Wrong turn

Ominis’s sweaty palms grip the roughened up plastic so tightly his knuckles turn white. He listens to the deafening cacophony of music, the roar of the engine, the screeching of tires, and Sebastian’s voice. “Next turn, sharp right. Now.” He gives the command so calmly and clearly, as if they weren’t hurtling between life and death. Ominis handles the difficult section almost automatically. He may not see the road, but he feels every obstacle and skid—they vibrate through his palms like a tremor. “Now to the left.” Sebastian’s voice becomes harsher. There is a loud, abrupt sound. A shot. Another one. Ominis’s tongue glides quickly across his dry lips. He imagines Sebastian, his eyes never leaving the scope, confidently pulling the trigger, delivering his vaunted headshot with the precision of a sniper. The image in his head is unexpectedly so mesmerizing and hot that it sends a thrilling shiver down his spine. “That’ll be something to discuss during a session with my psychologist,” he thinks wryly. And this fleeting distraction turns out to be enough — the car skids dangerously at the exit of the turn. “Oh, fuck, there’s a cliff! Turn left!” Sebastian commands, hoping to shout over the machine gun fire and the tense music blaring from the speakers. But he warns too late. Ominis doesn’t make it in time. They slip and fly off the path straight into the deadly abyss. And they start over. Sebastian groans in disappointment, throwing his head on the back of the sofa. “Those who come up with these chase levels are real sadists,” he grumbles in frustration, voicing their shared thoughts. He crosses his legs, swinging his foot, wrapped in a thick, woolen sock, so sharply it’s like he’s kicking the air. “Yeah. I wonder if the developers even know they don’t have to be added to every co-op?” Ominis, also quite tired, continues pressing buttons, even though he wants to give up on this hopeless endeavor. “Left. Maybe everyone in game development is cursed and their asses will fall off if they don’t add at least one poor car control to their game,” Sebastian suggests sarcastically. One doesn’t even need sight to see his smug grin. Snorting at the joke, Ominis lightly nudges his boyfriend with his knee and leaves it pressed against his leg in warm contact. After another death, he takes a break to wipe his palms and get comfortable before taking up the controller again with a quiet sigh and continuing what he started. The room is dimly lit, broken only by the flickering screen and the faint, colorful glow of the fairy lights, while the spicy aroma of mulled wine, tangerines, and pine needles tickles the nose. An unnoticed drop of wax on the table and confetti hidden under the sofa remain from the past holiday. Christmas is over, and Sebastian and Ominis, barely out of a food coma, decide to marathon the long-awaited, brand-new two-player game before the holidays are over and they have to dive back into studying. While not without some difficulties, the game went smoothly until the ill-fated chase began. Usually, in the car-driving levels, Sallow takes over, but this time they also have to shoot enemies, and Gaunt can’t help with that at all. So he has to drive blind, relying only on Sebastian’s hints, which is why they spend a good hour trying to get through this silly section. The controller vibrates violently and an explosion comes from the speakers — the car crashes into a tree. “At least this time we got this far,” Sebastian encourages, though there’s a hint of weariness in his voice. And the next time he doesn’t keep an eye on the enemies, which is why their car takes too much damage. Then Ominis pulls the stick the wrong way, and they die on the first turn. Tree. Cliff. Bullets. The cliff again. They die before they reach the finish line, again and again and again. With each failure, the atmosphere in the room becomes more depressing. “Maybe you should call Garreth to help?” Ominis suggests after yet another defeat, putting down the controller to peel a tangerine with his tired fingers. Of course he came up with the idea himself, but he’s not exactly thrilled about it—he and Sebastian don’t get the chance to play together very often. And he’s not particularly keen on sharing this rare moment with anyone else. It’s such a shame that driving blind isn’t possible. The sweet taste of citrus slightly improves the gloomy mood. A light kiss on the cheek improves it even more. “No way. We’ll beat this game together, no matter how long it takes,” Sebastian declares with all the determination he