Chapter Text
Evan was pretty sure he’d heard the words, “Connor, no” at least twenty times now since they’d got in the car. Those words - simple, but effective - had been said by different people with varying degrees of frustration. For instance:
“Connor, no,” muttered Zoe, snatching back the snacks that Connor had stolen from her. “I told you to bring your own Cheetos.”
“Connor, no.” Cynthia shot Connor a withering look from the front seat. Connor had used the bluetooth (as if Cynthia knew what that was) to connect his phone to the car speakers, and he was playing ‘RIP 2 My Youth’ at full volume.
“Connor, no,” said Alana, after Connor had been kicking her seat for approximately ten minutes. “There’s a difference between having long legs and giving me a back injury.”
“Connor, no.” It was Larry’s turn, and he took the opportunity to berate Connor every time he changed the conversation to an ‘inappropriate’ topic.
The only person who hadn’t said it was Evan. And, to be honest, there was no need to, because now the excitement of the journey had faded a little. Something like peace - or, at least, the closest to peace you were ever going to get with the whole Murphy family plus two stuffed into a metal box on wheels - settled on them. Larry was driving at the front, with Cynthia beside him, navigating Google Maps with some degree of success. Zoe and Alana were huddled at the very back, sharing an earbud each.
And Evan and Connor were in the middle, Evan trying to ignore the numbness creeping up his arm because someone had fallen asleep on it. Except he’d never tell Connor to wake up. He’d never say no to him. Connor felt like a gift.
The sky had darkened to dusk by the time they arrived, and by that time everyone had woken up, including Connor, who stretched his arm and bumped it against the ceiling. He swore.
“Language!” said Larry, before Connor could even finish cursing. But at least it wasn’t an argument. It wasn’t yelling. Whether Connor and Larry were holding back because there were guests present, or whether they were actually beginning to get on with each other, was a mystery, but it worked.
Again: not peace. But some semblance of it.
*
The second unpleasant surprise (the first one being that Zoe had, in fact, been the one to steal Connor’s Cheetos, and not the other way round) came as soon as they checked into the resort. The four of them - Connor, Evan, Zoe, and Alana - hung back in the lobby as Cynthia and Larry were retrieving the key cards from the front desk. Connor and Zoe were bickering about who’d beat who on the black slope, and Evan and Alana were rolling their eyes at each other behind their backs, when Larry appeared with his suitcase and announced that they’d only booked three rooms. “One for the adults,” he said, “one for the girls, and one for the boys.”
Evan hadn’t mentally prepared himself for this eventuality. He was still trying to compute the concept in head head while Larry handed him his key card. The key card he’d be using to get into his room. With Connor.
He was going to be sharing a room with Connor.
Connor - his new roommate - seemed unperturbed, and oblivious to Evan’s surprise. He just took Evan’s hand gently with a “Let’s go,” and led him upstairs, because he knew elevators made Evan panicky.
The corridors had been decorated to look like the inside of a Swiss chalet, with animal skin rugs hung on the walls and light fixtures that were meant to look like real fire. Their room was decorated the same way - there was even a moose’s skull mounted on the wall, which did nothing to calm the uneasy feeling that had settled in Evan’s stomach like a stone.
“It’s not much for a first date, but it’s something,” joked Connor, hauling his duffel bag onto his bed (there were two seperate beds, thank God) and proceeding to throw himself onto it.
Evan just stood there and chuckled nervously in response. He wondered if the moose’s skull was real. Weren’t moose a protected species? How did they even find a -
“Evan.” It was Connor’s voice that snapped him out of his thoughts and back into the room. “You okay?”
Evan nodded unconvincingly. “Yeah.” He realised that it was the most he’d spoken since the car ride, when Zoe had asked him whether he wanted to share her snacks and he’d politely declined. His voice felt rough, underused. “It’s just...I know we’ve known each other for a - a while now. But this - “ He spread his hands wide - “is new. All of this.”
