Chapter Text
Oscar adjusted the strap of his backpack, tugging it higher on his shoulder as he crossed the street toward his house. He’d just finished a long day of lectures, brain fried with notes and deadlines, when movement caught his eye.
Across the way, at the white-brick house with the neat little garden, a man was juggling grocery bags and a restless child clinging to his leg. Paper bags slipped against his forearm, apples rolling across the driveway, while the little boy whined, tugging insistently at his sleeve.
Oscar didn’t think, he was already striding over.
“Here, let me—” He caught one bag before it split open, cradling it against his chest. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”
The man laughed breathlessly, tucking the boy closer to his hip. “You could say that. Kimi, honey, stop wriggling, you’re not making this easy.” His voice was smooth, warm, as he picked up the child, touched with an accent Oscar couldn’t place right away.
Oscar glanced up properly for the first time and froze.
Tall, unfairly elegant even in casual clothes, the man smiled at him with quick gratitude. Messy dark hair fell across his forehead, his eyes bright despite the obvious exhaustion. Gorgeous, Oscar thought helplessly, struck dumb for a beat too long.
“Thanks,” the man added, shifting the boy—Kimi—onto his other arm.
“You’re a lifesaver. You’re one of the students who just moved in across the road, right?”
Oscar blinked. “Uh—yeah. Yeah, that’s me. Oscar.” He adjusted his grip on the grocery, picking up the neglected apple, distracting from the heat creeping into his ears.
“Well, Oscar,” the man said with an easy smile that made Oscar’s chest tighten, “I’m George. And this little terror is Kimi. Say hi, Kimi.”
The boy peeked out shyly, mumbling a half-greeting before burying his face in George’s shoulder.
George chuckled. “That’s about as social as he gets after school. Anyway, really—thank you for the help. I owe you one.”
Oscar shook his head quickly, trying not to stare. “Don’t worry about it. Really. Just glad I walked by at the right time.”
George’s grin widened, casual but disarmingly kind. “Lucky me, then.”
And just like that, Oscar knew he was in trouble.
Oscar followed them inside, curiosity buzzing in his chest. The house was tidy but lived-in, a toy car abandoned near the hall, a faint smell of coffee in the air. It felt… warm. Comfortable.
“Do you, um—live here long?”
“A few years now,” George said casually, setting Kimi down so he could shuffle out of his shoes. “It’s a good neighborhood. Quiet enough for him to run around without giving me a heart attack.”
Kimi had already darted off toward the living room, leaving George shaking his head fondly. He reached for the grocery bags Oscar carried, but Oscar pulled back with a grin. He was surprised of himself at the sudden playfulness, but decides why not tease a pretty man.
“Nope. You’ve got enough on your hands. Where’s the kitchen?”
George laughed, soft and genuine. “Persistent, aren’t you?” He gestured down the hall, “This way, then.”
—
Oscar’s breath puffed in the cool morning air as he rounded the corner, feet pounding the pavement in an easy rhythm. He’d promised himself he’d start jogging in the mornings before class, clear his head before lectures and all. But he hadn’t expected to slow down halfway through his route.
Because across the street, in the small front yard of the white-brick house, was Kimi.
The boy sat in the grass with a line of toy cars, humming to himself as he pushed them back and forth. No George in sight. Just Kimi, cheeks pink from the chill, hair sticking up in soft tufts. Oscar slowed to a stop by the gate.
“Hey, buddy,” he said, catching his breath with a smile.
Kimi’s head popped up, eyes lighting up in recognition. “Ossie!” He scrambled to his feet, toy clutched in one hand.
Oscar blinked, startled. “Uh—close enough,” he laughed. “You remembered me?”
Kimi nodded fiercely, running to the fence to hold up his toy car. “Look! Fast car!”
Oscar leaned on the gate, grinning. “Whoa, that’s quicker than anything I’ve ever driven. You’ll have to teach me your tricks sometime.”
Kimi giggled, clearly pleased, and was about to launch into an explanation when the front door opened.
George appeared, hair tousled, a mug of coffee in hand. He looked softer in the morning light, hoodie hanging loose, still in his checkered pajamas, not at all the polished neighbor Oscar had met a few days ago. He paused when he spotted them.
“Kimi,” George called, gentle but firm, “What did I say about running off without telling me?”
