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“Anything else?”

“Probably. But I’d like to enjoy having a boyfriend for a minute first.”

Nate leaned against the wall beside him, close enough that their shoulders would have touched if they could.

“Take your time,” he said.

Chapter

Forty-Seven

Leo had a boyfriend.

At the moment, his boyfriend was asleep with his mouth slightly open and one hand shoved beneath his pillow. He wasn’t quite drooling, but even if he had been, Leo would have found it adorable.

Which was ridiculous.

Just about as ridiculous as how pleased Leo had been all evening.

Especially considering they hadn’t really done anything different. They’d talked, Nate had complained about things, and Leo had followed him around the house offering helpful advice that hadn’t always been appreciated.

But Nate had called him his boyfriend, and apparently that made a difference.

He’d said it so easily too. Leo’s my boyfriend. Then he’d gone on talking to his mother while Leo’s mind had stopped.

He smiled at the memory now.

Nate shifted in the sleeping bag, rubbing his cheek against the pillow. His hair was sticking up at the back, and there was a small patch near his ear that looked suspiciously like paint. Leo would have to inspect it in the morning, when the light was better. For now it was important that Nate slept.

Jonah had brought the herbs earlier. Nate had made the tea according to his mother’s instructions, taken a sip, and asked whether Jonah intended to stand there watching him drink the whole thing.

Jonah had pulled up a chair.

Nate had scoffed at his brother, but he'd finished his cup, and then, after Jonah had left, he’d gone to bed early.

Now Leo was watching him.

Nate’s hand emerged from beneath the pillow and came to rest beside his face. As his fingers curled against the fabric, Leo caught himself wondering whether the other man had slept like that. His other boyfriend.

His first?

He must have been.

Had Leo watched him sleep while he was still alive? Maybe. Unless they hadn’t been together long enough to spend a night together, or hadn’t had anywhere they could do that.

Leo frowned. He didn’t know how long they’d been together. He didn’t even know how they’d met.

He tried to picture it. The blond boy approaching him, maybe, or Leo finding an excuse to talk to him. Had he been nervous? He probably had been.

He wished he could remember.

Beside him, Nate made a quiet noise into his pillow. Leo glanced at him, but he was still asleep, his face half-hidden now.

Leo knew so many little things about him. He knew when Nate was trying not to laugh, when he was running low on caffeine, and when he was grumpy only because a particular task was taking longer than he’d estimated. He could tell when something had hurt his feelings too, although Nate wasn’t always willing to admit it.

He must have known things like that about the other man. What made him laugh. What annoyed him.

He closed his eyes, trying to remember something happy.