Triangular Tribulations

Monday, April 19th

10:12 A.M. 

Two young men occupy the front of the Blue Owl Cafe, with a menacing lack of conversation as one works frantically and the other sits, scribbling away at a cheap piece of paper.

Neither of them understand the other’s intentions– if any are present.

Audibly blurred crackles of ripped audio sound behind an old track playing from the speakers set against the back wooden panels of the shop, letting Erykah Badu’s voice reverberate from front to back, front to back, front to back of the cafe. Her eyes are sung into shades of green.

Otto shuffled sideways behind Serenity as she covered the register, making his way to Norman from across the counter. 

“Hey, lunch is coming up soon. I can take a break in five if you want to come around back to the break room.” 

Otto’s offer enticed Norman. “Sure!”

“Alright.”

Norman went back to scribbling what he considered to be sweet nothings.

-

“So… how’s work?” Norman asked, breaking awkward silence with awkward conferencing.

He took a few greedy glances at Otto’s broad hands.

“S’alright. I’m just exhausted.” He took a sip of the pure black coffee in his cup.

“Oh…”

“I’m alright, don’t worry. What about you? How is it at your job?” Otto questioned.

“It’s complicated. I have this client who’s battering me with questions constantly , and honestly, I could use a break.” He sighed.

“Well, I thought skipping class would be enough of a breather.”

Otto looked dead into Norman’s eyes with the crushing, uncomfortable stare of a disappointed mother getting a report card back.

“I don’t have classes until this evening, what do you mean?”

“Oh come on, Norman. Your schedule was on your desk, it was easy to spot.”

“You looked at my schedule?”

As exhausted as he was, this snapped him awake. “Well- it was just, it was there. I was just looking.” 

“Octavius, are you snooping around my stuff?” Norman probed, crossing his right leg over the left.

“No, no- I just ran across the schedule is all-”

“Otto…”

Norman’s baby blue gaze tampered with Otto’s confidence, leaving him second-guessing himself. 

He could stare into those eyes all day, even if it forced him into a state of emotional decay.

“Are you…” Norman leaned forward onto the round, cold gray table, “ Interested in me?”

“No! Of course not- I mean, not that you’re not nice, I-I mean, you’re a great looking man, but I-” Otto babbled nervously, waving his hands in denial.

He didn’t want to cross a line that hadn’t been drawn yet. Maybe it was there, maybe it was invisible. His worries brought about unwanted fidgeting in his chair.

“Oh,” The shorter of the two reeled back in his seat slowly. “Alright. Just curious, nerd.” 

Young Octavius’ shoulders slumped in relief. “Yeah.”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t mind the atte-”

“Octavius, lunch break is over. You got two tables out here!” Serenity interjected, popping her head in the doorway. 

She narrowed her eyes at Norman, then back at Otto. “And no more chit-chat. No gettin’ distracted on the job, you hear me?”

Otto shrunk in his seat. “Yes ma’am.”

Both of the men filed out of the break room after Serenity, splitting ways behind the counter. 

A table planted in the front of the shop beside the windows was now occupied by three exotically dressed girls– one wore a loosely crocheted cardigan and a white bralette with high-waisted jeans, platform Converse and an assortment of crystals and jewelry that must have weighed half of her. Another wore an outfit painted completely in black, with speckles of white and a few silver clothespins here and there holding rips together in her jeans. The last girl wore something of a mix of the two human palettes in front of her.

Otto Octavius approached the table with the heavy weight of social media influence ready to judge him at the drop of one of the girl’s pins.

“Hello, what can I get for you three?” He greeted them kindly.

“She’s having the club wrap, I’ll have the kale salad with a raspberry green tea, and can I get a couple sugar packets with that?” The girl with the cardigan ordered first, her mixed-palette friend following with another order. “Can I have a latte, extra cream on top, please?”

They turned their heads in unison to the waiter and offered a few brief smiles as he nodded and scrawled the orders down. “Gotcha. Thank you.”

