u/Charming-Lab-8632

https://substack.com/@loganoaks/note/p-184933117?r=796wee&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action

Toby sat in the rigid plastic chair and tried to breathe through the tightness in his chest. The exam booklet lay open in front of him, but the words refused to settle into meaning. His pencil trembled between his fingers.

“Just start,” he whispered. “Just… start.”

He lowered his eyes to the first question.

A flash hit him so hard he nearly dropped the pencil.

The warmth of a body beneath him.

The shift of someone responding to his weight.

The soft exhale against his shoulder.

The closeness he’d leaned into without thinking.

He swallowed hard, throat burning.

He remembered waking up.

He remembered the daylight.

He remembered the panic.

He remembered Kade.

The shock of seeing him there — asleep, vulnerable, undressed.

The realization that Toby was undressed too.

The way his heart had slammed against his ribs.

The way he’d scrambled out of the bed so fast he’d nearly tripped.

The way he’d grabbed his clothes with shaking hands.

The way he’d fled the room because he couldn’t face Hugh, couldn’t face Kade, couldn’t face himself.

He pressed the eraser end of his pencil into his thigh until it hurt.

“You didn’t mean to,” he told himself silently. “You didn’t know. You didn’t know.”

But the guilt didn’t care.

He tried to breathe.

He tried to focus.

He tried to pretend he was fine.

He failed.

---

Hugh wiped the counter again. And again. And again. His hands wouldn’t stop moving. If he stopped, he’d have to think. If he thought, he’d have to feel.

He forced himself into the bedroom.

He told himself he was just straightening up. Just keeping busy. Just doing something.

But the moment he pulled back the sheets, he froze.

The bed smelled wrong. Not bad — just wrong. Not like sleep. Not like him. Not like Toby.

Something else. Something warm. Something intimate.

His breath caught.

The pillows were displaced. The sheets were pulled forward toward the headboard. The mattress was shifted in a way that didn’t match someone lying still.

His stomach dropped.

“Oh God…” he whispered.

He sat on the edge of the bed, hands shaking.

What happened?

What did Toby wake up to?

What did I let happen?

He pressed his palms to his eyes.

“I should’ve protected them,” he said quietly. “Both of them.”

He didn’t know the details. He didn’t need them.

The evidence was enough.

---

Kade stirred when Hugh shook his shoulder, blinking up at him with confusion clouding his face. He sat up slowly, the blanket slipping from his chest, and Hugh looked away, jaw tight.

“Hugh?” Kade rasped. “What—what’s going on?”

“Toby’s gone,” Hugh said. His voice was thin, frayed. “You need to go home, Kade.”

Kade froze. “What? Why? I—Hugh, I swear, I would never… I didn’t mean… I don’t even remember—”

“I know,” Hugh said, but his voice was tight. “I know. Just… please. Go home.”

Kade nodded, throat closing. He didn’t argue. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t trust his voice not to break.

He grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch, hands shaking, and walked out the door.

He made it down the hall.

He made it to the elevator.

He made it inside before the collapse hit him.

The doors slid shut and he folded forward, bracing his hands on his knees as his breath came in sharp, uneven pulls.

“What did I do,” he whispered. “What did I do, what did I do…”

He pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, trying to stop the sting, but it didn’t help.

He saw Toby’s empty side of the bed.

He saw Hugh’s expression — not disgust, not anger, but fear.

He felt the soreness in his body.

He felt the crushing weight of something he couldn’t remember but couldn’t deny.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean for any of this.”

The elevator dinged.

He straightened.

He wiped his face with the back of his hand.

He walked out like a ghost.

---

The walk home felt unreal. The world was too bright, too sharp. Every sound scraped against him — a dog barking, a car door slamming, someone laughing across the street. He flinched at all of it.

His body ached with every step.

His neck throbbed where the mark sat, dark and undeniable.

His chest felt tight, like something inside him was splintering.

“I would never,” he whispered to himself. “I would never do that on purpose. I would never hurt him. I would never hurt either of them.”

