Chapter Text
Dwight doesn’t know what to think of Jake the first time he meets him because it had already been three months into the lease when he finally stumbled through the front door at midnight.
Luckily, he had been awake. He’d made himself comfortable cocooned in a small fortress of pillows and blankets dragged from each room of the house and he had been busy typing up his research paper that was due in less than four hours.
Needless to say, he was not in the mood.
Dwight stared up at him blankly from his comfortable spot on the floor, not even caring that his papers were scattered about and there were far too many empty coffee mugs and energy drinks laying within arm’s reach.
Jake Park - he had spotted his name from the contract - stood there, clearly taken quite aback by the sight before him. Dwight couldn’t help but dryly wonder if Jake had expected he could just slip in at the dead of night when his new roommate would be sleeping, but now his plan had backfired and he didn’t have a backup.
He’s an idiot was Dwight’s first realization.
“Uh, hey.” Jake greeted him slowly. Dwight raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
Jake's face was more of a cringe than a smile. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name.”
“Dwight,” he stared. “Jake, right? You sure took your time getting here. Was traffic bad?”
“Yeah. About that.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Dwight reached for a small stack of papers before turning back to his laptop. “You kept up on rent so I didn’t bother looking for you.”
Which had been very surprising to him in the first place. Somehow, for nearly three months, Dwight had been paying half the rent while his unknown roommate paid the rest. It had actually been pretty ideal for him. He got to live on his own, blast music as loud as he wanted, cook pancakes at two in the morning - all sorts of things he knew he’d lose once his mysterious roommate finally showed his face.
“There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry,” Dwight waved a hand in its general direction, “But only for tonight. And if you see anything labeled gluten-free, don’t touch it.”
Jake looked like he got punched in the stomach. “You’re one of those, huh?”
“I have Celiac, dick.” Dwight snapped.
Bewildered, he asked, “The car?”
“Holy shit,” Dwight mumbled and rubbed his brow. Headache number three was already on its way.
Jake darted towards the kitchen and he slung off his backpack into an odd corner. Dwight eyed the ratty bag, clearly old and well-loved. It was suspiciously full. He stared at it and it stared at him until he broke.
“Is this really all you brought?”
As Jake opened the refrigerator, he answered, “A friend of mine is holding onto some stuff but yeah, that’s about it.”
Dwight craned his neck to catch a glance of Jake eagerly pawing through numerous plastic containers.
“Clothes?” he asked skeptically, “Toothbrush? A stupid lamp?”
“I’ve got clothes and a toothbrush,” Jake drawled as he snagged week-old Chipotle leftovers. “I’m not that stupid.”
“You better not think you’re going to leech off my stuff.” Dwight retorted, “I’m not above keeping photographic evidence.”
Jake shot him a lazy grin before carefully picking out bits of tomato from his meal. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
Dwight rolled his eyes and turned back to his computer. He tapped ‘save’ before losing the last two hours of work. “It’s just weird. Like you used to be homeless or something.”
Jake didn’t bother with the microwave and shoved a forkful of cold questionable chicken into his mouth. “Or something.”
That had taken place about a year ago.
Many things had changed since then. Dwight finished his term with flying colors and received his degree in business management. Working retail was now a thing of the past. He had a steady nine-to-five surrounded by loud coworkers, barking bosses, and shaky plumbing. Regardless, the upgrade had been a relief - and now he finally had something interesting to mention at family gatherings.
Dwight also started to learn how to play the piano, much to Jake’s dismay, but he had gotten fairly decent at it now and it eventually stopped grating on his nerves.
‘If you get to burst home every night at one in the morning, then I get a piano,’ Dwight had told him. ‘Electric. Deal?’
‘I guess,’ Jake had reluctantly agreed even with a grimace on his face.
One more thing had also happened over the course of those twelve months: Dwight had developed a helpless crush on Jake.
At first, he had assumed it was a natural response. Jake was practically the only source of Dwight’s social life that didn’t involve work or school, and he wasn’t terrible to look at. Sometimes he even cleaned the kitchen without being asked.
But then it just… didn’t go away.
In fact, over the most recent months, those ridiculous and completely uncalled-for feelings had increased exponentially - and it was getting harder and harder to make excuses to himself.