Kimi ducked his head sheepishly but pointed back at Oscar. “It’s Ossie!”
George’s eyes followed, and he smiled when he saw Oscar leaning on the gate. He walked over, coffee in one hand, the other slipping casually into his hoodie pocket,
“Good morning, Oscar. Early start?”
“Morning,” Oscar said, still a little winded from his run, though not just from the exercise now. George’s voice was warm, casual, like they’d known each other longer than a few days. “Yeah, trying to be disciplined. Doesn’t always work.”
George chuckled, sipping his coffee. “Tell me about it. I keep saying I’ll wake up before Kimi, get a head start. Never happens. He’s up with the sun.”
Kimi tugged on his dad’s sleeve impatiently. “Can Ossie play cars with me?”
George raised a brow, amused, and looked at Oscar. “Only if Ossie doesn’t mind being bossed around by a four-year-old.”
Oscar grinned. “I think I can handle that.”
George tilted his head, smiling over the rim of his mug, eyes glinting with something Oscar didn’t notice, “Well then… I suppose I owe you another thank you.”
And Oscar, heart thudding faster than his jog had managed, thought he wouldn’t mind earning a hundred more.
Kimi was relentless, tugging him across the yard, pointing out ants on the sidewalk, making him race the toy cars over and over again. Every time Oscar thought he could slip away, Kimi’s little hand was back on his wrist, dragging him somewhere new.
When the front door opened again, George leaned out, squinting at the bright sun.
“Alright, you two,” he called, smiling faintly. “Come inside before you both roast out here.”
Kimi didn’t need to be told twice. He dropped his toy car and bolted inside, shoes slapping against the hardwood. Oscar hesitated at the doorway, suddenly shy in his sweat-damp running shirt, but George stepped aside easily, gesturing him in.
“Come on. He’ll never forgive me if I don’t let you stay.”
Inside, the smell hit first, warm, savory, sweet. Oscar blinked at the sight of the kitchen counter: golden waffles stacked high, fried chicken glistening, syrup waiting in a pitcher. His stomach betrayed him with a loud growl.
George turned just in time to hear it, and laughed, low and amused,
“Come, sit. It’s the least I can do, after you’ve been entertaining Kimi all morning.”
Oscar rubbed the back of his neck, ears pink. “You really don’t have to—”
“I insist.” George said, his tone gentle but leaving no room for argument. Sure enough, Kimi was climbing into his seat, patting the chair next to him with all the authority of a tiny king. “Ossie sit here!”
Oscar huffed a laugh and gave in, sliding into the seat. “Guess I don’t have much choice, huh?”
“None at all,” George said, setting down plates with casual grace. He strode to Oscar’s side, poured coffee into a mug and slid a calm hand to Oscar’s shoulder, “Milk and sugar?” he whispered to which Oscar jolts,
“Uh—just milk, thanks,” George hums, the heat of his palm leaving his shoulder blade. George handed him the milk and moved around the kitchen with grace. Like this wasn’t his first time feeding a stray student who’d accidentally wandered into his house.
George smiled knowingly as he sat across from the younger man, “So Oscar, what are you studying?”
Oscar blinked. “Engineering. It’s my last year.”
“Interesting,” Oscar’s stomach flipped at how George said it, like remembering he mattered. He ducked his head and cut into a waffle before he said something stupid, trying to ignore how ridiculously at home he already felt at that table.
For a moment, only the sounds of forks on plates and Kimi’s delighted humming filled the kitchen. Then George glanced up at Oscar, eyes warm, curious but not intrusive.
“And you’re enjoying it? The classes, the city?”
“It’s… a lot busier than home,” Oscar admitted. “But good. I like having things to do. And Lando—my roommate—he makes sure it’s never boring.”
George laughed quietly, leaning back in his chair. “That sounds about right. I think I heard him once or twice when you moved in. Hard to miss.”
That finally coaxed a small smile out of Oscar. “Yeah. He’s… loud.”
“Good balance, then,” George said warmly. “He talks, you listen.”
Oscar’s smile lingered, faint but genuine. He wasn’t used to people noticing that sort of thing, much less putting it so kindly. Kimi, oblivious to the quiet current between them, waved his sticky fork at Oscar, “Ossie, more syrup!”
