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Don has never liked packing.
Underwear, socks, a couple of casual shirts — he stuffs everything into the suitcase with the enthusiasm of someone filing taxes.
Toothbrush, electric razor, sunglasses.
He could just buy everything in Arizona, but he knows himself: the moment he lands he’ll be too dead on his feet to drag himself to Target.
Besides, every time he opens this stupid hard-shell Samsonite, it drags him straight back to the regional theater touring days. Nothing about those memories is worth romanticizing.
He’s crouched in front of the bed wrestling with a pile of charger cables when Cosmo slips into the room.
“Hey, Cos.”
“Don’t mind me.”
He says that, but two seconds later he’s draping himself over Don’s back like a very clingy backpack.
At this point Don doesn’t even flinch; it’s basically their version of saying hello.“Leaving tomorrow, right? Where to this time?”
“Arizona.”
“Monument Valley?”
“Yup.”
“Spaghetti western vibes, huh.”
Cosmo quietly watches over Don’s shoulder while he packs.
At least he’s considerate enough not to “help.”
Don can feel Cosmo’s breath against his ear, and suddenly the whole chore feels ten times more pointless.
“Alright, if I stuff you in here I’m basically done,” Don mutters, pretending to fold Cosmo into the suitcase.“Quit it!”
The grin on Cosmo’s face is bright enough to cancel out every ounce of Don’s pre-flight bad mood.
Cosmo flops onto the edge of the bed, trying (and failing) to sound casual.
“Oh yeah — Don, I’m moving out.”
“…Huh?”
“Found a sick place in Silver Lake.”
“Huh?”
“Closer to USC, too.”
“Huh?”
“When I get back I want pizza. That Hawaiian one we had last time. Anyway, class — see ya.”
“Wait — Cosmo —!”
He bolts before Don can get a full sentence out.
The room is suddenly just Don and the suitcase he hates, wearing the dumbest expression in Los Angeles County.
That night Don corners him the second he gets home.
“Turn the music off, Cos. We need to talk.”
Cosmo kills the Spotify blasting from the living room speakers that are wired to his MacBook.
“Ordering pizza already? If we’re doing pineapple again, no olives this time.”
He’s playing it cool, but Don can see the slight tension in his jaw.
“What the hell do you mean you’re moving out?”
“This place is kinda cramped, no?”
“Five guest rooms and a private theater, Cosmo. Cramped is not the word.”
“I can’t have people over.”
“You don’t have people.”
“I want space for gear, okay?”
Don immediately pictures ring lights the size of satellite dishes, cinema cameras, boom mics — the whole influencer starter pack.
“Streaming setups,” Cosmo clarifies.
“You already have a room full of random electronics and RGB lights.”
“Yeah, but those are the cheap AliExpress ones. I want the real deal.”
Apparently when you grow up, the toys just get more expensive.
Don rubs his temple. “Fine. I’ll buy you whatever. Way cheaper than you moving out.”
“I don’t want you to buy it. I’ve got money.”
Don’s eyebrow shoots up so fast it nearly leaves orbit.
“That’s not ten bucks of allowance we’re talking about.”
“Check this.”
Cosmo pulls out his phone, opens his banking app with a few flicks, and shoves the screen in Don’s face.Don blinks. Blinks again. Blinks a third time for good measure.
That is decidedly not a college kid’s savings account.
“Where the hell did you get that kind of money? OnlyFans? Drugs?”
“I told you — streaming. Making beats. You know I put music online.”
Don knew Cosmo uploaded stuff, sure. He’d even seen the gold YouTube Play Button the kid had paraded around like an Oscar — but Don had assumed it was one of those “participation trophy” things college kids give each other.
Don gets actual awards on the regular, so his bar is warped.
“I’ll put my new track as your ringtone. It slaps, trust me. Gimme your phone.”
Don hands it over without thinking and just watches Cosmo tap away.
He honestly thought the music thing was a hobby. Not… this.
Cosmo hands the phone back. “So yeah, I’m renting a proper studio apartment in Silver Lake. Moving in next month.”
Not “I want to.” He said “I’m doing it.”
“Where are you gonna sleep?”
“In the apartment, dummy. Otherwise what’s the point of having it?”
“That means —”
The words stick in Don’s throat.
“You’re breaking up with me?”
