"Apple picking?" Titus' expression didn't change. Fraser thought he looked disappointed.

Fraser sighed. "Then what the fuck are we going to do? I don't know what kind of activities you like. You don't like going to the movies, you don't like video games, you don't like anything that normal people like. We can't just ride trains all the time."

"I'm not against your idea. I'm just saying that all of this fruit-picking bullshit is a ripoff." Titus realised Fraser had not understood what he was trying to say. "You can do this shit any time you want for free. And you don't even have to leave the comfort of your own neighbourhood-"

"Their prices are pretty reasonable, actually." Fraser sat back down at his desk. He brought up the website on his computer.

"Lemme see." Titus peered over his shoulder at the screen. "Four dollars a kilo. You call that reasonable?"

"Well, it is, compared to what some of the other orchards are offering. They're doing a promotion at the moment."

"Hang on. Check what varieties they have. Click there. Yeah. The drop-down menu. Ah. Royal Gala and Red Delicious."

"Is that good?"

"I'm not paying four dollars a kilo to go to Yarra Glen and walk around a muddy orchard to pick fucking Royal Galas. If there were some rare varieties like Cox's Orange Pippins or something then maybe I'd consider it. But Royal Galas? Fuck no."

"What about the Red Delicious?"

"Don't get me started on the Red Delicious."

"What did they do to you?"

"Long story cut short, they look pretty and can basically keep forever without spoiling, so people keep on growing them, despite the fact that they taste like bitter, sweetened cardboard."

Fraser's face was one of mock indignation, but his eyes were admiring. "How the fuck do you even know this much about apples? Dude. Leave some knowledge for the rest of us to learn."

"Show me where I stopped you from learning about apples." Titus stood up from where he had been sitting at the edge of Fraser's bed, stepping around the stuff on the floor. It was even messier than the last time. "You could have just asked me."

"I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Just look outside your own window." Titus peered at the overcast sky outside. "I can see a feijoa tree from where I'm standing."

"What's a feijoa?"

"You've never heard of feijoas?"

"No?"

"Then you haven't lived. It's the greatest fruit known to man. The fragance of a pineapple with the tartness of a strawberry, and the texture of an exfoliating mask."

"So we're picking... those instead?"

"I don't think they're in season. But there's got to be other nice fruit trees around here." Titus reached for his jacket on Fraser's bed. He waved at Fraser to hurry up. "Come on. Let's go for a walk around the block. You'd be amazed at what you find."

"Do we need to bring anything?"

"Some plastic bags. That should be it."

***

"This is a common mallow." Titus pointed at a round-leaved clump of weeds growing out of a crack in the sidewalk. "It's the magic ingredient for homemade paper. Apparently you can also eat it, but it kinda tastes like snot."

"Homemade paper?" Fraser had seen the same plant countless times before, without ever really noticing it. If he remembered correctly they had purple flowers in the spring. "Who makes paper at home?"

"Me. I was obsessed with making paper when I was little. I spent a whole year beating up wood into pulp with a hammer and I ended up with this messy pile of brown fluff that gave me splinters. Then I discovered these."

"Do you just mash the whole plant up with a hammer?"

"You use the roots. You leave them in water until they go brown and mushy. Then you scrape all the smelly brown gunk away with a brush and that leaves you with some lovely white fibres."

"That sounds gross."

"My parents thought it was disgusting as well, but I was nine, and I thought that making paper was the greatest thing ever, so I didn't care. I wanted to make paper when I grew up. Back when I actually knew what I wanted to be when I grew up."

"That actually sounds like a cool job."

"I don't think there's any money in it." They kept on walking. "Then I realised that mashing up old cotton thread was a much better way of making paper. I didn't have a screen with the wooden frame like real paper makers used, so I just used one of those old screens you stuck on the car window to keep the sun out. My parents were not happy about that either, but it worked."

"That sounds like a lot of work."

"It is. There's a special machine for beating the pulp called a hollander, which sort of has a circular moat with a metal paddle wheel mounted on top, and that beats the pulp up as it floats along the moat. I asked for one once for Christmas."

"Did you get it?"

"Do you have any idea how much those things cost? I ended up with a Lego set. They don't physically pulp wood for paper anymore. These days they just use chemicals to dissolve it. But stuff like US dollar bills still have cotton in them for durability." Titus stopped suddenly and pointed at a tree across the street. "Ah. That's a hackberry tree. They have these little black berries. They taste kind of like dry raisins."

