Secret Mail and Moving Days

“I will tell him! Yeah, I know I have to.” Osmond’s voice could be heard from behind the locked bathroom door.

      It was a Friday. The day had started like any other. Maverick would wake up at 5 am ready for his morning run around Clissold Park, and he would arrive an hour and a half later to see Osmond fight the sleep off his eyes while making the tea. Well, coffee for Maverick. They would eat breakfast together at their small dining table by their ceiling-high windows and look at the busy streets of London. They would talk about their plans for the day, while Osmond’s long pale fingers held a knife to spread jam on his scones. Then, both of them would clean and dry the dishes, to later help each other get dressed for work. Maverick would fix his tie in a rush, while Osmond would pick up the letters from the porch and leave them on a small table by the door. Lastly, they would walk together to the subway, or the tube as Osmond had been trying to correct Maverick for the past 4 years, and off they went to their days.

      Nevertheless, the last three Fridays Osmond had been acting strange. Nothing major, just small tweaks in their routine. Things like how he locks the bathroom door when getting ready in the morning, how he picks up the letters before they start eating instead of afterward, how he is now rushed to leave the house in the morning when Maverick is usually the one rushing.

      “Mum, it is all right. I just have to figure it out.” Maverick stood outside the bathroom, his heavily pierced ear close to the dark wood as he tried to listen to his boyfriend speak. “Okay, goodbye. We will stop by for Sunday brunch. Yes, I’ll have it figured out by then. Cheers.”

      Maverick panicked when he heard Osmond saying goodbye and rushed towards the open living room to act as if he wasn’t eavesdropping on the other. Osmond walked out of the bathroom, his freckled face flushed in frustration. His caramel eyes met Maverick's blue ones for a second, but Osmond looked away quickly.

      “Love, do you want creamer or milk in your coffee?” Osmond asked, walking into their kitchen, he brushed his brown bangs off his face.

      “Um, yeah some milk would be nice. Thanks, love.” Maverick offered a tight smile. God, he was terrible at pretending when things were wrong. Osmond spared him a quick glance over his shoulder. Love? What’s with Mav today? He never calls me love. 

      Osmond brought the tea and coffee to the table while Maverick trailed behind him with scones, bacon, and some sausages. After setting the stuff down, Maverick pulls the chair out for Osmond to take a seat. Osmond gives him a kiss on his bearded cheek and they both settle down.

      “So, do you have a busy day today? I was thinking of maybe having late lunch at the Ritz downtown,” Maverick said with his mouth full. It had been almost 6 years since they had started dating, and 10 since they had met each other. And Osmond would never stop feeling amused when he noticed how little Maverick had changed throughout the years. Same messy eating habits, the constant cloud of cigarette smoke following him, the way he hated pet names, and how clumsy and awful secret-keeper he was. 

      “That sounds wonderful, how about we go tomorrow! I have to stay late to grade some papers with Dr. Coffman. Y’know, that joint project we planned for our classes,” Osmond said, crossing his long legs, and quickly taking a bite from his scone.

      “Oh, of course totally. I just thought that you were done with that last week? But maybe I was distracted and understood wrong,” Maverick replied sounding disappointed. He was disappointed. It had been the same shit the last three Fridays! It wasn’t only the rush to get the letters in the morning, or Osmond locking himself in the bathroom to talk to his mother. Osmond had been in a rampant streak of shutting down Maverick’s plans of spending time with him. Fuck, Maverick just wanted some expensive steak, play dress up, and simp over Osmond at their favorite places. Was that too much to ask?

      “I am sorry, love. And you are right I have been grading these papers for what feels like years, but I swear they just never end. It’s bananas! I promise you we’ll go to the Ritz tomorrow, and I’ll pay to make it up to you.” Osmond smiled softly.

      Maverick wasn’t having it. He stayed silent, his dress shirt stretched uncomfortably over his toned arms as he reached out for his cigarette box filled with Marlboro Golds. Osmond didn’t like when he smoked inside the house, even less when they were having breakfast. But Maverick was hurt, and he felt petty and spiteful so honestly, a smoke wouldn’t hurt. Osmond frowned a little at this, he reached to his right to open the window and was sure to exaggeratedly swat his hand in front of his face to blow away the smoke. 

