The Origin of Love

LaVieEnRose

It all started, as far too many stories do, with Emily being a fucking dork.

Now, obviously I’m fond of the girl, but let’s be real here; she has never found a geeky pastime she couldn’t throw her ninety-pound weight behind. This time, it was costume-making. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it, but Emily makes a lot of her own clothes and now that I say it, you can totally picture it, right?) and somehow she’d finagled herself onto the backstage crew of an off-off-off Broadway show.

Remind me, I said to her as she stood in front of my desk, dangling three tickets in my face. Aren’t you Deaf?

She flicked me off. Hedwig transcends hearing. It’s a queer cultural touchstone. You should be fucking ashamed of yourself that you’ve never seen it.

Oh, I am. Truly, I cry myself to sleep. It’s honestly insensitive of you to bring up such a touchy subject in the workplace.

Good, I hope it traumatizes you.

My bashing trauma getting a little stale?

Incredibly. I’m sick of being asked to care about things that happened before you met me.

All bullshit aside? Obsessed with this girl.

She dropped the tickets on my desk. This Saturday. It means so much to me. Please come. The boys will love it.

I picked up the tickets. I assume there will be an interpreter there.

No, I’m giving you tickets for Evan and Justin on a night with no interpreter. Do I look like an idiot?

In that blazer? You don’t want to know what I think you look like.

You are such a dick. You’ll be there?

I sighed. Yeah, why not.

Thank you, boss, she said, skipping out of my office.

I hope you didn’t sew that blazer! I signed after her.

**

Saturday was, incidentally, the day before Justin’s birthday, so I had already made plans, thank you very much, to take them up to the beach house and drown them in lobster rolls and tequila, but, all right, that could wait. So I made a pre-show reservation at a steakhouse instead and goddamn were they excited about the whole proceeding. Christ, you’d think I keep them locked up or some shit.

Evan was downstairs getting dressed–he still keeps most of his clothes in the basement even though he sleeps up here–while Justin and I showered and picked out something to wear and Justin babbled at me about the history of the show and the theater and probably musicals as an institution, I don’t know. For someone with reasonably severe short-term memory loss, he does find a lot of shit to bore me with. At one point he climbed his way up onto my back while I was going through the closet, and I reached my hands around to cup the back of his head and spun him around, slowly.

Once we were dressed and ready to go and Justin had all his assorted accessories packed, we bundled up and headed to Long Island City. They were both beautiful in the candlelight in the restaurant, and Evan made me laugh with his wide-eyes at the prices, and Justin made me laugh by how utterly disaffected he was by them. I never realize what a fucking snob I’ve raised Justin into until I have Evan to contrast him with. Justin will spend money like it’s on fire. Good for him.

After a fabulous dinner, we had to wait a bit outside the theater before it opened, which I didn’t love, but it wasn’t too long, and Justin still sounded okay when we got inside. Emily had, of course, gotten us seats right in front of the interpreter, and Justin sat between the two of us and started poring over the program with Evan. I opened mine too because, you know, what the hell. I got Justin’s attention after a minute. This is like a two person show?

Essentially. There’s Hedwig, obviously, and then Yitzhak, this one. The character’s a drag queen but the actor is always a woman. He’d never seen the show either, but he’d, as we previously established, done his research.

That’s weird.

It’s a show about gender, really.

So…honestly? The show was pretty fucking great. We don’t go to interpreted things that often, and I always forget how much I like the experience of getting to enjoy something alongside Justin where we both just get to relax and use our language, because even after all these years yeah, it’s a lot easier for me to just sit back and let my ears do their thing than watch someone signing, and I get to do it guilt-free when there’s an interpreter around. The music was heavy and loud enough for the boys to get something from it too, and the actors were talented as hell and the interpreters, when I looked over at them, seemed very good. Justin was mesmerized next to me, grabbing my hand when the bass dropped and darting his eyes between the interpreter and the stage and honestly? Just watching him was the best part for me. But we know that.

Holy shit, he said when it was over. Did you like it?

Actually, yeah. I craned my head around Justin to see Evan. You good?

He looked pretty stunned. Um. Wow.

All right, all right, point Emily.

Speaking of, we’d promised her we’d stick around after the show, so we met her at the stage door and she came out and squealed and hugged us and generally acted like she hadn’t seen us in years. Do you want to meet the actors? she asked us.

Justin and Evan were of course all over that. I caught her eye and said, Can we do it inside? with a little nod towards Justin.

Of course, she said smoothly, and she led us through the door and into the backstage, chattering at us about what everything was and where everyone worked. It was cute to see her so excited, even if it did get me thinking about how she never was lit up this way talking about advertising and oh God what if she left to pursue doing this full-time or some shit, because I have never encountered someone else’s happiness that I can’t pathologize and make a problem for myself, and boy howdy if that isn’t just the entire point of this little tale, but we’ll get there.

We stopped by the costume shop to look around a bit and grab Emily’s interpreter, and then she led us to a makeup room where the actors were back in their street clothes. The girl who played Yitzhak–Thalia, I remembered from the program–was teasing Hedwig about messing up a line near the end of the show, and Hedwig threw a wig at her.

They obviously didn’t sign, but they waved to Emily when they saw her, and she introduced us through the interpreter. Justin’s unpredictable with new people, iridescent sometimes and timid others, but he was amped and flirty tonight and was immediately snagging the interpreter and leaning against the wall by Hedwig’s makeup table, asking him questions and complimenting his performance and otherwise getting this guy to fall instantly in love with him, you know how he does it. I bit back a laugh and left him to it and looked around for Evan, but he’d drifted to the other side of the room and was talking to Thalia. I watched that for a minute–I’ve always kind of liked watching Evan talk to hearing people, it’s just impressive as shit–and then Emily asked me if I’d noticed such and such thing about the costumes, which of course I hadn’t, so of course she had to tell me all the fuck about it. Anyway, the point is we were in that dressing room for a decent amount of time, maybe twenty minutes, while Justin made a new friend and Evan…well, I wasn’t paying too much attention to Evan, and ain’t that just the rub.

When we finally got out of there, Justin wanted ice cream, despite the twenty-degree weather, and, well, birthday and all that, so we stopped somewhere on the way home. God, that was amazing! Justin said, as we walked to the ice cream place. Fuck. I am going to be thinking about that for weeks. And the way they used color in that last transition…God. There’s a painting there, I just need to find it.

With the orange light into the blue? I said.

Yes! I need to figure out how to get that wash I’m thinking of…man. Maybe this is a watercolor piece? That seems so weird given how vivid everything was, but…

I said, You have that new set you haven’t even broken into yet, the one we got from that shop in Chelsea–

Yes! Oh, I forgot all about those. Yes yes yes.

I chewed the inside of my cheek and tucked him under my arm and felt him sigh against my chest. I turned to Evan, who seemed thoughtful, looking around as we walked in that way he does, like he’s seeing something new. Good night? I asked him.

