By the time he was back in the boys’ dorm — and making sure no one else saw him, of course —, he wondered whether he should contact Max again.

He stood in the hallway for a full minute, phone in hand. Max’s contact information was staring back at him on the screen. The cursor blinked in the empty message field… but what would he even say? “Hey, sorry for whatever I did”? “Stella says you’re not avoiding me but you’re definitely avoiding me”? “Please just tell me what I did wrong so I can stop doing it”?

It all felt too weird. Even the idea of contacting her felt weird, even though they were friends. Right?

Thinking a bit, he typed, “hey max, just wanted to check in,” and then deleted it. No, no, it wasn’t good. Then he typed, “did i do something?” and deleted that too. Finally, he closed the messages entirely. If she hated him, the last thing she needed was him bothering her at — he checked the time — 9:47 p.m. Maybe he could send it later?

The DVD in his bag felt like it was burning a hole through the fabric. He should return it. Nathan had been weirdly generous this morning, probably high on whatever rich kids took to cope with their rich kid problems, and Warren didn’t want to take advantage. Plus, the DVD wasn’t his. It was a great movie and all, definitely, but he couldn’t accept something he didn’t deserve. It was just like when his aunt gave him twenty dollars for his 15th birthday… it was amazing, but he knew she couldn’t afford it, and he tried his best not to spend it.

A few minutes of contemplation later, he stood in front of Nathan’s dorm room. Was he even here at this time of night? Given how much the so-called Vortex Club partied, it was hard for him to guess. And so Warren knocked once.

Nothing.

Maybe he should’ve knocked harder? And so Warren knocked twice.

Still nothing.

Though he could hear movement inside — footsteps, probably. Maybe something being thrown; he didn’t know. Someone was definitely there, though. And so Warren knocked thrice.

“Go the fuck away!” It was Nathan’s voice, though muffled through the expensive door.

“It’s Warren! I’m just returning the DVD.”

A pause. “Leave it outside.”

“I’m not leaving it in the hallway. Someone could steal it, you know.”

“Nobody’s going to steal a fucking Looney Tunes movie.”

“You don’t know that! T-there could be animation enthusiasts lurking anywhere… think of, you know, Daniel. God knows what he would do with… such a great movie like this.”

It seemed this was enough to convince him. The door opened a crack, revealing Nathan’s left eye (well, his right eye, technically speaking) in the gap.

Warren smiled a bit. “What’s up, doc?”

“You’re despicable,” he sneered, and not in a good wait. “Give it to me and leave.”

For a moment, Warren held up the DVD, but when Nathan reached for it, he found himself pulling it back slightly. “Did… did I do something?”

“What?” Nathan opened the door wider, revealing he was wearing surprisingly not-too-expensive-looking pajama pants and a Rage Against the Machine t-shirt that was probably older than Nathan himself. Still, it looked nice, although he would never say that out loud…

“This morning, I mean. Did I do something wrong? Cross a line or…? I just—” Warren was technically inside the room now, though he wasn’t sure how that had happened. The door had opened wider, his feet had moved, and suddenly he was standing on Nathan’s probably-Persian rug. Perhaps he had gotten a bit carried away. “I dunno, everyone’s acting weird around me today and I’m trying to figure out if I’m the problem.”

Nathan stared at him like he’d grown a second head. A third head. A fourth head, even; God knows how many heads he was capable of growing. “What, are you seriously having a crisis in my doorway right now?”

“Sorry. I’ll just—” Warren held out the DVD again, his hand shaking slightly.

“Shit, get in here before someone sees you.” Nathan grabbed Warren’s sleeve and pulled him inside, closing the door with more force than necessary. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know!” Warren’s voice cracked slightly, all the frustration of the evening pouring out. “That’s the problem. I think Max hates me, Stella basically kicked me out of her room, and you’re the only person who’s been remotely normal to me today, which is insane because you’re Nathan Prescott.”

“Wow. You’re telling me this for the first time. Thanks.”

“No offense.”

“Fuck you.” But there was no real heat in it. Nathan took the DVD, looking at it like he’d forgotten it existed. “Look, people are probably being weird because… uh, people are always weird. I mean, it’s not about you. The world doesn’t revolve around you and your movie opinions and shit.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Warren slumped against the wall. “But I-I thought it was a great movie. I mean, come on, Brendan Fraser deserved better. The whole Area 52 sequence where they flew with the spy car, and then crashed the spy car, and then walked, and then found Walmart, and then… found Mother… it was so inspiring.”