      “Bloody hell, Mav! What is wrong with you?” Maverick stood up abruptly. He made his way from the table to grab his leather jacket by the hanger. He turned to look back at Osmond while adjusting the neck of his jacket so it wouldn’t crush his collar.

      “I don’t know Os, maybe ask Dr. Coffman!” Maverick rolled his eyes and left the house. Osmond was left with a hurt look and an almost entire breakfast left behind getting cold. Ugh, this was getting out of hand, we both suck at lying.

~ ~ ~

      Maverick was fuming. His golden skin had turned red from frustration as he stomped his way towards his art studio. This time Maverick decided to walk, the subway was really not that necessary, he could walk 20 blocks with ease. He needed to calm down, breathe, don’t jump to conclusions. But here he was on his 6th cigarette since he left the house, and the stupid line he left Osmond with was replaying in his head like torture. Jesus, he hadn’t smoked this much in less than two hours since finals week back in college. And even though he can be a petty piece of shit, that energy had never been directed towards Osmond. Maverick would never. But there he was acting like a child because he knows Osmond is hiding something from him. Maybe he should confront him? They are married after all. Nothing wrong will happen from a civilized adult conversation to clear up the air. But then again, Osmond had been trying to keep whatever is happening a secret for the last three fucking weeks and Maverick’s peanut brain was going to explode. So he did the only thing he could come up with, call Osmond’s mother, Regina.

      “Hey cowboy, haven’t heard from you all week. You are coming for Sunday brunch?” Regina was bright as always. Informal, youthful, and familiar. She and Maverick have grown close since they moved back to England four years ago.

      “Hello Regina, of course, I am going! I would never miss those pancakes you make just for me.” Maverick smiled through the phone as he tried to open the tricky lock of his studio.

        “Good good! So tell me, love. To what do I owe your call? Did something happen?”

      “Oh no, we are peachy over here. Um…I was calling because, well—” Maverick cut himself off, thinking about how to continue what he was saying, “you see, this is going to sound so bad but I have heard Osmond talking to you while locked in our bathroom. The thing is that he is acting very weird like he is hiding something. And now that I am actually calling you to find out through you—because I know you know what’s happening since I have been eavesdropping on Os—I feel like a complete idiot.” Maverick threw his bag on the corner of his office and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

      “Bloody hell, you guys are a mess,” Regina said under her breath, something that wasn’t meant to be heard by Maverick.       “Look, my love, I promise you that whatever it is that is keeping you anxious is nothing terrible. It is not my place to say anything seeing that is Osmond’s business, but you can always talk to him. You guys are such a beautiful couple that has been together for so long. Just tell him what you have been feeling, and doing.” 

      Maverick bit his bottom lip in thought staring at a framed picture on his desk. It was taken on graduation day, 2011, with Osmond and Maverick and big bright smiles plastered on their faces. Their purple robes and newly acquired diplomas from NYU were on proud display. Fuck, this was so stupid how can’t he just be able to talk to his best friend and partner about this? But also, why is Osmond being so fucking secretive? 

 ~ ~ ~

      Osmond was beyond pissed at this point. He had washed the dishes three times, run around the block two times, and ripped to shreds all the junk mail ads they had received that morning. 

      “‘Why don’t you ask Dr. Coffman?!’, my ass!” Osmond yelled in the empty house. He had been pacing for the last couple in order to calm down, but the shit show from this morning was tormenting him. He wondered what had made Maverick think that something with Dr. Coffman was happening? Maverick was never the jealous type, much less the type to show any sort of bitterness or pettiness towards him. Why would he smoke out of nowhere in the house? And why would he call him those pet names he hates so much? And what was with those tight toothless smiles he was giving him this morning? 

      Osmond heard the front door rocking. The same sound it made when Maverick tried to open the door, struggling to hold their small house key in between his long and thick fingers. Osmond turned ghostly pale as he turned to look at the oven clock. It read 1:27 pm. Shit, Maverick was early. He normally stayed in the studio until 6:00 pm on Fridays. Why was he home so early? Fuck. Osmond couldn’t move. There he was standing in his long boxers in the middle of their living room, right in front of their big mahogany door. Osmond's pale skinny frame was exposed, and goosebumps appeared all over his long arms. This was it, he was going to die.