As Otto returned with the orders written down, Norman continued to watch– little did Otto know, he was watching the entire time. His jealousy was radiating off of him like he was wearing toxic waste. 

Once the paper was strung up, he went back to two other tables. By the time he had finished waiting the current tables, the drinks for his first orders of the day were ready. 

Norman surveyed Otto’s backside like an unhinged male at a frat party would have, letting not an inch of Otto’s figure go unobserved. 

“Here you go. The kale salad was yours, correct?” Otto held the bowl towards the girl in black, and she nodded in return. 

“Thank you.”

With the same tone behind his nod, he left them to eat and drink in peace. 

Now that the shop was properly served, he was just waiting on the last french press to come out to serve to a stout little businessman in the corner. He had a thick inch of stubble layered over his lower face like a winter blanket that Otto wondered if it would look any cleaner on him.

The grinding of coffee beans sounded from the kitchen.

“Hey, Otto?” Norman called.

“Ah- yes? What’s up?” He scuttled back over to the counter.

“I uh, I had something I wanted to give you.” Norman mumbled, glancing down at his pants pocket.

“Alright…?” Otto replied in question.

Norman’s hand revealed a folded note in the same color as Otto’s notepad, but he had no interest in a matter of seconds. 

His Rosalie walked in .

She seemed on the verge of losing her cheer, and the sight of Norman and Otto talking over the counter shattered her fragile-as-glass emotional state. Her brows tormented each other at the bridge of her nose and her hazel eyes softened sadly.

Otto gaped over Norman’s shoulder, once again letting his expression go unnoticed on his own terms– this was a copy of the scene last week painted out.

Rosalie lost her grip on her book-bag, letting it slump to the floor in a similar manner to her mood. She wanted to turn on her heel and push through the glass doors, but it was a useless bout of effort that dissolved immediately. 

‘ Romeo & Julio. No more Juliet. ’ Rosie thought, watching Otto wave in oblivion.

Norman was at a standstill, politely pausing and occupying his field of vision with a couple floor tiles behind the front counter. Otto removed himself from Norman’s view and rushed over to his Rosie, excited, hoping for a hug.

Rosalie hurt at the sight of those two, but nevertheless, she flashed a winning grin at Otto. 

“Hi love, how are you? Are you getting coffee? How was your day?” Otto dogged her positively, smiling down at what he defined as her “irresistible beauty”.

“Otto, slow down, slow down,” Rosie paused, reaching to grasp one of his hands, twice the size in hers. “Can we talk?” 

‘ What did I do? Did I offend her? Oh god, did I forget something? Did she ask for tutoring? ’ Otto raked his brain for any possible screw-up that could have upset her.

The two stood there, searching in each other’s eyes for a possible answer from either perspective. 

“Okay.”

-

After assuring Serenity numerous times he would only take five minutes and checking in with Norman, he was finally let off the hook for his extra break.

“Otto,” Rosie glared with yearning tears, threatening to spill at the corners of her eyes, “Are you involved with that guy?” 

Octavius stood there, winded. “Wh-”

“Otto, are you fucking that man?”

“I- What?! No- We haven’t-”

“Otto Octavius, I heard everything last night.” She provided, raising her arms in defeat.

“ What are you talking about, Rosie? What do you mean?” Otto rebounded her ball of an argument.

That rebound was about to come back and hit him, smack dab in the middle of his face. 

“Otto Raymond Octavius.” Rosalie growled, unconvinced.

“Rosie- Rosie I didn’t-” Otto whimpered.

“I thought I knew you, Octavius…” She caved in.

Rosie fell into Otto’s chest and let out quiet sniffles here and there, wetting his apron. 

“No– no no no, don’t cry- please don’t cry. Darling, I’m not gay, I love you , just you.” Otto winced, a flashing memory of Norman in the doorway of their dormitory bleeding into the filing cabinets in Otto’s mind that were supposed to be full of Rosalie only .

It was just supposed to be Rosie. How could he be in love with one person and adore another in the same way?