But the words didn’t make the mark on his neck disappear.

They didn’t erase the soreness in his body.

They didn’t change the fact that Toby had left without waking him.

He blinked hard, trying to clear the sting in his eyes.

He didn’t know what Toby thought.

He didn’t know what Hugh thought.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to think.

He only knew he’d ruined everything.

He reached his building without remembering the walk. His hands shook as he unlocked the door. The hallway felt too quiet, too empty, too much like a place where no one would come looking for him.

He stepped inside his apartment and shut the door behind him.

The silence hit him like a wave.

He leaned back against the door, slid down until he was sitting on the floor, and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean for any of this.”

His voice cracked.

Eventually he pushed himself up and stumbled toward the bathroom. He flicked on the light.

The brightness was cruel.

His reflection stared back at him — pale, exhausted, wrecked. But it was the mark on his neck that stole the air from his lungs.

A hickey.

A love bite.

Dark, unmistakable.

“No…” he whispered. “No, no, no…”

He touched it lightly and flinched. The skin was tender, warm, undeniable.

His stomach dropped.

“What did I do?” he whispered. “What did I let happen?”

He braced both hands on the sink, head bowed, breath shaking. The soreness in his hips, the ache in his lower back, the mark on his neck — all of it pressed in on him at once, suffocating.

“You ruined everything,” he whispered. “You always ruin everything.”

He slid down to the floor again, folding in on himself, and stayed there until the light outside shifted and the room dimmed.

He didn’t move.

He didn’t know how.

---

Toby turned in his test with hands that didn’t feel like his.

He walked out of the exam hall into the cold air, blinking against the brightness. His legs felt unsteady.

He pulled his jacket tighter around himself.

“You have to go home,” he told himself. “You can’t avoid this.”

He didn’t know what he’d find when he got there.

He didn’t know what he’d say.

He only knew this:

He couldn’t run from it anymore.

He started walking.

The world moved around him — cars, voices, footsteps — but he felt like he was underwater, moving through something thick and heavy. His boots scuffed the sidewalk. His breath came shallow.

He kept seeing it — the morning light, the sheets, Kade’s sleeping form, the panic that had ripped through him.

He kept hearing Hugh’s voice in his head, even though Hugh hadn’t said a word to him yet.

He kept feeling the weight of what he’d done, even though he hadn’t meant to do anything at all.

He turned onto his street.

His pace slowed.

His hands shook.

He wasn’t ready.

He kept walking anyway.

The Architecture of Love: The Birthday Boy follows three college friends—Hugh, Toby, and Kade—through one finals‑week birthday that goes disastrously off‑script. Toby begs for one quiet night to study, so Hugh takes Kade out to celebrate, and the night quickly unravels into a birthday bar crawl of bad decisions, jealousy, and unspoken feelings. The real trouble begins when the celebration crosses the one boundary Toby set — and by the next morning, after a blackout neither of them remembers clearly, Toby is gone and Hugh and Kade’s friendship is suddenly in jeopardy.

This first installment lays the emotional foundation for a series exploring queer relationships, desire, non‑monogamy, and the messy, beautiful architecture of chosen family.

---

Hugh’s phone buzzed against the open textbook he was not really reading.

The vibration pattern three quick pulses, a pause, then two more was

unmistakably Kade. Only he made phone calls like a fire alarm.

Hugh answered.

“Kade, it’s finals week. People are barely functioning.”

“Yeah, and one of those people is the birthday boy,” Kade declared,

voice bright enough to cut through Hugh’s exhaustion.

“So! What are we doing tonight? And do not say we are not

doing anything

for the past two years the three of us have always gone out,

and you and I always went out before that.”

Hugh blinked.

Two years.

Exactly how long he and Toby had been together.

Kade said it was a sacred tradition, not something Hugh

had mostly done to keep Kade from spiraling.

Hugh had met Kade in middle school when Hugh and his family

had moved to New Bedford, and the birthday tradition began shortly after.

