Chapter Text
Oscar was, like, 95% sure Charles and Max were dating.
He’d tried not to let it eat at him. Tried to be chill about it, because, hey, he was a grown adult, and roommates flirting wasn’t exactly illegal. But there was something different about the way those two touched, talked, hovered too long in the same space. Something unspoken that had slowly become obvious, especially since that Sunday on the couch and the night before it.
It had been two weeks since the party.
Two weeks since he’d fallen asleep on Max’s shoulder, and since Charles had draped himself across him like a damn cat and called it “bonding.”
And yeah, maybe it had all felt… nice. Intimate. Safe, even. But he’d let that go to his head. Misread everything. Because now?
Now Charles was leaning on Max constantly, whispering jokes into his ear, tugging him in for hugs that lasted a second too long. Max, for his part, didn’t exactly discourage it. He smiled. That smile, the kind that made Oscar feel like a balloon being slowly deflated and sometimes flirted right back.
And Oscar?
Oscar felt like a forgotten prop in the background of their budding rom-com.
He hated how it made him feel. Hated the heat of jealousy curling in his chest whenever Max reached out to fix Charles’s collar or when Charles sprawled across Max’s lap like they were something soft and casual and established.
He told himself he was being dramatic. That he was overthinking it. That they were probably just like that with everyone.
Still.
The ache didn’t leave.
So, he started finding excuses to be somewhere else.
Extra hours in the library. Long, meandering walks around the unfamiliar edges of the city. Places where no one knew him and he didn’t have to pretend not to notice things. He hadn’t exactly been trying to make new friends. But somehow, he did anyway.
Lando.
They shared two classes, but until last week, Oscar had barely registered him as anything more than the guy who asked too many rhetorical questions in seminars.
Now, they had a thing going.
Not a thing thing, just… talking. Casual friends. Sitting next to each other in lecture. Sometimes grabbing coffee after class. Lando was easy to talk to. Kind of chaotic in a way that reminded Oscar of Charles, but with a steadier energy, less flirt, more honest enthusiasm.
“So you’re telling me,” Lando said one afternoon, gesturing with a chip, “you’ve lived with these two for, what, a month now? And you still don’t know if they’re dating?” They were currently in Lando’s apartment. God, he was lucky for not having to live in a dorm.
Oscar groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Okay, it sounds pathetic when you say it like that.”
Lando laughed, full-bodied and not at all mean. “I didn’t say pathetic. I said confusing.”
“They’re confusing,” Oscar muttered. “They act like they are. But no one’s said anything outright. And I don’t wanna be that guy who just. Asks.”
“You mean, you don’t want to ask if your potentially-coupled roommates are into each other because you might also be into one, or both. Of them?” Lando asked innocently.
Oscar blinked. “I never said I was into them.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Oscar opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Lando shrugged, popping another chip into his mouth. “No shame in it, man. I’d be in shambles too. They’re both stupid hot.”
“Can you not say it like that,” Oscar muttered, pulling his hoodie over his face. “I already feel like the extra in my own sitcom.”
“Nah,” Lando said, nudging his knee. “You’re just in season one. You’re the quiet one who everyone’s gonna fall in love with later.”
Oscar peeked out from under his hoodie. “…That was surprisingly encouraging.”
“I have my moments.”
There was something grounding about Lando’s presence. He didn’t push too hard. Didn’t make things weird. And most importantly, didn’t read too far into Oscar’s moods. He just let him exist. Which Oscar really needed right now.
By the time Oscar got home that night, the dorm smelled like leftover pasta and someone had left a blanket draped half off the couch.
Charles was in the kitchen, barefoot, phone wedged between his ear and shoulder.
“Yeah, I’ll text you, okay, yeah, bye.”
He looked up and smiled. “Hey. Haven’t seen you all day.”
Oscar dropped his bag by the door. “Yeah. I was out.”
Charles looked like he was debating something for a second, then asked casually, “With that guy? Lando?”
Oscar froze, just briefly. “Yeah. From my lit class.”
Charles leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “He seems cool.”
“…He is.”
A pause.
“You’ve been out a lot lately,” Charles said, softer this time.
Oscar didn’t know how to answer that without sounding pathetic. Or bitter. So instead, he went with, “Just trying to stay on top of work. And not die of social fatigue.”
Charles tilted his head. “We’re not too much, are we? Me and Max?”
Oscar blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What?”
“I mean, we joke around a lot. Touchy-feely stuff. I just. I don’t want you to feel left out.”
Oscar’s mouth went dry. This was embarrassing.
He tried to laugh it off, but it came out brittle. “I’m not a five-year-old, Charles.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m just tired.”
Charles stepped closer. Not invading, just… near.
“If there’s something off, you can talk to us,” he said. “I mean it.”
Oscar nodded slowly. “Thanks.”
Just then, the door creaked open and Max walked in, earbuds around his neck and a backpack slung over one shoulder.
“Hey, hey,” he greeted, eyes flicking between the two of them. “Did I interrupt something?”
Charles raised a brow. “Do you ever not assume you’re the main character?”
Max smirked, dropped his bag, and padded over to the kitchen. “I take it as a compliment.”
Oscar rolled his eyes, but there was no real bark behind it. He watched as Charles elbowed Max lightly, and Max leaned into it with a grin, grabbing a leftover cookie from the counter like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Charles looked back at Oscar, his gaze soft. “Stay for tea?”