He nodded. Show was incredible.

And you made a new friend.

He laughed a little. She gave me her number.

Of course she did, I said with an eye roll.

He showed me the contact in his phone. How do you say her name?

Pretend the H isn’t there.

“Talia?”

I nodded and opened the door for them. They had a brief, playful argument about ice cream flavors that I heroically indulged, and then we ordered and sat down and dug in.

She didn’t know you were gay? Justin said.

Evan shrugged. I told her you were my boyfriend.

I guess someone in a show like this is probably pretty open-minded about that sort of shit, Justin said. Good for her. Shooting her shot, as the kids say.

We don’t say that, Evan said.

Justin smiled and settled back in his chair. He gets so stoned on good art. What was your favorite part? he asked us.

I gave Evan a beat to answer first, but when he didn’t, I shrugged and said, Origin of Love.

Yeah, Justin said, all happy. Me too.

I don’t think I really got that one, Evan said, which made sense; the whole thing was an allegory, and Evan has a hard time going from metaphorical to literal sometimes.

It’s a retelling of this old story, Justin said. It’s from the Symposium, right? he asked me.

I think so.

Plato, he told Evan. Big important old philosopher. And he told the story to Evan again–this legend that each of us was once two people squished together, either two guys or two girls or one of each, but the gods got pissy and split us up, and now we’re all running around looking for the person who used to literally be our other half. And the way we recognize them is by looking for someone who’s been damaged–by the gods and the separation, or by whatever–the same way we have.

So, what, there’s just one person for everyone? Evan said, and maybe you can see the fucking parade of sirens and red flags that this should have set off, but I didn’t really, at the time. We were just so relaxed. Justin was so happy.

Yeah, that’s the point of that story, at least, Justin said. But the musical at large is kind of questioning this idea that you need another person to complete you.

And what, it’s all just predestined? Evan said. Whether it’s going to be a girl or a boy? Who exactly it is? There’s one person out there for you and all of that’s just…done?

According to Plato? Yeah.

Evan sat back in his chair, and there was something in his eyes, and yeah, that’s the point where the mood started to shift, or it was for everyone but Evan, I guess.

Justin picked up on it too. Again, no one’s saying it’s true.

You said it was your favorite part of the show, though, Evan said. Both of you did.

Justin and I sort of just sat there, avoiding eye contact, playing with our food. Not talking.

You have to understand. Years with Evan, and this? This had never really happened. We had no idea of knowing if this was a big deal. If this was something that really bothered him or if he was just in a weird mood and feeling left out because we understood something he hadn’t or…you know? How the fuck was I supposed to know whether or not this was going to end up being a fucking thing?

It’s just that this had all gone so fucking smoothly. This whole time.

Eventually Justin reached over to Evan and laced their fingers together, and Evan squeezed his hand and kind of circled back to what Justin had said earlier about the lightning in the show, and we talked about that for a while. But Evan still seemed distracted, and abruptly he said, She was really good, wasn’t she? Thalia.

Yeah, she was, Justin said.

And she was… He rubbed the back of his neck. She was pretty, right? Like at the end of the show, and when we saw her in the dressing room.

Justin gave me a quick confused glance before he turned back to Evan. Yeah…she was.

I think… Evan rubbed his forehead. I think I’m going to text her?

Justin gave me another strange look that I have to assume I was returning. Okay…?

I think I’m going to ask her out, Evan said.

**

I cornered Justin the second we were alone together, after we’d gotten home and Evan had gone to shower. He was on the bed putting lotion on, and I shook his foot to get his attention. Has he ever been with a girl before? I said.

“I don’t think so.”

Has he ever said anything to you about being interested in one?

“No, I don’t think so.”

It’s really fucking irritating how calm you’re being.

He shrugged. It’s a little weird, but I don’t think this is any sort of crisis.

What if it gets serious?

He’s dated plenty of people. It never gets that serious.

He’s never dated a girl. It’s different.

What, he’s going to discover the majesty of sex with women and then go running for the hills? Even if it turns out he is bi, that doesn’t mean he’s going to like being with women more.

She can give him something we can’t. We’re already giving him everything we have.

Are we?

What are you talking about? I shook my head. And what if she becomes some….let’s say it gets serious. Let’s say all of a sudden we have a woman entangled in all of this. Is that what you want? Is that what you pictured?

I don’t particularly want another guy entangled in all of this either.

Whoever Evan dates is to some degree dating us too. I don’t date women.

He wrinkled his nose. You kind of sound like an ass right now.

I know. I know. I just…I didn’t plan for this.

You didn’t plan for Evan at all.

I gave him a look. You dating people was my idea.

Yeah, me casually dating people. Don’t act like either of us saw Evan coming.

I sighed and flopped down next to him on the bed. He ran his knuckles up and down my cheek, and I reached out and played with the soft hair on his legs.

“Do you think we hurt his feelings tonight?” Justin said softly. “With that conversation?”

I don’t know.

“I don’t see how we couldn’t have,” he said, looking down.

I’ve told you I don’t believe in that soulmate shit, I said, which…was not a lie, because I had in fact told him that, but we’ll get more into that later.

For now Justin just kind of gave me a look that said everything, and too much, and still made me want to run for the hills a little bit, after all these years.

I just feel guilty all the time, Justin said. I feel like what we ask of him is unfair and I just…

I sat up a little. I didn’t know that.

There is nothing in the world like you and me, Justin said. And everyone knows it, and let’s be honest, we’re not exactly subtle about it.

It’s kind of hard to be low-key about you when I have to keep pulling you from the jaws of death.

Yeah, well, that’s part of it.

I propped myself up on my elbow to face him. You know I love him.

I do know that. And so does he.

But… I took a deep breath and gestured between me and Justin. I can’t pretend that it’s…

Justin bit his lip and nodded. Yeah. I know. See why I feel guilty?

**

We avoided the subject with Evan for the rest of the night, and no one mentioned it the next day, either. Justin wasn’t feeling fantastic, so we had a low-key birthday for him. April came over for an hour or two to get high and play cards with him, like they always do, and then Molly and Daphne and Derek brought take-out for dinner. Evan seemed happy and normal enough through all of it, so I tried to be too. Justin was wiped out as hell by the time Daphne and Derek left, and he didn’t have a fever but his oxygen was a little low, so Evan and I bullied him into an early bedtime and then watched some heist movie while I worked on my laptop and Evan played on his phone and I very much did not ask who he was talking to.

Things still felt weird as shit on Monday. We said goodbye to Justin and rode the train together in near-silence, then he went down to art and I went to my office and just lost myself in paperwork for a while. Emily came in with an issue from accounting, some kind of payroll glitch, and I guess she could tell my head was very much not in the game. What is up with you today? she said, after she’d pointed me to the figure I needed to look at for the third time.

Nothing, I said, and then immediately followed up that compelling answer with a convincingly casual, How well do you know the actors? From your show.

She shrugged. They don’t sign, so…

Yeah.