Nathan looked at him for a long moment, something shifting in his expression: surprise, maybe, that Warren had actually watched it and formed opinions beyond “haha funny rabbit.”

“Yeah… yeah, he did.” Nathan set the DVD on his shelf between some random book he never really read and a beat-up copy of Face/Off. “That movie, well, it killed his career for years. Nobody took him seriously after that.”

“Which is bullshit because he was doing exactly what the role required. It’s not his fault the movie was marketed wrong. It’s not like it was bad, either …”

Nathan turned back to him, head tilted slightly. “Huh. You actually give a shit about this stuff.”

“Yeah? I mean, why else would I borrow movies?”

“Most people just want to seem interesting. They don’t actually watch anything.” Nathan moved to his bed, and sat on the edge. “Did Stella tell you to stay away from me?”

Warren’s silence was answer enough.

He was a bit surprised that Nathan asked, though. Warren could definitely consider Stella as a friend, even if she had seemed more of a mentor to him lately. But he always thought he was closer to someone like Max, who had a good sense of humor and all the coolest tastes in school. On the other hand, he hadn’t seen her in a while, and now here he was.

“Smart girl,” Nathan said, but there was something bitter in it. He couldn’t say he hated Stella, though the fact she owned him at least $500 in… stuff at this point might’ve meant something. Stella wasn’t exactly a saint, nor a Bronco or a 49er — although he’d be honestly happy with any team really, anyone besides the Browns —, but she was smarter than she looked. He always thought she and Warren had a thing for each other, but perhaps not.

“I mean, uh, I’m not exactly friend material.”

“Eh. Nobody’s really friend material at 1 a.m. covered in vomit.”

Nathan’s head snapped up. “Hey, you said you wouldn’t—”

“I’m not telling anyone. I’m just saying…”

They sat in awkward silence for a moment. Warren could hear music from somewhere in the dorm. He didn’t know where, although if he had to guess, it would likely be coming from down the hall. Someone would definitely get a noise complaint, eventually.

Warren was already turning to leave when he noticed a box partially visible under Nathan’s bed. It wasn’t an exciting box or anything, but he was always a bit curious at heast. “Is that… in that box… do you have more movies?”

Nathan followed his gaze, and Warren could swear he saw him blush. “Maybe.”

“Can I see?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m genuinely curious what you consider worth hiding under your bed.”

After all, as long as he didn’t have a dead body or something there, what could go wrong? Nathan seemed to wrestle with himself for a moment, then eventually pulled the box out with his foot. It was just a regular cardboard box with “MISC” written on the side in sharpie, which one could argue was completely at odds with the rest of the room’s aesthetic, but would suffice.

Warren knelt beside it, eyes widening as he took in the contents. “Holy shit, is this all in HD?”

“No, Jesus, I’m not that pretentious.” Nathan joined him on the floor, pulling out DVDs seemingly at random. “Most of it’s just… well, stuff I actually like. Not the shit I’m supposed to like.”

Warren picked up a case. “Heat? The 1995 romantic comedy?”

“What!? No. Have you even seen it?”

“No, but I’ve been meaning to for literally years. I’ve also been told the diner scene is supposed to be incredible.”

Nathan’s eyes lit up in a way that transformed his whole face. “It’s the best fucking movie ever made. I’m telling you, it’s like Pacino and De Niro at their peak. Nothing’s ever topped it. Well, except for all the others who have topped it—”

“I’ve heard it influenced basically every heist movie since.”

“Influenced? Well, yeah, it fucking created the template. Chris Nolan watched it like fifty times before making The Dark Knight. Look how that went!” He seemed suddenly animated now, moving his hands left and right, up and down as he talked. “The sound design alone — I think recorded the actual gunfire on location? So none of that studio bullshit. When I saw it in theaters for the anniversary screening…”

“They did an anniversary screening?”

“In Portland, yeah. Last year. It wasn’t really a special anniversary screening, but I guess the 17th anniversary of it meant something. Drove down by myself because nobody else gave a shit.” Nathan held up the DVD. “You want to watch it?”

