Lucian considered throwing the strawberry tart through the window.

He didn't, mainly because he'd paid twelve dollars for it.

Inside, the stranger laughed at something Sebastian said and touched his shoulder. Sebastian smiled back with an ease Lucian had rarely seen.

Lucian opened the front door much harder than necessary.

Both men turned.

“Lucy,” Sebastian said, surprised. “You're home.”

“Apparently.”

The stranger smiled. “You must be Lucian. I'm Adrian.”

Lucian stared at the offered hand as if it contained a suspicious substance.

“Congratulations.”

Adrian blinked. Sebastian pressed his lips together.

“Adrian's an old university friend,” Sebastian explained. “He's also helping with my physical therapy.”

“How convenient.”

Adrian glanced between them and seemed to understand immediately. “Very convenient. I should probably finish the exercises and leave you two alone.”

Lucian placed the tart on the hall table. “Do whatever you want.”

He marched upstairs, then returned thirty seconds later because he'd forgotten his bag. Adrian was still smiling.

“Nice meeting you,” Adrian said.

Lucian grunted something that might have been goodbye.

Sebastian knocked on his door after dinner.

“Can we talk?”

“I'm busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Being extremely busy.”

“Impressive.”

Lucian opened the door just enough to glare. “What?”

“I'm glad you're back.”

Lucian's anger faltered. “Oh.”

“Would you like to tell me why you're upset?”

“I'm not upset.”

“Then why did you call Adrian convenient?”

“Because he's convenient. He arrived conveniently.”

Sebastian looked at him for a long moment. “Are you jealous?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Okay.”

“Stop saying okay.”

Sebastian leaned against the doorframe. “Would you prefer an argument?”

“Yes. No. I don't know.”

Lucian shut the door before he could embarrass himself further.

That night, Lucian lay awake remembering how easily Sebastian had welcomed him home.

He'd expected anger about the sudden departure, or at least a lecture about leaving without discussing it properly. Instead Sebastian had asked whether he'd eaten.

Lucian went downstairs for water and found the strawberry tart in the refrigerator. Somebody had placed it on a clean plate beneath a glass cover.

A note lay beside it: Thank you. Save me half for breakfast?

Lucian smiled before he could stop himself.

He took out a knife and cut the tart precisely down the middle. Then he cut a tiny sliver from Sebastian's portion and ate it.

“Quality control,” he whispered.

From the doorway, Sebastian said, “Should I be worried?”

Lucian nearly dropped the knife.

“Why are you awake?”

“Water. You?”

“Investigating pastry.”

Sebastian glanced at the unequal portions. “I see the investigation has produced casualties.”

“Your half was suspicious.”

“I'm grateful you took the risk.”

Their eyes met across the counter. Lucian almost asked about Adrian, but the question stuck in his throat.

Instead, he pushed the larger portion toward Sebastian.

“Here. You can have mine.”

Sebastian looked at the plate, then back at him.

“Lucy, you don't have to give up something you want to make me happy.”

Lucian swallowed. “I know.”

They shared the tart standing in the kitchen, each pretending not to notice how often their hands brushed near the plate.

The next morning Adrian returned with resistance bands and a folder of exercise instructions. Lucian stayed in the kitchen, loudly washing a perfectly clean mug.

He heard Adrian tell Sebastian to keep his shoulders relaxed. He heard Sebastian laugh. The mug squeaked under the sponge.

“Are you polishing it for a museum?” Sebastian asked from the doorway.

Lucian set it down. “Shouldn't you be with your boyfriend?”

Sebastian blinked. “My what?”

“Your handsome physical therapist.”

“Adrian is married.”

Lucian froze.

“To a woman named Claire,” Sebastian continued. “They have a two-year-old daughter.”

“That's not relevant.”

“It's remarkably relevant to your theory.”

Lucian crossed his arms. “I didn't have a theory.”

“Of course not.”

Adrian appeared behind Sebastian holding his phone. On the screen was a photograph of a laughing toddler covered in birthday cake.

“This is my daughter,” he said cheerfully. “Would you like to see seventy more?”

“No,” Lucian said, mortified.

Adrian laughed and left them alone.

Adrian left a printed exercise schedule on the counter. Lucian glanced at it and noticed several movements Sebastian had been avoiding.

“Is he actually improving?” he asked before Adrian reached the door.

“He is,” Adrian replied. “But recovery isn't a straight line. He'll need patience.”

Lucian nodded, suddenly serious. “I'll remind him.”

Adrian smiled. “I suspect you already do.”

Once the door closed, Lucian checked the schedule again and added a reminder to his phone. Jealous or not, he wasn't going to let Sebastian neglect his back.

Lucian spent the afternoon attempting to recover his dignity. He mentioned a hypothetical date with Ryan at least three times.

Sebastian finally set down his book. “Are you going out with Ryan?”

“No.”

“Then why keep bringing him up?”

“Maybe I could.”

“You could. You're free to choose.”

Lucian hated that answer even more than jealousy.

“Do you want me to?”

“No,” Sebastian said quietly. “But I won't pretend you belong to me.”

Lucian looked at the floor. He'd been trying to make Sebastian react because admitting his own feelings seemed terrifying.

Sebastian approached slowly. “Lucy, talk to me.”

“I'm terrible at this.”

“At what?”

“Wanting someone.”

Sebastian's expression softened. “So am I.”

“That's ridiculous. You're good at everything.”

“Not this.”

Lucian reached for Sebastian's hand, then stopped halfway. Sebastian waited.

“Are you jealous?” Sebastian asked again, gently this time.

“Absolutely not,” Lucian whispered.

Sebastian glanced down. “Then why are you holding my hand so tightly?”

Lucian hadn't realized he'd grabbed it.

His eyes filled before he could stop them. “Because I don't want anyone else touching you!”

Sebastian's breath caught.

“Not because you're mine,” Lucian rushed on. “I know you're not a thing. I just want to be the person you come home to. And I'm scared you won't want that.”

Sebastian brought their joined hands to his chest.

“I've wanted that for a long time.”

“How long?”

“Long enough to make a fool of myself.”

“You never look foolish.”

“You haven't seen me waiting by the window for you to come back.”

Lucian laughed through tears. “You did that?”

“More than once.”

Sebastian brushed a tear from his cheek. “Lucian, I'm in love with you. Not with the boy our mothers imagined, and not with somebody I can control. With you, as you are.”

Lucian stepped closer. “Even when I'm impossible?”

“Especially when you're trying not to be.”

“That's not an answer.”

“Yes,” Sebastian said. “Even then.”

Lucian kissed him. This time there was no accident, no darkness, and no question about what the kiss meant.

When they separated, Sebastian rested his forehead against Lucian's.

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

Lucian pretended to consider. “Only if you stop alphabetizing the spices.”

“Unreasonable.”

“Then buy me flowers.”

“Done.”

“And let me steal your sweaters.”

“You already do.”

Lucian smiled. “Then yes.”

Sebastian held him for a long moment. Then he stepped toward the bookshelf and retrieved a small wooden box.

“I should show you something,” he said.

Inside lay a folded letter, the paper yellowed at the edges.

Sebastian touched the date written on the envelope.

“I wrote this when I was seventeen,” he said. “I never found the courage to give it to you.”