Marty’s married, he’s from Long Island, they have a dog.

Thalia?

Uh, she’s young. I think twenty-four? She’s nice.

Is she straight?

She seems bi to me, but I don’t know for sure. Why on earth do you care?

I hesitated. Did you always know? That you were bi?

Well, I’m pan, but I assume the nuance is lost on you.

That’s correct.

No, I didn’t always know. Figured it out late high school, I think.

So you thought you were gay or straight before that?

Straight, I knew I liked guys.

That’s probably the way it usually goes, right?

She shrugged. I guess so. It’s the default, so…

Right.

I was supposed to like guys and I liked guys, so I figured, yeah, everything’s fine and good and normal. There was no reason for me to go out and explore other things. And then I kind of got hit in the head with it.

But it…can happen the other way.

Well, yeah, of course. Brian, what the fuck is this? You’re not…

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Okay, sorry. Obviously not you. Justin?

I shook my head a little.

She started to say something and then stopped.

Yeah, I said. There you go.

With Thalia? She clucked her tongue. Why always hearies with him? He is so irritating.

You don’t seem surprised.

No, I’m surprised. I’m not shocked. She shrugged. This stuff is fluid.

Not for everyone.

Yes, yes, we know, Brian Kinney is the solid six of Kinsey’s dreams. But Justin’s a little more bi than you are, maybe Evan’s a little more than that. Is that a problem?

I said, Obviously it’s not a problem, which I am aware contradicted with me explicitly acting like it was a problem.

And she raised her eyebrows at me. Historically you have…struggled with bisexuality.

Yeah, but Justin’s always making me develop as a human being, it’s really annoying.

Evan dating a girl isn’t inherently different from him dating a guy, Emily said. Has he told her he’s positive?

Probably not yet. I’m sure he will. And he’s undetectable, so it’s not really a risk to her.

She seems nice, Emily said. And she’s clearly a nice modern, open-minded woman if she wants to date a guy who came to see her very subversive genderqueer show…with his two boyfriends. I say give her a shot and don’t worry until there’s something to worry about.

I nodded a little.

He deserves this, right?

He deserves whatever he wants, I said, so quickly. Without even thinking about it.

**

Things went back to normal, mostly. The weird tension between Evan and us dried up…mostly, and we lived our regular lives for a few weeks. A couple times Evan showed me a text from Thalia where she used a turn of phrase he didn’t understand, and once or twice he had me proofread something he wrote to see if it made sense, since his English grammar still leaves a lot to be desired, but besides that he didn’t talk about her and we didn’t ask. He went out a couple nights a week, presumably with her sometimes, but also still went to see Emily’s house to see Jane and went clubbing with me. Things were…sustainable, at the very least, if not perfect. Justin seemed okay, and, well, we all know that’s kind of my benchmark for if things are acceptable. So it was fine.

So, speaking of Justin being okay. One Friday night in mid-April I was still at the office when it was pushing eight, trying to finish a draft of a budget proposal for a client we were wooing. Everyone else at the office was gone, including Evan, who’d left around six and told me he was going out. I was running a few numbers through my calculator when Justin called.

He was at his studio, sitting on his couch, and as soon as I saw him I knew we were in a little trouble. He was so pale, and wheezing in that way that makes my own chest ache, and he had his thumbnail in his mouth and he looked a little scared. Are you leaving soon? he asked me.

I closed my laptop. I’m thinking I’m leaving right now.

Yeah. Yeah, okay.

You call an ambulance if you need one, okay? I said, and he nodded.

I forced myself to pack up calmly and took a cab to the studio, since it would be quicker than the train this time of night. I texted Justin on the way to see how he was doing and tell him he was on my way, and he said he was okay but also that he loved me, which I didn’t love because it seemed a bit too…you know. Last words-y. Not a fan of him pulling that one out in serious situations.

At his building, I took the stairs two at a time rather than wait for the elevator and used my key to let myself in. He was right where he’d been when I called, but the wheeze was quieter and weaker now, which happens when he’s not pulling in enough air to make that hideous racket we all know and love. I sat down next to him on the couch and he buried his face in my neck and clung onto my shirt. Martha pawed at my leg.

I lifted Justin’s chin to make him look at me. We need to go to the hospital.

He shook his head. Shocking!

And look, I know how much he hates it, so I try not to push it unless it’s really, really non-negotiable, because I want him to know that when I insist on it, I’m fucking insisting. So here I just sighed and said, You want to go home?

A fierce nod.

Yeah. Okay. Cab’s waiting outside. Get up nice and slow, hold onto me…

He spent the cab ride curled up, his fist rubbing circles on his sternum, and once we got home I ushered him in and got him all nice and medicated and eventually got the story of the evening out of him: someone in an adjacent studio was using some kind of chemical that had bothered him a bit when he got in, but his inhaler was handling it, until it wasn’t. Normally he’d be a little combative about that, preparing to fight back while I started up some lecture about how he should have left right away and he has to be more careful and all that shit he’s heard a hundred times, but today he was quiet, looking down and pulling at the stitches in the comforter, and God, I could tell he just felt so fucking awful, and that he’d been so miserable sitting there waiting for me to get there and not knowing if he’d waited too long to call. So yeah. The lecture didn’t really happen.

The nebulizer did help, though, and after he’d switched from that to oxygen and he sounded better–I mean, don’t get me wrong, still no one’s, even his, definition of great, but better–I brushed his hair off his forehead and said, I’m going to go fill Evan in, let him know where we’re at. It’s kind of an unwritten rule around here that we keep each other updated on shit like this, just to make sure that if Justin changes hands whoever’s on duty has the latest status report. And also, you know. We care.

Justin nodded. Is he home?

Yeah, I saw his keys when we came in.

So! Maybe you see where this portion of our lovely tale is headed. But look, you can see why I was distracted, right? Fuck, if you’d seen Justin back at the studio…God, you would get why I went down into the basement without flashing the lights at the top of the stairs to let Evan know I was there, which I swear I fucking never do.

But I did, and yeah, there he was in bed with Thalia.

I said something along the lines of “Oh fucking Jesus fucking Christ,” out loud as I covered my eyes, which meant that Thalia heard me, which meant there was a scream and then squawking and rustling, during which I very, very much did not look.

Finally, Evan’s voice. “Brian, what the fuck?”

Sorry, I said, eyes still closed. Sorry. I didn’t know she was here.

“You can… hang on. Okay. You can open your eyes now.”

I did, slowly. Thalia had Evan’s shirt on now, and the blanket pulled up to her chest. Evan was up and in a pair of sweatpants. He looked somewhere between embarrassed and pissed off. But closer to pissed off.

You don’t flash the lights? he said.

I….thought I did. I forgot.

He sighed. I didn’t even know you were home.

I haven’t been for long. I caught Thalia’s eye and said, Sorry.

She looked at Evan.

“He says he’s sorry,” he said, and okay, it’s not like I expected her to be fluent or anything, but he hadn’t taught her to sign at all?