Warren checked his phone. It was already past 10. He shouldn’t even be here. All he had to do was just return the movie and go back to his dorm. Why was he still there? “But uh, it’s like three hours long.”

“So?”

“Don’t you have class tomorrow?”

“Do you?”

Warren did, in fact: Chemistry at 8 a.m. But Nathan was looking at him with something that definitely wasn’t quite hope but was adjacent to it, and Warren realized this might be the first time anyone had actually engaged with him about something he cared about rather than just tolerating his interests. Well, perhaps not the first time, but definitely the first time in a while.

“Fuck it. Let’s watch it.”

Nathan’s smile was small but genuine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But I’m going to need context. Like, a lot of context.”

“Oh, you’re going to get so much fucking context. There’s so much context in here it’s… uh… well, the most context in the history of context.”

This man was crazy, Warren thought. Nathan practically bounced to his entertainment center, handling the DVD with more care than Warren had seen him handle anything. While he set it up, he kept talking, and his usual guarded demeanor seemed completely gone.

“So Michael Mann, right? He’d been working on this story for like a decade, I think. It started as a TV movie in ‘89 called L.A. Takedown, which was great, but he knew it could be more. He wanted to explore these parallels between cop and criminal, how they’re basically the same person on different sides…”

Warren tried his best to recall everything. Of course, he knew he wouldn’t, but at least he’d know some interesting facts to keep in mind. He eventually settled onto Nathan’s couch — it was ridiculously comfortable, actually — as Nathan grabbed drinks from his very own mini-fridge — some fancy sparkling water and, unexpectedly, regular Coke.

“The sugar helps with focus,” Nathan explained, handing him one. “A three-hour runtime is no joke.”

He also grabbed a bag of kettle corn and what looked like actual movie theater candy. Of course, he assumed, the quality would be a bit inferior. “It’s funny, my mom sends care packages. Used to, at least. She thinks I’m still twelve.”

“This is incredible,” Warren said, and meant it. The setup, the enthusiasm, the way Nathan was treating this like an event — well, it was exactly how movies should be watched! (Though preferably in a more suitable place.)

The opening shot filled the screen — it a train approaching through somewhat blue-tinted darkness — and Nathan immediately paused it.

“See that? I mean, Mann loves these transportation shots. What do they call it again…? ‘Isolation in motion,’ or whatever. These guys are always moving but never getting anywhere, you know?”

He had no idea what he was saying anymore and they weren’t even five minutes in. But perhaps he had a point.

“That’s… actually really deep.”

“Just wait.”

They made it about forty minutes before Warren realized this was, in fact, the greatest movie he’d ever seen (or at least in his top 50). The composition, the dialogue, the way every character felt lived-in and real… it was exactly what every movie should aspire to be. Luckily, Nathan kept providing his own commentary, pointing out shots, explaining backstory, and getting genuinely excited about technical details Warren had never considered, and probably never would.

“See how De Niro doesn’t blink? He trained himself not to. I tell you, it makes him seem inhuman, like a shark.”

“That’s terrifying and impressive.”

“Right? And Pacino, I mean, watch his hands. Like, he’s always moving— h-he can’t grab onto anything solid.”

Warren was transfixed. Not just by the movie but by Nathan’s transformation. At this point his comments were quite illogical and he was trying to pretend he wasn’t lost, but he had to admit that, perhaps, his instincts were right. Nathan was just a guy who really, really loved cinema and had nobody to share it with. Nothing bad about that!

It took a bit until they got into a diner scene. Warren wasn’t sure how many diner scenes he’d see today, but it was definitely the diner scene, based o how Nathan kept staring at it.

“Don’t let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in thirty seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner,” De Niro’s character said.

“That’s so cold,” Warren whispered.

“But honest,” Nathan replied. “That’s what makes it brilliant. They’re both right and both wrong. Right? Right?”

The movie continued, but Warren’s eyes were getting heavy. The comfort of the couch, the warmth of the room, the safety of being genuinely engaged with something… it had been so long since he’d felt this relaxed.