Rosalie was gentle with Otto. She portrayed each and every thought with an action that showed him how much he meant to her, but Norman was rough. Octavius rarely could comprehend that rough edge on Norman, but somehow, the message was still halfway delivered.

“And I believed Shakespeare would write us a happy ending.” Rosalie scoffed rhetorically.

“Rosie, I-” Otto paused to clear his throat, “I still don’t understand. How did you hear- what did you hear?” 

His Rosie pulled away and frowned upwards in Otto’s general direction, but never met his eyes. 

“You… you were saying ‘Deargod, Norman!’,” She paused, making quotation marks with her hands, “And he asked for ‘One more time’. I came over to check in on you because you wouldn’t pick up the fucking phone!” Rosie snapped, pushing herself from Otto’s chest.

She sucked cold spring air in through her teeth, grimacing and looking away.

‘ She thought we were screwing… that makes sense now. ’ 

Otto slouched where he stood and let out a laugh, holding his shaking stomach. 

“What?” Rosie’s face fell blank. Was Otto seriously laughing at her? This wasn’t like him.

“Oh my- Rosie, we were fighting !” Otto chuckled sarcastically, slight annoyance showing through.

Again, she was at a loss for words. “W… But-”

“B-But- you… and that guy…” 

“Rosie, him and I don’t exactly,” Otto threaded his fingers together for a second, “Click.”

“Otto…” 

“Rosie, I have to go back to work, okay? We can talk more later.” Otto insisted despite his urge to sit and talk.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, that’s fine.” She muttered disappointingly.

“Thanks.” He left without a farewell, disappearing into the backdoor of the cafe. 

-

When he showed himself to the front counter, Norman was gone. 

He scrolled through his memories, catching on the intense scribbling Norman had seemingly indulged himself in. 

He's such a bummy, crusty, cruddy, father

Fucking every girl he takes to coffee

He lied to mom in holy matrimony

Hold me closely

I don't think you should love me

I always feel so lonely, knowing that nothing will ever last forever

Otto sighed, knowing the only way he would satisfy his curiosity was by sacrificing his appeal for hygiene. 

-

A tall figure bending over a trash can could have only meant two things: he was homeless, or he was sick. Maybe both. 

The rummaging continued.

What no one expected was some shitty college kid reaching into the trash after hours for a letter he wasn’t even sure was for him from his crush of desperation and horny teen feelings. It was a scene of pity and judgement, but it was worth it to Otto, if it meant finding some feeling behind Norman’s fake smiles.

It took a tiring amount of fishing through trash, but despite the nitrile gloves for protection, he still wanted to gag. 

After another trash turnover, a scrap of pale yellow found its way to the surface. He reached for it and held onto it like he just struck gold in the California Gold Rush of 1848.

“Ha!” He celebrated.

He un-crumpled the brittle paper, rolling it over the flat edge of the bin to make it legible. 

‘Otto-

Your eyes coerce the stubbornness in my heart, yet I fail to follow through. You’re gentle like a sweet, supple composition on the finest piano in a classic bar. You exude complete, unadulterated gold. Your soul is warm and molten like a bout of lava flowing against cold rocks, always finding a way back. You remind me of graham crackers dipped in milk, with straws of honey snapped open on the side. I don’t deserve your peace and tolerance, but I hope I earn your attraction, somehow. You are admirable both physically and emotionally, I hope you see that. Your weight is perfect, your height is overwhelming, your eyes are comforting… you’re like the home I’ve never had. I don’t want to lose that house- that home, so… I apologize for how I’ve treated you.’ 

- N. 

P.S. - I’m glad that poetry class came in useful for something.

The man barely let himself process before his feet took off. 

He ran and ran, ignoring the possible lectures from Serenity tomorrow for not cleaning up after himself.

When Otto reached the north campus dormitories, he stopped, paused and sat down to catch his breath. He felt dizzy– he hadn’t eaten all day after all, and his intake today was just caffeine. 

