After Tristan's 'rooftop outburst', Jed spoke to him again about the kinds of friends he was making, and the ones that he was choosing to upset. "What you do at that supermarket is your own business" he'd told him, "but it's a real slap in the face to Sarah if you go around accusing her of elitism when she's bothering to include you things. Or would you rather she left you out of them? Would that make you feel better..?"

When Millie asked again about going for a celebratory welcome drink, Tristan politely declined. He didn't have the money anyway. After paying his share of the rent and utilities, it was up to Jed whether or not he was willing to foot the bill for his boyfriend's social life. 

"Still no?" Tibur had asked on the third occasion, "What if I buy you a drink? Would you come for one then?" Tibur had even less money than he did.

Genuinely touched by Tibur's generous offer, Tristan had messaged Jed and asked if it would be okay if he came home a little late. When he was left on 'read' he sent another. "Never mind. Will be back at the usual time. Let me know if you want me to bring anything home"

"Maybe next time" he said to his coworkers, "I'm going to have a night in with my husband."

Tibur and Millie had been curious about the elusive husband that never stopped by. 

"Are we ever going to meet him?" Millie asked, "Why don't you ask him to join us for drinks somewhere? I'm guessing he's the protective type. If he gets to know us he'd see there's nothing to worry about." 

Tristan glanced at the black phone screen. "Not tonight, anyway" he said, "but maybe another time."

When he arrived home, Tristan turned on the air-con and jumped in the shower. There was no reply from Jed, and yet he should have been home by now. He considered messaging Sarah and asking what they were up to, but things had been strange between them lately. The links she used to send had disappeared. Tristan cooked, and when Jed did not come home, he eventually packed his portion away, sitting on the couch as he stared at his phone.

"Working late..?" he finally dared to message; "There's food in the refrigerator if you haven't eaten yet." 

As Tristan was brushing his teeth for bed, the apartment door finally opened. He spat the toothpaste into the sink and quickly rinsed his mouth, rushing to find out what might have happened.

"Are you alright..?" asked Tristan, as Jed slumped over to take off his shoes; "You're really late coming home, I was worried when I didn't hear back..." 

It was clear he was drunk. Jed always sighed more audibly at him when he'd been drinking. 

"Really?" asked Jed, "You're playing the role of the nagging wife now?" 

Tristan curled his toes and twisted his fingers in the hem of his t-shirt. 

"I just meant... are you okay? Nothing happened or anything..."

Jed loosened his tie and turned on all the lights, until everything in the room was obnoxiously bright. "I was with Sarah and Carl, and a few other people from work..." 

Tristan lowered his head. 

"Why didn't you invite me..?" he asked. 

"And what would I have said when they asked about you? This is my boyfriend, he works at a supermarket? It's one thing that Sarah and Carl know about it, but it's not something I'd like to advertise to the people I work with. Work is already a fucking mess." 

Tristan swallowed his shame and came closer. "What happened at work..?" he asked, "You can talk to me about it, you know?"

"Can I? I didn't think you'd be here anyway. You seem intent on ruining things for yourself."

Tristan liked his job. The customers were nice and his coworkers were friendly... he was finally earning money; and while there wasn't enough to save, he didn't feel like such a burden anymore. He wasn't sure what it was that he was supposed to have ruined. 

"I came straight home from work" he told him, "Didn't you get my messages?" 

Jed threw his broken phone onto the sofa. 

"Did it happen at work..?" asked Tristan.

"The boss is a fucking idiot" said Jed. "He doesn't even come into the office, so how the fuck does he know I'm 'not suited for a management position'?! Fucking prick. Even though Carl suggested me for the role. Apparently that means nothing to this asshole." 

Tristan sat down, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. 

"Maybe it's because Carl doesn't work in sales..?" he suggested, "Or he just doesn't know him well enough to trust his recommendations yet..? It's only been a couple of months since we moved... Maybe when-" 

Jed snorted. "You always fucking do this!" he said. 

Tristan shrank back. 

"Do what..?" he asked.

"You take their side over mine. Every. Fucking. Time."

He didn't have the courage to point out the hypocrisy of Jed's grievance. Had there ever been a time when he'd taken Tristan's side over Carl and Sarah's..? 

"I didn't mean anything like that..." he said, "I was just trying to help." 

Jed ran his hands across his face, wiping the sweat as it cooled beneath the frigid air. "I don't want to argue" he said, "I'm pissed off enough already. I just... I just... Fuck it. Open a bottle of wine." 

Tristan froze.

"But it's late..." he pointed out, "And you've got work tomorrow."

"Fuck work. I need to blow off some steam. Go open the wine and do whatever it is you need to do." 

Tristan got up from the sofa and walked, trance-like to the kitchen, shakily pouring the wine into the glasses. In the bathroom, he sat on the edge of the bathtub, trying to make sense of things. The mirror was dangerously close to his eye-line. Don't look, he told himself, if you look at yourself now you won't be able to do it... Opening the medicine cabinet, he took the condoms and the lube; expanding himself as much as he could before the will to continue any further left him. 

Jed didn't bother to shower. "Just lie face down" he said, removing his suit, "And don't say anything."