All of this while Nathan was still talking, although Warren had no idea if Nathan even knew he wasn’t paying much attention. “The thing about Mann is he doesn’t judge his characters, I think. Cops aren’t good, yeah, criminals aren’t bad, yup, so when you just have people making choices…”

Although he meant to respond, Warren forgot what he was going to say. He let his eyes close for a second, just for a second, so he could better think about… uh… what was it again…

Warren woke to confusion. His neck hurt, he was too warm, and something was weighing down his legs. He blinked, trying to process the unfamiliar ceiling, the expensive-looking light fixture, and the general sense that he was not where he should be.

Oh, wait. Nathan’s room. He was in Nathan’s room. The TV was showing the DVD menu on repeat, which meant… Jesus, how long had he been asleep?

He tried to sit up and realized the weight on his legs was Nathan’s leg, thrown over his lap like they were… oh no. Oh fuck no.

Nathan stirred at the movement, and his own confusion visible as his eyes opened. For a moment they just stared at each other, the reality of their position sinking in. Who was this man sitting on his couch? But he also realized that his own leg was across Warren’s lap. And then Warren’s arm somehow had ended up on Nathan’s shoulders. They’d been basically cuddling. Uh…

“What the fuck?” Nathan scrambled backward so fast he nearly fell off the couch, his leg tangling briefly with Warren’s before they separated.

“U-uh— I don’t— we were just watching—” Warren’s voice came out a bit hoarse. He definitely had a good hour or so of sleep, but he was still fairly confused about whatever was going on.

Nathan grabbed his phone from the coffee table. His face was so pale Warren almost thought he’d seen a ghost. Perhaps he did. “It’s almost 1 a.m. The movie ended two hours ago.”

“Shit.”

“We slept through the fucking shootout scene!” Nathan seemed personally offended by this. “The whole third act! Val Kilmer’s death scene!”

“Hey, spoilers!”

“The movie’s from 1995! I’ve watched this scene like twenty times already, shitass!”

They stared at each other for a moment, both processing what had happened. Nathan’s hair was sticking up on one side. Warren’s henley was twisted, riding up slightly. Of course, these details were hardly fascinating, at least under thevery specific set of circumstances they were in. It didn’t stop, however, both from thinking this was evidence of something more intimate than either wanted to acknowledge.

“I should go,” Warren said, starting to stand.

“Yeah. You should.” Nathan was already up and doing his best to put distance between them. “This was— we just fell asleep. The movie was long. It happens, right?”

“Right. Exactly. I mean, a three-hour runtime, comfortable couch… it’s basically inevitable, I tell you.”

“Don’t make it weird, dude.”

“I’m not! You’re the one who—”

Curiously, Nathan leaned closer to Warren. It was close enough that Warren could smell his expensive shampoo. Huh, lavender. “Listen to me very carefully. We watched a movie. We fell asleep. Nothing else happened. Got it?”

If he was thinking logically, Warren should have been intimidated. He’d found himself in a rather awkward situation with someone who, despite his changing opinions, was still, for lack of a better word, “weird” to him. But mostly he just looked tired, and a little scared.

But it’s not like he was wrong. Maybe they got a bit too comfortable without realizing it, but that’s it. Why were they even making a big deal out of this?

“Dude, I wasn’t going to tell anyone. I don’t even have anyone to tell.” The admission came out more pathetic than intended.

Nathan stepped back slightly, studying him. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

Warren laughed, but it was a bit hollow. “I told you, I came here because literally everyone else is avoiding me. Max won’t answer my texts, Stella can barely stand me, and I’m pretty sure even Samuel crosses the hall when he sees me coming.”

“Oh, so you came to me? That’s fucking desperate.”

“Yeah, well.” Warren grabbed his bag. “I thought maybe you weren’t so bad. You’ve got good taste in movies, so there’s that. And for like an hour there, you seemed almost… normal. Happy, even.”

“I’m not your friend, Warren.”

“I know!”

“I mean it. This wasn’t… I don’t need friends like you.”

Ouch. “Nobody needs friends— hey! That’s not how friendship works.” Warren was at the door now, hand on the handle. He wouldn’t waste his time listening to clichés like this, especially at this time of night. “But it was nice, for a minute there, watching something with someone who actually gave a shit about it. So thanks for that, I guess.”

He was turning the handle when Nathan spoke again, quieter this time.

“Wait.”

Warren paused but didn’t turn around.

“You can’t leave now.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s 1 a.m., and if anyone sees you leaving my room at 1 a.m., they’re going to think… things.”

