4. Weston

CHAPTER 4

Weston woke up to the soft sound of feet padding around his apartment. Quinn was up. Weston felt bad for making him sleep on the futon, but rushing into things had never worked out for him before, and falling asleep next to each other felt weighty.

Still, he fell asleep thinking about their make-out session. Being pan, Weston found most people attractive. Especially if you were nice or sweet or funny. But it had been a while since he'd kissed a boy like that, and he'd forgotten how good it could feel to press himself against a man's body.

He willed his morning wood down. He didn't need to start the day off with an erection. As he waited for his body to comply, he listened to the rustling of Quinn in the kitchen.

Weston didn't love having people in his space, but this wasn't so bad. When he'd lived with his parents, both his mom and his dad had micromanaged his every move. Old roommates used to pay way too close attention to his daily habits and food. Hearing someone else in the house could make every one of his muscles contract.

But Quinn was singing a pop song Weston remembered from middle school, and Weston's nervous system relaxed.

He pulled himself out of bed, tugged the covers back in place, and set his bat between his two pillows.

"Hope I didn't wake you," Quinn said. He was making toast, and Weston didn't even care how expensive his stupid gluten-free bread was, because Quinn looked adorable in boxers and a t-shirt, standing in Weston's tiny kitchen.

Weston shrugged. "I needed to get up, anyway. You sleep okay?"

"Better than I have been at home, honestly. It's nice to get away from my life right now. I appreciate the reprieve."

Quinn's toast popped up. He asked Weston what he liked on it, then spread butter and jam on it for him and put new bread down for his own toast.

They planned their day as they stood at the counter. Weston offered to skip a stream day, but Quinn said he didn't want Weston to miss out on any money because of him. It was a relief. He tried to save stream skips for days when he wasn't feeling up for it.

They decided to spend the first half of the stream playing video games and the second cooking a meal. Weston poked around his apartment and found enough ingredients to make meal prep last a couple of hours, since he knew they would spend a lot of time chatting and dillydallying.

They had a few hours before the stream started, so they went down to Canal Park. There was a strip of cute shops they wandered around, and they grabbed food to eat on the grassy area near shore. It was hoodie season, and Weston had his hood pulled up over his hair. Quinn was in a t-shirt, not even shivering.

"We've got plenty of lakes in Minneapolis, but we don't have one like this," Quinn said, gesturing to the lake that stretched beyond the horizon. Weston loved the greatness of the lakes.

"Well, it is Superior."

His bad joke made Quinn groan and roll his eyes exactly the way Weston had wanted.

"Do you get lake time down there?"

"Usually Hunter and I go to the beach a lot in the summer. This year we only went once."

"That's a bummer. Busy schedule?"

"It was more of a me issue. I know hearing about other people's mental health issues is less fun than hearing someone describe a dream they had, but the post-divorce depression hit pretty hard. I still don't feel great. At least now, I think I might feel okay again."

"That's the worst feeling. The hopelessness that keeps its claws in you."

"Yeah, exactly. And the shift in time. This summer felt like one long day. And now that I have perspective, all I can see is how much I neglected my best friend and my family. I didn't treat Hunter with very much respect. You think there are people who are always going to be there for you no matter what, but it's not fair to let that assumption lead to you treating them like shit."

"Has he forgiven you?"

Quinn shook his head and leaned back, the palms of his hands in the grass behind him. Above him, wispy clouds rushed past. "I haven't talked to him much beyond an apology. He just started school again—he's a teacher—and he's newly in love. Obviously we just moved. There's so much transition in both our lives right now. I feel like a wrench in his spokes."

"Did he tell you he needs space, or did you assume?"

"You are good at this. I assumed, I guess. Educated guess."

"Well, next time you're there, ask him. Maybe he's waiting for you to grovel."

"I need to figure out how to tell him sorry, that I overreacted by a lot. I took him for granted, and it makes sense that he's feeling taken for granted. That's all on me. And he was such a good friend to me this summer, and I was just an asshole. I don't know how to fold that into one conversation."

Weston was grateful he wasn't looking at Quinn as boyfriend material, because having such big feelings about another guy—even if he claimed they were platonic—was a bit of a red flag. But Quinn wasn't his boyfriend. Quinn was just his friend.

"It doesn't have to be one conversation."

Quinn nodded and took the last couple of bites of his sandwich. "Thanks for listening. Everyone in my life I might talk to about this is either upset with me or invested in a biased way."

Weston knocked his knee against Quinn's. They watched the lift bridge rise to let a tall ship through. "Duluth can be your vacation from life. Let your brain relax. You don't have to have those conversations today."

