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Cher’s ass is still sore from this morning when Oyei had rolled over on top of him and whispered something dirty in his ear, sneaked his hand down under the covers and let his lips do the apologizing for the last few days. Cher’s over it, mostly, his sudden and unpleasant fear that Oyei has grown tired of him.
Sitting on the edge of the boxing ring, he watches Oyei going through his usual morning workout. He could be going over books or trying to schedule more clients, but he’d rather be here.
Oyei has been trying to make it up to him the past few days—maybe even going a little overboard with the horny routine. Sex in the shower, sex in the office once he installed a decent lock, blow jobs in the middle of the night. It feels like when they first got together, and Cher isn’t sure it’s a good thing.
They’re different now than they were then, hopefully more mature although Cher doesn’t always feel like it when he gets those stupid doubts about their relationship. He knows they’re unfounded, that Oyei only has eyes for him, would spend every minute of every day with him if he could. But he can’t shake it.
He doesn’t notice Oyei glancing at him as he rises from doing pushups on the mat, too distracted by the questions circling his brain.
“Why are you frowning?” Oyei asks, wiping sweat off his brow and reaching for a towel tucked into his shorts.
“I’m not,” Cher says, though he probably was. Setting his elbows on the rope behind him, he leans away from Oyei as he comes over.
“Still upset with me?” Oyei asks, tilting his head to the side and widening his eyes as if he can beg his way out of the doghouse. Not that he’s in the doghouse anymore, but Cher wonders now if his reaction had gone too far. After all, a normal couple goes a few days between sex and nothing is wrong. Why had his mind jumped immediately to cheating?
“No,” he says, and it’s mostly true. He’s more upset with himself now.
He’s not surprised when Oyei slides in beside him, presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek. He doesn’t jerk away like he normally would in public (though there’s no one in the room at the moment), just sighs and glances at Oyei.
“P’Yei,” he says after a second, pulling Oyei’s hand from where it’s fiddling with his hair, holding it in his lap instead. “You love me, right?”
He’d never doubted before, had been confident that Oyei wouldn’t so much as look at anyone else—knowing full well Cher would go to his mother’s house and he’d never see him again—but that was before he’d actually thought it possible. Before something changed and Oyei hadn’t even cuddled him at night for the first time ever. He’s tried to convince himself that he’s reading too much into it, that Oyei is tired or busy with gym things, that a few nights without cuddling isn’t odd. But it is, for them. It is when Oyei spends practically every minute they’re alone trying to kiss him, get his hands on him. When he doesn’t try, it worries Cher.
Oyei’s thick eyebrows furrow at the question, as if he doesn’t understand why Cher would ask.
“Yes, of course. I love you more than anything,” he says, eyes big and serious as he gazes at Cher.
“More than boxing?” he asks, and Oyei smiles, reaching for Cher’s face, stroking his cheek gently.
“Yes,” he answers with no hesitation. “I love everything about you. Your tiny shorts and your funky socks. How you tell the truth, even when I don’t want to hear it. How smart and sweet and sassy you are to me, and to Yak. How you take care of this place, of me. I’d be lost without you.”
Cher feels a bit relieved to hear it, feels stupid that he had to ask. Looking away from Oyei, he huffs. Shouldn’t he be secure enough after all these years?
Oyei slides off the ring, stepping in front of Cher and pulling him up before Cher can even protest.
“P’Yei! What are you doing?” he says as Oyei hefts him into his arms, a firm grip underneath his thighs, and Cher has to wrap his arms around his shoulders to keep himself from falling backwards. “Stop, you’re all sweaty!”
“You didn’t used to complain about that,” Oyei says, eyebrows raised, holding Cher against him. Cher can’t go anywhere, tucked tightly in Oyei’s arms. “You used to like my sweat. Have you changed?”
Cher takes a breath, steadying himself with Oyei’s hand moving to squeeze his ass, holding him up against him. He’s always liked that Oyei was bigger than him, could lift him easily, but right now, he’s not sure what to do.
“No,” he answers instead, brushing a thumb over Oyei’s hairline. But he has changed. They both have, and isn’t that the point? Isn’t that what relationships are supposed to do? What is his and Oyei’s turning into then?
“Yes, you have,” Oyei corrects him, and Cher looks around quickly as Oyei starts to move. He has no idea where they’re going or why, but he can’t exactly escape when Oyei’s the one carrying him. “And that’s a good thing.”
Cher arches an eyebrow as Oyei takes him down the hallway, past the door to the office and to the bottom of the stairs. Is he really going to carry him all the way to their room?
“Why is it a good thing?” he asks as Oyei starts up the stairs.
“Because people shouldn’t stay the same,” Oyei answers, holding on tighter than Cher slips a little. He worries for a second they might fall down the stairs, but Oyei is stronger than that, strong enough to get them all the way to the landing and down the next narrow hall to their bedroom in the back. “What makes a relationship work is when people grow together.”
“Who told you that?” Cher helps get the door open, resigned to staying in Oyei’s arms. He honestly doesn’t mind it too much, the firm grip around his back, a broad hand braced under his ass. It makes him feel safe.