'Dwight, how the hell are you still single?’
'Easy for you to say, Playboy, but not all of us have the same tastes.’
Dwight was not secretive about his sexuality and he never had been. Maybe that was why his parents kicked him to the curb the day for his eighteenth birthday present.
'You need to hit up Saint Peter’s. They’ve got half-price drinks on Wednesdays.’
'Yeah, for sure.’
For sure was always Dwight’s no.
In a fruitless attempt to sway this eerie attachment for Jake, Dwight started going out late with his friends. They stuck around bars for the most part, but every once in a while they would find themselves at a neon club with loud music pounding through every bone in his body.
Tonight was one of those nights.
Dwight’s drink tasted like battery acid and he wanted to go to bed. He squinted past the zipping flashy lights that pulsed to the DJ’s beat and managed to spot Nea standing a short distance away. They held two drinks in their hand - one was either a cherry or strawberry cosmopolitan and Dwight couldn’t quite place what the second was. Vodka with Red Bull he presumed, if it was for them.
Cutting his losses, he returned to the table where he also found Claudette and David. Shoulders hunched and hands deep in his pockets, Dwight slid into the vacant seat beside David and let his forehead collide with the table.
“Havin’ fun yet?” David snickered behind another bourbon. The unholy combination of English and Irish in his blood made drinking little more than a chore - Dwight was always plastered before he was properly buzzed.
“I’m not, thanks for asking.” Dwight said miserably, turning his head so his cheek pressed against the sticky wood. All three of them were peering at him curiously, waiting for him to explain. Dwight wasn’t in the mood to explain.
“Poor baby’s having another bad day,” Claudette concluded with a giggle and took a sip of her drink. The splash of cranberry juice gave it a soft reddish-pink hue which matched her purse and sparkly earrings. Dwight couldn’t help wondering if that was a coincidence.
“Did I what?”
Only once Claudette spoke did Dwight realize that he had said that last bit aloud.
“The-” Dwight wiggled a few fingers next to his head. “Earrings. Your bag. Did you do that on purpose?”
Nea turned to Dwight with an incredulous look as Claudette burst out laughing. “Did you really come back from the dance floor to ask Claudette about fashion?”
“No,” Dwight sat up and promptly slid the rest of his drink over to David who eagerly snatched it. “I came back from the dance floor to tell you I wanna go home.”
“That’s the spirit,” Nea cheered. “It’s past your bedtime anyways. Get on home to your Star Trek, punk.”
“I’m going to go home and sleep, thank you very much.” Dwight stood briskly. “I’ll catch you guys later.”
“Don’t forget about the housewarming party on Saturday!” Claudette said brightly with a wave. Her voice was just as bubbly as the drink she cradled. “You’ll be there?”
Dwight forced a smile. “For sure.”
Driving home took more energy than it should have. He seemed to catch every red light, every stumbling jaywalker, every goddamn bump in the road. By the time he was sticking his key into the lock with much more force than necessary, he was bristling with anger and ready to collapse into bed.
Jake was home, which was a surprise. Dwight spotted him on the balcony through the blinds, his glowing phone in one hand and a glass pipe in his other.
Dwight didn’t bother with dinner. He walked into his room and immediately removed his shoes, pants, and collared shirt in exchange for a pair of oversized sweatpants. Finally, he tossed his glasses on his nightstand. He already felt a little better.
It wasn’t until he got himself comfortable in bed did he realize that he hadn’t turned off the light. He glared daggers into the ceiling. He really wanted the light off so he could sleep soundly, but was it really worth getting up for? He was finally so warm and cozy and he didn’t want to move an inch.
Dwight groaned loudly and squeezed his eyes shut, burrowing his face against a pillow. Maybe he could just ignore it. He’d hate himself when he inevitably woke up with a migraine but right now, all he could think about was how exhausted he was.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard a faint click from only a few feet away. His eyes shot open and he sat up, blearily blinking as his eyes adjusted to the new darkness.
Wait.
“You’re welcome,” came Jake’s smug voice from the doorway.
Dwight flopped back down again. “Fucker.”
Dwight didn’t know what he expected next but something quite peculiar happened. He felt a dip in his bed, his mattress suddenly trying to accommodate for much more than just him.