Quinn changed the subject to talk about what they would stream, and that was easier. As soon as they were back on common ground, Quinn relaxed. He was flirty again, and Weston was glad he could be the space where Quinn could rest.

"Last night I learned that Quinn snores," Weston teased as he and Quinn played a two-player side scrolling platformer.

"That's a lie," Quinn said, like he'd accused him of robbing a bank.

"You do! They're cute snores, though," Weston teased. Quinn's snores had been barely audible, and Weston wouldn't have known about them if he hadn't gotten up in the middle of the night to pee.

The chat flooded with speculation about the night before.

"Oh, c'mon, please keep it PG," Quinn said after reading a particularly lewd comment. It disappeared quickly.

"Thank you, mods. We don't kiss and tell. This is a family show."

Quinn smacked a kiss on Weston's cheek, and he knew he was blushing from it. He shot Quinn a glance as his character fell off the tree he'd been climbing into green lava and died.

"Gotcha," Quinn said.

When Weston's character regenerated, he found a clay pot to hurl at him, making him lose his power up. Two could play that game.

They may have been technically playing cooperatively, working together to complete each level, but they were also challenging each other as the game progressed.

Even though they didn't plan it, it was a great strategy to stretch a two-hour-long game twice as long.

Every time they touched, whether purposefully or accidentally, the chat would blow up. Weston's audience was folks who either were queer themselves or allies, and they were clearly excited at the sight of their affection.

Weston understood. If he had been able to see casual queer affection like this when he was a kid, his whole life would have been different. Or he would have felt a lot more comfortable with himself than he had when he was a teenager.

The credit sequence scrolled for the game as they finished, and Weston reached his arms up to stretch after sitting for so long. When he brought them back down, he wrapped one around Quinn's shoulders to pull him in for a side hug. Out of view of the cameras, he gave Quinn a thumbs-up as a check-in. Streaming could feel like a marathon if you weren't used to it, and Quinn was brand new. If he was done, Weston would stop the stream.

Quinn returned the thumbs-up.

"Alright, folks, we are going to switch the setup so you can watch us cook in my microscopic kitchen. Give us fifteen minutes. Go get yourself a snack. Go watch JanineGames play the new Pokemon rom hack. Set a timer! Turn on notifications for my channel if you haven't yet. Come back to us, my loves. See you soon."

Weston ended the live feed.

"I usually don't end streams in the middle like this, but I have to rearrange so much shit that it will just be easier. Plus, I think they'll come back because they know you're here."

"That was a lot more fun than I thought it was going to be. Overwhelming, but fun."

"I'm so glad, man. Yeah, a good day on stream is one of the best feelings. Alright, help me carry some shit."

They got a camera and a light set up in the kitchen, and Weston balanced his laptop precariously on the half wall that separated the kitchen from the living space.

They both hit the restroom quickly and got a snack, since it would still be a while until they ate.

"Alright, we are back, and we will be twiddling our thumbs until all you freaks show back up," Weston said. People popped into the chat, and Weston kept his eye on it, greeting people by name. Viewers liked hearing their name. He needed to remember to tell Quinn that.

"BrendanBlue is back. On a Friday night, bro? No date tonight?" Quinn teased. Quinn's disaster of a love life was well known by the regulars, so the joke was obvious. Quinn was such a natural.

"Alright, babes, we're going to make some drinks while we wait for everyone else who we didn't lose to Pokemon."

Quinn mixed up virgin margaritas, laboring through the simple steps like he'd never made a drink before. Weston used the phrase "family friendly" every time someone asked why they weren't adding tequila, like that was the reason they weren't drinking alcohol and not the fact that Quinn wasn't drinking at the moment. It wasn't Weston's business to blast all over the internet. He didn't want the noise of the blender on stream, so they were just over ice, which he learned Quinn preferred. Perfect.

They made enchiladas with gluten-free tortillas—which were only good if you covered them in enchilada sauce and cheese and baked them—and sipped their drinks. The kitchen was so small that neither of them could move without bumping into the other, but the chat seemed to like it.

Weston slid the pan into the oven for twenty minutes and went to check the chat again.

"Is anyone talking shit?" Quinn asked. He was close enough to rest his chin on Weston's shoulder, and before he knew it, Weston had a depressed graphic designer pressed against his back, the arm not holding his drink wrapped around his waist.

Chat exploded.

"Behave yourselves," Weston said as horny comments started popping up in between the respectful ones. The only ones that bothered Weston were from usernames he didn't recognize.

Quinn was swaying the two of them back and forth. He felt like he was in a movie, cooking dinner with his boyfriend and having a comfortable, wholesome night.

