it's the grand parade

When Felix stumbles primly past him, hands on lamp, couch, Oscar, a different feeling rises up in his stomach - not ulcer, not ash, not ridiculous hackneyed getoutgetoutgetout, but a comfortable, almost sluggish feeling. The same exact feeling as lingering in your bed, 6:47 AM, just the right stretch in your back and temperature in the covers, beautiful day, hope rising.

Living together.

This is not an experience Oscar has often, if ever, in literality. But Felix's hand on his arm brings it real, making him ashamed of how skilled he is at oversleeping in such an unsatisfying (Felixless) bed.