Cosmo laughs and shakes his head like Don just suggested the earth is flat.
“What are you talking about? It’s the opposite, idiot.”
“The opposite?”
Cosmo vaults over the coffee table like it’s parkour practice, drops onto the couch right next to Don, and throws an arm around his shoulders.
“I’d miss you too much.”
Something’s off — Don feels it in his gut.
Cosmo is never this straightforward unless he’s high or plotting something.
“Then why leave? You don’t have to.”
“Donnie.” Cosmo cups the back of Don’s neck and pulls him close. “I love you.”
He kisses him before Don can answer — soft, then not soft at all.
Don gives up thinking and kisses back, sliding his tongue against Cosmo’s like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Cosmo grabs Don’s hand and presses it against the front of his jeans.
“Here’s your proof.”
He drags Don’s palm up his thigh, deliberately slow, grazing over the bulge and up to Don’s belt.
“Wanna do it right here?” Cosmo whispers against his mouth. “Or should we take it to the bedroom?”
The words send heat racing down Don’s spine.
He’s not thinking about Arizona anymore.
Don leans back into the couch, lifts his hips, and shoves his slacks and boxer-briefs down to his knees in one impatient move.
Cosmo snickers, peels off his T-shirt, and kicks the coffee table out of the way with his foot.
Still in jeans, he climbs over Don, cups his face with both hands, and kisses him deep—like he’s trying to crawl inside Don’s mouth.
Don’s palms slide over smooth shoulder blades.
Two long, hungry kisses, then three quick playful ones.
Foreheads pressed together, Cosmo gives him that shy little smile that always ruins him.
The living-room lights catch his brown hair and turn it gold.
Don threads his fingers through the soft mess like it’s the most precious thing he owns.
Cosmo slides off the couch and drops to his knees between Don’s legs, eyes never leaving his.
One hand finds what it’s looking for—already hard, no surprise there.
He wraps his fingers around it gently, and a shaky breath spills out of Don.
“Cos… suck me.”
Cosmo kisses the tip; a clear string of precome follows his lips.
He licks it away, then takes Don in, slow and warm.
“Bigger than a Costco hot dog,” he mumbles around Don. He laughs despite himself.
The soft hair bobbing between his thighs, the wet sounds, the drool already shining on the leather couch—Don closes his eyes to feel it, opens them again just to watch.
After a minute Cosmo pulls off, stroking with a slick hand, looking up with that devil-grin.
“Wanna keep going in bed?”
Don couldn’t say no if his life depended on it.
He tries to stand, forgets his pants are around his ankles, and nearly eats carpet. Cosmo catches him, laughing.
“You’re really desperate, huh.”
He loops his arms around Don’s neck and kisses him again, slow and intense, right there in the hallway.
“This rate we’re never making it to the bedroom.”
“Then I’ll buy a new bed with motors and AI. Problem solved.”
Cosmo’s eyes are pure mischief and sex.
They barely get the bedroom door shut before Don’s shoving him toward the mattress.
The curtains are still open; cool night air and pale city light spill over their skin.
Don yanks his shirt off and catches Cosmo staring—still hungry for him after all these years.
It settles something warm in his chest.
He walks over slow, making sure Cosmo gets a good look at the chest and arms he’s obsessed with. Cosmo’s breathing is already ragged.
Don knows there are bigger, buffer guys out there—half the actors at his gym could bench-press him—but the fact that Cosmo, who’s known him since they were kids, still looks at him like this? That’s the real turn-on.
And God, Don loves Cosmo’s body right back.
Dancer muscles in all the right places—defined arms, tight abs, strong thighs—but delicate wrists and ankles, almost fragile joints. It’s never been just “twenty-something twink”; it’s Cosmo.
Don kisses one small, pale nipple and breathes him in. for some reason Cosmo always smells faintly like cola when they fuck.
“Cigarettes… still in the living room,” Don mutters, remembering the pack in his pocket. Whatever. He crawls into bed.
“Your turn,” Cosmo teases, sliding his index finger between Don’s lips like a pacifier.
“This’ll make quitting easy.”
“I’ll buy you a damn binky.”
Cosmo laughs, lazy and content, rests his chin on Don’s shoulder, then scoots down until he can wrap an arm around Don’s waist and burrow in like a cat who’s found the perfect spot. A happy little sigh.
