Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC

29: 'Better Off' vs. 'Worse for the Wear'

Farleigh and I leave Saltburn with little fanfare. No one sees us out the door, and we have to get a cab to get to the airport. We sit the eight hours of the flight mostly in silence.

It's strange to be back home, after a year away - after the tumultuous summer. Back in Brooklyn, Cambridge and Saltburn seem so far away, almost in a different world. It seems more like a book I read rather than the past year of my life - but the illusion is broken by Farleigh's footsteps behind me as we lug our bags up the stairs to my apartment. It's real - it was real and Farleigh is here with me.

At the top of the stairs, I stop, setting down my bag to dig in the pocket of my jeans for my keys. I slot the key into the lock, and shoulder the door open.

My apartment is exactly the same as I left it a year ago - a time capsule to before. I reach back into the hall to grab my bag and tug it inside, holding the door open so Farleigh can slide inside as well. I let the door shut, and watch as he takes in the room. Just him being here makes everything I own seem so small.

"This is it." I say, trying for a smile. "I know it's way smaller than what you're used to-"

Farleigh turns to look at me. "It's nice." He says. "It suits you."

I set my bag down, and clap my hands together. "Kitchen's there-" I point to the left, to the kitchenette, the fridge covered in stickers and magnets. A little glass-top table sits a few feet away, two teal chairs tucked under the edges. "Bed- well, it's a mattress on the floor, but it's a queen! Up there-" I point to the loft, and the ladder up to it that serves as a wall between the kitchen and the living room. "Living room under that-", I gesture to the space under the loft, to the mismatched collection of couches and chairs around my coffee table, "And bathroom is that door." I point to the door underneath the loft, on the far side of the room.

Farleigh nods along to my standing tour, and then glances down to his bag. "Where-?"

"You can just leave it there, um, I'll make room for you to put your stuff in the drawers." I say. "We should talk about-"

"Rules and stuff." Farleigh finishes the sentence for me. "Yeah."

I sit down at my little glass top table, and Farleigh takes the seat opposite. I run a finger through the thin layer of dust that's gathered on the glass, tracing little designs. "So."

"So." Nerves hang on the edge of Farleigh's voice.

I glance up at him. "What are you nervous about?"

"I've never done this before." He says. "I don't- I've never had a job. I've never had to go get my own food." He laughs. "God- I'm fucking pathetic. And scared." His voice turns raw, honest. "I don't want to end up like my mom."

With all that I've been through in the last few days, I didn't think it was possible to have my heart break anymore, but it does. "Look," I say, smiling, reaching across the table to take his hands in mine. "It'll be hard. Living like this is almost the exact opposite of Saltburn. But we'll make it work. Obviously, since you're living here, I expect you to pitch in with the rent and utilities and all-"

"'Course." He says.

"-and don't worry about getting a job. I'll get you a job. I can't promise that it'll be super fulfilling work, but I know plenty of guys that will give you a job. And with the cooking and cleaning and all, we can trade off. Split it up so that it's even. Obviously, I don't expect you to just become totally self-sufficient overnight, that's crazy," I laugh. "But I can help you. Okay?"

"Okay." He smiles.

"And another thing." I say, a spike of nervousness turning my stomach. "Just because we're living together and sleeping in the same bed and everything doesn't mean that I'm expecting us to be together. I get that it was just going to be a summer fling-"

"I wouldn't mind." Farleigh interrupts me. "If we got together together."

"Farleigh," I sigh. "Neither of us are in the right piece of mind to be making decisions like that right now - you just got kicked out of your house, someone just died-"

"I know." He amends quickly. "I'm not saying like, right now, but in the future. If this works out and I can manage living like a normal person."

"I think you totally can." I say. "If the rest of the world manages, I think you can."

"I know." He says, running his thumb over the back of my hand. "It's just-"

"I know." I say. "It'll be a learning curve."

A semi-silence descends, and I trace a game of tic-tac-toe in the dust on the table, breaking the serious tension. Farleigh grins, and draws an 'X' in the top left corner. It's weird, hearing the sounds of the city after spending so long in England, where the most commotion I ever heard was the occasional rumble of a truck down the road. It's comforting though - to be back in the city where I belong. To hear the cars on the street and the chatter from the sidewalks. The thought of being able to get a bodega sandwich again alleviates some of the horror that still lingers from the way things ended at Saltburn.

Farleigh's lips tilt down into a frown as I block him again. He glances up at me as he draws an 'X' in one of the two remaining spaces. It's clear no one will win this game. "Thank you."

I finish off the board, and then wipe it away with a broad sweep of my hand. "For?"

"Letting me live with you." He says. "I mean, you barely know me, Eves. That's insane, to just be like 'yeah, come live with me'."

"Where else would you have gone?"

He shrugs.

I tilt my head, rising from my seat. "Exactly." I say. "You've never had to take care of yourself - you'd die, if you were just left to your own devices on the street. I care about you enough that I don't want to see you dead in a ditch somewhere."

His lips quirk up into a grin. "Thanks."

I ruffle his hair as I dart behind him, kneeling down to get into one of the kitchen cabinets, pulling out my collection of cleaning supplies. "Now- lesson number one in how to be a normal person." I place a can of Lysol wipes in front of him. "Cleaning." I stand up. "This place is covered in dust."

Farleigh grabs the canister. "Right. Cleaning." Already, he looks utterly lost - but he has the spirit.

I smile. I can make this work.