Page 62 of Every November

“What if… I don’t want this place to be permanent,” he counters as he lowers the record.

I don’t know if he means his apartment, or Chicago, but the answer makes me pause.

I’ve thought about asking him to move to Seattle. Not to visit, like I suggested this morning, but to uproot his whole life so we can build one together.

It’s insane. I know it’s insane. We’ve spent a handful of nights together in three years. I’ve never even seen him in daylight for more than a few hours at a time. People don’t move across the country for someone they barely know.

Except I don’t feel like I barely know him. I feel like I’ve known him for years, and I’ve just been waiting for the rest of my life to catch up.

Asking him to move before he’s even seen Seattle would be too much. But I need him to at least come visit next year. Then maybe I can ask.

“The apartment doesn’t have to be permanent, most aren’t. But you can still enjoy it, even if it’s not forever.”

“You’re right. I’ll hang it up after Christmas when I get back.” He sets the record down on top of the coffee table, then sits back on the couch. “Come here.”

I cross the room, and he shifts into the couch cushions, stretching an arm out to make room for me. I settle against him, and he wraps around me easily, one arm slung over my stomach.

“What got you into video editing?” I ask, snuggling into him.

“That’s a random question,” he points out but I can tell it’s not one he’s asked often.

“You don’t have to answer. I’m just curious.”

His thumb traces against my hip. “No, I want you to know,” Marcus starts. “My parents had a camcorder when I was a kid. They hardly used it since I don’t think they truly wanted to document the realities of our family. So it mostly sat in a drawer. I started taking it out on my own, filming Josh and me doing stupid shit in his backyard, mostly. Skateboarding tricks we couldn’t land, fake commercials, whatever random stuff we’d get into. But then I started messing with the footage after. Cutting the parts where we screwed up, splicing it so it looked like we landed every move on the first try. Adding music. I thought it was the real deal.”

“That’s really cool.”

“Yeah, I…” He trails off, and I can tell there’s more underneath it and he’s deciding whether to share. “I actually ended up using the footage my parents had taken of our family and did the same thing. Cut out all the tension and awkward silences. Edited it down to just the parts that made us look like a real, happy family. By the time I was done with it, it looked like the house I always wished I lived in. That’s when I realized just how powerful editing is.”

I let that sink in as I picture Marcus as a kid, alone with a camcorder, editing his own family into something bearable because the real version was too painful to just let it exist as it was. My heart breaks that he didn’t have a family like mine.

“So, yeah,” he continues, before I can say any of that out loud. “I didn’t get into it because I love movies or had some big artistic vision. I guess it was because I had control over the story I could tell, and I could make something I felt proud of.” He shrugs behind me. “Corporate video’s a joke compared to that, though. Same skill, technically, just boring as fuck.”

“Have you thought about doing creative projects on the side?”

“Not really.”

“Well, I think you could have a lot of fun with that, if it’s something that interests you. And the cool thing about jobs is, you can find a new one.”

“Yeah, maybe it’s time to start looking.” And I wonder if he means it. “What about you? Did design engineering start as the dream?”

It’s another redirection, but I let him take it, appreciating that he opened up to me in the first place.

“Sort of, not necessarily at first,” I say. “I loved being outside as a kid, camping with my dad and brother. I switched my major sophomore year to mechanical engineering, and eventually a professor connected me with an internship at my current company the summer before senior year, and it just clicked. I was really lucky that they liked me enough to hire me.”

“Well, you’re easy to like, and that’s really impressive.”

“Thanks,” I blush at his compliment. “And yeah, it is. It’s why I work so hard. I’m grateful they gave me a shot.”

He hums against the back of my neck, and his hand drifts lower on my hip, thumb tracing absent circles. “Can I ask you something now?”

“Always.”

“Do you ever want to top?” The question surprises me because it’s so different from what we were talking about. “I don’t need you to, but you told me you’re vers, so I wanted to check.”

“Sometimes,” I say. “But honestly, I also really love bottoming for you. This might sound weird, but I feel like you make me feel so comfortable with it and cared for.”

“That’s how it should be.”