Whatever. At least this meant I wasn’t airing Justin’s business to her. I picked Justin up from the studio, I said. He had an asthma attack. That’s what I was coming to tell you.

He sighed. Damn. Is he okay?

Yeah. It was bad, though.

He looked at Thalia, then back to me. Do you need me?

Oof.

Uh, no, I said. I guess not.

I’ll be up a little while, he said, with some finality. Very obviously my cue to leave.

So…I mean, what could I do? I left. I could hear Justin coughing as I went up the stairs, which was actually a good sign; he hadn’t had enough air to cough before. I went back in and stood at the foot of the bed and looked him over. Doing okay?

He stretched out happily. I love breathing.

That’s my boy.

What’s wrong?

Because I love nothing more than laying my burdens on Justin when he’s inches from the sweet release of death, I said, I just walked in on Evan and his girlfriend.

“Ah. In repose?”

Indeed. You still sound really wheezy.

He sat up a little. Was Evan pissed?

I think so. I mean, he knew it was an accident, but…

Was she okay?

I shrugged. I covered my eyes right away.

“Well, he said he was going out,” Justin said. “He should have just told us he’d be down there with her and not to bother him, right? I don’t know why he’s sneaking around.” He wheezed out a sigh. “Of course I know why he’s sneaking around.”

I groaned and crawled up the bed and flopped down next to him. It’s so weird. It’s been a month and it’s still so fucking weird. I put my hand around his ribs to feel a few of his breaths.

Justin coughed lightly and said, “Well, we don’t know her. I’m sure that’s part of it.”

I guess. Can we start a steroid course tonight? You’re still struggling.

“Okay.” He tangled our fingers together, then clapped his hands. “I know what we’re going to do. Let’s get to know her. Invite her to do something this weekend.”

This weekend. Yeah. I’m still considering hauling you off to urgent care, Sunshine. Let’s not go making any plans bigger than naps and nebulizers.

“We’ll invite her over for dinner,” Justin said. “I have to eat.”

She doesn’t sign.

“You guys will be there to help. I’ve faked my way through worse.” He rubbed his chest. “Right now we’re setting ourselves up like adversaries.”

I fingerspelled, Ad…? Adversaries. Got it.

“We invite her over, we get to know her, we make everyone feel more comfortable with the situation. And maybe we get a better idea of what they’re looking for, you know? Where they see themselves in the future.”

If she’s going to be moving into our basement?

“Dinner,” Justin said firmly. “Let’s start with dinner.”

Come lie down with me.

**

And so Sunday night we had Thalia over for dinner. Justin was still wheezing like a damn freight train but swore to us he felt all right, and to his credit he was acting normal, just…noisy. He roasted a chicken and Evan and I helped with a couple side dishes, and Thalia showed up right on time. Evan met her at the door and kissed her cheek and they had a quiet conversation, and then he led her over to me and Justin.

“Hi,” she said to me. “I am so sorry about last night.”

“No, no,” I sim-commed. “My fault.”

She turned to Justin with a shy smile. “Hi, Justin.”

“Hi!”

“I feel so bad that I don’t sign,” she said. “Coming in here and just expecting you guys to accommodate me.”

Justin watched me interpret and then shook his head. “You are not doing anything of the sort. You’re our guest. Come sit.”

We’d set the table deliberately, with her and Justin on one side and Evan and I on the other, so Evan could read her lips and Justin could see one of us interpreting for her. The consequence of being next to Justin, though, was she immediately was freaked the fuck out by his breathing, as people tend to be. She glanced at us and said, “Is he okay?”

“You can ask him,” Evan and I said in unison. Reflex.

“Right. Sorry.” She turned to Justin and gave him a thumbs up, which he returned, a little confused.

You’re scaring her with your Darth Vader impression, I explained to him.

“Oh.” Justin ducked his head, chuckling, and God, I am such a sucker for that. He glows. “I’m okay.”

“I’ve actually always wanted to learn sign language,” Thalia said, while we were passing food around. “Hopefully this will be the kick in the pants to actually do it. Although I’m worried I’m too old.”

I shook my head. “Justin was about your age when we started learning. I was in my thirties.”

“Oh, wow.” She spooned out some asparagus. “Did you ever consider not learning, or was it always the plan?”

“I think we knew we’d need sign language to get by,” I sim-commed. “But initially we saw it as more like…an adaptation to English so that he and I could communicate. We didn’t really imagine we’d have this whole sign language life, and know all these Deaf people.” I looked at Justin, “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely not,” he said. “We…definitely did not picture this.”

“I love that,” Thalia said. “I mean, obviously not that you had to go through that, but like…that you’ve turned it into this beautiful thing. I’ve been doing some reading on Deaf culture recently. Incredible.”

Justin watched me interpret and said, “Yeah, I wouldn’t go back for anything.” I smiled at him.

“I hope if something like that ever happened to me, I’d figure out how to adapt half as well,” Thalia said. “I’m one of those really irritating people who has like, a five-year plan, and if anything happens to throw it off I like, lose my mind. So of course I choose the most unpredictable career ever.”

Evan said, “What’s your five-year plan?” and even from next to him I could see the warmth in his eyes.

She blushed a little. “Okay, next five years, maybe just more of this. But ten years? I don’t know.” She gestured around. “What you guys have. A house. Stability. Settle down. Kids maybe, marriage, the whole nine.”

“We’re not that settled,” I said, and I know, I know, you’re sick of me, but I swear I said it lightly. I was not making it a thing.

“Well, you got married, right?”

“Justin needed health insurance,” I said.

Speaking of Justin, he was starting to get lost, I could tell. I was doing my best to interpret, but I’m really just not that good, and he was having trouble trying to track who he was supposed to be looking at at any given time, and probably getting confused about when I was talking and when I was signing for Thalia. And on top of interpreting I was also, you know, kind of trying to eat, and additionally getting distracted by the ever-increasing wheeze from across the table.

“Well, obviously you two aren’t into monogamy,” Thalia said. “Which is fine! I’m the last one to judge. I was in kind of a similar situation to this while I was in college.” She took a bite of her chicken. “But I think…I don’t know, I guess at my core I’m more traditional than I’d like to admit. There’s a part of me that just think about how much easier it would be if I weren’t trying to blaze my own path all the time. I’m not saying I’m ever going to be a fucking housewife or anything, but the idea of letting myself fall into those comfortable roles…I don’t know, there’s some appeal.”

I shrugged. “Sure. I guess for some people.”

She nodded and sipped her drink and then said, “I mean, Evan did it, right? With Adam.”

And I just froze. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.

He told her about Adam.

He told her about Adam? I knew…fuck, I knew he was in a better place with this stuff since whatever kind of epiphany he had when he was under anesthesia, but it was still…

He told her about Adam.

Justin looked between all of us, his brow furrowed, and waved for my attention. What did she say? he said to me, and I wanted to tell him but my hands just…wouldn’t move.