Oscar reached for the jug before George could move, pouring carefully over Kimi’s plate. George watched the whole thing with a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
It was nothing — just brunch, neighborly conversation, Kimi chattering between them. But Oscar felt a strange, settling warmth, like he’d been let into something private without even realizing it.
—
The afternoon sun streamed through Oscar’s window as he flipped through a textbook, half-heartedly trying to focus. A loud, shrill knock on the door made him jump, followed almost immediately by frantic shouting.
“OSSSSIEEE! OSSSIEEE!”
Lando, sprawled on the couch with headphones on, groaned.
“What the—?” He stumbled to the door, swung it open, and froze. Standing there was a small boy, tears streaking his cheeks, one hand pressed against a scraped knee.
“Who… who is this?” Lando whispered, utterly confused. Before he could protest further, Oscar had rushed over.
“Kimi?” He crouched, holding his hands out gently. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”
The boy immediately leaned into him, sniffing and hiccuping between sobs. “Ossie… bike… ouchie!”
“Wait… what’s going on?” Lando followed Oscar to the living room, where he carefully lifted him, settling him on the couch.
“It’s alright, Kimi. You just fell a little, that’s all.” He pulled a clean tissue from his pocket, dabbing at the scraped knee. “I’m going to make it all better, okay?”
Lando peeked over, confusion written all over his face. Oscar ignored him, darting to the bathroom for the health kit, concentrating on treating Kimi’s wound. Kimi flinched as the antiseptic poured over his skin.
“There we go. All cleaned up. Not too bad, right?” He offered a small, encouraging smile. “See? You’re fine.”
Kimi sniffled, finally letting out a hiccuping giggle, and pressed a little hug against Oscar. “Thank you, Ossie.”
Oscar ruffled his hair lightly. “Anytime, buddy. Anytime.”
“Mate, whose kid is this?” Lando asks as he watches Kimi’s eyes dart around their living space, studying every detail, hoping something catches his eyes.
“This is Kimi. He lives across from us.”
Lando raised an eyebrow, suspicious. “I didn’t know you, like… liked kids.”
Oscar smiled softly, just enough to make Lando uncomfortable. “I… get along with them, I guess. He needed help.”
Lando flopped back onto the couch, arms crossed, eyes wide. “Okay… since when?”
Oscar, still kneeling as he watches Kimi run to one of Oscar’s old toy cars that had toppled over, shrugged casually. “Last week, I think? Not sure.”
Lando’s jaw dropped. “Not sure?! You let a four-year-old invade your life and you don’t even know when it started?”
Oscar gave a small, polite smile, glancing down at Kimi. “He’s… fun to be around. And he’s not hurting anything.”
Kimi skidded to a stop in front of Oscar, beaming. “Ossie, race!”
Oscar chuckled softly. “Alright, alright… you’re on.” He pushed the toy car gently forward, and Kimi squealed in triumph, chasing after it.
Lando chuckled, completely baffled. “Well, he is kind of cute.”
Kimi squealed again, racing circles around the coffee table, while Lando sank lower into the couch, watching the chaos unfold.
Another sharp ding at the door pulled them from their chaos. Lando groaned, muttering, as he was pulled away from his phone “Not again…” before stumbling to open it.
He froze.
George stood there, looking slightly disheveled, a little frazzled — the kind of worried parent aura that made him both tall and impossibly striking. His eyes scanned the room, sharp and urgent.
“Lando, right? Is Oscar here? Does he have Kimi with him?” His voice had a slight edge of panic.
Lando blinked, caught off guard. “Uhh… yeah, just inside.”
George practically bolted in, scanning every corner. And then he saw them. Kimi, sitting on the couch with a small scrape on his knee, happily munching on a snack. Oscar crouched beside him, gently cleaning the crumbs from the cookies, calm and gentle.
Relief washed over George instantly, and his shoulders sagged. “Oh… thank goodness,” he breathed, letting out a small, shaky laugh.
“I was… I didn’t know where he went for a second.”
Kimi looked up and waved. “Hi, Papa!”
George crouched, scooping Kimi into a quick hug. “Hey, buddy. You scared me half to death!” He glanced at Oscar and the tension in his face softened.
“Oscar… thank you. Really. I… I can’t tell you how much this means.”
