"Saeran!" Seven threw his front door open, "I'm home! And I hope you have pants on because Jesus is watching! Also, MC is here, too, so do what you will with that information."
"Hi, Saeran!" I couldn't help but smile. Seven had that effect on me. As did his brother.
"Bye, Saeran," Saeran walked out of his room, putting his jacket on, "I'm leaving."
"What?" Seven awed, "But we just got here. Where are you going?"
"I got invited to a rave downtown," Saeran felt around in his pockets, no doubt making sure he had everything, "I'll probably be back late, so you two play nice."
"We will," Seven promised.
"And MC," Saeran spoke softly in my ear, "If you're careful about your next moves, this should more than make up for last night. Be careful."
"You, too," I wrapped my arms around his waist, "Please, Saeran. Be careful tonight."
"I will," he pried me off him, "See you later."
"Bye, Saeran!" Seven waved him out the door, "Have fun! Make good choices! Oh, MC…They grow up so fast, don't they?"
"I guess," I giggled a little, catching Saeran's middle finger going up, "Hey, Seven, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure, MC," he allowed, "Shoot."
"Between you and Saeran," I wondered, "Which one of you is older?"
"Me," Seven skipped down the hall into the kitchen, "By about thirteen minutes. I'd say it's fitting."
"What do you mean?" I might be digging a little too deep, but let's see how far I can dig before he tells me to stop.
"Let's just say…" Seven chewed on his bottom lip, "Saeran and I weren't always as close as what we are now. We can safely call thirteen our unlucky number. But what matters now is that we have each other."
"You know where that comes from?" I sat on his countertop while he put everything in the fridge.
"From Friday the thirteenth?"
"Yeah," I nodded, "You can thank the Catholic church for that one. Because in Norse myth, Friday the thirteenth was reserved for the fertility goddess Freyja, so if people were looking to conceive, they could have Freyja's blessing on Friday the thirteenth and were more likely to have a baby. However, the Catholic church didn't like the thought of so many people getting laid in Freyja's name, so they started the superstition of Friday the thirteenth being a day for bad luck and the devil. In other words, the whole numerology of thirteen being unlucky? Bullshit."
"Really?" Seven let out a heavy, exhausted sigh of relief, "So, you're saying that because the Catholic church called it a sin, that's why the number thirteen is so unlucky?"
"Precisely," I nodded, "It's just a number."
"You're not superstitious, are you, MC?"
"Not really," I shrugged, "But that's just me."
"All because the Catholic church didn't want people getting spicy," Seven laughed, "That sounds accurate. Come on. Theater room's this way."
"Ok," I jumped down from the counter and followed Seven down the hall, down a set of stairs. I wasn't going to have my way with him on the roof. He's not going to have his way with me in his basement. I don't need to be paranoid. Everything's going to be fine. Or so I thought. It's not the thought of Seven taking me down into his basement that had me concerned. It was the big ass wall of monitors with a few of them directly linked to CCTV that had me a tad nervous, "Uh…Hey, Seven?"
"Yeah?"
"What's with all the monitors?" I asked, not wanting to think too much about it.
"Those are nothing you need to concern yourself with," Seven scrambled to find a remote to turn them all off, "Sometimes, I need to take the office home with me. But like I said, nothing you need to concern yourself with. Come on! We're not too far. I promise."
That wasn't a little unnerving. Happy place, MC. Think of it this way. If that's what Seven's work is on, imagine what his theater room must look like. And Seven did say he had a state-of-the-art system. Color me curious. I can only imagine his theater room. Although, when I walked in, all the imagining in the world couldn't prepare me for what was beyond the doors. The monitors were nothing compared to the big ass screen in front of me.
"You weren't shitting me," I gasped, "Seven, this is a full-on theater."
"I told you!" Seven chimed, "Ninety feet wide. Thirty feet tall. 8K HD picture. Surround sound with bass that can blow your hair back. And to tie it all together, its own concession stand. You want anything while I'm back here?"
"What the hell?" I giggled, turning around to see the little dork popped up behind the counter, "Seriously? Why am I not surprised you have a concession booth?"
"It's better than the one at the theater downtown," he assured, "This one is always fully stocked. Sometimes, I just come down here for the snacks. So, I'll ask you again. You want anything while I'm back here?"
"Sure," I nodded, "Just a soda, I guess."
"A soda and a box of Milk Duds!" Seven decided, "Got it!"
"I never said…"
"You're getting a soda and a box of Milk Duds," he put his foot down, "And that's that. Trust me. You'll want them later and then, you'll say, 'Thank you, Seven. I'm so glad I decided to trust you. Milk Duds are my favorite! How did you know? You're my hero!'. And then, I'll tell you I told you so and probably steal a Milk Dud from you."