Of course, this was a facade though, a show they were putting on because every time they paid each other any attention, especially like this, they gained viewers, and subscriptions and coins started flowing.

Honestly, if he didn't have the shame he grew up with, he could imagine camming. He already knew he liked attention, and watching all of his metrics go up when Quinn tucked his face against his neck triggered a load of dopamine.

Weston reached a hand back to play with Quinn's hair while he pressed his face against Weston's neck.

"Sleepy," he complained.

"Stream is exhausting, apparently. You're going to have to build up your stamina."

"Hey, my stamina is just fine." Quinn pouted. Their banter was based on nothing. Weston had nothing truthful to say about Quinn's stamina. "MollyBear said not to make fun of me."

Molly was one of his mods who helped make sure chat was safe and respectful for everyone, and she was an earth angel.

"We all have to obey Molls. Even me."

They killed twenty minutes easily, teasing each other while Quinn snuggled him. It wasn't real. It didn't mean anything. But damn it, it felt so nice.

When the food came out of the oven, they let it cool for a bit while Quinn made them second drinks and Weston took questions from the viewers.

"How long have you two been together?" Weston read out loud.

"I don't remember a time in my life when our souls weren't intertwined," Quin said smoothly. Weston stifled a laugh. Quinn always had something to say. He had a lot of siblings and was a middle child. Weston would attribute it to that.

"Where are we right now? My kitchen, Midwest, USA. Central time. Dogs or cats? Cats, obviously."

"Dogs," Quinn countered, offended. "Man's literal best friend?"

"I'm not your best friend?"

"Of course you are, sweetness."

"Calm down, guys, we're not adopting any animals together," Weston said, seeing an argument about what to name their cat or dog already starting up in the comments. Having a co-host, so to speak, made engagement so much easier. The chat was having fun with them, they were having fun with chat. There was a lightness to the situation that felt like floating.

Was this how reality TV stars felt on shows where they just followed a famous person around for a while and you got to watch them eat salads or whatever?

Eventually, the enchiladas were cool enough to eat. Weston tried not to eat on camera much, but Quinn was going for it, and they both avoided talking with their mouths full.

"When is the next time Quinn will be on stream?" Weston read as Quinn took his empty plate from him and put it in the sink. "That's up to him. Maybe Sunday?"

They talked about Quinn leaving on Sunday morning, but Weston could be flexible. Quinn nodded.

"Alright, well, keep your eyes peeled on my socials in case the Sunday stream hours need to change. And have a good Saturday tomorrow, freaks. I'll see you soon."

He ended the stream, and Quinn dropped the arm he had around Weston's shoulder. At first he was disappointed, like Quinn couldn't stand to have his arm around his shoulder for a single additional second, but Quinn was just at the sink, cleaning up all the dishes they dirtied.

"You can go deal with your gear. I'll do this, alright?"

"Thanks, Q." Weston broke down their makeshift stream setup. It had worked well. He brought it all back to his desk and started exporting the stream to YouTube while he plugged his lights back in and got his camera and tripod back in the right spot. Quinn had a pile of dishes still, but he was bopping his head to something he was humming. As Weston waited for his stream to upload, he went to take a selfie with Quinn, soap up to his elbows, the dishes clearly still in a pile.

He popped open his social media accounts and cross posted it with the same message. Get yourself a man who does your dishes for you. Stream was bananas. If you weren't there, you missed a historical event.

Comments were already popping up, but Weston would deal with those later. Quinn was putting the last plate on the drying rack.

"It's funny. For months, I've barely been able to do my own dishes. But today, I have energy, and this isn't so bad."

"I think it's always easier to wash someone else's dishes, do someone else's laundry, et cetera."

"Hunter probably did my dishes ten times this summer."

"He loves you."

"He did. I hope he still does."

"How are you going to make it up to him?"

"I don't know yet."

"I'll help you come up with something." Weston leaned his elbows on the kitchen's half wall. He knew Quinn's feelings about his best friend were complicated, and part of him felt a twinge of jealousy about it.

But this was casual. It was livestream traffic and sexy kisses, and maybe a bit more than that, eventually. Weston knew that someone who looked like Quinn could get any boy he wanted. There was no reason he'd want a boy with chronic health issues who lived two hours away.

Weston would keep the boyfriend slate clean, maybe mess around, and let Quinn go back to being one of his favorite internet friends.

And because he liked Quinn so much, he wanted him to be happy. Happy Quinn was in harmony with his bestie.

"Do you have Duluth pie opinions?"

"Huh?"

"There's a debate about who makes the best pies. I figured that if you haven't picked a favorite yet, I can put you onto mine. The place with gluten-free options, obviously."

"Yeah, I'd like pie."