“Night.”
Don strokes his hair. “Night.”
Cosmo’s breathing evens out fast.
Don lies there, stupidly happy, staring at the ceiling. Tonight Cosmo was… different. Less brat, more sweetheart. Maybe he really is growing up.
Then it hits him.
The blowjob on the couch. The “I love you.” The whole damn performance.
Next month he’s moving in, he said.
“…That little shit.”
Curled against Don’s side, Cosmo’s mouth curves into a smug grin he doesn’t bother hiding anymore.
He totally played him—and Don’s never been happier to lose.
The next few days were nothing but missed connections.
Don slipped out at dawn, lingering over Cosmo’s sleeping face longer than he should have.
He almost woke him just to hear his voice one more time, but the whole moving-out thing would’ve turned it into a three-hour fight.
So he settled for brushing his lips against Cosmo’s forehead.
“Don…?”
Cosmo’s eyes were barely open, blue and unfocused.
“Go back to sleep.”
“You leaving already?”
“Yeah. Eat something real today, okay?”
“I’ll text you.”
“Yeah.”
At least he got to hear his voice.
The plane climbed fast, LA shrinking beneath the wing.
Don pulled out his phone—still in airplane mode—and started typing a message to Cosmo he’d never send.
He wished he’d taken more pictures.
Guess he’d have to survive on Instagram for the next two weeks.
Around noon, Cosmo finally crawled out of bed.
The phone he’d left on the living-room floor had given up screaming at him hours ago.
Notifications were stacked like Jenga.
He swiped through, ignoring the noise, until he saw Don’s name.
He opened the text and his eyebrow twitched.
“Get to campus already. i don’t care who—just go see somebody.”
He stood up to take a shower.
Meanwhile, Don’s van rolled into Monument Valley, red dirt and impossible blue sky swallowing everything.
The wind was brutal. He was trying to get his head in the game when his phone buzzed in his pocket—Cosmo.
He fumbled it out.
long
summarize
in 3 lines max
Don stared at the screen.
“That’s it?”
He started typing back, but the AD was already yelling for him.
With a sigh, he pocketed the phone.
At the USC cafeteria, Cosmo spotted his friends in seconds.“Yo, Cosmo, you ditch anthropology again?”“Slept through it. Whatever—look at this shit.”He slapped his phone on the table, screen up. Half the table leaned in at once.
"Morning, ANGEL!!!
I am SO LONELY here on this Business Trip.It is Not the Same Without You. I wish I could See You Right Now!!! Hope you are having a GOOD DAY and everything is Fine. Can't wait until I get Back…
Love, Don"
A second later the entire cafeteria turned around at the explosion of laughter.
Cosmo was laughing the hardest.
“what the fuck is this lmaooo”
“My boyfriend just sent me this! Savage, right?”
“way too savage”
“how old is your man again?”
“twenty-three”
“no shotttt”
“i woke up to it and literally died alone in the living room”
“send the screenshot”
“nah, that’s cruel”
“bragging this late in the game is crazy”
That night Don finally got to collapse alone in his hotel room.
Clock on the nightstand said it was late, but Cosmo would still be up.
He opened the call app without thinking twice; he couldn’t figure out how to text about that afternoon message anyway.
Cosmo picked up on the second ring.
“Cos? You good time?”
“Yeah, I’m good. How’s the desert?” He said he was good, but it sounded like a club in the background.
“Brutal. Where are you?”
“Out drinking. Dave, Irene, the usual suspects.”
“Cool.”
Someone in the back yelled “Who’s that?” and Cosmo’s muffled voice answered “My boyfriend.”
Instant roar of laughter—Don had to pull the phone away from his ear.Definitely not a quiet-talk situation.
“Sounds like you’re eating just fine. Sorry for bothering you.”
“Thanks for calling. Talk later.”
“Yeah. Love you. Night.”
“Don’t overdo it out there, Don.”
Call ended. Silence filled the room.
“He never texts first my ass,”
Don muttered, heading for the shower.
While he was in there his phone lit up on the nightstand.
Luv u.
The notification glowed in the dark room.
Next morning Don was in an unreasonably good mood.
All because of that one message from Cosmo.
He’d been sure nothing was coming, yet right after the call it popped up—short, no excuse, just the words.