Oscar’s ears went pink, “It’s… no trouble at all.”
“I can see that he has taken a liking to you, huh?” George smiles, pinching Kimi’s cheek as he keeps munching on the cookie. Oscar leans over and wiped the corner of Kimi’s lips
George said cautiously, “Would you… maybe—watch Kimi sometimes? I don’t want to leave him with strangers, but I do need someone I can trust when I’m out.”
Oscar blinked, this is my chance!
“I… sure. I can do that.”
George’s smile grew, relieved and grateful, brushing a strand of hair from Kimi’s forehead,
“Amazing! Thank you, Oscar. Honestly, you have no idea how much this helps me.”
A few minutes later, the door clicked shut behind George and Kimi, leaving Oscar and Lando alone.
Lando jumped up from the couch, eyes wide and voice way too loud. “OK MATE! HOT DAD ALERT! DID YOU SEE THAT?! DID YOU SEE HOW INSANELY GORGEOUS HE IS?!”
Oscar froze and gave him a flat look. “Shut up, man.”
Lando paused, then it struck him, “Hell, you knew that already huh? Sneaky bastard.”
Oscar muttered under his breath, trying to regain some dignity. “He’s just… nice, Lando. Calm down.”
“JUST nice? JUST?! I don’t even know why I’m alive to witness this. Honestly, we’re living next to a walking heartthrob, and you’re just… polite about it. Unbelievable.”
Oscar pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. Walking around the living room, tidying up the already symmetrical pillow, “Lando… he’s married.”
“Or not! Have you even seen his husband or wife or whatever, yet?” Lando said, wagging his eyebrows. “Not a soul, right. Kind of odd, don’t you think?”
Oscar blinked, a little caught off guard. “Yeah… that is kind of odd…” Lando grinned, clearly pleased he’d scored some agreement.
“Exactly! I mean, come on. Single dad, gorgeous, letting you help with his kid? It’s practically begging for… you know… action.”
Oscar groaned, weary but used to Lando’s antics. “Lando. That’s not… appropriate. And you’re ridiculous.”
Lando shrugged, unbothered. “Ridiculous? Maybe. But you’re human, mate. You see that and you don’t even try? I’m just trying to help.”
Oscar gave him a tired look, muttering, “I’m handling it, Lando. Don’t push it.”
—
Oscar approached the house just before six, the crisp autumn air making him pull his jacket tighter. Leaves crunched beneath his shoes, and the sky was already deepening into evening, painting the neighborhood in golden-orange hues.
He rang the doorbell, and it opened almost immediately. George stood there, looking effortlessly put together, crisp shirt, casual-but-polished, hair neatly combed. He smiled warmly, though a faint shadow of worry still lingered in his eyes.
“Hi, Oscar,” George said, voice gentle but courteous, “Thank you so much for your time. I’m so sorry it’s so sudden. My college mates have been pushing me for a reunion, and… well, I didn’t want Kimi to be left alone.”
Oscar shook his head quickly, polite as always. “It’s no problem at all. I don’t mind.”
George’s shoulders eased slightly at the reassurance, and he stepped aside, gently pulling Oscar’s wrist, guiding him in. Oscar’s skin burned where George touched, but it disappeared as quickly as lighting.
“Thanks. I really appreciate it. Kimi’s been looking forward to spending the evening with you, I think.”
Oscar ducked his head, a small blush warming his cheeks. “I… hope so.”
George smiled faintly, brushing a hand through his hair. “He’s been a handful today, but… I trust you’ll be able to handle him.”
Oscar gave a modest nod. “I’ll do my best.”
Kimi, hearing voices, came running down the stairs, small feet thumping against the wooden steps. “Ossie!” he squealed, throwing his arms around Oscar.
“Okay… I just wanted to tell you everything before I go,” he said, voice gentle but hurried. “Dinner — it’s ready and just needs to be heated up. I made the meat medium, so when you warm it, it should be just right.”
Oscar nodded politely, absorbing the instructions. “Got it.”
George continued, stepping a little closer, eyes earnest. “The star night lamp… he prefers that one over the moon one. Shower before 7:30, then pajamas — green ones today, I laid them out on the bed already. Oh, and… he can have one jello cup tonight, no more.”
Oscar’s ears went slightly pink at the intensity, but he kept his voice calm and even, “Understood.”