Hugh had not yet known he was gay or could not bring himself to admit it,

but the bullies in New Bedford seemed to know, or saying someone was

gay just low hanging fruit for the bullies in New Bedford.

Hugh had been in the hallway crouched down and crying as a group of

boys circled around him calling him a fag, Hugh could still remember

the way Kade had came to his rescue loud, reckless,

and not afraid of anything.

He had stepped between Hugh and the boys and casually

mentioned that the ringleader used to jerk Kade off on

Boy Scout camping trips.

The effect had been instant: panic, scattering, salvation.

They had been inseparable since then, both going to Dartmouth college.

Where they were now seniors.

Hugh Lawson was a psychology major and Kade Lennox was a communications

major with a minor in theatre.

Hugh loved Kade but sometimes he got the feeling that Kade had

never quite forgiven him for meeting and settling down with

Toby Ellison his boyfriend of two years.

“Well?” Kade pressed. “Are we doing the usual thing? Drinks? Chaos?

Tell Toby to wear that shirt that makes him look like he’s in a cologne ad.”

“Kade… Toby has his last final tomorrow.”

“So?”

Kade sounded genuinely confused

“So?”

Kade sounded genuinely confused, like Hugh had mentioned the weather.

“So, he’s not coming out tonight.”

Kade hesitated briefly laughed loudly, incredulously.

“Oh my god, you two have really embraced “monogmatic” normalcy, huh? Look at you.

But you still know how to party, Lawson. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

Hugh rubbed his eyes. “It’s not about monogamy.

He is exhausted.”

Before Kade could respond,

Toby stepped out of the bedroom, hoodie half‑zipped; hair flattened on one side.

He mouthed, “Is that Kade? Hugh nodded.

Toby’s expression tightened, not angry, just bone‑deep tired.

He whispered, “Please don’t bring him back here tonight. I need to study. And sleep.”

Hugh nodded again, softer this time.

On the phone, Kade was still talking.

“Seriously, tell him to suck it up. It is one night.

I want my boys to come with me. Both of you.”

“Kade,” Hugh said gently, “Toby cannot come.

He needs to be up early.”

Another pause longer this time.

Not acceptable.

“Fine,” Kade said finally. “Then you can make it up to me. But you’re coming out. And you’re buying my first drink. And maybe my second.”

Hugh exhaled. “Yeah. I’ll come out. But I can’t stay late.”

“Great,” Kade said, instantly bright again. “Wear something cute.

It is my birthday.”

The call has ended. Toby leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, trying not to look like he was bracing for impact.

“You’ll be, okay?” Hugh asked.

Toby nodded. “Yeah. Just… do not let him talk you into bringing the party home.”

Hugh managed to make a tired smile. “I won’t.”

He meant it.

He really did.

But nights with Kade had a way of slipping out of his hands.

Hugh closed the textbook not that he had been absorbing anything finals were over his classes for this semester complete he had just been reading to pass the time and not to disturb Toby who was at the kitchen table studying for his thermodynamics final. He pushed himself up from the couch. The apartment felt too still, too expectant, like it knew something he did not.

He looked up to see Toby hovering in the archway,

to their dining area, rubbing his forehead.

“You don’t have to go if you’re wiped.”

“If I don’t go,” Hugh said, grabbing his jacket, “he’ll show up here.”

Toby grimaced. “Yeah. That tracks.”

Hugh stepped close, resting a hand on Toby’s arm.

“I’ll keep it short.”

“You always say that.”

“And sometimes I mean it.”

Toby huffed a tired laugh.

“Just… be careful with him tonight.”

Hugh didn’t ask what that meant.

He knew.

His phone let him know that his uber was just a short distance away. He kissed Toby, grabbed his keys, and headed out.

The Uber pulled up outside Hugh and Toby’s apartment building, headlights washing over the quiet street. Toby had already retreated to the bedroom, hoodie hood up, textbook open, doing his best to pretend he wasn’t listening for the front door.

Hugh slid into the backseat, gave the driver a polite nod, and typed out a quick on my way to Kade.

The driver glanced at him in the mirror. “Next stop?”