Evan looked at me expectantly for a minute, then sighed and said matter-of-factly, She said I did the monogamy thing when I was with Adam.

And I just hated the look on Justin’s face. Because I knew, immediately, that he was right where I was, that he wasn’t going to be the voice of reason calming me down anymore. That calming down was no longer the reasonable thing to do.

He hides it so well, but I could see it in his eyes.

Evan, meanwhile, chewed and swallowed and then sim-commed. I did do it with Adam. And I liked it very much. We were really happy.

He segued into asking Thalia something, some question about herself and a show she had coming up, I don’t even know. I spent the whole rest of the dinner smiling, nodding, watching Evan and Thalia make eyes at each other, and watching Justin try to breathe.

**

“Okay,” I said, closing the door to the bedroom, where I’d brought Justin ostensibly to medicate him while Evan and Thalia had dessert. That was fucked up, right? I’m not imagining things? That was fucked up?

Justin sat down heavily on the bed. It was…

Weird? Concerning? Terrifying? I have no shortage of signs here.

Yeah. It was.

Oh God. I sat down facing him. You’re supposed to be talking me down here. This is really bad, isn’t it?

Justin just looked…shell-shocked. I don’t know.

He practically said he wanted to run off and get married to the nice Jewish girl and have two point five kids.

“No, he…” Justin shook his head like he was trying to clear it. “We’ve talked about kids, he just wants Jane, he’s good.”

Okay. Okay. So not kids. But he still…I am not imagining how that went down, am I?

No, you’re not. He’d talked to her about Adam.

He talked to her about Adam. And fuck, I didn’t know he and Adam were fucking monogamous, did you?

I think maybe I knew that. I’m not sure. He rubbed his forehead.

This is so fucked. He’s actually going to leave us. Are you okay?

Yeah.

If not her, I mean…somebody else, right? Some girl or guy who’s going to come along and offer him what we literally can’t. He wants the tradition. He wants the fucking Christmas cards. Holy shit.

This was too good to be true. This whole fucking time, I knew it, it was going too goddamn smoothly. Like, who the fuck’s story is this? Justin and I are trucking along just fine, and then we meet this fucking guy who happens to be Deaf and happens to be sick and happens to be an artist and happens to want to live with us forever and ever happily ever after… like what the fuck is that? How the fuck did I just believe that this was something I was going to get to have?

Breathe, Justin said to me.

Yeah, you’re one to talk.

He won’t… he won’t leave us, Justin said. Right? He loves us. He’s happy here.

I am not saying this to throw this in your face, I’m not, but–

I know, Justin said, because of course he didn’t need me to finish the thought. But I was ten years younger than him and a PTSD-ridden mess and it was an emotional decision. This is not the same situation.

That’s the thing. He didn’t sound emotional at dinner, right? You could tell this was shit he’d been thinking about. This was logic. He’s rationalizing his way right out the door.

Maybe he’s talking about like… the future, Justin said. You know? Like after… He shrugged. Me. If something happens.

No, he’s staying if something happens to you. We’ve talked about this.

His lips parted.

Of course. There was a knock on the door, so I was blessedly saved from having to ruminate on that one anymore. I signed Evan’s name to Justin and opened the door.

Hey, Evan said to Justin. Doing okay?

He nodded. Is Thalia still here?

She just left.

We nodded.

So…? Evan said.

She’s nice, Justin said. She’s really nice.

Okay, well, obviously something’s up.

Justin wheezed out a sigh. We’re just a little worried, I guess.

Worried.

About what this means for us.

I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t for Evan to roll his eyes away from us, take a deep breath, and then say, You know what?

Justin and I glanced at each other.

I am so fucking frustrated with how you two are handling this, Evan said. I have never dated a girl before, I’ve never even been interested in one, and now I’m in this new and scary situation and I don’t know what any of this means for me and who I am, and not once has either of you asked me how I’m feeling or how I’m doing or given me any kind of support. I have Emily blowing up my phone checking on me and sending me links to articles she thinks might help. What have I gotten from either of you? You’ve made it entirely about yourselves and how it affects you from day one.

Hang on, I said, because you don’t come for Justin like that, but Justin shook his head and put his hand on my arm.

You’re right, Justin said to him. I don’t think either of us was under the impression we’d done a great job handling this. But you’re right.

Evan shrugged. Okay. Thanks.

We’re kind of freaking the fuck out, I said. It wasn’t like…we’re just distracted.

He sighed. Why are you freaking out?

God. I built my entire life for so many fucking years around avoiding conversations just like this one. And here I was in one with not one, but two guys. How the fuck do I get myself into these situations?

I gestured out to the dining table. That was alarming, all right? It kind of sounds like you’re unsatisfied with this whole situation and you’ve been doing this for a while and now you’re ready to go back to your monogamous happy place or whatever the fuck.

Okay, Evan said. I’m dating Thalia because I like Thalia. Not because I’m unhappy or unsatisfied here. All right?

I took a deep breath, and I saw Justin at least attempt to as well. Okay, I said Okay.

We were all quiet for a minute, before Evan, after a few tries raising his hands and not speaking, finally said, But that doesn’t mean that I’m happy and satisfied.

I swear to God I felt my stomach hit the floor.

“Oh God,” I whispered. I turned to Justin. God, he’s leaving.

“I’m not…” Evan sighed. We should talk about this, right? We should be able to talk about this.

And look, I knew he was right, and I knew that of course it was also right that we were having this conversation with Justin, since obviously he was pretty involved in the whole situation. But in that moment, God, I was just so fucking pissed that Justin was here for this, that he had to deal with this kind of stress and frustration and anger–and fine, the anger was coming from me–when he already wasn’t feeling well.

So I said, Yeah, we should. So explain why this is just coming up now? If it’s apparently been building, why the fuck didn’t you say anything?

Because I was scared, Evan said. You know I was scared.

Scared of us? Yeah, we’re terrifying. I put a hand on Justin’s back to feel his breathing.

Scared of fucking this up. Is he okay?

I shrugged. So how the fuck where we supposed to know something was wrong if you didn’t say something?

He’s not saying we were supposed to know, Justin said, small.

Yeah, I’m not, Evan said. He rubbed his forehead. But you know, it’s also kind of fucking common sense, isn’t it? I’ve been third-wheeling around here for years–

That is not how we see you, Justin and I said some version of, together.

It’s how everyone sees me! Evan said. You don’t have to deal with the fucking pitying looks from people who think I’m satisfied with being the president of Brian and Justin’s fan club. All my friends asking me, but don’t you want something more, don’t you want to come first. I mean, Jesus, put yourself in my position, he said, to me. How would you feel?

You are not me.

Oh, bullshit I’m not you.

I never wanted to be in a fucking relationship at all! I said. You think I have some list of what my ideal fucking arrangement looks like?

Justin put his hand on my wrist, gently, and then turned to Evan. What is it that you need? he said to him. I’ve said we could get rings.