***

The graceful branches of the apple tree towered above them, overhanging the weathered wooden fence behind which it was confined, laden with ripening fruit. In the background, the stucco'd rear end of a house poked out.

"See?" Titus gestured at the tree above them. "We didn't have to go all the way to Yarra Glen. All we had to do was walk for fifteen minutes."

Fraser looked at the fallen fruit on the ground. The telltale signs of birdstrikes were everywhere. "Isn't it illegal if it's in someone's yard?"

Titus shrugged. "If the branches are hanging over the fence then it's legal."

They were standing in a sliver of parkland in the middle of wooden-fenced surburbia, one of those Melbourne parks in the autumn. The smattering of fine European trees doing their best to hide the fact they had spent most of their lives in a state of acute water deprivation. The squishy dirt that was about 80% dog poo. The sound of a magpie somewhere up in the canopy. And the requisite groundcover of verdant soft-leaved weeds.

"There might be worms, you know." Titus bent over to inspect a fallen apple which looked superficially okay. "But that's not too much of a problem. You can just cut the bad bits out."

"That's kinda gross."

"It's free! It doesn't matter if it's gross! It's free! There's fucking free food growing there, just waiting for you to take it home. Like what other argument do you have? Why would you pass it up? What's gross about free food? Free food is beautiful!"

"How are we going to get up there?" Fraser was looking at the ground under the tree, where the grass receded into a rather low-lying bit of bare dirt, littered with fallen apples. It had rained the night before. The sky was still forebodingly gray.

"You've never climbed a tree?"

"It looks muddy."

"Just stand over there and give me a leg up." Titus pointed at a patch of long grass. "That bit looks fairly solid."

Fraser did as he was told. There was an ominous squelching sound. He felt the ground give way, the weight of the mud around his shoes, the wetness seeping in.

"What the fuck." He lifted his foot. "These were brand new."

"What a tragedy," Titus deadpanned. "Come the next full moon, one of your many pairs of centipede feet will have to go without."

Fraser looked at his sidekick in indignation. "You told me it was solid ground."

"You should have double-checked." Titus tried to look serious. "It's long grass."

"What the fuck." Fraser was still staring down in disbelief. "These cost, like, three hundred dollars."

"You mean, they cost your mum's credit card three hundred dollars."

"I will not have you insulting the name of my mum's credit card."

"Oh, suck it up, buttercup." Titus gave him a playful shove. Fraser lost his balance, falling right into the mud.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" Fraser said, as he got up. The left side of his body was coated in mud.

"I'm s-" Titus realised he'd probably gone a bit too far.

"You are so gone," Fraser muttered, putting Titus in a headlock and dragging him down with him. They fell into the mud with a splash. Titus struggled, but he couldn't get Fraser off him, only succeeding in further enrobing himself in mud. He could feel the crunch of grit against his teeth, the taste of earth.

Fraser stopped. He looked down at Titus lying under him, well and truly covered in mud. Even his hair was covered in mud, streaks of red still poking out. He couldn't help but burst into laughter at the sight.

"Are we even now?" Titus asked, on the verge of cracking up as well.

***

Titus sat on the edge of Fraser's bed, listening to the sound of the shower in the ensuite opposite. He was wearing one of Fraser's hoodies. It was grossly oversized on him, of course. He had the distinct feeling of being on the verge of achieving lighter-than-air flight.

The sound of water stopped. A few minutes later, Fraser stepped out of the ensuite. Of course he had an ensuite to his room. He was wearing only his boxers.

Titus tried not to look, but he couldn't help himself, transfixed by Fraser's pectorals.

"What are you staring at?" Fraser jested, noticing his gaze.

"N-nothing." Titus was trying to mask the butterflies in his stomach, and not particularly well. He was worried he was going to burst out laughing.

"You look so good in my clothes," Fraser pulled on a pair of pants lying on the floor. "I'm serious. It suits you so well."

"That's the least of my concerns, Fraser. I feel like a fucking hot air balloon."

Fraser chuckled at that one. He thought for a moment, then walked over and wrapped him in a hug, throwing him onto the duvet in the process. "What about now?"

"It's better." Titus breathed out. "I just don't like baggy clothes. I feel like I'm drowning."

"I'll save you." Fraser untangled himself and lay next to him on the bed.

"I'm so sorry for everything," Titus said, as Fraser turned to face him. "Every time I try to pull something off, weird stuff happens."