George let out a small sigh, “And… tuck him in by 8:30 max. I’ll be back around 9:30. Thank you so much for this, Oscar, I really appreciate it.”
Oscar offered a small, polite smile. “It’s no trouble. I’ll make sure everything goes as you said.”
George nodded, a faint look of relief washing over his face. “Okay… good.”
Kimi, oblivious to the minor tension, bounced over and tugged on Oscar’s sleeve. “Ossie! Let’s start dinner!”
George chuckled, shaking his head. “See you later.”
He finally gave a small, grateful smile and stepped out, closing the door behind him. Oscar huffed, a little disappointed at something he couldn’t place but let his wrist be dragged by Kimi anyways to the kitchen.
The soft hum of the television filled the living room of George’s spacious house, the warm glow from the lamps reflecting off the polished wooden floors. Oscar sank a little deeper into the couch, Kimi tucked into bed hours ago, the evening finally quiet. The neat, tidy space, filled with soft autumn light fading through the windows, made everything feel calm and homey.
A click on the front door made him glance up, “George?” he murmured as the door opened, revealing him stepping inside, dressed neatly but looking relaxed, the crisp autumn air clinging faintly to his coat.
“Hey,” George said softly, voice warm, tired but relieved. “Everything okay?”
Oscar gave a modest shrug, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, he’s asleep and everything. Just like you said.”
George’s shoulders relaxed, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “I was worried for nothing. I can’t tell you how much it means to me, knowing he was in good hands.”
Oscar felt a warm flush creep up his neck. “It’s… no problem. All taken care of.”
For a moment, quiet settled over the living room, the rich wood tones and cozy décor making the space feel intimate. Then George moved toward the couch and, without saying anything, slumped down beside Oscar.
Not touching, not leaning heavily, just… close enough that the air between them seemed to hum.
Oscar’s heart gave a little jump. He could feel the warmth radiating from George, the subtle scent of his cologne mixing with the clean, autumn air drifting through the open window. The quiet house felt charged at that moment. He shifted slightly, hyper-aware of the proximity, trying to keep his posture casual.
George leaned back, eyes on the ceiling, voice low and almost casual. “It’s nice to come home and know everything’s handled.”
Oscar swallowed, offering a small, polite smile, trying not to make it obvious how much the closeness affected him. “Of course… I’m glad I could help.”
After a few quiet minutes on the couch, George let out a soft sigh and glanced toward the kitchen. “Do you want some tea? I can make us both a cup.”
Oscar hesitated for just a moment, then shook his head slightly, voice polite but unsure. “I… I shouldn’t be a bother…”
George shook his head with a small, reassuring smile. “Nonsense! Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”
Oscar felt a warm flutter in his chest at the casual, easy confidence in George’s tone. He knew he couldn’t refuse politely, so he nodded and allowed himself to relax back into the couch.
“Alright… thank you.” George moved to the kitchen, the soft clink of mugs and kettle filling the spacious house.
Oscar let his gaze wander around the room, noticing the little details of the warm, tidy living room. There are several pictures but most are of cars and lots of group photos. Some family pictures of birthdays and trips to Disneyland with Kimi holding a little Monster Inc. doll. Oscar chuckles at the thought of George running around after Kimi in Disneyland.
A few minutes later, George returned, carrying two steaming mugs. He settled onto the couch beside Oscar again, careful not to touch him but letting the proximity linger, casual and comfortable.
“Here,” George said, offering a mug to Oscar. “Careful, it’s hot.”
“Thanks,” Oscar murmured, taking it and holding the warmth in his hands, feeling strangely content just sitting there with George so close.
George settled back casually, letting his shoulder hover just an inch from Oscar’s,
“I have to say… I’m impressed Kimi had taken a liking to you so quickly. He isn’t very social you know.” he said, voice warm but playful, eyes glinting.
“You’re… very composed, for someone managing a very active four-year-old. I might have to watch and take notes next time.”
Oscar’s throat went dry, and he cleared it nervously, followed by a nervous laugh, “I hope I’m… doing it right.”
“You are,” George said, voice dropping just a fraction, almost intimate. He tilted his head slightly, letting his gaze linger. “And I’m… glad you’re here tonight.”