Yeah, get rings, I said. Here, take mine.

Evan said, “Jesus Christ, Brian, shut the fuck up,” and then turned to Justin. It’s not about that. I just feel like I lift right out of this. Like if I left, you guys would be fine and you’d just go on being you. Meanwhile I’d have no money, no place to live…I wouldn’t even have any friends. I’m almost thirty fucking years old and I still feel like some sort of kept boy and I don’t like it.

But I’m asking how to fix that, Justin said. I hear you, I do, but I don’t know the solutions. There’s not some magic bullet we’ve been keeping from you.

Okay. Buying the house, that was your decision, and I get that we weren’t in the same place then as we were now, but if you decided to move again, would I even be included?

Of course you would, I said.

Evan just shrugged. You guys decided I would move up to this room, not me. When stuff goes really sideways with Justin, Brian makes the decisions and I hear about it later. I am always finding things out after the fact. It’s, ‘oh, we made this choice that affects all our lives, now let’s go tell Evan about it.’

There wasn’t much we could say to that one.

What if I decided I wanted another kid, he said. Would we even talk about that, would that be on the table? Or would that just be time for me to go and find someone else?

Of course we would talk about it, Justin said.

But I would never ask you guys, he said. I would shove it down and make myself smaller and fit into this life, your life, and don’t you think that’s a problem?

Justin said, Yeah, I do.

Your friends in Pittsburgh besides Michael don’t even know I exist.

I said, Do you honestly care about–

Justin’s mom, he said, and…yeah. That one was hard to argue with.

So we didn’t. We just stayed so still, the silence ringing all around us.

Evan said, I-I just don’t know if there’s a way at this point to make this fair to everyone. To me. And even if all that were fixed, even if somehow we were all three legally fucking married and… He sighed and turned to me, gestured between us. There’s still this.

What the fuck do you mean, this?

“Brian,” Justin said.

This is about sex? I said.

No, Evan said. It’s not about sex. He looked at Justin. Baby, can you breathe?

Yeah.

If it’s not about sex…

It’s not, Evan said.

You have to understand how fucking exhausted I was by this point. And how absolutely sure I was that we’d lost him.

So I just shrugged.

Evan said after a beat. Okay. He ran his hand through his hair. I just need to let myself think about this stuff, I think. I’ve spent way too long trying not to.

Great, I said. Think away.

Yeah, he said. I’m going to take a shower.

He took his time getting his stuff together and then went into the bathroom and shut the door. I sat down on the bed next to Justin, but I felt like I wasn’t really there, or like I didn’t have a body. I don’t know.

I can’t explain the extent to which I had not seen this coming.

And I know, I know it was a billion years ago, and again, I am not trying to rub Justin’s face in this, but the fact remained that I was about to lose someone again because I couldn’t say the pretty little words they wanted to hear and I just wanted to throw myself into the sun.

Justin took my hand, and I squeezed it.

This is so fucked up, I said eventually.

Justin took a minute, then said, “He’s right, though.”

He’s not right.

“Yeah, he is. Everything he said was valid. And it’s good. It’s good that he’s telling us all of this. It means he trusts us.”

I don’t think any part of this could be construed as ‘good.’

“We’re being selfish and I don’t want to do it anymore. This is about him and his journey and…yeah, I am officially Team Evan Finding Himself.”

You’re scared to death.

“Yeah, I am. But this needs to not be about me. Or you.” He took a shaky breath. “If you want something to take your mind off it, I think I have a fever.”

Yeah? I palmed his forehead. Shit. Yeah, you’re burning up. God.

It was a good distraction, sick as it is to say. At least I fucking knew what to do about this one; I can do a fever with Justin on autopilot. I got him drugged up and settled in bed, then I took Martha out–she was not pleased about being separated from Justin, probably knew he was sick before he did–and then went to clean up our illustrious dinner party. I ended up zoning out in front of the TV with a bottle of whiskey, which completely wasn’t me staying out of the bedroom until after I knew Evan would be asleep. But if it happened to work out that way, hey. And it did, since I didn’t brave the bedroom until after one AM. Evan was in his usual spot, hugging Justin into his chest, and everything looked so peaceful and normal that it made me want to throw up.

I rolled over in the middle of the night and both of them were gone. The bathroom light glowed from under the door, and I could hear the tub running. I got up and stretched and made my way over to the bathroom. They were angled away from me and watching each other and didn’t see me open the door, and I started to wave my hand, let them know I was there, and then I just…didn’t.

Justin was shivering and breathing hard, sitting on the side of the tub while it filled, and Evan palmed the back of his head and kissed his forehead. Do you want some tea? Evan asked him.

Justin shook his head. Stay with me.

I’d come right back, clingy. He gave him a gentle hug. You’re really hot.

Thanks.

Yeah, anytime. Bath is almost ready.

It’s not too cold, is it?

It’s warm. You’re going to wish it was hotter, but I need to get that fever down, baby.

Okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I woke you up.

I’m not. Hang in there, okay? I’ve got you. Come here.

I inched the door closed and went back to bed and buried my face in a pillow that smelled like both of them.

**

Justin’s fever was still pretty high in the morning, and he wasn’t sweating, so it didn’t look like it’d be breaking any time soon. I woke him up to take his meds and drink some water. His breathing wasn’t actually terrible, but he was so tired, and as soon as he swallowed the pills he curled up on top of Evan and went back to sleep.

I nodded to him and told Evan, Do you want to stay home with him? I’ll tell art.

“You sure?”

I shrugged. He shouldn’t be alone with a fever this high.

“No, I know, I just thought…”

Well, obviously I knew what he thought. And why he thought it. That was kind of the point, wasn’t it?

So I just shrugged, and Evan nodded a little, and I bent down and kissed Justin’s hot forehead and then lifted Evan’s chin a bit to kiss him, gently, too.

And I left.

The morning was absolute shit. I couldn’t focus for anything. I had this headache I could feel behind my eyes and I didn’t think it was because I’d caught whatever Justin was incubating. I snapped at everyone who dared to speak to me, I zoned out in meetings, and I had this tight feeling at the bottom of my throat that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times I swallowed. My hands kept shaking whenever I tried to hold anything, and periodically I’d have this feeling like the room or my field of vision or something was getting smaller and smaller and it would be kind of hard to breathe.

What’s wrong with you? Emily asked me, but I just told her Justin was sick and I was stressed about it and that seemed to satisfy her. When really, Justin was the fucking last thing on my mind, and Christ, how often can I say that one?

I thought about ordering lunch but everything I could think to eat turned my stomach, and I ended up pacing my office and considering tearing my fucking hair out. I texted Justin to see if he was awake–maybe he could fucking talk me down–but he didn’t answer. So, okay, fuck it. Clearly work wasn’t happening. Clearly calming the fuck down wasn’t happening.

So I sent another text: I need you. meet me at Demetriou’s and got the fuck out of the office.

