David leaned against the wall of Simon’s bedroom, arms crossed, trying his best to look unimpressed by the muffled sounds of the party downstairs. He hadn’t wanted to come to this house party in the first place, but his roommate had insisted he needed to “get out more.” Now here he was, hiding upstairs with, of all people, Simon Matthews – the human embodiment of a golden retriever.
“You know,” Simon said, flopping backwards onto his bed with a grin, “for someone who claims to hate parties, you sure spend a lot of time at them just to complain.”
David rolled his eyes. “I don’t spend a lot of time at parties. I spend a lot of time being dragged to parties against my will.”
“Same difference.” Simon propped himself up on his elbows, his always-messy blonde hair falling into his eyes. “Besides, you can’t tell me you’re not having at least a little fun right now.”
“I’m in a room with the most annoying person I know. Define ‘fun.'”
Simon clutched his chest in mock offense. “I’m wounded, David. Truly wounded. And here I thought we were having a moment.”
Despite himself, David felt the corner of his mouth twitch. This was their dynamic – had been since freshman year when they’d been assigned as lab partners. Simon, perpetually cheerful and determined to crack David’s carefully constructed shell of cynicism. David, equally determined to resist.
“The only moment we’re having is the moment I’m contemplating jumping out your window to escape.”
“Second floor. You’d probably just break a leg.” Simon sat up fully now, crossing his legs beneath him. “Then you’d have to let me nurse you back to health. Could be romantic.”
David’s heart did a peculiar little skip at the word ‘romantic,’ but he covered it with a scoff. “In what universe would that be romantic?”
“In the universe where you finally admit you don’t actually hate me?” Simon’s voice was lighter than usual, almost careful, and when David looked at him properly, he found Simon watching him with an unusually serious expression.
“I don’t…” David started, then stopped, suddenly uncertain. The music from downstairs seemed very far away. “I don’t hate you.”
“No?” Simon stood up, taking a step closer. “Because sometimes I think maybe you do. And other times…” He took another step. “Other times I think maybe it’s the opposite.”
David’s throat felt dry. “The opposite of hate is a pretty broad category.”
“Is it?” Simon was close enough now that David could see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes. “Because I’ve got a pretty specific opposite in mind.”
The air between them felt charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm. David uncrossed his arms, letting them fall to his sides. “Simon…”
“You know what I think?” Simon’s voice was soft now, barely above a whisper. “I think you use sarcasm like armor. I think you judge people before they can judge you. And I think…” He reached out, slowly, giving David plenty of time to pull away, and touched his hand. “I think maybe you’re afraid of letting anyone see past all that.”
David’s fingers trembled slightly as they intertwined with Simon’s. “And what if I am?”
“Then I’d say you don’t need to be. Not with me.” Simon’s free hand came up to cup David’s cheek. “I’ve seen past it already. I’ve seen you.”
The last of David’s defenses crumbled. “You’re still annoying,” he murmured, but there was no bite to it, only fondness.
Simon laughed softly. “Yeah? Well, you’re still a judgmental ass.” And then he was kissing David, gentle and sweet and perfect, and David was kissing him back, and the party downstairs could have gone on forever or ended right then and neither of them would have noticed.
When they finally pulled apart, Simon rested his forehead against David’s. “Still want to jump out the window?”
David smiled – a real smile, not his usual sardonic smirk. “Shut up,” he said, and pulled Simon back in for another kiss.
The music continued to pulse from downstairs, but in Simon’s bedroom, they had created their own little world. A world where sarcasm met sunshine, where judgment gave way to understanding, and where two seemingly opposite people found that maybe they weren’t so opposite after all.
And if anyone at the party wondered where they’d disappeared to, well, that was their secret to keep.