Confused, Dwight opened his eyes again and found that Jake had removed his shoes and quite literally crawled into his bed. He situated himself a few feet away, sighing in content as he tucked his arms behind his head.
Dwight stared at him, completely stricken. All he could manage was, “What are you doing?”
“Hanging out.” Jake said casually, not even bothering to open his eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Um,” his mouth went dry. “I’m about to sleep.”
“Nice.” Jake nodded sagely. “Sleep’s good.”
“Sleep is good.” Dwight agreed slowly. “Can I help you?”
“You looked kinda sad coming in,” he shrugged, “Thought you could use some company.”
Dwight would rather die before he admitting it, but he wasn’t wrong.
Jake turned to face him. “Rough night?”
Even without his glasses on, Dwight could spot the languid lazy smirk on his face.
Dwight ignored the question. “You’re high.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Well, then you can take yourself back to your room.”
Jake pretended he didn’t hear him. He shifted onto his side, one hand happily petting Dwight’s comforter. It felt too weird to meet Jake’s eyes when they were this close - not to mention when Jake was in his bed with him - so Dwight shut his eyes and yanked his blanket up to his shoulders.
“I’ve seen you all mopey and depressed before, but this feels different,” Jake added rather plainly. “I felt like you could use a hug.”
Pretending Jake wasn’t here was getting harder by the second. He hated how pathetic he was - even the mere thought of being embraced was enough to make him swallow hard. Maybe it was just the prospect of being hugged by Jake.
“Not really,” was all Dwight muttered.
Jake went quiet for a moment. “Can my friend come over tomorrow?”
Dwight startled.
“Yeah, of course,” he frowned. “You don’t need to ask me for permission.”
Jake yawned. “Mm. I know, but she’ll probably stick around ‘til late. Just wanted to make sure it was cool.”
Dwight felt sick to his stomach.
Jake was bringing a girl over.
A girl.
To their house.
Somewhere deep down, far deep down, Dwight knew that one of these days Jake would inevitably bring someone home. It only made sense. He was out so much - drinking, smoking, spray painting churches - doing whatever Jake Park does when he’s gone for hours or days on end. Of course he was bound to find someone he really liked.
“Whatever,” Dwight let out more bitterly than he intended. “Do what you want, I’ll be gone anyways.”
He had no idea where he’d be but he knew damn well that he wouldn’t be anywhere near this place. He felt nauseous.
“Whoa,” Jake frowned, sitting up slightly so he could better face Dwight. “What’s all that about? I don’t have to bring her over if you don’t want me to.”
Perfect. The last thing Dwight needed was his roommate thinking he was some kind of possessive freak.
“It’s fine.” Dwight wanted to turn away from Jake but it would be too obvious. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. His night had just gone from bad to worse in the blink of an eye.
“You’ll like her,” Jake assured him but Dwight wasn’t ready to hear a word more about her. “She’s crazy smart.”
“Cool.” Dwight grit out.
“Yeah,” Jake stretched. “I told her she could come around but only if she didn’t bring that boyfriend of hers because - just between you and me? - he freaks me out.”
Dwight jumped.
“Wait, what?” he blurted out, sitting upright. He glared down at Jake, reeling with fury. “Why the fuck is she coming over if she’s got a boyfriend? What is wrong with you?”
Jake watched him with a great deal of confusion on his face. Dwight could tell the gears were turning but the dope in his bloodstream was making it a little difficult.
“Your friend,” Dwight repeated. “Why is she coming over?”
Then Jake brightened, suddenly able to decipher the question. A wide grin split across his face and he replied cheerily, “She’s coming over to play Monopoly.”
Dwight couldn’t breathe. He blinked rapidly, his exhausted-addled brain trying to comprehend what it could and fill in the blanks. Eyes wide and mouth agape, he was helplessly unable to hide his dawning realization whatsoever.
… and Jake could tell.
He began to laugh. It wasn’t one of his small chuckles he hides behind his hand, muted and subtle, but an actual, genuine, loud laugh. He smacked his palm to his brow, his cheeks growing more flushed by the second. Dumbstruck, Dwight could only sit there, staring at him as he tried and failed miserably to get himself together.
