He knows it will get better, that they need to make a name for themselves, but at the end of the day it still sits heavy on his stomach.
So Ari kind of –snaps, and before he knows it, he's dialed the number.
The thing is, Toby sounds happy to hear him. Like he's been waiting this whole time for Ari to call, like he's spent two months thinking about him. They talk for a while, and Toby is his usual awkward self but it's easy.
Ari supposes that's the reason why he's still –pining, okay, all right, he's pining, so fucking what. Every single relationship he's had felt like pulling teeth. What Toby and he had was simple.
It was the world around them that was complicated.
“Come back,” he says before he can't stop himself. He cringes and rubs a hand over his face. “I mean, you know. There's a place for you here. We could –” he stops there, because he has no idea what they could do.
Toby just sighs. “I'm sorry, Ari.”
Whatever.
**
So, here he is. He hasn't gotten laid in, like, three months, and for some reason he doesn't even miss it. Well, all right, he kind of does. Just not enough to go in a bar and just go home with the first cute guy he can find and most certainly not enough to start this whole dating thing all over again.
But he's okay, you know. Sam and Lisa are as happy as they can get, he has a job, they aren't short on money for once, and work doesn't make him want to stab himself in the eyeball.
Everything is good.
**
Growing up with Sam, Ari watched a lot of movies. A lot. Horror, drama, parody, you name it, he's seen them all.
This one particular summer when they were 17 and Sam nursed a broken heart, Ari had to suffer through a particularly grim string of rom-coms full of quirky straight people.
He's had an aversion for the genre since then, but that's not the point.
He doesn't really know what the point is, only that when the doorbell rings at nine in the evening and he opens the door to find Toby on the other side, the only thing he can think is this is all wrong.
His heart is doing weird jumpy things inside his chest. He can't help staring at Toby's stupid, hopeful face, but this is all wrong. He slept all day because they spent the night documenting a party in the Village. He's not supposed to have morning breath –well, more like, evening breath, but is that even a thing? – and he's not supposed to be wearing these ridiculous PJs Lisa gave him, the ones with yellow ducks all over them.
He's supposed to say something meaningful, that's the way it's meant to happen, but all he can think of right now is “What.”
Toby's smile fades, and Ari kind of feels like he just punched a puppy in the face. It's not a pleasant sensation.
“Hey,” Toby says. “I was just –you know, passing by.”
Toby has always been a shitty liar, but Ari's going to forgive him this one. He steps aside wordlessly, gestures for Toby to come in. He doesn't really know what to say, so he stays silent. He just leads Toby in the kitchen.
Toby watches him drink his coffee, with his huge eyes and his trembling smile.
“So,” Ari says once the caffeine kicks in and he feels slightly more human. “Why are you here, really?”
Toby, bless him, looks even more awkward than Ari feels. He shrugs, rubs at the back of his neck.
“I missed you.” He looks into Ari's eyes as he says it, so fucking earnest. “I mean, I woke up every morning and everything felt off, you know, like when I was in New York, only worse because you weren't here, and I just –I'm still so broke and I have no idea what to do, but I thought about you and I –why are you looking at me like that?”
Because I kept your stupid yo-yo. Because you're here, and you're you, and I can't even be mad at you.
“I really think we should kiss, now,” he says, because it's safe, and it's totally worth the way Toby's face lights up like a Christmas tree.
**
The whole room reeks of sex. Not that Ari minds or anything, but it feels weird to have a warm body next to his after all these months. In the dark, he can barely make out Toby's face, except for his eyes.
Toby is staring at Ari like he's the most riveting thing he's ever seen. Ari mostly feels a little gross and sweaty.
“So,” he says after a while. “We should talk? Maybe?”
Toby makes a dismissive noise, snuggling closer to him. Toby's a cuddler. It would be embarrassing if Ari weren't so into it.
“Should we?”
Ari blinks up at the ceiling, and mulls it over for a minute.
“Nah.”
Toby hums contentedly and rubs his cheek against Ari's chest. You're like a fucking cat, Ari wants to say. For some reason, it doesn't quite come out that way.
“Are you gonna be staying here?”
God, he shouldn't even be allowed to talk. Toby squints at him sleepily.
“For the night? Or...”
Yeah, or. That's the golden ticket. That's his escape route, and Ari's pretty sure that Toby did it on purpose. He could opt for the first answer and maybe offer to help Toby find an apartment. Them living together is like a recipe for disaster. Because Ari is, well, Ari. He still never washes his hands, and he's kind of a prick on the good days. Toby is a good person. Toby deserves better.
It won't work, says the non-corporeal voice of reason that pops in in his brain from time to time.
Shut the fuck up , he thinks back at it, I want this.
And he says: “ Both.”
He's already asked Toby to move in with him twice. The first time was a joke. Sort of. Except for the fact that it really wasn't. The second time was a moment of improvisation. Because Ari...damn it, Ari didn't want Toby to leave, and now that Toby's back, he can't lose him again. He won't.
Apparently, third time really is a charm, because Toby looks at him for a long time, frowning a little, then nods decisively.
“Yeah?” he says. “Yeah, I think I'll stay here, then.” His smile is tentative, but Ari's isn't. He closes his eyes for a second, and when he opens them again, he is still there. He hasn't drifted away from his body, hasn't disappeared into thin air, and Toby is still smiling.
Ari takes Toby's hand and puts it over his heart. Maybe he can't find the right words, but the way it thrums with happiness is eloquent enough.
Under his ribs, there is a sun.
fin.