      “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at uni?” Maverick asked, a confused frown decorating his face. Osmond was on the verge of tears. He had told Maverick this morning that they couldn’t have lunch together because he was supposedly extremely busy with work. His big brown eyes moved from Maverick to the opened letters on the countertop. It was just for a split second, right? Maverick wouldn't notice the unfamiliar logo and formatted writing, right? But when Osmond turned to look back at his boyfriend he realized it was too late. 

      Maverick had taken a couple of long steps towards the kitchen counter and snatched the letters. He brought down his reading glasses from the top of his head and started reading in silence. 

      “Mav?” Osmond whimpered. “I swear I was going to tell you. I swear. I just didn’t want to confront you because I didn't know how you were going to react to this happening again. I know how hesitant you were the first time,” Osmond was trying to hold himself together as he finished his sentence. Nevertheless, he didn’t reach out to clean the tears resting on his chin.

Maverick was quiet, only the rustling of the three different letters being moved one behind the other in his rough hands could be heard. Osmond felt a lump forming on his throat, breathing was getting harder, to the point in which he had to force himself to swallow the air around him.

      “Dear Dr. Dumas, I am thrilled to inform you about the possibility of having you as our dean for the Humanities and Social Science college here at the University of Cambridge. After considering your research regarding gender expression and identity extremely relevant, and your family’s legacy in our university, we believe you would be a great addition to our team.” Maverick read the beginning of one of the many letters out loud. He then set all letters down gently back on the counter, putting his glasses on top of them so they wouldn’t fly away.

      “Why have you been lying to me about this? Osmond, do you understand how amazing that is? How incredible is the fact that you could be working for a top 10 global university, not even because you applied but because they reached out to you? You have been blowing me off and giving me dumb excuses for what reason?” Maverick was so confused at this point, all this hush-hush tension over a job offer? Here he was thinking that Osmond was cheating on him, or worse, a messy breakup!

      “I know. It sounds so fucking stupid when you say it out loud, but I felt guilty. You spent part of your childhood moving around because of foster care and then moving from South America to New York with your family. You had found your home, your favorite place in the world, and then I asked you to move to London with me because of my Ph.D. And now I have to ask you, yet again, to move for me? I feel like shit. I know how hesitant you were when we first moved here, and I don’t want you to feel torn and anxious about this all over again.” Osmond was speaking with his eyes closed. A habit he had developed growing up when talking about serious situations without feeling confident about what would come out of it.

      Maverick walks closer to him. To the guy he had followed across the Atlantic; to the guy that loved him with his pettiness, smoking habits, and messy eating; to the guy that had given him a family that cares about him more than anything; to the love of his life. Maverick gently dried the tears from Osmond’s soft cheek and pushed his bangs back, leaning forward to plant a kiss in the middle of his forehead.

      “You worry too much,” he whispered. “You can always talk to me, that’s why we work. ‘Cus we talk, and we listen. I believe we both did a shitty job at that. I am sorry.”

      “You are not mad? I can call them and turn down the offer, I won’t mind! I haven’t given them an answer yet,” Osmond whispered back, opening his eyes slowly to meet Maverick.

       “If you want the job I will follow you, Os. To the moon and back. I did it once, and I would do it again in a heartbeat.” Maverick smirked and pinched Osmond’s nose. The brunet let out a chuckle swatting the other’s hand away.

       “What about the studio?”

      “Cambridge is an hour away. I can drop by a couple of days a week, most of my job is freelance either way. My co-workers won’t mind, I am the director after all.” Maverick hugged Osmond, resting his chin on top of his head. “Also remind me to call your mom and tell her that we figure this out.”

      “What? You called my mom to ask her but not me?” Osmond gave a step backward, frowning up to Maverick.

      “Shh, now now. Curiosity kills the cat, murder me later but hug me now,” Maverick replied as he pulled Osmond against his chest again, patting his head as if that would calm him down.