Page 30 of Level Up
I follow him down the hall as well, past a small kitchen separated from the main living space by half a wall, towards an oversized couch that takes up the entire width of the room. Parts of the space looks vaguely familiar, and I realize I’ve seen it in the background of his streams, but from the other direction, where his computer desk is situated under the window.
The desk is pretty sparse, which I wasn’t expecting. I thought it would be covered in nerd junk like mine, or at least have a huge computer with clear sides and flashing LED lights on full display on top of the desk, like some people seem to prefer. (Not me.)
Damien’s desk is clean and simple—something basic from IKEA, by the looks of it, but I’m obviously not one to judge—with two monitors taking up the width of the top and a computer tower tucked away discreetly below. The mouse and keyboard are both wireless, so there are hardly any cables to be seen. I make a mental note to get him to teach me his cable management magic.
“Yeah, it’s not that exciting,” he says when he notices me checking out his desk.
“No, it’s just… My desk is a mess,” I say with a laugh.
“I, uh, maybe tidied up a bit.” He looks away sheepishly. “Normally there are a lot more half-empty coffee mugs and food wrappers all over it.”
“You didn’t need to tidy on my account.”
“I didn’t.” He smiles patronizingly and I realize it was pretty presumptuous of me to think he would doanythingon my account. Though he might just be kidding.
He walks over to the TV on the opposite wall from the couch and crouches down to open the cabinet below. He holds out a see-through purple N64 controller towards me. “I just need a sec to set up. You can go sit, if you want.”
I follow the nod of his head toward the couch and sit at one end of it, sinking into it endlessly, like falling into a deep pit. Mouse Rat should write a song about it
He looks over at me and laughs. “Yeah, that spot is missing some springs,” he says. “You might want to scooch over a couple feet.”
I take his suggestion and find that, yes, the seat is a bit firmer over here. But the couch is still so deep that I can’t sit with my feet on the floor and reach the backrest at the same time. So I slide back in my seat and tuck my legs up, crossing them in front of me.
The TV blinks to life and low-res title art fills the screen, accompanied by familiar plunking music. “Oh mygod,” I say as nostalgia swells in my chest.
“It’s cool, right?” Damien comes over to take a seat next to me on the couch, nearly tripping over the cord from the controller as he does. He tucks his legs up as well, one knee bent up with his arm resting over it.
“Very,” I reply, smiling as I glance over at him. He smiles back and for a second this all feels very weird. It feels weird that it feels…normal. As if this is just a thing we do now.
“All right, kiddos,” Malcolm says when he exits the bedroom, clapping his hands together as he stands next to the TV. He’s wearing a flouncy white shirt that makes me think of a pirate, and I wonder yet again if he’s in costume. “I amoff to get an emergency haircut becauseI have a date with Evan tonight?—”
“So you’ve said,” Damien says unenthusiastically.
“Behave yourselves while I’m gone,” Malcolm adds. “And don’t fuck on the couch because this is a communal space?—”
“Okay, byyyye.” Damien quickly gets to his feet and pushes Malcolm out of the room and down the hall. I can see Malcolm say something else to Damien, but it’s too faint for me to hear, and then they are both out of sight.
Damien reappears a moment later. I can’t tell if he’s as thoroughly embarrassed as I am or if he’s just annoyed. “Ignore him,” he says again, taking his seat on the couch.
“He kind of reminds me of Pal,” I say offhand. “That’s definitely the sort of thing they would say.”
He snorts. “I met them for all of five seconds and I can tell.”
“So, like, are all your roommates gay, then?” I immediately realize that might sound like a rude question, so I quickly add, “Basically everyone I know is queer, I’m not saying—I mean, it’s cool with me.”
He eyes me curiously for a second, like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about, but then it seems to dawn on him, and he laughs. “Evanis short for Evangeline,” he says. “Malcolm is, like, the token straight friend. He’s just…like that.”
“Right. Okay.” I nod and then frown. “So if he’s the token straight friend, does that mean you’re…not?”
“Uh, not as such, no.”
“Oh. Okay.” I look towards the TV for another moment and then back at him. “But you do have a girlfriend, right?”
Now it’s his turn to frown in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“That woman in the shop with you the other day! She bought a pen and?—”
“Dude, that’s my sister!” He lets out a horrified laugh. “Oh my god.”