**

Demetriou’s is a cafe about a block away from the office, which means it’s a bit of a journey for Derek from midtown, but fuck if he wasn’t there in half an hour. I got up immediately and hugged him. Whoa, he said. Are you okay?

I shook my head as I sat back down, and then I just…recounted the whole tale to him. He knew about Evan dating Thalia, so I sped through that part and focused on the massacre of a dinner party we’d hosted, the conversation with Justin after, then with Evan, then with Justin again. Seeing Justin and Evan together later that night. It could not be more obvious that it’s me, I concluded. I’m the problem. He’s a little pissed at Justin for some stuff, fine, but nothing relationship-ending. And then there’s me, and….Justin and I are both going to lose him and it’s my fault. And I feel…I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking think. All day I’ve just…I can’t fucking believe how not okay I am.

Did he say he was leaving?

I shook my head. He is. I can tell.

Yeah, and you have a strong habit of jumping to worst-case scenarios.

Have you seen the shit that happens to me? I shook my head. I can’t believe I thought this would work out.

All right, Derek said. So Evan wants something more from both of you, and maybe primarily from you. Why is that a catastrophe?

I don’t have anything more, I said. He needs me…he needs what I have for Justin. I can’t make that happen. I don’t even know how Justin made it happen. How the fuck do I duplicate that? How do I… I don’t have it in me. I can’t double that.

Derek nodded for a minute, thinking, then he said, Who’s the first person you ever loved?

I shrugged a shoulder. Justin.

No, like, any kind of love. Your mom, or…?

I sighed. I must have, at some point. I don’t know. Maybe my sister. Maybe not until Michael.

And after that?

I thought about it. Debbie and Vic, I guess. Lindsay.

And then at some point, Gus, Justin, your people here. Including Evan.

God, this kid was lucky I liked him. But I nodded.

So that’s a long list of people for someone who doesn’t do love, right?

I have never said…it’s the romantic shit that I struggle with. I’ve never made any claims that I don’t love my friends, my son.

And you’ve gotten to a point where you’ll admit that you love romantically too.

I rolled my eyes. Obviously.

I’m just trying to point out the progress you’ve made here, Derek said. That’s all.

That doesn’t mean I can suddenly grow a whole fucking extra chamber of whatever the fuck part of me to try to fit another one of what I have for Justin. I can’t.

Did he ask you to? Evan. Did he really ask you to do that?

He said there’s a problem with him and me. That we aren’t as connected. I know what that means. He sees me every fucking day with Justin and I just assumed he’d never be fucking jealous of that? These fucking people out there, running around living their ordinary lives with no fucking idea, fine, but Evan’s in the house seeing it every day, could not get more fucking front row…and he sees what Justin and I have?

I thought he’d what, turn away and be happy with what he had?

The thing is that I did, and I knew exactly why, too. Justin loves him so goddamn much, I said. He gets everything Justin has. And I thought that was enough. I didn’t think….who the fuck would care about what they get from me when they get Justin?

Someone who loves you. You knew that he loved you.

I shrugged.

Did you or didn’t you?

I did. Probably not as much as he loves Justin. Why would he?

So we’ve got to stop with that, Derek said gently. This quantifying thing. It’s not helping. Love isn’t something you can count.

I don’t feel about anyone else the way I feel about Justin, I said flatly. That’s quantifiable. That’s a fact.

Do you love him more than you love Gus?

I narrowed my eyes. What?

He sipped his drink. Should be a simple question, right? If it’s so easily quantifiable, okay, who do you love more, Justin or Gus?

That’s a stupid question.

Why?

Because it’s totally fucking different. How I feel about my son and how I feel about my partner are not the same.

Oh, so it’s almost like it’s not quantifiable?

Okay, fine, no, not in that example.

Why did you text me to meet you instead of Daphne?

Because I wanted to talk to you about this.

So you love me more than Daphne?

No, I don’t–

He was on a roll now, though. Which of those people you listed would you rather sleep with? Which one would you call to help you hide a body? Who are you taking to a movie? Who are you staying up all night talking to? Whose laugh is your favorite? Who can you be the most yourself around?

I get what you’re going for, but the answer to all of those is Justin, I said. The answer will always be Justin.

All right, he said. That’s fine. Tell me–why do you think that is?

How the fuck should I know?

I want you to think back to when you met Justin, he said. And everything you two have been through. All of it.

I don’t want to think about that, I said immediately.

Derek was so gentle. Because it’s traumatic, right? It’s so much.

There’s just…yeah. There’s a lot.

So how exactly do you think you can be expected to replicate that with someone else? Someone you haven’t weathered all of that with?

So I’m just fucked then?

No, because you feel something for Evan, obviously, or you wouldn’t be sitting here freaking the fuck out about the possibility of him leaving. You just haven’t examined it, and you don’t recognize it because it didn’t grow around years and years of holding each other through trauma. It happened when you were happy. It happened when there wasn’t an empty space inside of you for him to fill.

I thought about that.

What all of this shit has been about is just trying to get you to recognize that love is individual, and that it’s not finite, and that literally no one loves two people exactly the same way, he said. But that doesn’t mean that what you have for Evan is necessarily not enough. Especially if you’ve never taken the time to fucking communicate to him, how is he even supposed to know whether it’s enough?

Okay, but what if I fucking figure out how to communicate it to him and…and it isn’t, it’s not enough.

Derek reached over and covered my hand with his.

Okay, he said. But what if it is?

**

So I continued avoiding work for the rest of the day. Instead, I wrote. I made lists. I crossed shit out and rewrote it. I did the kind of horrifying emotional work that just considering would have had me putting a gun in my mouth fifteen years ago, and I am not going to bullshit you and tell you it was a great time. It fucking sucked. But by the end of the work day I had some thoughts sorted out. I had hope, even if it was just a fucking glimmer.

First I needed to check on Justin, obviously. He was right about where I left him, fast asleep, though he’d changed into clean pajamas at some point. He was still flushed and shivery, but he felt a little cooler. There was a glass of ice water on the nightstand next to him, and a note from Evan saying he was downstairs painting and Justin should text him if he woke up. And he loved him.

It’s just so fucking easy for some people, and God, it’s just not fucking fair. I’m over it. It’s not fucking fair.

I had a shot of whiskey for good measure and then stopped at the top of the stairs to the basement and very much flashed the lights, thank you very much, before I headed down the stairs. Evan was at his easel, music playing from his speakers. It was too early in the painting to really tell what it was, but he had a reference photo up. The view from our beach house.

He put his paintbrush down and switched off the music. “Hey.”

Hey. This looks good so far.

“Thanks.”

I like the color blending here.

Yeah, Justin showed me how to do that. Did you check on him?

I nodded. Still asleep.

He’s been out all day. I think we should take him to the doctor tomorrow if his fever’s not down.

Yeah, probably. I took a deep breath and shuffled my feet on the ground. So….all right, listen. About yesterday.