"It's okay." Fraser shuffled closer, locking eyes with him.

Titus wanted to look away. It felt like staring into the sun, he was so close. He could see the individual striations in Fraser's green irises, like beaten egg dropped into boiling water.

What should I be thinking? He thought. Should I be feeling something? The butterflies in his stomach were intensifying, but it felt distant, like it was happening a world away, just plateauing harmlessly into a curious state of zen. Was that normal?

"You looked so funny covered in mud." Fraser traced the shape of his nose. Titus didn't stop him. "The look on your face was priceless."

"I didn't mean to make you fall in." Titus wondered what would happen if he looked away. "It was just a little shove."

Fraser moved even closer. He flinched very slightly, uncertain of what was going on.

Then everything seemed to happen very quickly. Their lips met. Titus felt the radiant heat of Fraser's breath, the wet pressure of his mouth on his. He felt a tingle spread out throughout his body, pulsating as it dissipated through the palms of his hands. He could almost hear his mind scrambling.

They drew apart. He stared at Fraser blankly, the expression on his face frozen. It still hadn't sunk in yet.

"I'm so sorry." Fraser's face was a rictus of shock. "I didn't-"

"Don't be." Titus heard himself say. He tried to form a full sentence, but his mind had gone completely blank. "It's not that-"

"I'm sorry," Fraser reiterated, still shell-shocked. "What the hell was I thinking?"

***

"Yes. I'm gay." The words felt liberating as Fraser said them.

"So you haven't told anyone yet." Titus felt curiously clear-minded, but his heart was racing. "Because you're not sure of how they'll react."

Fraser shook his head. He was avoiding his gaze. Titus wondered if he ought to have some kind of similarly panicked reaction to what had transpired. Was that the natural thing to do? But all he could conjure up was a measured indifference. All he knew for sure was that he was definitely overthinking this.

He wrapped his arms around Fraser tightly, who didn't resist in the slightest. It felt like the natural thing to do, and the feeling of his arms around Fraser's torso was comforting. He felt the panic subside, his heartrate return to normal.

"It's okay," he said quietly, feeling Fraser relax in his arms. "I would never tell anyone."

"I just feel so selfish. Like, I'm keeping this from them. I just don't have the courage..."

"It's not selfish." Titus loosened his hold slightly. "You don't have to feel obliged to tell them. You don't have to do it until you're absolutely ready."

"What about your friends?" Fraser turned around. Titus swore that the light in his eyes was different now.

"I genuinely think they would be more surprised if I was not gay. If they remembered that I still exist. Which I think two of them still do. At least."

"But are you?" Fraser's eyes widened. "I never-"

"I-I don't know." Titus suddenly felt like he was treading water. "I've never thought about it."

"But don't you want to find out?"

"As I said. I've never really thought about it on a deep level. My sexuality, that is." The words felt alien, coming out of his mouth. "I just never thought it was a big deal." Titus paused again. He felt the old feeling bubble up again, that something was deeply wrong. Was that the right thing to say? He should be feeling something, shouldn't he? But he felt nothing. "It's just one of those things that I kind of missed out on. It's hard to explain..."

***

"We still haven't eaten yet." Titus suddenly realised they had forgotten about lunch. "It's nearly two o'clock."

"Fuck it." Fraser lay in the middle of the bed, staring at the ceiling. Their conversation still felt slightly awkward. "I'm not hungry."

"I'm not hungry either," Titus said. "We'll worry about it later, I guess." He suddenly noticed something poking out of the gap where the bed backed onto the wall. He reached forward. His hand closed around something soft, wrapped in paper.

He pulled it out, into the light. It was a half-eaten cheeseburger. "What the fuck is this, Fraser?"

Fraser rolled over, casting a quick eye over the bundle. "I have no idea. Mum must've missed it when she cleaned the room last week."

"Last week?" Titus looked at the paper-wrapped bundle in horror, trying to quash any thoughts whatsoever about how it smelled. "How long has this been there? How the fuck did it even get there?"

"I don't know." Fraser laughed nervously. "A couple of weeks, probably."

"Fucking hell. You kissed me, like, thirty centimetres away from that?"

"I didn't even know it was there," Fraser said, sheepishly.

"Well, of course you didn't." Titus got up, holding the offending object gingerly between thumb and forefinger. "What other biohazardous waste have you got hidden around here?"

"I think there's a carton of chocolate milk somewhere." Fraser waited for Titus' reaction.

Titus pretended to dry-retch. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."