Connor knew that this didn’t just mean the room. This meant them, their relationship, and everything that came with it. “You may not have considered it, but this is new to me too.”
Evan’s voice was small. Getting smaller by the second. “At least - at least you’ve dated before. I haven’t.”
Connor was still sitting on his bed, while Evan was still standing, and it was kind of comforting to be taller than Connor for once. Especially when Evan felt small in every other way.
“But I’ve never cared about someone like I care about you,” said Connor, and Evan knew that he meant it, because he was scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably and shifting his weight around. A confession like that - the truth - never came easily. “That’s what makes this new. And scary.”
Evan didn’t reply right away. He just let the truth settle on his shoulders, the thing he’d dreamed of but never believed would be real. I care about you.
Connor broke the silence with, “I snore, by the way.”
Evan gave him a small smile. “Sometimes I talk in my sleep.”
“Oh, really?” Connor grinned pointedly, then lay down as if he was sleeping. “‘Methuselah is the oldest tree in the - ‘“
Now Evan was laughing. “Second oldest.”
“Nerd.” Except, coming from Connor, it was the sweetest term of endearment. Evan almost forgot about everything else, even the Moose’s skull.
*
At least Evan and Alana were in the same boat: that is, neither of them had learned to ski, nor did they have any idea where to start. They were also similar in the sense that both of them were in love with a Murphy. So it turned out they had a lot more in common than you’d think.
“We’ve just gotta make sure Zoe and Connor don’t kill each other,” said Alana, fastening the last strap on her ski boots.
Evan laughed nervously, and he could have sworn his breath crystallised in the air in front of him. “That can be your job.”
Suddenly Evan felt a warm hand on his arm. “Let me help with that,” said Connor, kneeling down before Evan could protest and fastening his boots for him. Evan watched Connor’s fingers stupidly as they worked, silently marvelling at how slender and graceful they were. Like pianist’s fingers.
“All done.” Connor got up swiftly and extended a hand to Evan, who took it gratefully. He was unsteady on his feet already, and this was before his skis had been fitted.
“Aren’t your hands cold?” He asked.
“Not when you’re holding them,” said Connor smoothly. “C’mon. Let’s get you some skis.”
*
Evan was compared to a lot of things when he was on skis, but the one that seemed to stick was bambi. Because he was so clumsy, and his legs were flailing around so much, that he bore a stark resemblance to a fawn.
In his defence, Connor kept turning round (effortlessly. He was infuriatingly graceful on skis) and kissing his nose, so it really wasn’t his fault that he was distracted.
While Zoe and Connor raced each other mercilessly, going up on the ski lift and down the slippery slopes so many times it was making Evan dizzy, and Alana waited at the bottom of the slope to give Zoe victory kisses when she finished, Evan spent more time being distracted by the trees than actually utilising his skis.
But who could blame him? The snow was so heavy that it weighed down the branches, and when a bird settled on a branch, a flurry of snow tumbled off the branch and set up a domino effect by which all the branches were suddenly cleared of snow, only to reveal the lush green underneath, like an undiscovered emerald.
Connor skied up to him so smoothly that Evan jumped when he saw him. “Dreaming of trees?”
“Shut up,” said Evan, smiling all the same. He liked that he could joke with Connor. It made him feel invincible.
“Why don’t you do a slope with me? The trees’ll still be there when you come back.”
Evan’s joke froze in midair. “B-but I couldn’t. I’d - “
“You’d what?” Connor’s smile was gentle coaxing. “Fall?”
“Well...yeah.”
“Then I’ll be right there to catch you.”
“”Wh-what if you don’t get there in time?”
“Then,” Connor was already skiing away, indicating for him to follow. “You’ll have a cool injury to show off to everyone at school.”
Evan flailed after him, wincing as the boots bit into his shins. “No one would sign my cast, though.”
Connor turned around effortlessly and kissed Evan on the lips. The kiss was warm, and his voice was bright. “I would.”