Warren turned. Nathan was standing by his bed, arms crossed, looking fairly uncomfortable.

“Things?”

“Don’t make me spell it out.”

“Oh.” Warren considered this. Well, it definitely made sense now. On the other hand, he didn’t think that anyone would be in the hall this time, especially given the time. Unless, of course, he wanted to be extra-safe — and especially if he didn’t trust Warren to keep it a secret from someone. “Oh. Yeah, that would be… uh, something. But I can’t stay here.”

“The couch,” Nathan said immediately. “You sleep on the couch. I sleep in my bed. We don’t talk about it. Ever.”

“But I—”

“It’s that or risk Victoria seeing you do the walk of shame from my room.” Nathan’s face was slightly flushed. “And trust me, that’s not a rumor either of us wants starting.”

Warren considered his options. At best, he could just walk to his room and pretend that nothing of what may have happened today, well, happened. He found it really unlikely that someone would just pop in at this time, especially someone like Victoria, who was likely enjoying her beauty sleep hours ago. But if Nathan wouldn’t let him leave, then well, despite realizing neither of his options were ideal, he had to admit the couch was comfortable, at least. He could stay.

“Fine. But I’m not sleeping in jeans.”

Nathan looked horrified. “I’m not giving you my clothes.”

“Oh, I’m not asking for your clothes. Just… sweatpants or something. Unless you want me sleeping in my boxers on your couch—.”

The look of horror intensified. Nathan disappeared into what must have been a walk-in closet — of course he had a walk-in closet —, and returned with a pair of gray sweatpants that looked like they’d never been worn.

“They’re clean.”

“Thanks.”

An awkward moment passed where they both realized Warren would need to change. Nathan turned his back, suddenly very interested in his phone.

“Just… uh… tell me when you’re done.”

Naturally, Warren changed quickly, trying not to think about how soft the sweatpants were or how he was in an awkward place under fairly awkward circumstances. His jeans ended up folded on the floor next to his bag; his henley stayed on because taking it off felt like too much.

“Done.”

Nathan glanced over, did a quick scan, then grabbed a pillow and blanket from his closet. All good. “Here. Don’t drool on my couch.”

“Oh, I don’t drool.”

“Everyone drools.”

“Do you drool?”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

Eventually, Warren settled onto the couch, which, analyzing it right now, was honestly more comfortable than his actual bed. To his surprise, it didn’t seem like Nathan’s blankets (or at least the one he got) were one of those fancy, high-thread-count ones. It was just a normal white blanket. He could hear him getting ready for bed, too. A moment later and all he heard was the rustle of sheets from the nearby bed, and the click of his lamp turning off.

The room fell into darkness, although the moonlight could be faintly seen through his window’s blinds.

“Warren?”

“Yeah?”

“The, um… shootout scene really is incredible. We’ll— erm, you should watch it. The whole third act, yeah. Sometime.”

“Yup. I should.”

More silence. And then:

“If you tell anyone about this—”

“I know, I know, you’ll end me. I got it.”

“Not just that. I’ll… just don’t, okay?”

“I won’t.”

Warren lay in the dark, listening to Nathan’s breathing slowly even out. It wasn’t quite snoring, thankfully, so at least there was that. It was funny, he thought; he hadn’t shared a room with someone since he left his parents’ house down in Beaver. Thank God that no one knew he slept in his parents’ bed until not too long ago… but that was a story for another day.

Maybe Stella was right to warn him away, he thought. Maybe Nathan was dangerous, unstable, all the things people said. But he was also just a lonely kid who really loved movies and had nobody to watch them with. And Warren could relate to that more than he wanted to admit.

Despite himself, he smiled. Tomorrow would be awkward, sure. They’d probably go back to ignoring each other and pretending today never happened. (Maybe that would be a good thing?) And of course, tomorrow all his problems would still be there — including his general sense of being too much and not enough simultaneously, as weird as it was to describe it.

But right now, having shared three-quarters of a genuinely fascinating movie with someone who cared about it as much as he did (or grew to!), Warren felt okay. Not good, unfortunately, but okay.

And okay was better than he’d felt in weeks.

Warren closed his eyes and tried not to think about it too much. He couldn’t afford to sleep so late several days in a row.