George’s smile widened just slightly, faintly teasing, as if he already knew exactly how flustered Oscar was. “You know what, I think we might make a very efficient team.”
Oscar’s chest warmed, and he nodded, feeling the quiet, teasing tension of the moment settle around them like a soft, electric glow.
“Ah… I should probably head back,” he murmured, standing and gathering his things. George, still lounging on the couch, gave a soft, amused laugh, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Already? I was just starting to enjoy having you here,” he said, voice casual but with an edge that made Oscar’s stomach tighten.
Oscar paused mid-step, polite and reserved as always. “I don’t want to overstay and you’ve had a long day.”
George leaned back slightly, eyes fixed on Oscar in that easy, teasing way. “Long day, sure… but some company would’ve made it much better.”
Oscar felt heat rise to his cheeks, flustered but trying to keep his composure. He managed a small, polite smile. “Th-thank you. That… means a lot.”
George’s smile deepened, playful but warm. “I’ll hold you to it next time, then. Don’t disappear so quickly, okay?”
Oscar nodded, still a little breathless.
—
“Oscar!” George called, voice casual but warm, a small smile on his face.
Oscar paused, adjusting his backpack. A few days have passed since that faithful night. To say Oscar had not been thinking about it it’s an understatement. George was charming in a way that made him want to linger around,
“Hey, George. Everything alright?”
George gestured toward the side of the house. “Yeah, yeah… just wondering if you could do me a favor. One of the closet doors is sticking — the hinge is a bit loose. Think you could take a look?”
Oscar raised an eyebrow, polite but intrigued. “Uh… sure, I can try.”
Oscar crouched by the closet door, tools in hand, trying to focus on the hinge, but the mere presence of George nearby made his thoughts scatter. Every glance, the faint tilt of George’s head, the casual way he leaned on the doorframe — it all sent his mind into overdrive.
Focus on the hinge, Oscar. Just… the hinge. He muttered silently, but the warmth in his chest and the rapid thump of his heart betrayed him.
George, meanwhile, watched him carefully, one hand resting lightly against the frame, eyes calm and assessing. It was hard to tell if he was oblivious to Oscar’s flustered state or if he was deliberately letting the moment linger.
“You’re… very thorough,” George said casually, voice low, just enough to brush against Oscar’s awareness. “I didn’t realize you had this kind of… patience.”
Oscar blinked, hands stalling on the hinge. “I… uh… just trying to do it right,” he muttered, suddenly aware of how close George’s shoulder was to his arm.
George’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “Of course. Just… don’t get distracted,” he added lightly, eyes glinting with amusement, though whether he meant the hinge or Oscar himself was left entirely unspoken.
Oscar’s mind raced. Distracted? By the door? Or… him? He shook his head subtly, trying to refocus, but the proximity and the warmth radiating from George made it nearly impossible.
And still, George simply leaned back slightly, watching, faintly amused, giving no further explanation, whether oblivious or teasing, Oscar couldn’t tell, and that uncertainty only made his heart race faster.
Oscar tightened the last screw, determined to finish the hinge without fumbling. Just as he was about to test the door, George leaned in — close, far closer than necessary to “inspect” his work. The subtle scent of cologne and laundry powder clung to him, making Oscar’s throat go dry.
“Mm,” George murmured, peering at the hinge as though it were fascinating.
“You really are good with your hands.” His voice was casual, almost careless, but the proximity made it feel like something else entirely.
Oscar froze, pulse jumping. He swallowed hard, muttering, “Just… basic stuff, really.”
George hummed softly, eyes flicking sideways at him for a brief, unreadable moment before he straightened up. The faintest hint of a smile played on his lips. “Well. In any case, I’m very grateful.”
Oscar rocked back on his heels, tools clinking as he stood, still trying to get his heart under control. Before he could excuse himself, George glanced toward the kitchen and said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world,
“Would you like to stay for lunch? It’s nothing fancy, but… I’d enjoy the company.”
Oscar blinked, caught completely off guard. His mind scrambled. The hinge was fixed, the job was done, he should just leave and yet the warmth in George’s voice, the easy way the invitation slipped out, made his chest tighten with something dangerously close to hope.
George wiped his hands on a dish towel, leaning against the kitchen counter with an ease that made Oscar’s nerves worse.
“It’s nice, you know,” he said, tone light but his eyes lingering on Oscar. “Having someone around.”