Oscar hesitated for a beat too long. But saying no felt like confirming something out loud he wasn’t ready to admit. So he nodded.
“Sure.”
They all ended up on the couch, some comfort show playing low in the background. Max sat on the floor, leaning back against the couch near Oscar’s legs, while Charles draped himself lazily across the other end, one hand occasionally reaching out to poke or nudge Max just to be annoying. It was loud in that casual, intimate way that made it obvious how at home they were with each other.
Oscar laughed when he was supposed to. Contributed to the conversation enough to not draw attention. But there was a weight in his chest he couldn’t shake, like he’d walked into a room that already had its rhythm, and no one was waiting for him to join.
Charles’s foot brushed his knee at one point, and Max looked up and smiled about something dumb, and Oscar tried not to let it twist something sharp inside him.
This wasn’t rejection. Not technically. No one had pushed him out.
But no one had pulled him in, either.
So he sipped his tea, laughed at the right beats, and tucked the ache somewhere quiet.
They were happy. That should be enough.
And if he felt like a visitor in his own life. Well. That was a him problem.
It had been a weird week.
Oscar was still around, technically. He still came home every night, still left little half-used mugs of tea around the apartment, still folded his laundry way too neatly and kept his side of the dorm spotless like someone might come by to judge it. But Max could count on one hand the number of real conversations they’d had in the last few days.
He didn’t like the way that felt.
Max wasn’t usually the type to chase people down emotionally. He was good with words, but not always feelings. He liked to assume that if something was wrong, someone would just say it, and if they didn’t, then maybe it wasn’t that serious.
But Oscar was different. Quiet different. The kind of quiet where you noticed it more when it changed.
And lately?
Oscar had been pulling away.
It wasn’t anything dramatic. Nothing that Max could point to as wrong. It was little things. Staying out longer than usual. Eating dinner after they’d already cleaned up. Slipping back into the dorm when everyone else was already half-asleep. It felt intentional.
Like he was… avoiding them.
And yeah, Max had noticed the Lando thing.
The guy wasn’t around a lot, but when he was, Oscar lit up differently. Laughing more, shoulders looser. The first time Max saw them together outside class, he told himself it was fine. The second time, he started telling himself it was healthy. By the third, he was halfway through wondering what it meant before catching himself and mentally slapping his own wrist.
Oscar could be friends with whoever the hell he wanted.
Max didn’t own him.
Still, it gnawed at him.
Sure, it had only been a month and a half since they moved into the dorm, but Max really liked both of his roommates. For some reason he never thought this could be possible. Liking two people at the same time, yet Charles seemed to feel the same way. At least from how he was behaving. Obviously, Max hadn’t asked.
He was sprawled on the floor in the living room that Friday night, half-pretending to scroll through his phone while Charles flipped through notes on the desk. The room smelled like laundry detergent and the faint citrusy body wash Charles always used. The kind of familiar comfort that usually helped settle Max’s brain.
Not tonight.
“You ever feel like he’s… slipping away a bit?” Max asked, not looking up from his phone.
Charles turned slightly in his chair. “Oscar?”
“Yeah.”
Charles didn’t say anything for a moment. Max glanced up to find him frowning, thumb resting against his lips like he was actually thinking about it.
“I’ve felt it too,” Charles admitted eventually. “Since last week, maybe. He’s been… distant.”
Max sat up a little. “I thought maybe he just needed space. But then he’s always with Lando now.”
“Lando’s nice,” Charles said, and Max could tell he was trying to sound neutral. “But yeah. It’s been hard not to notice.”
Max exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I just. Feel like we were getting close. Like, all of us. And now I don’t know where he stands.”
There was a beat of silence.
Charles watched him carefully. “Is this about you getting close… or you catching feelings?”
Max’s eyes snapped to him. “Don’t.”
“I’m not judging,” Charles said, gently. “Just asking.”
Max looked away, then back. “I don’t know what I’m feeling. He’s. He’s easy to be around. But lately it’s like he’s not letting me. Or either of us.”
Charles nodded slowly. “Do you think he knows we care?”
“I think he thinks we’re together,” Max said, voice quiet. “Like, me and you.”
It wasn’t particularly false but also not completely true either. Sure they had been flirting non-stop and Max definitely felt something towards Charles and he was sure the other did too. Yet they never said anything official.
The thing is, he didn’t just like Charles. He liked Oscar too. And he knew damn well Charles did so too. He hoped Oscar did so too.
Charles raised a brow. “Are we giving that vibe?”
Max gave him a look. “You kissed my neck yesterday because I wouldn’t give you the last slice of pizza.”
“Fair.”
Max sighed, leaning his head against the wall. “I just. Why wouldn’t he say something? If he thought that.”
Charles shrugged. “Maybe he’s trying not to get in the way.”
“That’s what’s so frustrating,” Max said. “He’s not in the way. He is part of this. At least he should be. I want him to be.”
Silence fell again. Heavy this time. Thoughtful.
Max rubbed his face, the weight of it all settling in his chest. The tension, the uncertainty, the jealousy he wasn’t even sure he was supposed to feel. It all twisted together into something sharp.
Oscar had always been hard to read, but now Max wasn’t even sure he was allowed to try.
Charles stood and crossed the room, dropping beside Max on the floor. “We’ll talk to him. Eventually.”
Max nodded, but his stomach twisted.
He wasn’t sure if “eventually” would come too late.