Wednesday Nights

Christofer watched him leave with no objections and a frown. He sighed and shook his head. This guy was… weird. He was simply weird, too shady for his taste, yet somehow rather amazing. Christofer was sure it was a looks thing, he was rather easy on the eyes after all.

A thought struck. “You better not be getting drunk!” he yelled at the closed door. If Oliver dared come home pissed through, there was no way he’d let him in the house and he’d kick him out. Oliver didn’t open the door again to respond. No action was taken and he hoped Oliver understood and wasn’t stupid enough to do that.

Christofer began a coughing fit and leaned over the sink, almost used to this by now. He always coughed, and occasionally, blood. He hadn’t gone to the doctor to figure it out and didn’t intend to. He was sure he knew what it was and the reasoning behind it, but was in denial, and would never be out of it. Stage two was on a permanent hiatus.

After wiping his mouth leisurely on the shoulder of his sleeve, he sighed. He’d need to go grocery shopping and had no money. Twenty bucks would have to buy the pair of them a week’s worth of food. They would probably be eating mini carrots for a week, and Kool-Aid, sugarless. That was all he could afford and it wasn’t completely horrible. He had done it before.

He looked around the empty house and let out a soft groan. This wasn’t near where he wanted to be. He had dreams and hopes when he moved here. Sure, it was all to get away from home, but he only had so much money and had to make do with it.

Christofer’s face suddenly lit up. He should be getting a letter. He hopped over everything in his way and ran down to the mail area. It was all joint and he caught the mail man just in time. He pursed his lips, waiting anxiously for him to finish so he could check it.

About ten long minutes that dragged on, the man gave him a smile and left. The beautiful grin he possessed remain plastered on his face as he checked it. He found nothing yet as he searched through it all. It was mainly adds, another add, another, and another- “Yes!” he cried aloud and tore open the envelope.

“Christofer Drew Ingle, we are glad to inform you that you will be receiving a call in the very near future to record at our very own studio, here in-”

“Yes, yes, yes!” he cried, the smile wider than ever. It paid off, finally. All of his hard work paid off. He jumped up in joy.

Seconds later, Oliver was entering the mail room, on his way up back to the apartment.

“Oliver!” he called as soon as he walked in. He threw his arms around the man’s neck, hugging him in delight.

Oliver laughed, taken aback by the sudden contact. He didn’t hug back, but smiled. “Wha’, wha’?”

“I got the letter! They’re gonna record me! Fuck! Yes!” Christofer continued to dance around, more excited than it seemed he’d ever be.

As they made their way up to the apartment, Christofer dancing his way there, Oliver couldn’t help but be happy for the kid. He was making it, and it seemed like it’d be big time soon enough. He wanted to hear the kid play, of course, but wouldn’t ask, not just yet anyway.

Christofer unlocked the door, tossed the mail on the counter, and plopped happily on the couch. All the while they talked for hours upon hours, the letter that read ‘Eviction notice, thirty days’ lay on the counter, going unnoticed.