Oscar’s mouth went dry. Before he could think, he blurted, “Where’s, um—where’s Kimi?”
George’s lips curved, slow and knowing. “Kimi’s asleep, don’t worry.”
He poured two glasses of water, sliding one across the counter toward Oscar. His voice dropped just a fraction, warm and almost conspiratorial, “So, it’s just the two of us.”
Oscar gripped the glass like it was a lifeline, ears burning. He tried for steady but ended up mumbling, “Right. Just us.”
George chuckled softly at that, taking a sip from his own glass before adding, almost carelessly, “I’m glad you stayed.”
Oscar forked up a careful bite of mac and cheese George had served, chewing slowly, mostly to keep his hands busy. It was good—too good, actually. He didn’t trust himself not to say something ridiculous if he spoke too quickly.
Across the table, George sat comfortably, shoulders relaxed, his fingers idly drumming against his glass. Every so often, his gaze drifted to Oscar, lingering longer than necessary before sliding away again.
It was mid-bite when George asked, almost casually, “Do you have a girlfriend, Oscar?”
Oscar nearly choked. He set his fork down a little too quickly, reaching for his water. “Uh—no,” he said, clearing his throat. “No, I don’t.”
George hummed, nodding slowly, his expression unreadable. Then that faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips,
“No girlfriend,” George repeated slowly, then let the pause stretch before adding, “Boyfriend, perhaps?”
The question hit like a jolt. Oscar froze, fork hovering mid-air, his brain scrambling for something coherent. “Uh—I—no,” he managed, his voice betraying him with its nervous edge.
George’s smile deepened, a quiet chuckle escaping as he leaned back in his chair.
“Relax, Oscar. I’m just making conversation.” But the way his eyes lingered over Oscar made it clear there was more behind the words.
Oscar ducked his head, shoving another bite into his mouth to cover his silence. His pulse was thrumming, though, because he couldn’t tell if George really was just being casual or if the man across from him knew exactly what he was doing.
He kept his gaze fixed on the mac and cheese, voice softer than he meant. “Where is… your, uh–?”
There was a brief pause. When Oscar dared to glance up, George’s expression was perfectly neutral, but his eyes, they softened, almost like he was glad Oscar had asked.
“My husband, you mean,” George said evenly, folding his hands on the table. “He’s working. Away.”
The word husband lingered in the air, heavy, deliberate. George didn’t look away, watching the flicker of reaction cross Oscar’s face. Then, casually, almost like an afterthought, he added, “It’s been like that for a while. He drives cars. Tests, races, whatever.”
A pause, almost a tint of annoyance, “Anything he could get behind the wheel for, he’d do it.”
Oscar nodded quickly, swallowing against the sudden dryness in his throat. He wanted to ask more, but the sharp tone in George’s voice made him think twice.
George let the silence stretch just long enough before reaching for his glass, his tone light again.
“It does make the house a little quiet sometimes. Which is why”—he gave the faintest smile—“I don’t mind the company.”
Oscar’s pulse jumped. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, unsure where to go from there.
George chuckled at his hesitation, then tipped his head slightly, his tone deliberately casual, “Tell me, Oscar… what do you do when you’re lonely?”
The fork in Oscar’s hand suddenly felt like it weighed a ton. His ears burned. “I—uh, I don’t know. Homework, maybe. Study. Hang out with Lando sometimes.”
George hummed, lips quirking in a faint smile. “Practical.”
His gaze dipped briefly to Oscar’s mouth before meeting his eyes again. “But not very fun.”
Oscar’s chest tightened, his mind scrambling. Was George teasing him, or was this just how he talked? Either way, Oscar couldn’t bring himself to look away.
George let the silence stretch, his thumb idly tracing the rim of his glass. He tilted his head, studying Oscar like he was reading a particularly interesting page of a book,
“You know…” his voice dropped just enough to curl around Oscar’s nerves, “if you ever find yourself lonely, you could always keep me company instead.”
Oscar’s breath caught. He blinked at George, utterly unprepared for the ease with which he’d said it.
George smiled faintly, almost amused at Oscar’s stunned expression. He leaned back in his chair, stretching a little, his shirt pulling across his chest in a way that made Oscar quickly look away.