"Dick," I shook my head, "Those are my Milk Duds. But I'll take them. Thank you."
"See?" Seven jumped over the counter with two Dr. Peppers in his hoody pockets and a box of Milk Duds in his hand, "You're already thanking me. You're very welcome."
"So," I threw myself into an overly stuffed (and more comfortable than my own bed) black leather recliner, sinking into it like a marshmallow, "What are we screening tonight?"
"I'm kind of in the mood for one of my biggest guilty pleasures," he handed me my soda, taking the recliner next to me and grabbing the tablet that controlled the place, "Promise you won't make fun of me."
"What's this?" I gasped, "If I didn't know any better, Seven, I'd think you're showing a little bit of shame."
"Because Saeran picks on me about this particular guilty pleasure," Seven argued, "That's why it's a guilty pleasure."
"Seven," I took his hand, "We saw a man come onto his brother on a big screen and we can still look each other in the eye. I'm sure your guilty pleasure can't be that bad."
"Fine," he threw himself dramatically over the arm of his chair, "But don't say I didn't warn you."
"Just tell me," I begged, "Before I shake this can and spray it at you."
"No!" Seven squeaked, "Vanderwood would be pissed! And I don't want to deal with that."
"Tell me," I started shaking, "It's fully loaded, Seven…"
"Alright!" he took my can from me, "I got a soft spot for god-awful sci-fi movies from the sixties, ok?"
"YES, PLEASE!" my heart started racing, "I'M IN!"
"Really?" Seven caught my excitement.
"Hell yeah!" I sang, "I love shitty sci-fi movies in general, but the ones from the forties to the sixties, sometimes a bad eighties movie, if I'm feeling spicy. Yes. That's not something you have to feel guilty about, Seven."
"The special effects are so bad," he cringed.
"But they're so funny…" I applauded, "It's like a piece of art, but a disastrous piece of art. Sometimes, I turn one on just to cheer myself up."
"Me, too!" Seven squeaked, frantically scrolling through his list, "Oh, MC…I want to take you to the space station so bad."
"Do it then," I insisted, "Take me to the space station."
"What…?" he froze entirely.
"You can't tell me you don't have a shitty space movie in there somewhere," I pointed out, curious as to what caused his brief hiccup, "And those are usually the best/worst."
"Oh," Seven came back to the land of the living again, "Ok. I'm down! Let's do it!"
"Here," I opened my box of Milk Duds and held one out to him, "So you don't have to steal it."
Without hesitation, Seven wrapped his lips around my fingers and still managed to find a way to steal it, "Thank you, MC. My hero."
"You're a dork," I giggled, shaking my head at him. He's lucky he's cute.
And so, our night began with some sort of futuristic movie from the early sixties. Where the wires were visible and the sets were clearly sets. I understand the technology wasn't quite there yet, but mother of God, there has to be a line somewhere. Then again, their shitty quality was part of their charm. Not to mention, it kept Seven and me in stitches for a solid hour and a half.
"MC," Seven wiped the laughter tears from his eyes, "Why are they so bad?"
"People paid money to see that when it was released!" I held my face in my hands, "I'm surprised the studio didn't have to pay reparations for that!"
"If you or a loved one have been personally victimized by this movie," he put on his best announcer voice, "You may be entitled to compensation. Call the law offices of Hooey and Shenaniganry for more information about your options."
"The dubbing alone!" I could hardly hold myself together, "It's like they didn't even bother trying to sync it!"
"You know what, MC?" Seven got up from his chair to get us more drinks, "I'm glad we did this."
"Me, too," I agreed, "I needed to get out of my head for a while and what better way than making fun of the awful rubber suits they had those poor aliens in?"
"They looked like big condoms, MC!"
"They did," I shuddered at the thought of them, "And this sure as hell was better than our last date."
"What do you mean?" Seven wondered, caught a tad off guard.
"I'm not talking about us getting pancakes," I clarified, "I'm talking about when we actually went on our one proper date. You were trying too hard to impress me, Seven. You don't ever, ever, ever have to do that. Tonight, we just hung out. You and me, tearing apart bad special effects and worse acting and horrendous editing. I'd take tonight a million times over before I expect something like our one and only date again. You didn't look like you were going to throw up at any given moment."
"And you did feed me Milk Duds," he relaxed a little, "If that's not the very definition of romantic, then the book I read lied to me."
"See?" I smiled, "You do not have to try, Seven."
"But see," Seven whined, "Here's the thing, though. You deserve nice things. And that night was supposed to be nice things, but some not so nice things got in the way and I screwed it all up."
"But we still made it work," I reminded him.
"I had my face buried in my phone the whole time."