Hugh exhaled. “My friend’s place. Then the bar district.”

The driver nodded and pulled away from the curb.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, weaving through campus traffic and clusters of students celebrating the end of finals.

Hugh watched them through the window laughing,

stumbling, clinging to each other and felt a pang of guilt.

He should have planned something.

He should have given Kade a gift.

He should have been a better friend.

The Uber slowed in front of Kade’s apartment building

a squat, aging complex with a flickering porch light

and a mailbox crooked since the first year at Dartmouth, when Kade vaulted over it like a makeshift pommel horse and barely cleared the thing.

Kade was already outside, leaning against the railing like he had

been waiting for this moment all day.

His shirt shimmered under the streetlamp,

and he had styled with the kind of precision

that suggested he had redone it at least three times.

Kade was pacing clearly waiting long enough

to get restless. When he spotted Hugh, his whole face lit up

too brightly, too relieved, too much for someone

who alternating between claiming events

like this were tradition, and at other times no big deal.

“There he is!” Kade threw his arms wide.

“Birthday boy plus best friend equals unstoppable chaos.”

Hugh snorted. “You rehearsed that.”

“You’re late,” he said, even though Hugh wasn’t.

“You look like you robbed a drag queen,” Hugh replied.

Kade grinned. “It’s my birthday. I’m allowed to sparkle.”

He tapped the driver’s seat with two fingers.

“Alright, sir. To the promised land.”

The driver blinked. “The… what?”

“The gay bars,” Kade clarified.

“All of them. The whole strip.”

Hugh groaned. “We’re not bar‑hopping all night.”

Kade ignored him. “It’s only a few blocks from here.

And it’s my birthday. And I’m single.

And the universe owes me.”

The driver pulled away from the curb, heading toward

the cluster of neon signs and rainbow flags that marked

the city’s unofficial queer district. As they approached,

the sidewalks grew louder laughter, music, and the thump

of bass leaking from open doors.

Kade pressed his forehead to the window like a kid arriving

at Disneyland.

“Look at them,” he said. “My people.”

Hugh snorted. “You say that like you’re the mayor.”

“I could be,” Kade said. “If the mayor was hot and

emotionally unstable.”

The Uber slowed to a stop at the corner where the bars

began with a glowing stretch of noise, bodies, and possibility.

Kade flung the door open. “Let’s go find a man for the birthday boy.”

Hugh stepped out after him, already bracing himself.

Because nights with Kade always started like this bright, loud, full of promise and ended somewhere, he never expected.

The first bar called “Flex” packed with finals‐week chaos, cheap drinks, sticky floors. Kade scanned the room like he was shopping.

“Maybe.” Kade looped an arm around his shoulders, steering him toward the door. “Come on. First drinks on you.”

Inside, the bar was warm and dim, the kind of place where the music blurred the edges of a bad week but didn’t drown conversation. Kade ordered something neon and ridiculous; Hugh stuck to beer.

They clinked glasses.

“To me,” Kade said.

“To you,” Hugh echoed.

They drank.

For a while, it was easy. Kade told a story about a professor who’d worn mismatched shoes to class; Hugh laughed harder than it deserved. They talked about nothing, the weather, the music, the bartender’s questionable mustache.

But Hugh could feel the undercurrent the way Kade’s smile kept slipping when he thought Hugh wasn’t looking, the way he kept checking the door like Toby might walk in after all.

By the second drink, Kade’s brightness sharpened into something more brittle.

“So, Toby’s really not coming,” he said, swirling the ice in his glass.

“He has a final,” Hugh reminded him.

“Right. Right.” Kade nodded too quickly. “Of course. Academics. Responsibility. All that.”

Hugh frowned. “Kade—”

“It’s fine,” Kade said, smiling too wide. “I have you.”

Hugh didn’t know what to do with that, so he took another sip of beer.

Hugh and Kade had been doing birthday nights since seventh grade. Toby joined the tradition for the last two years but was usually trying to bow out and Kade talked about it like it had always been the three of them.