The doormat greeted him with pure comedic welcome, getting stepped on while Otto paid no mind, rushing into room 308. 

“Norman.” Otto gasped, staring with wide, glossy brown eyes at Norman, who laid in his bed, scrolling on his phone.

“Wow, what happened to you?” Norman spared a laugh, looking from the side of his eye with a smirk. Smug bitch .

“Norman.” He repeated, his voice cracking as he held up the letter. 

It may have been beaten up and torn at the corners, but it seemed to still have registered in Norman’s mind. “Oh.”

“Norman, I know this was for me. You wrote it. Did…” Otto stopped to think of how to ask, “Did you mean it?” 

There wasn’t a lie Norman could use to get his way out of this, there wasn’t an excuse to bring to the table. 

“I… I don’t want to talk about it.” He murmured pathetically.

“Are you serious? You’re going to write something like this and then tell me you don’t want to talk about it? You act like a dick and then do this?!” Otto barked. 

His face was as red as Norman’s tie. 

Red like Norman’s tie that was unraveled, loose around his neck, nearly falling onto the bed. Norman’s tie that didn’t hold his shirt together. Norman’s tie that framed the opened collar- the tie beside his exposed chest.

“You… you can’t make me talk about it.” Norman rebutted childishly.

Otto repelled the statement and grew near, taller and taller for every step he took.

“Norman, you have to say it! If you don’t tell me you don’t mean it, I’m gonna believe it, god damnit!”

“Will you chill? Fuck’s sake, it was just a stupid piece of paper!”

“No, you pretentious little asshole, I won’t! Just be a man and tell me!”

That hit a nerve.

Norman shoved his hands into the mattress and pushed himself up off of the bed, striding angrily towards Otto. 

“Now look , it doesn’t matter if I like you or not. You’re not gay, it’s obvious. You’re just some nerdy little schoolboy and it’s better we just don’t talk, you don’t know how to fu-” 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Otto yanked Norman in by the collar, enveloping him in a brisk kiss. 

The pressure was overbearing, and Otto’s nose pushed into Norman’s cheek in an unwieldy manner, but it was welcomed as soon as the gates flushed open. Norman let out a squeak at the shocking force, but as the kiss softened, so did he. 

Otto’s body was warm, his hands were huge and his lips were soft. Norman couldn’t remember a time where Otto had applied chapstick, but it felt like he had. Norman’s fingers were shielded from his own cold blood as they carded through the taller man’s thick hair, finding a divot between the space where Otto’s skull met his neck. 

As quickly as it happened, it stopped. 

Otto, in shameful realization, pushed Norman away and covered his mouth, staring directly at the set of lips he just kissed. 

“I’m so sorry, I-” Otto stammered, crossing his arms over his stomach, “I shouldn’t have done that, I didn’t mean to-” 

Norman rejected both of their senses and reached up again, pulling down on Otto’s shoulders for another kiss. 

Sometimes you drive a car and lose control

Into poles

The variables in this experiment were completely wrong… well, one variable was wrong. 

Otto hummed uncontrollably against Norman’s mouth, letting the aftertaste of coffee slip between their opening and closing lips.

“Otto..” Norman mumbled between kisses. 

Otto stepped forward with Norman’s petite waist in his hands, the both of them stumbling backwards onto the mattress Otto had claimed. 

“Otto,” Norman begged again, “Please, I… I meant it.”

Octavius pulled away, fluttering his doe eyes shut for a moment. He didn’t want to listen, he didn’t want to believe Norman– it could have been some sick trick Norman was pulling just to make a fool of Otto, but he didn’t want to believe it. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For now, he could believe in the moment they were having.

For now, he could forget everything else.

-

8:31 P.M. 

Within the last two hours, somehow, Norman had persuaded young Octavius into a relaxed state of mind. He had every right to second guess Norman’s intentions, but all at once, he felt as if he didn’t. Was it right for him to sit here and allow Norman to just sit in his lap? Should that not have been Rosie’s spot? What the hell was he doing, if not cheating? What was this?

