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Since Arlo hadn’t been the one to wrap it, Bren ripped the paper off in jagged chunks to reveal a travel-worn Canada Post box beneath it. With some help from a kitchen knife, he was able to slit open the ten layers of tape Arlo had used to seal the flaps—because something might have gone wrong if the box didn’t have enough tape no doubt.

When he’d cleared the top layer of pink crepe paper, Bren found two four-packs of king-sized Coffee Crisps and a collection of half-smashed ketchup crisp packets. He tore into the coffee-flavoured chocolate because suddenly that was better than white pudding.

Beneath the treats was a green-and-white shirt that he unfolded and had to catch the CD case and a sheet of card that tumbled out from its folds. He picked up the card—a green heart with glitter and stars and some childish crayon marks. Then his brain was torn between the words Don’t listen in front of the lads on the CD and ROBOLAD stamped in vinyl across the back of the shirt.

After checking there wasn’t anything else hiding under the mounds of crepe paper, he held the shirt in front of him and smiled like he was looking at Robolad himself.

The top half of his uniform was off and Arlo’s senior shirt pulled on before he made it back to his room. He’d be hot once he’d put his other layers back on, but it was a small price to pay to carry a piece of Arlo around with him all day.

His nose twitched as he took his second bisexual megamix out of his CD player. He smelled Downy, as well as the Arctic Burst bodywash Arlo used, and just a hint of something else that made Bren’s chest relax. He fell onto his bed as the CD player whirred to life, holding the collar of the shirt to his nose.

“Hey, Bren.”

From the way his breath hitched, it might have been years since he’d heard that voice rather than their most recent Saturday call.

“Happy Valentine’s Day! Did you like the heart from Holly? She made one for everyone in the family, and I guess that means you now, too. Sorry. I’m not sure you could escape even if you wanted to at this point.

“So, I know this is kind of corny, but I wanted to explain the present so you could listen to it properly. Not that there’s any wrong way to listen to it!”

There was a rustle as Arlo adjusted whatever he’d been recording on.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m nervous. I think I just hate recording myself. Anyway, uh, there’s two tracks on this CD. I hope you’re alone when you listen to them the first time. So, if anyone else is with you, Hi Brick, Rory, Mickie, Orlaith, Mrs. O’Shea. Now please go away!”

Leave it to Arlo to still be polite while telling people to piss off.

“Alright, I’m gonna shut up now. I hope you like the songs.”

The CD was silent for so long Bren was about to check if his player had crapped out when Arlo’s voice came back.

“Oh, uh, I slept in that shirt. I mean . . . only that shirt. The night before I packed it. I hope that’s not too weird. I just really miss the way you smell so I thought you might feel that way too. Okay, shutting up now. I love you. Thank you for not breaking up with me for being so weird. Pleasedon’tbreakupwithmeforbeingweird.” His voice spiked at the end and then he laughed.

The recording went quiet again before the opening to The Navigator poured out of the speakers like molten gold. It wasn’t until the first verse that the changes were noticeable enough for Bren to hear them. The sound in the background that Bren had taken for static had been Arlo humming along like a backing track, and when the lyrics started, there were harmonies that hadn't been in the original version Bren had first heard a year ago.

By the time the improved song had finished, Bren was curled up on his bed, the music washing over him as he breathed the scent he’d taken for granted when he got to be around its source every day.

He considered getting up to cut off the next song before it started—every part of him wanted to listen to it, but the gift had already made him scarlet over how feeble his offering of a new mix CD and box of butter tarts was.

The spell that The Navigator had cast over him won, and Bren flipped onto his back to stare at the back of his eyelids as Arlo’s voice came through his stereo again.

“All Because You Said Hello. Composed By Arlo Jonathan Walker.”

Bren felt uncomfortably flattered just before a wall of noise exploded from the speakers. Between The Navigator and the handful of other tunes he’d been able to wheedle out of Arlo, he’d gotten the sense that his tastes leaned towards deep, flowing melodies.

Was all this noise how Arlo saw him?

The notes grew in volume as the space between them vanished, overlapping until it was hard to tell where one started and the other began. Then they cut off mid-run, the din they’d created ringing until silence filled the space they’d left.

And then, from the silence, a cluster of notes, high and bright—playful in a way that made Bren think of a flute more than a piano. Then a single, ringing note, lower than the rest. More bright notes in a rushing cluster. A single replying tone.

Bren opened his eyes as the notes overlapped again, the singular answers coming to meet the clusters of more energetic notes, growing more frenzied by the second until the deep, dreamy style that Bren had come to associate with Arlo broke through the musical squabble, but with runs of those high bright notes woven into the flow.

He eased back into his pillow, eyes closing so he could see Arlo more clearly in his mind. He understood the merging of styles.

He loved Arlo so fucking much.

And boy did Arlo love him back.

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