“I wouldn’t mind it,” George added smoothly, eyes glinting. “In fact, I think I’d quite like it.”
Oscar fumbled for a response, cheeks hot, the mac and cheese forgotten. His mind tripped over itself, trying to decide if George was joking. Except he wasn’t. Not with the way he was watching him now, gaze steady and just shy of daring.
“Y-you’re just saying that,” Oscar muttered, gripping his fork too tightly.
George chuckled, low and warm, and leaned forward just enough for the space between them to feel charged. “Oscar,” he said softly, “when I want something, I don’t just say it.”
George rose from the table first, collecting his glass with unhurried grace. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes catching Oscar’s, and said smoothly, “Help me wash the dishes, please.”
It wasn’t a question. The way he said it—low, certain, edged with something playful—made Oscar’s chest tighten.
Without thinking, without even considering saying no, Oscar nodded, “Yeah—of course,” he murmured, quickly gathering his plate and glass like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He carried them to the sink, every step hyper-aware of George just behind him. By the time he set the plate down, George was close enough that Oscar felt the faint warmth of his presence, his cologne subtle but unmistakable.
George reached past him to turn on the tap, the brush of his sleeve against Oscar’s arm sending a shiver down his spine.
“Good lad,” George said quietly, almost like a tease, as he handed Oscar a towel.
Oscar swallowed hard, wondering if George could hear how fast his heart was racing. He took the towel, his fingers brushing George’s as he did. He meant to pull back quickly, but George’s hand lingered—just a fraction longer than necessary. Warm, steady, deliberate.
Oscar froze, breath caught in his throat. By the time George let go, the weight of that touch had already sunk deep under his skin.
“Hold these as I wash,” George said casually, as though nothing had happened, passing him the dripping plates one by one.
Oscar nodded mutely, trying to focus on the dishes in his hands instead of the way George’s arm brushed his now and then, casual but close, like he knew exactly what he was doing.
At one point their knuckles collided again. Oscar jerked back with an embarrassed, “Sorry.”
George chuckled, low and warm, tilting his head just enough that Oscar caught the gleam in his eyes. “Don’t be.”
The air between them felt charged, humming with something unspoken.
George dried his hands with a kitchen towel, moving with that same calm ease he always had. “Thank you, Oscar,” he said, his smile polite but his eyes still warm.
Then, as though he’d flicked a switch, his tone shifted lighter, almost dismissive. “Well, you must be busy. I guess I’ll see you around.”
Oscar’s chest sank a little at the sudden shift. He managed a small nod, mumbling, “Yeah, sure,” as he shuffled toward the door.
But just as his hand touched the handle, something inside him rebelled. Maybe it was the way George’s presence still clung to him, maybe it was just the rush of stupid courage bubbling up, but he turned back.
George was leaning casually against the counter, watching him with that unreadable half-smile.
Oscar swallowed, his voice coming out tighter, braver than he felt. “Are you sure you don’t need… anything else?”
The question hung between them, bold and reckless. George’s brows lifted, amusement flickering across his face, and then the smile sharpened into something more deliberate.
“Anything else?” he repeated slowly, like he was savoring the words. His gaze swept over Oscar, not hurried, not subtle, “That’s a very generous offer.”
Oscar’s cheeks burned, but he didn’t look away.
George chuckled under his breath, pushing off the counter and stepping closer, close enough that Oscar’s breath hitched. “Careful, Oscar,” he murmured, voice low and teasing. “You might make me think you mean it.”
George’s eyes softened just a fraction as he stepped closer, keeping his voice low, deliberate. “Maybe next time, sweetheart,” he said, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “I owe you.”
Before Oscar could respond, George leaned in carefully, brushing a gentle kiss against his cheek. The warmth, the closeness, the subtle intimacy—it hit Oscar like a jolt straight to his core.
Oscar’s knees nearly buckled. He could feel his brain short-circuiting, heart hammering so fast it felt audible. “I—I should… go,” he stammered, fumbling for the door handle.
George’s amused chuckle followed him as he bolted out, cheeks blazing red, mind spinning, and not daring to look back.
Outside, the autumn air never felt so freeing or so painfully inadequate. Oscar hurried down the walkway, replaying the kiss over and over, completely undone by the man across the street.
And somewhere inside, he knew he’d be back.