It was the first time Tristan had cried during sex. Even the pain of his first time didn't compare to the torment of his heart as he lay there, motionless and silent as it happened.

When Jed was finished, Tristan heard him get up from the bed and the sound of the shower running. He quickly wiped his face, but the tears wouldn't stop falling. He was worried that Jed would say they were all for show. Lifting himself from the bed, he wiped himself with a tissue and pulled on his shorts. As much as it hurt, he just wanted to leave the room. He had to leave the room. It was getting harder to breathe.

"Where are you going?" asked Jed, as Tristan reached for the door handle. 

"The recycling..." he said, keeping his face from view, "I forgot to take it out." 

Jed nodded and got ready for bed, while Tristan emptied some bottles and threw them into a bag. The night air was so much warmer than their stifling apartment. Suddenly, Tristan thought that he would faint. He leaned his body against the cool glass of their building door; wiping his face with his sleeve. A passing woman spoke to him in Modeshi. 

"What?" he asked through the bleary curtain of tears, "I don't understand."

"The door is dirty" she repeated in English. 

Tristan took a step back, and collected himself as she walked away. He threw the bag of bottles outside with the others, and sat carefully on the curb. His body was tired, and it was all he could do to stop himself from lying down on the sidewalk. Distant voices were talking and laughing. He narrowed his eyes in their direction, angry that their happiness was pervading the air of his melancholic mood. At least the apartment would be quiet.

When he got back upstairs he found that Jed had gone to sleep in his office. Their sheets were a mess but he didn't care; he felt filthy with shame already. 

The door to Jed's office remained shut the next morning. Tristan took his clothes into the bathroom with him while he showered. He didn't want to walk around in just a towel. It wasn't that he thought Jed would try and touch him... it was more that he felt he was sharing his home with a stranger. Tristan could feel his eyes were puffy, but couldn't bare to face his reflection. Splashing them with water, he hoped that no-one at work would ask questions.

Tibur knew better than to say anything about the tell-tale traces of tears. Unless Tristan wanted to tell him what was wrong, he wasn't going to pry. 

"Want me to set up out front today?" was the only unusual offer he made. Tristan shook his head. 

"I like to do it" he said. 

It had become Tristan's favorite part of the day; moving the tables out onto the street, and setting up the store's displays. As much as he hated to admit it, Jed had been right about his love of organizing things.

Every morning, he'd put in his headphones as he stacked boxes and laid out their seasonal items. There were no customers to deal with, and no complicated spreadsheets to confuse him. It was simple and mindless, and it gave him the space to breathe. Tibur had been the one to suggest he listen to music as he worked. 

"This job may not be glamorous, but it does have some perks" he'd said.

Millie walked right past him when she arrived, failing to notice that anything was amiss. 

"I think Tristan's having a tough time..." Tibur told her in the break room. "But don't say anything, okay? Just remember to be nice." 

Millie threw her helmet on the table. "Do you think it's that husband of his..?" she asked, "Is it because we tried to invite him out again?" 

Tibur checked the door. "Whatever the case, let's just leave him be unless he wants to talk to us about it. I know how nosy you can be..." 

Millie's jaw dropped open. "Me?!" she questioned, "You're one to talk. Who keeps listening in on his neighbor's 'nightly activities'?"

Now it was Tibur's turn to defend himself. "It's not that I listen in" he said, "it's that he hasn't learned how to close a window!" 

The constant moaning was driving him insane. Every other night a different woman made an appearance at his neighbor's place; like a constant rotation of headliners, their voices rang out across the void between their buildings.

"Don't you have a window you can close?" asked Millie. "It seems like you don't hate listening to it all that much..." 

Tibur's window was always closed; but they were far too thin to block out the sounds of his neighbor's sexual exploits. 

"If I wanted to listen to women cum, I'd get myself a girlfriend!" he said confidently. 

Millie rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Tiger. If it bothers you that much, just ask to change rooms. If I was still a student I'd be happy to switch with you for curiosity's sake. Would make a change from the sound of the kitchen below my current place."

Tibur had taken his particular room at a discount because the air con didn't work. His little fan was enough that he could sleep through the night, and the money he saved meant he didn't have to worry if his grandma needed to visit the hospital again. 

"It's fine" he said, closing his tired eyes and leaning back in his chair, "He's probably just a tourist anyway. Give it a month for the heat to kick in, and he'll either leave Modesh or be forced to close his fucking window."

Millie patted his shoulder as she picked up her helmet. "Let me know if you ever want to give him a run for his money" she said, "I'll come over and scream for you. Better still, find yourself an actual girlfriend." 

Tristan walked in and removed his headphones. The bags beneath his eyes had turned dark. 

"Or not" she said, "you might be better off as you are..."

As she left the room, Millie turned off the lights.

"What are you doing?" asked Tibur from the darkness. 

"It's a race day and Mr Melik won't be in. Fuck it. You both look exhausted. Take a nap for an hour and I'll watch the front. Deliveries can resume after lunch." 

Tibur shot Tristan a look. "Fuck it?" he asked him. 

Tristan's hood was already up. 

"Yeah" said Tibur, making himself comfortable. "Fuck it..."