“Oh my god,” Jake gasped out, his voice a little ragged. “Holy shit. You thought she- wait, did you think she was my girlfriend or something?”
His head fell back as he shook his head, shoulders still shaking even as he tried to stifle his ever-persistent maddened giggling.
Dwight’s face immediately flushed red. His chest swelled with embarrassment and anger and relief. All at once his anxiety and terror melted away, replaced by the most ridiculous form of humiliation he had ever experienced in his life but fuck if it wasn’t the best news he could have asked for.
Trying to maintain some dignity, Dwight grumbled, “What the hell else was I supposed to do, huh? You made it sound so obvious.”
“I’m telling her you said that. God. I’m sorry. You’re actually not the first one to think that, but it’s just-” he cackled again, “It’s always so funny to me.”
“You’re a dick,” Dwight informed Jake with a huff. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Aw, I’m sorry.” Jake snickered. Dwight tried hating how proud of himself Jake sounded but he couldn’t quite manage it.
“No you’re not.”
“No I’m not.”
Dwight shook his head. Today had been far too strenuous for his liking. On top of all this disaster, he had work in under seven hours and he intended to use each one of them for the most direly-needed sleep of his life.
“Can you do me a favor?” Dwight began tiredly, “If you ever do have a girl over, just do it when I’m not home. I don’t even want to know about it. Alright?”
The room was quiet for a heartbeat too long and Dwight immediately hated himself for the question. It was such an unfair thing to ask of him.
Surrendering, Dwight’s voice lowered to a mumble, “You don’t have to, obviously, but-”
“That won’t happen,” Jake said, “I don’t even like girls.”
Dwight stared at him. Jake wasn’t laughing any longer. Sitting up at the edge of the bed, he scrubbed a hand through his messy hair.
“Sorry,” Jake said quietly, “I probably shouldn’t have told you that. And definitely not while I’m laying in your bed.”
He heaved a sigh and stood up, stretching his arms. “I need to learn when to shut up. I’m sorry, Dwight.”
Dwight’s breath caught in his throat. He’d never heard Jake say his name before.
“Hey,” Dwight spoke up at last, his voice slicing through the uncertainty and fear that lingered in the air. Jake glanced back to him.
“It’s okay,” he said firmly, keeping his gaze level with Jake’s. “Really. Everything’s fine.”
“I fucking-” he waved a hand for emphasis, “Storm into your room at midnight and announce I’m gay, how is that not my fault?”
“It’s not your fault because you didn’t do anything wrong.” Dwight sat up straighter, pushing the tangled blanket from his legs. He took a breath in and hoped he didn’t sound as shaky as he felt.
“I mean it’s not like,” his breath caught in his throat. His stomach was doing flips and his heart felt like it might actually beat right out of his chest.
Dwight lifted his arms and dropped them back down again. He tried again to speak, “You’ve seen me, it’s not exactly like I’ve got girls over on the weekends either, you know.”
Jake seemed to tense. Dwight stopped. Fuck. He couldn’t do this.
“What I’m trying to say is, uh.” Dwight cleared his throat, “It’s fine. You’re fine.”
Jake stuck his hands in his pockets with a meek smile. “Well, that’s a relief,” he admitted sheepishly, “I honestly thought you were about to kick me out of here.”
Dwight couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. Jake was so stupid.
Fuck, did he love him.
“Hey, don’t give me that.” Jake smirked. “Listen, it’s always a hit or a miss. You never know what’s about to happen when you tell someone that.”
“Yeah,” Dwight said, “I get you.”
Jake crossed his arms over his chest, watching Dwight for a moment. There was something sober and unreadable behind his eyes.
Finally Jake spoke again. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry? Let’s go get shakes.”
“Shakes sound perfect.” Dwight snatched his glasses and was on his feet in record timing.
They both lost track of how long they were out, sitting on the top of park benches as they sipped strawberry shakes and watched the sun come up. Dwight only managed three hours of sleep that night but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I thought housewarming parties were supposed to be held at, you know. The actual house.”
The number of halfhearted scowls that met Dwight’s dry remark only reminded him how many drunk people there were lounging about his living room.