has, which is more than enough for both of them. Taking Ominis by the hand, he pulls him along. “Let’s take a break.” The cramped kitchen, heated by the stove, is filled with a deep, tart aroma. Cinnamon, star anise, vanilla, and most importantly- chocolate, enveloping Gaunt like a warm, plaid blanket draped over his shoulders. Sebastian pours the freshly prepared drink into mugs while Ominis washes the strawberries — a small indulgence his boyfriend insisted on this time of year. Although the berries have been sitting for a while and are now a bit wilted. “Sour,” he gives his verdict, involuntarily wincing, after eating the one that looks the most ripe. “I told you,” Ominis shrugs, sitting down at a small table pressed against the refrigerator on one side and the wall on the other. Gaunt pulls closer a mug of sweet hot chocolate, adorned with a fluffy marshmallow cap. The ceramic still burns his hands slightly—a sure sign it’s too early to drink. So he simply inhales the mix of festive spices deeply, which immediately makes him feel calmer. Sebastian sits down diagonally from Ominis — the only free seat — and places a plate of strawberries between them. “Want some?” Ominis shrugs vaguely. The offer to sample the ghostly taste of summer in the middle of winter sounds tempting, but he’s not a big fan of sour things. “If only they were sweeter…” Ominis says thoughtfully, rhythmically and loudly tapping his nails on the mug. As if on cue, an idea lights up in Sebastian’s head like a bright light bulb, and he smiles broadly, pleased with himself. “Just a second,” he immediately responds. He carefully holds the strawberry by its green stem and dips it in chocolate. He waits a bit for it to cool. “Try it like this.” And Ominis obediently opens his mouth. The strawberry is strange — warm on the outside and cool on the inside, its watery, sour taste is lost in the richness of the hot chocolate — runny and dripping from his lips onto his chin. Sebastian’s thumb runs along the sweet path, swipes, and plunges into his own mouth. “What do you say?” “That’s definitely better,” Ominis nods in agreement and leans in for a kiss. His fingers find Sebastian’s cheek, rough with a light stubble. After lazy cuddles under a warm blanket and watching short, silly videos from the internet, Sebastian and Ominis take up the game with renewed energy. This time, it goes better. They overcome that stupid cliff, though they end up in another trap. And then they drive a little further. Again and again and again. “Finish! I just saw the finish line!” Sebastian cries out excitedly after another failure. This time, his palms are sweating even more than before. Ominis follows the commands, even though he seems to have memorized all the timing and turns by heart. “Come on, come on, come on,” he repeats mentally, closing his eyes on the last, crucial stretch. “Go ahead,” Sebastian says breathlessly. Leveling the stick, Ominis feels his boyfriend’s knee bounce next to him from the adrenaline rush. A second later, the music fades, and the characters breathe a sigh of relief in sync with the players. And then comes the jubilation. “Yes!” “We’re through!” “We did it!” “We did it!” They shout at the same time, completely oblivious to the cutscene unfolding on the screen. Exhausted, Ominis buries his nose in the other’s neck and grumbles: “That was one fucked up level.” Sebastian’s thick eyebrows rise involuntarily in surprise. With a chuckle, he runs his fingers through his blonde hair and gently presses his lips to his forehead. “You don’t swear often.” Ominis shrugs, unable to find a way to retort. That’s how tired he is of driving blindly. “Fucked up,” as Sebastian would probably say. And yet, a satisfied smile spreads across his face. Even with all the suffering and countless deaths of the poor characters, under his careful guidance, he finally managed to get them through from start to finish. “Do you want to keep going or are we done for today?” Sebastian asks. Ominis has known him long enough to be sure he’s tired too. “Definitely done.” “Thank God,” he sighs loudly with relief and reaches for the remote to change the TV channel, stopping at the one showing a repeat of the Christmas special of their favorite series. Sebastian sprawls lazily across the couch, and Ominis joins him, nestling his head comfortably in the crook of his boyfriend’s shoulder. Feeling an arm around his waist, listening to the stupid, absurdly picky comments about illogicalities and plot holes, he suddenly realizes that he couldn’t imagine a better Christmas.