“There,” Kade whispered, already focused on the task of hooking up, pointing at a guy in a tank top with arms that looked like a Greek god had carved them.

There,” he whispered. “Birthday present number one.”

Hugh didn’t even look.

“He’s straight.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Hugh said. “He’s wearing a tank top in January, he keeps checking the mirror behind the bar, and he’s got that ‘my girlfriend hyped me up before we left the house’ posture.”

Tank Top Guy’s girlfriend returned from the bathroom and kissed him like she was trying to claim him on a tax form.

Kade groaned. “Fine. Whatever. Toby would’ve flirted with him anyway. Toby is like a golden retriever with cheekbones.”

Hugh turned sharply.

“No. Absolutely not. Only I get to call Toby a golden retriever. It’s in the gay boyfriend by‑laws.”

Kade blinked. “You made those up.”

“Doesn’t make them less enforceable.”

Hugh sipped his drink.

Kade sighed dramatically, slumping back in the booth. “You know what? If Toby were here, we’d already have guys lining up to buy us drinks. He’s like a walking invitation for attention.” Hugh knew exactly what Kade meant. Toby had that effortless, golden‑boy thing—broad shoulders, blond hair, the kind of body that made strangers assume he lived at the gym. And yes, he was well‑endowed; Hugh knew that better than anyone, and it was not exactly a secret no matter how discreet Toby tried to be. Hugh, by comparison, was leaner, quieter, easier to overlook. And Kade God love him was still fighting the twink label like it was a personal insult. No matter how much he lifted, he never seemed to age out of it. Hugh knew it bothered him more than he ever admitted. As they sat sipping our drinks, Hugh tilted his chin toward an older guy at the bar who was eyeing Kade like he had just spotted dessert.

Kade at once looked away.

Something thumped against his shin, Kade’s foot and Hugh looked up to see him mouthing, Shut up.

Hugh could not help the small smile that tugged at his mouth. “I didn’t say anything,” he murmured.

“You were thinking loud,” Kade shot back, already sliding out of the booth. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. This place smells like spilled vodka and desperation.”

He flicked a glance toward the older man still eyeing him from the bar. “And I’m not sticking around to be someone’s midlife‑crisis fantasy.”

They stepped out into the cold night. Kade shoved his hands in his pockets, still sulking.

“I’m just saying,” Kade muttered, “Toby would’ve at least tried. He flirts with everyone.”

Hugh stopped walking.

“No, he doesn’t.”

Kade scoffed. “Yes he does.”

“Toby rarely flirts with anyone,” Hugh said, voice calm but firm. “People who are attracted to him think he’s flirting because they want him to be flirting. That’s different.”

Kade frowned, processing that.

Hugh continued, “He’s friendly. He’s warm. He makes eye contact. People project onto him because it’s convenient.”

Kade snorted. “So he’s an accidental golden retriever.”

Hugh sighed. “Again. By‑laws. Only I get to say that.”

Kade laughed and bumped his shoulder into Hugh’s.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re drunk.”

“Birthday‑drunk,” Kade corrected. “It’s different.”

“Not really.”

At the next bar, Vigil, the guy by the huge ebony encased mirror really did look like he was staring at Kade chin lifted, eyes fixed in their direction, posture alert. Kade straightened, smoothing his jacket, confidence flickering back to life.

“There,” he murmured. “He’s totally checking me out.”

Hugh didn’t even turn.

“He’s not looking at you.”

Kade rolled his eyes. “Okay, sure. Whatever you say.”

He pushed back his chair and crossed the room with that loose, birthday swagger — the kind that said I’m fun, I’m available, I’m exactly what you’re looking at.

Up close, the guy was even more striking.

Tall at least six‑three.

Broad shoulders stretching the seams of his jacket.

A jawline sharp enough to cut glass.

The kind of man who looked like he lifted heavy things for fun and slept eight hours a night without trying.

Everything Kade wasn’t.

Kade flashed a smile. “Hey.”

The man blinked at him not confused, not annoyed, just… distracted.

His gaze flicked past Kade’s shoulder again.