“Stop cleaning for two seconds and get over here,” Nea beckoned for him from their spot half-dangling off the couch. “Get a drink. Chill out. You’re killing me.”
Defeated, Dwight threw away a pair of crumpled beer cans in the bin before grabbing a glass and obediently trudging to the closest sofa. Claudette clumsily made grabby hands and was sated only when he collapsed gracelessly onto it.
“Is that wine?” Dwight asked, staring at a clear bottle in Jake’s hand.
He looked pained. “It’s just a Kirkland.”
“If it’s cold and white, I’ll take it.”
“Like you.” Jake cackled as he filled Dwight’s cup.
Dwight squinted.
“I can see why you like him so much,” Feng spoke up, blue nails running along her glass of raspberry liqueur. “His taste in alcohol is just as bad as yours.”
Jake made a great show of dramatically pointing to her. “Hush. He is my housemate and I will not tolerate this slander.”
Dwight absently wondered how many drinks Jake managed to slam while he’d been busy wiping countertops.
“Dwight!” Jake declared, gesturing just as vividly to the stranger beside Feng. “This is Herman. Herman is the boyfriend. Herman, play nice.”
Herman looked borderline uncomfortable but he was polite enough to fake a smile. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for having us.”
Then he outstretched his hand.
Dwight just looked at it. “... Come on, man.”
Feng quickly smacked his hand away. “Babe, don’t shake his hand. Relax.”
Herman dropped it with a sheepish, “Sorry.”
“Don’t sweat it. I just promised myself I’d never turn into an adult.” Dwight took a generous swig of his drink. It tasted like nail polish.
“He doesn’t get out a lot,” Feng said dryly. “This is the first time all month I’ve pried him out of the house.”
“I get out,” the boyfriend protested.
Feng shot him a look. “Work doesn’t count.”
He deflated. “I don’t get out.”
Dwight spied an opportunity and snatched it. “You work a lot, huh? What do you do?”
Herman recovered slightly and looked relieved at the change of subject. “Oh, I’m a surgeon.”
Dwight blinked rapidly. “Really? That’s pretty intense.”
“‘Pretty intense’ is damn right,” Feng snapped her fingers, "he’s a neurosurgeon. Which pretty much means I never see him. But he can slice your brain open.”
Dwight felt like much more wine was needed for this conversation. It took every ounce of his willpower not to let his jaw hit the carpet.
“Jesus,” he croaked. He abruptly regretted how proud he’d been when he received his shitty promotion. What was fifty grand a year when this guy was saving lives?
Herman laughed awkwardly, rubbing his arm. “There are no boring days, that’s for sure.”
“What’s the inside of a brain look like?” Nea demanded.
“Do not answer that question,” Claudette interrupted them around a mouthful of cheese pizza, "or you will find out just how weak my stomach is.”
“Is it squishy? Like slime? Or is it more robust, like spaghetti?”
“Nea, your girlfriend’s about to hurl.”
“She’s used to it.”
Dwight tipped his drained glass towards Jake who dutifully refilled it. He turned back to Herman. “Am I allowed to ask how much you make or is that some kind of no-go?”
Herman chuckled in gentle declination but Feng flashed her fingers in a series of numbers. Dwight suddenly felt more lightheaded than a single drink could account for.
Dwight could hardly believe this was the same person Jake spoke of. Herman was the furthest thing from terrifying Dwight could think of. He had expected mohawks and neck tattoos, not an actual genius with social anxiety.
Realizing how little he really knew Jake felt odd.
“Shut up, listen, I’m right about this! She just proved me right!”
Dwight’s attention immediately yanked back to the present. There was now a great deal of commotion happening and, unsurprisingly, it was aimed at Jake.
“Listen, listen-” Jake could hardly contain his snickering and struggled to speak over the rising groans of dismay from the others. “Shut up! There are three categories of attraction, got it?”
“Not this again,” Feng moaned, “will you ever shut up about this?”
“No, because I’m right!” Jake exclaimed.
Dwight and Claudette shared a terrified look.
“If I had a dime for every time you went off about this-”
“There are three different means of attraction,” Jake cut her off excitedly, “ready?”
“No-”
“There’s hot,” Jake declared, already counting on his fingers, “sexy, and cute. Understand?”
“What does that even mean?” Claudette asked, mortified.