In all their bickering, they’d made it to the ski lift: another thing that Evan hadn’t anticipated. His heart kicked up a fuss, beating irregularly like it always did when unexpected things happened.
But the ride up was surprisingly okay - made significantly okayer by Connor doing ridiculous things like making faces in the glass at the people in the cart next to them and making the cart wobble by jumping up and down (“Connor, no”, Evan said when he did this, then laughed inwardly as he remembered the countless “Connor, no”s he’d heard on the journey here).
The next obstacle to negotiate was the slope itself. It didn’t look too terrifying, Evan reasoned. The only thing holding him back was, oh, the fear of a painful death. But Evan told himself that if he was always that pessimistic, he’d never get anything done. Besides, he couldn’t go home and tell him mom that he hadn’t actually done any skiing.
So he took Connor’s hand (crushed it, more accurately), squeezed his eyes shut, and pushed himself forward.
And suddenly it felt like flying.
Evan hazarded to open his eyes a crack, and he could see the trees rushing past him, the branches and the snow blurring into one, and then he thought: Wait, it’s the other way round - I’m rushing past the trees.
In other words: I’m actually doing this.
We’re doing this.
And in that split-second, flashing moment, Evan was grateful that his mom had sent those letters. Because if she hadn’t, he wouldn’t be here, facing his fears with a boyfriend who would catch him if he fell.
*
“You were good. I’m serious.”
“I-I was?”
“A natural ski champion.” Connor looked at him slyly out of the corner of his eye. Evan went scarlet - he still wasn’t used to being looked at - noticed - by Connor. Not like that, anyway.
“Connor?”
“Mm hmm.”
“If your parents find us here, what would they think?”
“They’d think we were just two bros chilling in a hot tub.”
Evan frowned. “But really.”
Connor kissed his ear, sending a shiver down Evan’s spine despite the warmth of the water they were in. “Relax. They’re probably still in the spa, or whatever they do.”
It still wasn’t a satisfying answer, but Evan relaxed anyway, leaning his head back and soaking up this moment. He was in a hot tub. With Connor Murphy. Wearing minimal clothing.
Evan would think that he was dreaming, only that this was too good even for him to make up.
Now Connor was close close to him that their arms brushed underwater.
“You know, when we started fake dating…” Connor began, then trailed off.
“Yes?”
Connor avoided his gaze. “It’s nothing.”
But Evan could tell that it was something, so he pushed just a little harder. “What is it? Tell me.”
Connor sighed, then took a deep breath. “When we started fake dating, I had no idea I’d start to have actual feelings.” He grimaced - Evan knew he hated speeches. “But I’m glad I did. Okay, that’s it - that’s the most romantic thing you’re ever getting from me. Ugh.”
But Evan was mesmerised. By the words he’d just said, by the stray hair that had fallen out of his bun, by the way he’s become as familiar to him as home. “That was really romantic. You should write a novel."
“Oh, shut up,” said Connor, right before he pulled Evan onto his lap and kissed him like it was the first and the last time they’d ever be together like this.
*
To all the boys and all the girls and everyone who doesn’t believe in love at first sight,
I don’t either. Believe in love at first sight, I mean. I just wanted to write that because it sounded cool in my head, only it turns out it doesn’t look nearly as cool on paper.
Anyway.
I may not believe in love at first sight, but I do believe that you can fall in love with someone little by little.
Like, it sounds stupid, and you won’t believe me (unless it happens to you, and I really hope it does), but you can feel indifferent to them one minute and the next you can be worrying about whether they get home safe, and thinking about them way more than you should. You start noticing things: the way he threads his fingers together when he’s anxious, how he never wears the same polo shirt twice (though he has so many of the same ones), the little creases around his eyes when he laughs. You want to make him laugh like that again and again. You realise that if you ever see him hurt, it’ll break you. You read his favourite book, even if it’s boring as shit, just so you know what the hell he’s talking about when he mentions it.
What I’m trying to say is this: one letter can go a long way.
And that’s really all I have to say.
Sincerely,
Connor Murphy