"Still talking to me," I kept him from spiraling, "Just in a way that was a little easier for you to manage. And I'll tell you now what I told you then. That's fine. I don't have a problem with that. If that's what you needed in that moment, then so be it."
"Thank you," Seven laid his head on my shoulder, "Really, MC. That night…was a dumpster fire."
"I don't know if I'd call it a dumpster fire," I bit my lip, "It wasn't even in my top five worst dates, Seven. I had a guy ask me on a date once just for a clean urine sample to give to his parole officer. I didn't even know he had a parole officer."
"Yikes."
"Yeah," I winced, "I make some killer life choices when I'm young and dumb."
"So," Seven wondered, "Are you going home tonight?"
"What time is it?" I looked over his shoulder at his watch. Shit, was it really that late?
"One o'clock," he let out a big yawn, "No wonder I'm tired. It'd probably be best for you if you stay here. I mean, you did have camera crews outside your apartment today. And it is really late."
"Ok," I was in no position to fight him. Seven wasn't the only one struggling to keep his eyes open.
"And you know…" Seven offered, "If you want…You don't…have to stay in the guest room."
My stomach dropped, "I thought Saeran said he was coming home tonight."
"I wasn't talking about Saeran's bed," he clarified, "I was talking about mine. I mean, I have been in yours. We might as well make it even."
"Ok," I nodded, taking his hand, "Come on. Let's go to bed."
"I couldn't agree more." This was happening. I was about to go into Seven's bedroom and sleep in his bed. Likely with him in it, too. I was overthinking this, wasn't I? No, I wasn't. This was a big step for not only me, but for Seven, too. One small step for me was beyond a giant leap for Seven. But he suggested it. He needs to know this as well as what I do.
I followed him up the stairs and back to his bedroom. On the plus side, we were both too tired to give a shit. As long as it was a comfortable bed and a warm body, we were good. Even if it happened to be a car. I don't judge. Without a word, we crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling for a moment or two. That is, until Seven broke the silence, "MC…"
"What is it, Seven?" I rolled onto my side.
"Can I ask you a favor?"
"Of course," I allowed, "Is everything ok?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Seven brushed me off, "Everything's fine. But…Do you think…Can we…maybe…"
I had a feeling I knew where he wanted to go with this. And I wasn't going to say no. My arms pulled him to my chest and I finally got to do what I've been wanting to do with this boy damn near since the day we met. All I wanted to do was hold him like this. Just to give him the reassurance someone was there and that someone would always be there, "Good night, Seven."
"Good night, MC," I could feel all of his tight muscles loosen as he finally relaxed, "Hey, MC?"
"What?" I idly ran my fingers down his back. Granted, I didn't think I'd be the big spoon, but I was more than happy to have him as my little spoon.
Suddenly, I felt a little smile creep across his face, "Did you ever give that guy the clean pee?"
"You asshole!" I giggled, "No, I didn't. But you just killed the moment."
"I made the moment great," Seven yawned again, shutting his eyes, "Good night, MC."
"Good night, Seven," I cuddled him, despite every bone in my body telling me to throttle him instead. A few minutes later, I looked down and heard a soft, gentle snoring come out of this boy. In his own special way, Seven's kind of cute when he's asleep.
"Well, well, well," a teasing whisper came from the doorway, "What have we here? Did I miss something?"
"Shh," I put a finger up to my lips, "He just fell asleep."
"I see that," Saeran walked in a few steps closer, "You know, MC, he's never had a girl in his bed before."
"I'm not all that surprised," I held back a little giggle, "Well, someone had to be the first. Why not me?"
"I'm kind of glad it was you," he admitted, "It's weird to see him this close with someone."
"It's weird that he got this close with me," I countered, "Thank you, Saeran. We both needed this night."
"No problem…"
"You know what else is weird?" I noticed, "You said you were going to a rave downtown tonight, right?"
"Yeah. What about it?"
"For being at a rave all night," I smirked, "You came out of it pretty clean. Not a speck of glitter or blacklight paint on you."
Saeran stopped in the doorway, "And?"
"Care to tell me where you really were tonight?" I asked.
"You caught me," he came clean, "I went to the diner, sat on my phone, drank three pots of decaf coffee. You two needed the time alone. I figured Saeyoung would bring you back here tonight, given the shit that went down with you and Zen."
"Nothing happened," I assured, "Zen and I aren't a thing. We're just friends."
"Clearly," Saeran turned on his heel, "Good night, MC."
"Good night, Saeran," I sent him away and turned all my attention back to his brother. And good night to you, too, Seven. Sleep well. We can talk about this in the morning. But for now, I need the sleep just as much as you. If this is what I can expect from the reporters outside our apartment building, they can camp out there for a little while longer. I don't mind.