“Jake has a system of categorizing attractive people,” Feng supplied, “he thinks he’s the next Freud when he goes off like this.”
“Okay, I’ll bite.” Nea said excitedly, leaning forward as though preparing to watch a fistfight, “Give me an example. Is Dwight hot?”
Dwight’s head whipped to them. “Don’t you dare give him ammo.”
“Of course Dwight isn’t hot,” Jake said cheerily.
Dwight’s eye twitched. “Thanks.”
Jake pointed at him. “But you’re cute as hell.”
Dwight’s head was reeling. He couldn’t keep up. “Ah.”
“Now Herman-” Jake’s face straightened. “Herman’s hot. Herman’s sexy.”
“I know.”
“Shut up Feng, the gays are talking.”
Dwight watched in muted horror as everyone took turns giving Jake different names to classify and justify. Nea threw out names of actors and reality stars. Claudette excitedly scrolled through her phone to show him pictures of influencers and small-name singers. Dwight’s smile felt more plastic by the minute.
He stood up and took his wine with him. The howls and shrieks followed him, dulled with each turn he took. Finding a quieter space, he lowered himself to the floor and tipped his head against the wall.
People were fine. Noise was alright. He was used to crowded spaces and booming music. But sometimes, just sometimes, it got to be a bit too much.
His house was full of friends, new and old, but in some selfish way he felt lonely. He wasn’t used to competing for Jake’s attention. Dwight’s favorite thing about being home was him but it didn’t feel like home right now.
He felt like he had walked onto the set for the wrong movie. He was used to feeling out of place, like he didn’t quite fit in, but this wasn’t that familiar sense of discomfort. It stung, right in the middle of his chest, and the longer he stared into his empty wine glass the more he wished he had just brought the bottle with him.
“You’re doing it again.”
Dwight jolted, his head snapping upright. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”
Jake didn’t bother apologizing. “What are you doing on the floor?” he asked with a frown. “That’s kind of gross.”
“I don’t know, I just,” Dwight gestured vaguely, “Needed a minute.”
“Are you okay?”
Dwight stared up at him. What a strangely human question from a strangely inhuman boy.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said after a moment, “it’s just-”
“Loud?"
Dwight nodded.
“Yeah. I get that.” Jake folded his arms and looked over his shoulder. “I can get them out of here if you want.”
“No, don’t,” he sighed, "it’s not their fault.”
“Here, I got this.”
“No wait, Jake-”
Jake spun around and disappeared and not two seconds later, Dwight heard him call out, “Hey, who wants to light something on fire?” which was met immediately with Nea shrieking in thrill.
Dwight swore and stumbled to his feet. He scrambled into the living room just as Jake and Nea quickly vanished into the kitchen. Feng watched from her comfortable spot on the sofa, unimpressed.
“What are they doing?” Dwight demanded.
“No idea,” Feng swatted Herman’s thigh, “Go find out. Keep an eye on them for me.”
Herman blinked once. “I- are you sure?”
“Are you a doctor or aren’t you? Make sure those two don’t do anything stupid.”
Herman hesitated but only briefly before standing up quickly, suddenly quite worried. He quietly excused himself as he slipped past Dwight who could only stare at him in aghast.
“Goddamn, he’s tall,” Dwight wheezed, unable to resist watching the massive man clumsily hurry to the kitchen. “Where do you find guys like that?”
Feng took a dainty sip of her drink, “Online.”
“I am so sorry but I cannot imagine that man knowing how to use a computer,” Claudette giggled, her head lolling back against the couch.
“Trust me, he doesn’t.”
“Claude, you good?” Dwight questioned skeptically as she laughed breathlessly behind her hands.
She looked up sleepily. “Hm? Oh, I’m fine. Thank you, honey.”
Dwight wasn’t convinced but he dropped it. He had slightly more pressing matters to attend to, like listening out for the shrill pierce of the nearest smoke alarm. He helped himself to another deserved drink.
“You guys have such a nice house,” Claudette hummed contentedly. “Did Jake say something about you guys moving sometime?”
“Moving?” Dwight repeated. This was news to him. “I don’t… I don’t know. I mean, I’m not.”
“Oh. Maybe that was someone else.”
