Soren finishes feeding Marley and her owlets a while later, closes up the cage, and steps outside, making sure to secure the lock behind him. Owls weren't very good escape artists, but they lived out in the forest in the middle of nowhere, and plenty of bigger animals could easily get into an unlocked enclosure, which he definitely didn't want.

Once his chores are eventually done, he dusts off and heads for the porch to grab some sneakers and a fresh T-shirt before he talked to Lydia. But as he nears, he notices Rocky's dick-themed party hats and cheap wine still sitting there, where he had abandoned them earlier, along with his excitement at celebrating with Soren. And for some reason, it made him feel like shit.

Soren bends down and picks up the bottle of wine, turning it around in his hands. Rocky had always been the life of the party—the one who everyone went to when they needed a pick-me-up. He was like the human version of an energy drink. But the kids at college didn't know about the nightmares that Rocky had growing up that had sent him running into Soren's room every night for the first few months. Or how hard it was to accept the fact that he had feelings for Soren, and that Soren might have had feelings for him, too.

He takes the wine and party hats inside and sets them on the cluttered counter where his mom was busy slapping turkey sandwiches together for lunch later. "Mom?" He asks her as she's squirting mustard out in quick bursts. 

"Oh, hey, sweetie! What's groovy?" She responds, but she doesn't tear her eyes away from her army of sandwiches. There was too much at stake, like feeding the hoard before they decided to tear apart the kitchen themselves.

"What if I wanted to move out with someone?" Soren asks her, "I'm old enough to get my own apartment and start my own life. You and dad met when you were sixteen, didn't you? That's so Romeo and Juliet." 

At this, Soren's mom looks over at him, and her smile softens. "Oh, Soren," she sighs, "You know me and your father raised you and your siblings to be independent." She seems to think about this for a moment, "This may have been a mistake, come to think of it."

"I think I'm in love, mom," Soren confesses, and he steals a turkey sandwich from the counter, narrowly avoiding a playful smack on the hand from his mother when she spies him. "I'm just wondering how I'm supposed to know if it's real or not. Or if I want to... bond with them, you know?"

"Oh, honey..." His mother sighs, "When you know, you know."

 As if Soren was supposed to know what that meant. For all he knew, love would hit him like food poisoning and have him bent over the toilet for the next three days. 

Soren retreats to the attic with his turkey sandwich once his mother shoos him away and squeezes up the narrow flight of stairs, just at the end of the second floor. His room was fairly large, but some parts had low ceilings so he had to duck in certain places to keep from banging his head on the wooden beams. Other than that, he loved having his own space.

His parents had helped him build a triangle-shaped window at the very far end of the room, but he'd decorated on his own, slowly buying things from the local thrift stores to fill his space. Tapestries hung from the walls, and there were plenty of cushions on the floor.

Soren scans the room, then catches sight of someone lying sprawled in his bed. A second later, his heart skips when he realises that it's Rocky, a pillow thrown haphazardly over his face.

"Rocky?" Soren closes the door behind him, "What are you doing up here?"

"Dying," Rocky muffles from under the pillow, "Is Elle Woods gone yet, or is she still plotting my demise in our driveway?"

"Lydia isn't scheming anything," Soren scoffs a little, and he goes to sit down on the edge of the bed beside him, "She just wants to talk. We're not together, Rocky. Okay? You don't have anything to worry about."

"Really?" Rocky muffles, the pillow moving slightly when he speaks, "Because you sure as hell dropped everything as soon as she came over, Soren. My heart is broken. Absolutely devastated. You're lucky I didn't die of heartbreak on the spot."

Soren exhales and drops his head forward, trying not to laugh. "Come on, Rocky. Are you going to come out or what?" He murmurs, and he reaches over to gently tug the pillow off Rocky's face. "Please? Can I see your face?" 

"Tell me something poetic," Rocky mumbles, his hands gripping the pillow as tight as they can.

Soren strokes Rocky's back and shoulders with just his fingertips, feather-light on the back of his T-shirt. "Now we will count to twelve and we will all keep still for once on the face of the earth," he whispers, "let's not speak in any language. Let's stop for a second and not move our arms so much."

Rocky goes still, his breathing evening out a little. 

"It would be an exotic moment without rush, without engines; we would all be together in a sudden strangeness." Soren gazes down at him. "Fishermen in the cold sea would not harm whales, and the man gathering salt would not look at his hurt hands."

The pillow comes off, and yellow eyes appear and stare up at him, full of wonder. 

"Now I’ll count up to twelve, and you keep quiet, and I will go," Soren whispers down to him, but he does not go. Not to Lydia, who was waiting in their driveway in her Kia, applying her lipstick.

Rocky reaches up and slowly pulls Soren down, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of his neck as they sink into the sheets together. And for a startled moment, it's Soren lying half on top of the other man, one hand braced against a pillow. 

Rocky unbuttons Soren's shirt, his eyes darting up to him as if to seek permission. A moment later, Soren brushes his hands away and undoes the buttons himself, sliding off his shirt.

"Oh, Renny..." Rocky breathes when he catches sight of Soren's sleek body, "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes," Soren replies, his face hot, "always yes."

Rocky brings Soren down again, but this time their lips close the distance between them. Rocky kisses him softly, then a little more intensely, before rolling so that he's straddling Soren. He tugs off his shirt and shakes out his red hair, which burned like fire around his head when the sun caught him at just the right angle. "We shouldn't," Rocky tells him, and then he hides his face dramatically in his arm. "You have a woman waiting for you."

Soren squints at him. He knew that Rocky was right and that Lydia was waiting for him. But Lydia hadn't talked to him in weeks, and Soren hadn't been with Rocky for nearly as long, so his decision was obvious. 

"Get the condoms out of the goddamn dresser, Rocky," he finally grumbles.

"Yes, my love!" Rocky sings happily, clamouring out of the bed all at once, before he dashes across the room.