Page 50 of Laugh

He pulls himself up from where he’s lying back to give me his full attention. “Of course I’m not mad at you, crazy pants. Seriously, there’s nothing major going on. I’ve been a bit run down lately, so I probably just picked up the flu or a bug at some point.”

My eyes begin to water in frustration, and I shake my head violently at him. “No, it’s something more than that. You’ve been canceling plans a lot lately, and you won’t let me come over to your apartment anymore.”

This time, he looks away from me.Okay, I’m getting somewhere now.

Rubbing the back of his head, he flicks his eyes over to me and mumbles, “It’s really messy.”

“You haven’t let me come over because it’s messy? I don’t care if your stuff is on the floor. Have youseenmy place? You’ve literally had to help me wash dishes that sat too long in my sink because I couldn’t handle the bacterial universe that grew an entirely new species!”

Groaning, he lays back again and closes his eyes. This time, I suspect it’s to hide from me. “It’s not just messy, Harry. It’s seriously awful. I really think I was sick for a bit and things started piling up. Before I realized it, it got out of control. I kept telling myself that I’d get to it tomorrow, but then tomorrow came and it was too daunting. So, I waited for the next tomorrow, and the next, and then the next.”

When I notice that I’ve been slowly nodding my head up and down as he was speaking, I immediately stop and shift my body over to him, leaning in for a hug.

“Look,” I whisper against his shoulder. “So, it’s bad. So what? Let’s fix it together. I’ll take a day off and come over bright and early in the morning and we’ll just tackle it room by room until it’s manageable.”

Denial immediately flies to his lips. “No, I don’t want you to see it.”

Swallowing back the clogging heaviness in my throat, that worry in my stomach expands so much that I feel slightly nauseous.He’s really worried about this.

“Please,” I choke out. “Please let me help you.”

He remains silent for a couple of minutes, and I leave him to decide while I enjoy snuggling into him. I hate that he’s this ashamed of his place, but he must know I’d never judge him for it.Never.

Finally, in a small voice that I fuckinghatehearing, he asks, “You swear you won’t be mad at me for it? It’s…” he pauses to swallow loudly. “I need you to expect the worst. Please. I’m really fucking embarrassed.”

There’s a wobble to his voice and I know he’s on the verge of tears himself. Normally, I’d scold him for even questioning me, but this isn’t my Marcus right now. This is bigger than I think I had expected when I first brought this up tonight.

“I swear it, my friend.”

He doesn’t answer, but he nods once and relaxes against me in relief. I decide that he’s had enough of my prodding for one night. I pick up the remote and turn on the TV so we can pretend that neither of us feels a heavy weight over what we’re going to do soon.

Our forced laughter at the characters’ antics in the show eventually turns genuine over the course of the next two hours. I order in pizza for us so we don’t have to worry about cooking or cleaning up tonight. Eventually, it grows late, and I know he’s going to head home soon. Neither of us moves away from our snuggle positions until I hear him whisper, “I love you more than serial killers love conversion vans.”

Pure, undiluted laughter explodes from me, and I dissolve into a fit of giggles. “Goddamnit, Marcus! That may be one of my favorites to date!”

His easy rolling laugh reassures my heart that he’s going to be alright. The problems at his apartment are something the two of us can most definitely fix. I’m so fucking relieved that now I know what he’s been keeping secret from me, finally.

“I thought of it the other day and have been waiting until the perfect time to use it,” he shares, wiping away the tears and breathing heavily through his laughter. “I need to get going, though. Early morning and all that.”

Disappointed that we’re calling it a night, I don’t argue because I have to get up early too. “Boo. Text me when you get home, so I know you made it okay. I’ll look at my work schedule tomorrow and we’ll figure out a good time to attack your place.”

Groaning, this time without feelings of embarrassment over the mess, he agrees. “Fine. I’ll gift you with lots of bottles of tequila as a thank you.”

“I accept that. I love you more than Bamber loves spray tan.”

He pauses on his way to the door and turns to look at me. Then bends over, clutching his stomach as he loses it all over again. “Fucking brilliant. Later, skater.”

Waving, I tell him goodbye then lock the door behind him once he leaves. I open my computer and then a new document to list things I think we’ll need for a good, solid day of cleaning averymessy apartment.

Marcus’s reminder that I need to expect the worst has me increasing the number of trash bags I’ll buy. I even throw in a note to ask around to see if I can borrow a truck from one of our friends for the day.

I briefly consider calling Addie and asking if she’d be willing to take a day off to help but decide against it. Marcus was clearly ashamed, and I’d never want to expose him like that to anyone.

He and I can tackle this together. It’ll be great to get him all fixed up.

Chapter 19

She Didn’t Show

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