Kade’s smile faltered. “Uh… you, okay?”

Before the man could answer, the door behind Kade swung open.

A second man walked in even bigger than the first.

Taller, broader, built like a linebacker in a perfectly fitted coat.

Warm eyes, easy smile, the kind of presence that filled the room without trying.

The first man lit up instantly.

“There you are,” he said, voice breaking into a grin.

He stepped around Kade like he wasn’t even there.

The two men met in the middle of the doorway, hands on each other’s faces, and kissed not sloppy, not explicit, just a full‑bodied, joyful, we‑found‑each‑other kind of kiss. The kind that made the whole bar cheer quietly under its breath.

It was passionate in the way real affection is passionate — arms around shoulders, foreheads touching afterward, both laughing softly like the world had just snapped back into place.

Kade stood frozen between them, the third wheel to a reunion he was never meant to be part of.

He turned slowly, cheeks burning.

Hugh was waiting at the table, sliding Kade’s drink toward him without a word.

Kade dropped into his seat. “Okay. Fine. He wasn’t looking at me.”

Hugh nodded. “He wasn’t.”

Kade glared at him. “You could pretend to be wrong sometimes.”

“I could,” Hugh said. “But I’m not.”

Kade took a long drink, jaw tight, birthday shine dimming.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. “This is it. This is where my luck turns.”

Hugh raised an eyebrow. “Your luck hasn’t even started.”

Kade ignored him, eyes locking onto a guy in a crisp button‑down sitting alone at a high‑top. The guy kept glancing toward the entrance — and, unfortunately, directly over Kade’s shoulder.

“There,” Kade said. “He’s cute. And he keeps looking at me.”

Hugh didn’t even bother turning.

“He’s not looking at you.”

“Yes he is.”

“No,” Hugh said, “he’s looking at the door. You’re just… in the way.”

Kade scoffed. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m observant,” Hugh corrected. “Look at him. He’s got a first‑date outfit on — shirt ironed within an inch of its life, sleeves rolled exactly twice, not three. He keeps checking his watch. And he’s sitting alone at a table for two.”

Kade squinted. “…He could be waiting for me.”

“He ordered two waters,” Hugh said. “He’s waiting for someone who gets dehydrated when they’re nervous.”

Kade rolled his eyes and strutted over anyway.

Hugh watched from a distance as Kade leaned on the table, said something flirty, and the guy smiled politely — then immediately leaned around Kade to check the door again. Kade’s shoulders slumped. The guy mouthed “Sorry” with an apologetic wince.

Kade trudged back.

“He was waiting for his date,” he muttered.

Hugh nodded. “Yep.”

“And he thought I was the waiter.”

“That part was funny.”

Kade glared. “You could’ve warned me.”

“I did warn you. You just don’t listen when you’re in heat.”

Kade groaned and dropped his head onto Hugh’s shoulder dramatically.

“Toby would’ve gotten his number anyway.”

Hugh sighed. “Toby would’ve smiled politely, said something about the lighting, and walked away. People just think he’s flirting because they want him to be.”

Kade lifted his head. “So, you’re saying I’m delusional.”

“I’m saying you’re drunk and optimistic. It’s a dangerous combination.”

Kade huffed. “Whatever. Onward.”

Hugh gestured toward the door. “Perfect. You’re already facing it.”

Kade shoved him lightly. “Shut up.”

They stepped back out into the night, the neon line flickering behind them like it was waving goodbye. The night had settled into that soft, blurry stage where streetlights looked like halos and Kade’s balance depended entirely on how close he stayed to Hugh’s shoulder. They walked past a closed boutique with mannequins posed like they were judging them.

Kade kicked a stray bottle cap. “You know,” he said, voice too casual to be casual, “if you and Toby ever opened your relationship, you’d never see him again.”

Hugh blinked. “What?”

“I’m serious,” Kade said, wobbling a little. “He’d be gone. Poof. Off into the night. A twunk‑shaped blur. You’d have to track him with GPS.”

Hugh snorted. “That’s not even remotely true.”