Don spent ten minutes crafting the perfect reply—“It made my day. Luv u 2.”—then fell asleep grinning like an idiot in his huge empty bed.
When the alarm went off there was another text waiting.
Morning, gorgeous
Sent at 1:30 a.m.
Cosmo must’ve still been awake, thought about Don waking up, and typed it anyway.
The idea made Don’s face hurt from smiling.
He walked onto set humming.
Monument Valley is windy 365 days a year.
The shoot ground to a halt and the entire crew was stuck waiting for the gusts to die down.
With nothing else to do, Don sat in the break tent scrolling on his phone.
Then he remembered what Cosmo had said:
“I made a new track. I’m setting it as your ringtone. This one’s actually fire.”
Cosmo had slipped one of his own songs onto Don’s phone.
It hadn’t rung once since then, so Don still hadn’t heard it.
At home Cosmo was always blasting music loud enough to rattle the windows, but Don had never really listened.
Time to fix that.
He tapped play.
Bright piano bounced in, followed by an upbeat, bouncy drum pattern.
The title on the screen read:Pineapple on Pizza
🍍 Pineapple on Pizza 🍍
[Verse 1]
The pizzaiolo, mid-slice of a pineapple ring,
Grinned at the happy couple: “You two are a-peelin'!”
So he had to crown it, make their love complete—
Pineapple on pizza, tropical sweet!
[Chorus]
Pineapple on pizza! (Yeah!)
Pineapple on pizza! (No way!)
A Sweet and Sour Symphony!
[Verse 2]
Then he spotted her — a lovely dazzler at the counter,
“Oh, you've stolen a pizza my heart,” he sighed.
“I dough-n't know what I'd do without you near—”
She saw the slices... his fate was clear.
[Chorus]
Pineapple on pizza! (Yeah!)
Pineapple on pizza! (No way!)
A Twist and Sad Symphony!
[Outro]
“And that, my love, means... we're cut short!”
(She walks out—leaving just the crust...
and a single pineapple ring, rolling away like a tear.)
Pineapple on pizza!
“What the hell is this…”
Within the first minute, Don’s brain hit its processing limit.
A weirdly chill, lo-fi beat with the words “pineapple” and “pizza” looped in the dumbest dad-joke rhyme imaginable.
“Is Cosmo actually insane???”
Don was speechless.
“Ah! Pineapple on Pizza!”
A loud voice behind him snapped him out of it.
He turned to find the new actress, Cathy Seldan, peering over his shoulder at his phone.
“This is the new Cosmic Laughter track, right? Dropped just a few days ago.”
“Uh… yeah.”
Don had no idea what to say.
“It’s so good! Mr. Lockwood, you’re a Cosmic Laughter fan?”
He’d never heard of any Cosmic Laughter in his life.
“I don’t actually know much about them.”
“Really? But you’ve got great taste. I’m obsessed with this creator.”
Cathy listened quietly for a bit, then thanked him for the mini relaxation session and walked off.
Don’s head was spinning.
Maybe Cathy just happened to know it. Coincidence.
He flagged down a random PA who couldn’t be older than twenty-two.
“Hey Eddie, quick question—ever heard this song?”
He played Pineapple on Pizza again.
“Nah, never heard it.”
Don felt instant relief.
“But that’s definitely Cosmic Laughter’s voice. New drop? I’ve been slammed and totally missed it. Downloading later!”
Eddie jogged off with a grin.
A cloud settled over Don’s chest.
What the hell is going on?
Hands shaking slightly, he typed “Cosmic Laughter” into the search bar.
【Cosmic Laughter】
Songwriter, composer, and producer “Cosmic Laughter”
Active since 2023. Influenced by 1950s jazz and internet culture, he started posting on TikTok and blew up almost instantly when his breakout single “Make ‘Em Laugh” went viral. Known for humorous, cosmic-laughter-themed love songs about everyday sweet-and-sour romance, he’s got a rabid Gen Z fanbase. YouTube Gold Creator. Currently based in LA. Latest track “Pineapple on Pizza” is currently exploding on TikTok.
Don skimmed the bio, flipped through Wikipedia, then checked the image tab.
No full-face shots, but the fluffy hair and that still-boyish jawline were unmistakable.
“No way…”
He typed before he could overthink it.
