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you if he does actually decide he’s had enough?”
    Oliver scrubbed his face, then let out a breath.  “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t try.  I’ve already sacrificed more than I had to give.”  He absently rubbed his upper arm where the worst of his scars were nestled under his shirt.  “If I stop now, it will have been for nothing.”
    “I don’t have siblings,” Gabe said quietly.  “My parents kicked me out when I was fifteen and told them I was actually supposed to be a boy.  I have one aunt, Orthodox Jewish Lesbian, who loves me—but also doesn’t totally understand me—and that’s it.  So I’ve learned to live for myself.”
    “So you don’t get it,” Oliver clarified.
    Gabe gave one slow shake of his head.  “I don’t.  But I can see you have fire in you.  I saw it this morning at the café.”
    Oliver raised a brow.  “I thought you didn’t recognize me.”
    Laughing, Gabe flushed a little and looked away.  “I was distracted, okay?  Sue me.  Your brother was puking his guts up all over my shoes and I thought he was about to die.”
    “Yes but this face…”  Oliver waved his hand in a circle around his head.  “How is that forgettable?”
    When Gabe spoke again, his voice had dropped an octave.  “It’s not.  Believe me.”
    Knowing where this conversation could go, and knowing it was not a good idea just yet with Leo still not out of the woods, Oliver cleared his throat and finished off his tea.  “You got somewhere for me to crash.  I have a class I can’t miss tomorrow, and honestly Leo’s going to be dead to the world at least until morning.”
    Looking just a little disappointed, Gabe stood up and beckoned Oliver with a hand.  Oliver’s fingers slipped easily into the other man’s, and he tried not to think about how nice it felt to have that sort of contact.  The human contact he avoided at almost all costs.
    “You can share with me.  I have a huge bed, and I promise to behave myself.”
    Oliver resisted for just a moment, but he knew he wouldn’t get any rest sleeping on the small couch.  So unless he wanted to crash on the bathroom floor next to his unconscious brother, this was it.
    Gabe opened the door to his bedroom, and Oliver was met with the faint smell of incense, and possibly laundry soap which he assumed was coming from a small basket sitting on top of a desk.  The place was cluttered, a lot like the living room had been, with shelves covered in books and pictures pinned to the wood.  The walls were a mixture of eighties glam rock posters and Mucha prints.  There were a couple of acoustic guitars, and a larger ukulele hanging from hooks, and a string of what looked like they might be Tibetan Prayer Flags hanging beside the window.
    “Eclectic,” he mused as he kicked off his shoes by the door.
    Gabe snorted.  “Half of this shit is remnants from my emo teenager phase.  But I’m not in here a lot, so I never bothered with it.”
    “And I assume the fuckboys you pick up at bars don’t care that you’ve got David Bowie’s epic crotch bulge staring them in the face.”
    “Fuckboys prefer it, didn’t you know?” Gabe challenged.
    “I wouldn’t know, in fact,” Oliver said with an indignant sniff, and Gabe laughed as he went to his dresser, pulling out a large t-shirt and a pair of sweats.  Oliver took them, giving them a sniff, then nodded.  “Thanks, mate.”
    “No worries.  I’m going to change and check on Leo.  Just get comfy and I’ll let you know if he needs anything.”
    Oliver wanted to protest, but it was Gabe’s house, and honestly letting someone else take the lead for even a few hours was the respite he was craving.  The second the door shut, Oliver wriggled out of his club clothes and into the comfy pajamas his host had provided.
    It was a damn surreal night to say the least, and Oliver could definitely count on one hand how many times he’d ended up in someone else’s bed.  He