“Oh, it is,” Kade insisted, pointing dramatically at nothing. “He’d be like a kid in a candy store. Except the candy is… men. And the store is… everywhere.”

Hugh shook his head. “Toby isn’t like that.”

Kade laughed. “Oh, come on. He’s gorgeous. He’s sweet. He’s got that whole ‘I don’t know I’m pretty’ thing. If you gave him the green light, he’d be booked and busy.”

Hugh’s jaw tightened not angry, just… protective.

“Toby doesn’t want that.”

Kade hummed skeptically. “Everybody wants that. At least a little.”

“No,” Hugh said. “You want that. Toby doesn’t.”

Kade rolled his eyes. “You’re biased.”

“I’m informed,” Hugh corrected. “Toby’s not a hookup person. He’s barely a ‘talk to strangers’ person. He’d get overwhelmed in ten minutes.”

Kade waved a hand. “Please. He’d have a line.”

“He’d have a panic attack,” Hugh said.

Kade laughed so hard he had to stop walking. “God, you’re so in love with him.”

Hugh didn’t deny it.

Kade nudged him with his shoulder. “I’m just saying — if you ever opened things up, you’d have to put one of those little leashes on him. Like for toddlers at the mall.”

Hugh groaned. “Please stop talking.”

“Never,” Kade said proudly. “It’s my birthday.”

They turned the corner. The nautical sign for The Port & Starboard glowed ahead, all ropes and anchors and preppy energy.

Kade squinted at it. “This place looks like it smells like boat shoes.”

“It does,” Hugh said.

“Perfect,” Kade declared. “Maybe I’ll find a sailor.”

“You won’t.”

“Optimism, Hugh. Try it sometime.”

They pushed through the door.

Kade scanned the room like a lighthouse beam.

“There,” he whispered, grabbing Hugh’s arm. “Finally. A gay. A real one.”

Hugh followed his gaze to a man at the bar: crisp polo, perfect hair, boat shoes so clean they looked laminated. He was sipping a martini with the kind of posture that said his parents raised him to believe he was special.

Kade straightened his jacket. “He keeps looking over here.”

Hugh didn’t even blink. “He’s looking at the bartender.”

“No he’s not.”

“Yes he is,” Hugh said. “He’s doing that thing where he pretends he’s scanning the room, but really he’s checking whether his drink is taking too long.”

Kade squinted. “How do you know?”

“His eyes keep darting to the shaker. And he’s tapping his foot in a ‘my boyfriend is going to ask why this took so long’ rhythm.”

Kade rolled his eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m so correct.”

Kade strutted over anyway, leaning casually against the bar.

“Hey,” he said, voice dropping half an octave.

Boat Shoes Guy smiled politely. “Hi.”

Kade opened his mouth to continue — but a second martini slid between them, delivered by a man with matching boat shoes and a matching bracelet. He kissed Boat Shoes Guy on the cheek and murmured, “Sorry, babe, the line was insane.”

Boat Shoes Guy lit up like a lighthouse.

“Oh my god, no worries. You’re perfect.”

Kade froze mid‑flirt, then backed away like he’d walked into a glass door.

He returned to Hugh with the expression of someone who had just been personally victimized by nautical fashion.

“He has a boyfriend,” Kade muttered.

Hugh nodded. “Yep.”

“And they match.”

“Yep.”

“And they’re nauseating.”

“Correct.”

Kade groaned. “Toby would’ve flirted with both of them.”

Hugh shook his head. “Toby would’ve complimented their bracelets and then asked where they got them. That’s not flirting.”

Kade flopped dramatically against Hugh’s shoulder. “You’re ruining my night.”

“I’m saving you from embarrassment.”

“That’s the same thing.”

Hugh smirked. “Come on. Next bar.”

Kade sighed. “Fine. But if the next guy is straight, taken, or a ghost, I’m suing the universe.”

“You won’t win.”

“I’ll represent myself.”

“That’s worse.”

They stepped back out into the night, the nautical flags fluttering behind them like they were waving goodbye.