You’re Cosmic Laughter?
He wanted to spam I love you, I wanna hold you, I wanna come home right now—but Cosmo’s stupid rule was three lines max.
How do you cram I’m proud of you, let me hear your voice, I love you into three lines?
Before he could finish agonizing, the reply popped up.
Ya🍍
Didn’t I tell u?
Don clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud as another gust of wind roared past the tent.
Then the AD’s voice echoed across the plateau: “We’re back up!”
The shoot wrapped after a million weather delays, and Don finally stumbled back to the hotel.
No post-wrap high—just a knot of anxiety in his gut.
If I admit I had no idea, he’s gonna be pissed.
Trying to calm down, he flopped on the bed and opened Cosmo’s Instagram.
Today’s story: some Sitting Dance thing. Jesus, that’s hot.
A few days later Don was finally back in LA, standing outside his own front door like an intruder.
What if Cosmo’s already gone? What if the second bedroom is empty?
He turned the key.
Cosmo was standing right there in the entryway.
“Cos?”
“Welcome home, Don.”
Cosmo launched himself at him, arms around Don’s neck.
“I heard the car but you weren’t coming in—I thought something happened.”
Soap and warm skin.
Don wrapped both arms around Cosmo’s back, breathing him in.
This exact height, this exact voice—Arizona had felt like it lasted months.
Then the distance between their mouths was zero.
While Don dumped his suitcase and changed into sweats, Cosmo orbited him like an anxious satellite, words spilling everywhere: friends, campus gossip, dumb TikToks he’d saved.
“And then Vicky apparently got fired from her barista gig!”
Don barely knew who Vicky was.
If you missed me that much you could’ve just called, he thought—but he didn’t say it.
He hadn’t clocked yet that Cosmo had been holding back on purpose, sparing Don’s chaotic shooting schedule.
“I’ve got something to say too.”
Don sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at Cosmo.
“I’m sorry I never noticed how big your music thing was getting.”
Cosmo just laughed and tilted his head.
“It’s fine. I barely talked about it anyway.”
“But I should’ve noticed.”
“I actually thought you knew and were pretending not to.”
Cosmo dropped down beside him, hands braced behind him on the mattress.
“I figured you’re the star, you hate when people make noise about their own stuff around you, so you were being nice and letting me have my space.”
That wasn’t it at all.
In reality, Cosmo’s gold YouTube plaque was literally buried under a pile of Don’s acting awards.
“Honestly, it worked out. If you’d tried to hype me up I probably would’ve gotten all pissy and pushed back.”
Don couldn’t tell if Cosmo was being sincere or just sparing his feelings.
Cosmo was scary good at not burdening people; it was one of the things Don loved most about him.
“Anyway—”
Don took Cosmo’s hand.
“I’m proud of you. Insanely proud.”
Even if the music wasn’t Don’s taste, the fact that Cosmo was creating, putting it out there, and people were losing their minds over it—that was real.
“I’m sorry I didn’t see how hard you were grinding.”
“It’s not that big a deal.”
Cosmo gave him the softest, happiest smile, then a quick shy kiss to cover it.
“And the other thing—moving out.”
Cosmo’s eyes flickered with panic for half a second, but Don didn’t let go of his hand.
“Why’d you suddenly drop that bomb?”
Don stared him down like he wasn’t letting him dodge this one.
Cosmo sucked in a breath, held it, let it out in a short puff.
“I didn’t want to keep being a weight on you.”
“A weight?” Don shot back instantly.
“We’re family, Cos. You’re in school—I’m supposed to work. That’s how it goes.”
“That’s the problem. It’s not equal.”
Cosmo looked at him with those pleading, almost desperate eyes.
“If I’m just the guy you take care of, you’ll never stop working—even when you hate it, even when it’s killing you.”
“That’s… that’s just what you take care of people you love.”
“But I don’t want that to be the only reason we’re together. I want us to be good apart too. So I’m still me and you’re still you even when we’re not in the same house.”
He sounded frustrated, almost angry at himself.
“I don’t want to be dead weight. I want to be the partner who lifts you higher.”
It hit Don like a slap: all the ways he’d babied Cosmo had been quietly shredding the kid’s pride.
The boy he used to protect was trying to stand on his own.