“Alright, fine, I give in. We can order takeout.” Norman groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yes!” Otto cheered.

They had sat in silence for the last half hour, studying for pre-tests and exams coming up soon.

Except for the fact they were sharing one chair. Ottowasthechair. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unlike Norman, still in Otto’s category of “raging teenager”, Otto didn’t have a particularly high sex drive. Norman was a rampant, wild animal compared to Octavius, so it didn’t bother Otto that Norman was his lapdog now, but if it were Norman underneath, they’d have had a major issue.

Between the sandwich of stress that was a messy “relationship” with Rosie and MSU, Otto couldn’t even add up to be a slice of meat. At this point, he was just an uneven blob of mustard, ruining one side of the sandwich’s bread. There wasn’t really anything that could turn Otto on under that stress, unfortunately for Norman. 

He still sat comfortably, faking oblivion to what he could have had underneath him by now.

“So, Chinese or Mexican food tonight?” Norman asked, opening Safari on his phone.

“Chinese, please.” He replied, resting his forehead against Norman’s neck. 

“Ah, okay.” Norman shivered at the feeling of Otto’s breath against his skin.

‘Thank God he can’t see my face. Or other areas.’ The shorter thought, shifting in the taller one’s lap to get comfortable again.

“Hey, I know you like me now, but don’t start giving me a lapdance, Norman.” Otto giggled, patting his right hand on Norman’s hip bone.

“Whaaat, do I need to use coercion ?” Norman flirted, rolling his hips backwards. 

With his back flush to Otto’s stomach, he couldn’t do anything. “Well, I- I mean, I don’t mind.” 

Otto stammered out a couple vowels, but he lost his concentration somewhere in the feeling of Norman’s thighs on top of his. He could feel the smaller man’s ribs expand and shrink against his chest, along with a barely feasible heartbeat pitter-pattering here and there.

“Norman, this isn’t right…” Otto whined, worrying about Rosie.

Norman let out a guff in reply and inconveniently turned around, lifting his right leg over Otto’s lap where his left used to be. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Have you asked her out?”

“No.”

“Has she asked you out?”

“...”

He paused in an episode of denial.

“No.”

“Well, there’s your answer. You worry too damn much.”

“But-”

“Shut up. You guys aren’t dating, this isn’t cheating.” Norman concluded. 

“Okay…” The man under Norman sighed, giving into his point, “You’re right.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you actually like me…? I didn’t take you for the type to be, um…” Otto glanced down, seeing the issue growing between them.

“Oh- shit , I didn’t mean to do that!” Otto yelped.

“Otto, anybody can be gay. But you aren’t just into men, I can tell. Are you bisexual?” Norman snuck a hand down, resting it on top of Otto’s hands that covered his embarrassing complication. 

“Am I what ?” Otto tilted his head like a confused dog.

“You- wait. You do know what ‘bisexual’ means, right?” Norman froze in his current position.

“Uh, yeah...” Otto lied.

He was terrible at lying.

“You like women and men, babe. That’s normal.” Norman leaned in with his entire figure, pushing his stomach against where Otto’s hands rested.

“Oh.”

“Oh? Or-” Norman paused, bringing his mouth to Otto’s ear, “ Ohh …” 

Norman’s moan sent a chill up Otto’s spine.

No way would he remember to order Chinese.

“Nor-” Otto tripped over his syllables, stopping to breathe as Norman led a trail of kisses up his shoulder.

“-Man…” 

“Yes?” He pulled away, admiring the unfolding piece of art under him.

“You can do it.” He consented, tilting his head for access.

Norman, although it was questionable, didn’t double-check before diving into the space between Otto’s shoulder and jaw.

By the end of the night, both of Otto’s shoulders and neck were marked up violently, shades of purple and red panging against his skin. Norman and Otto hadn’t made their run to second base yet, but both of them felt indescribably close to sprinting from the home plate. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was too good to be true.