Dwight hated how unsettling that sounded. He ignored his nerves by asking Feng, “Did you know he wasn’t here for like three months when we first started renting the place?”
“Yeah,” she replied, “he’s just sort of like that.”
“Nearly had me convinced I was living with a ghost or something. Did he just, I don’t know, forget or something?”
Feng looked annoyed. “How am I supposed to know? He just up and left, I don’t know where he was or what the hell he was thinking.”
Dwight hesitated. “I assumed he was with you.”
She scoffed. “Are you kidding me? That would have driven him crazy.”
“Oh,” he was baffled, “I thought you two were close.”
“We are,” Feng arched a brow. “but that doesn’t matter. That idiot would probably rather live on the streets than somewhere like here. That’s why I was so surprised to hear he finally moved in. But honestly? I’m more surprised that he’s stayed so long.”
Something in Dwight seized. “Why?”
“Jake was not made for… domesticity.” Feng said finally. “You live with him, I’m sure you’ve noticed. I can’t tell you how many times he’s just disappeared.”
Not left, not traveled. Disappeared. He hesitated. “Why?”
“Who knows? He’s his own disaster. Don’t try too hard to figure him out, you’ll only wear yourself out.”
Dwight silently refilled his wine glass but he craved something harder. Somehow everything Feng said both made perfect sense but confused him beyond comprehension. It seemed that not even Jake’s closest friend could understand him. He couldn’t help wondering how lonely that must feel.
“I feel like I’m listening to something I shouldn’t be.” Claudette whispered.
Feng only patted her leg kindly.
Herman popped his head around the corner. “They’ve poured whiskey on the countertop and lit it on fire.”
“Jesus,” Feng rolled her eyes.
Dwight rubbed his temples. “The counters are granite so it should be okay. I think.”
“I’ll check.” Herman disappeared again.
“Has Jake always been like this?” Dwight asked Feng tiredly.
“No,” she admitted, “he used to be worse.”
Dwight sighed and tipped his head back. The ceiling seemed to ebb and sway so he closed his eyes. There was a lingering rattling anxiety in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t quite shake. A guilt-riddled piece of him felt as though he had just spilled the contents of Jake’s diary onto his lap.
It didn’t take long for the get-together to disperse. After everyone finished their last drinks, Jake walked Feng and Herman to the front door. Dwight felt obligated to follow. He stood there with his hands in his pockets as they said their goodbyes.
“Text me once in a while. You have a phone, you know how to use it.” Feng punched Jake’s arm.
Jake grinned sheepishly. “Okay.”
She pulled him in for a hug. “Love you.”
“Love you.”
“Hey, no, no- get off.”
Dwight looked over to find Nea straddled on Claudette’s lap, palms flushed to her cheeks. He was about to be annoyed at the obnoxious affection but then realized they were only there because Claudette had her arms tight around their waist and was simply refusing to let go.
“Is she alright?” He wondered if he should have cut her off hours ago.
“She’s great, she just needs something to eat.” Nea wheezed, busy unwinding themself from Claudette’s wiry grasp. “Baby. Dude. C’mon, let go.”
“Are we getting more pizza?” Claudette asked excitedly.
“I don’t know what we’re getting but we’re getting something,” Nea griped as they hauled her to her feet, “‘cause apparently I need to babysit you when you drink. Some water wouldn’t hurt, either.”
She made a face and nearly stumbled. “Gross.”
“You’ve made a monster out of her,” Dwight noted.
They flipped him off. “This was your fault, punk.”
At the door, Claudette kissed Dwight’s cheek with a bye, sweetie before settling back into Nea’s arm. For Jake, she offered him her kindest smile. The guests shuffled out of the house and Dwight could instantly feel the calm once again.
“How come I didn’t get a kiss?” Jake complained as he shut the door behind them.
“You?” Dwight asked incredulously, deciding not to walk yet because the floor hadn’t stopped spinning. “Mister don’t-touch-me-or-I’ll-scream? You’re like a cat. I wouldn’t kiss a cat either.”
Jake watched him for a moment. He made an odd noise in the back of his throat. “Like I said. Cute.” and he poked Dwight in the forehead before walking away. Dwight’s cheeks burned.