“And if something ever happens to you, I want to be the one strong enough to hold you up.”
Young, raw, dead-serious honesty punched Don straight in the chest.
“Got it.”
Don nodded and gently tapped the back of Cosmo’s hand a few times, like soft applause.
He couldn’t stand in the way of the person he loved trying to grow.
“So when are you moving ou—”
The word wouldn’t leave his mouth.
“Nothing’s set in stone yet, but honestly it’s just new gear and a bed.”
Cosmo said it like it was no big deal.
“Bed? What about the one you’re using now?”
“If I take it you’ll have nowhere to sleep when you crash here. Everything in this place stays.”
“Huh?”
“The apartment’s basically a studio. Weekdays I’ll go to campus from there, make music at night, sleep. Weekends I’m back here.”
“Huh?”
“You can stay over whenever. I’ll give you a key.”
“Huh?”
Don felt the air leave his lungs in relief.
“I thought we were only gonna see each other once in a while.”
“Why the hell would I want that? Sounds miserable.”
“Cosmo!”
Don tackled him into a hug.
Cosmo laughed a little and rubbed his back like he was calming a golden retriever.
“When you thought I was breaking up with you, I said it was the opposite, remember?
This isn’t leaving you. It’s so we get even better.”
“I don’t get it…”
Cosmo squeezed him tighter.
“I love you, Don.”
They just held each other for a long time.
No words needed; the feeling traveled straight through their skin.
“You hungry? You haven’t eaten all day.”
Don glanced at the clock; dinner time was long gone.
“Totally forgot about food.”
“Let’s order in. Don’t wanna go out. What do you want?”
“Anything.”
“Pizza it is.”
Cosmo was already pulling out his phone and flying through the app.
“You just want it yourself, don’t you.”
“Caught me.”
He looked up with that bratty little grin.
While Cosmo ordered, Don combed his fingers through the hair at Cosmo’s temple.
“Which part of Silver Lake?”
Just wanted to keep hearing his voice.
“Sunset side. Twenty minutes to USC by bike, maybe, thirty to here. Pretty sweet spot, right?”
“Yeah.”
Couldn’t help it; Don pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Cosmo kept tapping the screen like nothing happened.
Taking the lack of protest as permission, Don slid a hand under Cosmo’s shirt and nipped his earlobe.
“You smell like my soap again. Waited for me to get home and even showered, huh? So considerate.”
“I was sweaty, that’s all.
But sure, we can fool around; just know when the delivery guy rings you’re answering the door naked. Public indecency’s on you.”
Don pulled a dramatically disgusted face and took his hand back.
Cosmo leaned in and whispered, “Don’t rush me. I’ll take good care of you later. I’m pent up too.”
“So do you wanna fuck or not?”
“That’s why teasing you is fun.”
“Nope, staying five feet from the bed at all times.”
“What does distance from the bed have to do with your boner?”
They kept talking about nothing and everything on the living-room couch until the doorbell finally rang.
Cosmo practically skipped to the door and came back with the flat, steaming box.
He flipped the lid and the smell hit like a hug.
“Pineapple’s on it.”
Don peered in and muttered.
“Remember that time we ordered at 2 a.m. and you clicked the wrong topping?”
“Yeah, thought I got olives, got pineapple instead.”
The checkboxes were too tiny for Don’s fingers.
“That was my first Hawaiian ever and I kinda loved it.”
“It’s blasphemy.”
“Try it again. You’ll be hooked.”
Cosmo grabbed a slice, hissing “hot hot hot” and took a huge bite.
“Mm. So good.”
“Speaking of, I listened to your song. Pineapple Pizza.”
“Pineapple on Pizza,” Cosmo corrected instantly.
“Everyone on set knew who Cosmic Laughter was. Blew my mind.”
“Anyone with decent taste would fall for my music. What’d you think?”
No way Don was calling it weird.
“Uh… very you. Listened to the others too; didn’t expect so many love songs.”
Cosmo’s vibe went prickly all of a sudden.
“Whatever. They sell. Eat.”
Don caught the shift, smirked, and watched Cosmo’s ears turn red.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just planning to read those lyrics real close later.”
“Shut up and eat.”
Don picked up a slice; a chunk of pineapple tumbled off.
He popped the pineapple in his mouth.
Sweet, sour, perfect little symphony.