“My mom,” Oyei says, turning around so he can set Cher gently on the table. They’ve done this a thousand times, but it’s usually on the bed, prefaced with a peppering of kisses from Oyei, wandering hands that hoist him into his lap where he’s already hard. This time, Cher scoots back on the table, a little confused as to where this is going.
“Didn’t your parents divorce?” he asks, doubtful, and Oyei nods.
“Exactly.”
Cher doesn’t get it. If Oyei is trying to make up for the last few days, he’d rather just have cuddles and reassurance that everything is fine.
Wrinkling his nose, he just watches Oyei brush his hair from his eyes, the soft, loving gaze he’s used to not quite taming the uncertainty in his stomach. He doesn’t like feeling insecure, isn’t used to it when it comes to Oyei.
“I’m sorry I’ve been distracted lately,” Oyei says after a long minute, tilting Cher’s chin to his, pressing a kiss to his cheek, again and again until Cher has to shove him away.
“Can’t you just tell me why?” Cher asks, holding Oyei’s shoulders back to stop him trying to kiss him again. Maybe there’s a reason. Maybe there’s not. Maybe Cher is just overreacting. He doesn’t know. He can’t stop himself from wondering.
For a second, Oyei doesn’t reply, but then, to Cher’s surprise, he takes a step back.
Holy shit. He really is seeing someone else, isn’t he? His stomach plummets as Oyei turns his back at the bookshelf.
“I was going to do this later,” Oyei says, and Cher is trying to decide if he’s more devastated or angry, staring down at his feet, debating leaving right now so he doesn’t have to hear some terrible excuse as to why Oyei would do it. Oyei turns back before he can, though. “I was going to take you to the waterfront, where we had our first date. Our first real date.”
He would do it there?! Cher thought, chest clenching. The place where they’d kissed for the first time, where Oyei had slipped his hand into Cher’s as they walked along the river and he’d felt a tingle up his arm. The place they’d gone when Oyei invited him to move in after only six months of dating. He would really ruin that for them?
“You don’t have to,” Cher said abruptly, glancing at the door. He could make it there in less than five steps, be out of here and never come back. “I don’t want you t—” He stopped short as he slid off the desk to his feet, gaze landing on Oyei before him, arms outstretched, a tiny velvet box cracked open in his hands.
It doesn’t make sense. The box, the shimmer of the light reflecting off the gold ring inside, the way Oyei’s eyes glisten as he looks at him.
He feels every breath he takes as he stares at the ring, at Oyei. This isn’t what he thinks it is?
“I went to see your mother,” Oyei says finally. “She said you’ve always loved this ring, that she’d been saving it for you at the store. I asked if I could have it.”
“Why?” Cher hears himself ask, a stupid question, but his eyes flick to Oyei’s, and he sees the nerves for the first time, the quickness to his smile when Cher asks.
“So I could ask you,” he says slowly, reaching for Cher’s hand, “if you’ll marry me.”
It had been the last thing on Cher’s mind, the last reason he would have suspected for Oyei acting oddly. He doesn’t even know what to say as his mouth opens and no words come out. He feels the tears before he realizes, sliding down his cheek—a flood of emotions breaking free.
Oyei’s hand gets there first, wiping away the drop sliding past his nose. “Cher? Are you okay?”
Cher just shakes his head, unable speak for a second as everything comes together. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he finally raises his gaze to Oyei before him, the concern on his face.
“How long?” he manages to ask, wiping away another tear that falls. He’s not even sure why he’s crying, just that it’s happening. “How long have you had it?”
Oyei blinks, shaking his head. “About a week.”
A week. Just about the time Cher noticed something was off. That’s why Oyei has been weird. Nervous maybe, distracted, planning? He finds himself smiling, a wave of relief sloughing off him as he takes a deep breath.
“Cher, baby,” Oyei says after a second, looking nervous again as he stands there with the ring. “Are you gonna answer the question?”
Right, the question.
“Yes,” he says finally, letting go of all the stress and worry from the past week, his stupid unfounded conclusions, his smile growing as Oyei’s eyes get hopeful. “Yes, I will.”
Oyei grins too, pulling Cher to him for a proper kiss—soft and slow, brimming with warmth and happiness as Cher clings to his shirt and doesn’t want to let go.
He has to, though, to let Oyei pull the ring from the box and slide it on his finger where it catches the light. It looks so perfect there, especially when Oyei links their fingers together. They’ll have to get one for him too.
“Still mad at me?” Oyei asks one more time as he tugs Cher in close, leaving a kiss on the apple of his cheek, the bridge of his nose, the corner of his mouth.
“No,” Cher answers truthfully this time, tilting his head toward Oyei’s as he nears his lips. “But you better not scare me like that again.”
“I could never want anyone but you,” Oyei assures him, hugging him tightly, and Cher knows it’s the truth.
He knows it’s the truth and he doesn’t need to question anything as Oyei kisses him again, holds on tight, and never lets go.
*
FIN.