Jake stopped dead in his tracks just short of the kitchen with a strange twisted look on his face. He put his hands on his hips and looked down, tapping his foot as if trying hard to think about something.
“Are you good?” Dwight asked slowly. He knew that stance.
Jake paused and held up a finger. Then he looked him dead in the eye. “No.”
He sprinted to the bathroom.
Dwight rolled his eyes. He grabbed a glass of water from the sink, drank half so he wasn’t next, then padded across the house to the bathroom. He glanced at the living room. Ring stains and crushed popcorn littered every surface and overturned takeout pizza boxes spilled crumbs into the carpet, but it didn’t concern him the way it should have.
“What are you doing on the floor?” Dwight giddily mocked as he stood at a safe distance, “That’s kind of gross.”
“You’re gross,” Jake groaned as he sat up on the unforgiving bathroom tile. Dwight cringed as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Fuck. Fuck.”
He handed him the cup of water. “You’ll be alright. Just get this down.”
“It’s just embarrassing. Throwing up after a party like some college kid.” Jake flushed the toilet and reached for the offered water, quickly chugging.
Dwight shrugged and sat beside him. “You probably just lost track. It happens.”
“I’m not even that drunk,” Jake marveled almost to himself, “This shit’s probably just nerves. I haven’t been around that many people in a long time.”
Dwight watched him snicker. He wondered if he knew it wasn’t a joke.
“You know you can talk to me, right?”
He knocked his head against the wall. “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
“This isn’t talking, this is-” he stopped. He didn’t know what this was.
Jake pushed his shaggy hair out of his eyes only for it to fall right back. “So you finally think I’m messed up too, huh?”
“I never said that.” Dwight said defensively.
“It’s not what you didn’t mean.”
Dwight sighed. “Stop talking in circles. What are you trying to ask me?”
“I suppose,” he began slowly, “I’m just wondering if you’re tired of me yet.”
Dwight hated the way he said it - there was a sort of practiced ease in the way the words fell from his lips. He was used to watching people give up on him. This, Dwight realized, was what Feng had talked about.
“Well, I’m not.” Dwight told him as he ignored the tightness in his chest, “And don’t hold your breath, either. I don’t think you can see it but there actually are people that care about you.”
Jake ducked his head between his legs and folded his hands over the back of his neck.
“Remember that time,” Dwight started, “you called me really late at night to get home?”
Jake’s jaw tightened. “Yeah.”
“It was three in the morning. Do you know why I answered the phone?”
“Because you’re a clinical insomniac?” he muttered. “Listen, I don’t really want to talk about that right now. I fucked up, I get it.”
“I don’t care about that,” he insisted, “don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter what time it was or where you were. I wasn’t angry, I was worried.”
Jake looked at him warily. “Why?”
“Because you’re important to me, idiot.” Dwight leaned his head against the wall and watched him, “and you know what? I’d do it every night if you needed me to.”
He barked out a bitter laugh. “You’d wake up that early every damn day just to give me a ride?”
“I would,” Dwight challenged, “because I want you home safe.”
He braced for a sharp response but found none. Jake wouldn’t even meet his gaze.
“You still never told me what happened,” he ventured.
“Yeah, and I won’t. I made a mistake.”
“I guess I’m just confused as to why you didn’t call someone else. Feng or…” he trailed off, “Or someone.”
“Couldn’t.” Jake’s voice was tired, “Not when I’m like that. You were all I had.”
Then Dwight realized Jake was staring at his hand. Without thinking he grabbed Jake’s. His bony fingers dug into his palm so hard it ached.
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t leave,” Dwight admitted even as the words made his throat hurt, “I just want you to know you’d be leaving behind a lot of people who could help you.”
“I know.” It was both practiced and apologetic. He wasn’t the first to have this conversation with him.
“Let’s get to bed,” he decided after a moment. “I want to get up those stairs while I still can and you really need to get some rest.”
Jake started slowly, “Could we stay like this for a bit?”
Dwight was nodding before he even realized it. He didn’t know how to let go of his hand so he didn’t. When Jake tipped his head against his shoulder, Dwight nearly forgot how to breathe.
He closed his eyes and memorized the way Jake’s fingers fit between his. “As long as you need.”