He shook his head. I shouldn’t have ambushed you guys with all of that.

No, that was brave. Don’t backtrack now. Just, um…I need to say some things, okay?

Yeah, okay.

Okay. Fifteen years ago, when I met Justin…okay. I’m just…

He looked at me expectantly.

Sorry. I’m just trying to figure out how to get across to you what a goddamn disaster I was at the time. I was about to turn thirty and I was a mess about that. My relationships with my friends, with Michael, were just a toxic mix between codependency and neglect. I was fucking different guys every night. I didn’t even let them sleep over, I didn’t know their names. I’d go out and hook up with three guys and then come home and get drunk and pass out. I had issues with honestly, God knows how many substances. It was cocaine to get up in the morning and alcohol to get to sleep, and everyone just fucking let me becuase I would have bit the head off of anyone who tried to stop me. I was about to turn thirty and having some existential fucking crisis about how my enternal boyhood was finally coming to a close, the only thing in the world I had holding me together was my job. And then one night I look across the street and…

Evan watched me.

It was not love at first sight or anything like that. He was just something different, at first, and then we started talking and I actually fucking wanted to talk to him, and…whatever, so we got together. And then my dad died. And his parents got divorced. And then prom, and…

You don’t have to talk about that, Evan said.

Well, that’s good, because I still…fucking can’t, I still have not found the words or the signs for that. I don’t think they exist. And that’s going to fucking always be the biggest thing, but there’s also…I had cancer, and he lost his hearing, and he got so sick, and my mother, and those burns, and…there’s a lot that’s happened. There’s a lot. And I’m telling you this for a reason, I swear, that there have been times in my life where I know for a fact that if I hadn’t had him there, I mean, if I hadn’t seen his face or fucking felt him right that second, that I wouldn’t have survived. And that’s the fucking God’s honest truth. And it’s not pretty. It’s not sweet. We have grown around each other like fucking gnarled-up trees, and that is time, and that is trauma, and I’m telling you this for a reason. I swear I am. I need you to understand that when I met Justin every single part of me was fucking…if not broken, at least unfinished. I was grasping at straws. I was grabbing a boy out from under a streetlight just to feel something. I need you to understand because you don’t know that Brian, you have never met that Brian, and that is my point, okay?

“Okay,” he said softly.

Okay. Because I need you to understand that by the time you showed up, Justin and I, we were in a great place. We had friends and an apartment and a marriage and we were happy and I was good. I wasn’t looking for anything. I was done. You were here for him, not for me.

“I know that.”

But here you are anyway, I said. And I don’t mean in the house, I don’t mean in my life, I mean… I gestured at myself. Here you are. Okay?

He nodded slowly.

You got in when there was no space and no time and no fucking deep-down urge to grab someone to cling to in the dark. There was no dark. There was no perfectly-shaped hole for you to fit into. You just came, and you are you, and now I am so terrified of what my life and my brain and my fucking heart look like without you in them. I am scared to death. I was a fucking mess at work today.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–

Do not. Do not apologize. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I know I’m not good at this. I just…I don’t have the words or the signs for this either. But I need to try to make you understand this.

He sat down on the bed and watched me.

I don’t think there’s another Justin out there for me. The reason I don’t believe in soulmates is because I don’t think there was even supposed to be Justin. I don’t think that the way I feel about him is healthy or normal or…or felt by every other fucking bastard out there in the world. And yes, if I’m looking at someone like in that song and I’m seeing the same pain on them that’s in me, of course that’s Justin, because we’ve been through so much shit together that how could it not be Justin. But when…Evan, if I think about seeing someone for the first time and seeing yourself in them? That’s not Justin.

He pulled his lips into his mouth.

You are…you are very, extremely important to me. And I need you to know that. You are important enough that I’m not going to feed you some line of bullshit about feeling the same way for the two of you, because it’s not the same. What I feel for you is not as painful, and it’s not as poetic. But it is not less.

“Okay,” he whispered.

It is so goddamn important to me that you are happy and safe and honored, I said. If something bad happens to you, I will burn down this fucking world. That’s what I can offer you. And I can tell you that all today I was trying to make myself wish that I hadn’t met you and I could not do it, and that if you turned around and left today and I never saw you again, I would still fucking be grateful. I would not go back. I was finished and content and happy before you, and I would not go back to it.

Can I talk now?

Jesus, please. I don’t think I can talk for a few years now. I think I’m done.

“I was never going to leave,” he said. “And I’m sorry if I made you think I was. You guys are my world. I’m just…” He shrugged. “I’m trying to figure out what my future is going to look like. I’m about to turn thirty and I have all these ideas in my head of what I always expected settling down was going to look like, and I’m trying to figure out what I actually want and what society has just convinced me I want. I don’t want to do the conventional thing because I’m supposed to, but I also don’t want to not do the conventional thing just because I think I only want it because I’m supposed to. You know?”

God, I felt like I could breathe for the first time all day. I wondered if this was how Justin felt, when we the drugs would finally kick in. Speaking of, This is Justin in Chicago all over again, I said. I’ve heard a lot of this lately.

“Mm. Must be going around.” He sighed. “I don’t know. That’s why I don’t think it’s fair that I put this on you and Justin, because it’s nothing you’re doing wrong, really. It’s just something I’m going through.”

Okay, but if there is something you can want that we’re not giving you, you should tell us. You weren’t wrong about that.

I mean, I’d like a cat.

Yeah, wouldn’t we all.

He groaned. “God. I just don’t want to feel like I’m settling. You know?

Yeah. Not to minimize what you’re going through or anything, but…that’s thirty. That’s a turning thirty thing.

Awesome.

Yeah, well, you could be picking up seventeen-year-olds under streetlamps, so we'll call it a win.

And I didn’t tell him this, because I didn’t want to manipulate him, but I’ll lay some of my wisdom on you, since you’ve made it this far: there is always an element of settling in relationships. Al-fucking-ways, no matter how much you think you’ve risen above it. We act like being open means we don’t deal with that, when the reality is that there are still just so many hours in a day, and you’re never going to get to spend every single one with whoever it is you want to be with at any given time, and Christ, even if you get to, half the time you’re going to end up arguing or boring each other or falling asleep. You can’t always live your life like you want to. Especially not if you’re sick. Especially not if someone you…you know. If there is not a guarantee of how long your people will be around.

But I wouldn’t go back. Okay?

Anyway, I didn’t say any of that. I just pointed at the ceiling and said, I think I hear Justin getting up.

Okay. Do you have him? I want to keep working on this, if I can.

Yeah, of course. He needed a minute, obviously, but fuck, who could blame him. Upstairs if you need me.

“Yeah. Brian?”

I paused on the stairs. Yeah.

“You did good.”

**

Justin was indeed awake when I got upstairs, and his fever had dropped enough that I felt like I could have a good conversation with him that night and leave him alone the next morning. I went down to the art department at lunch, after I’d had a few phone calls with my lawyer, and waved to Evan across the room.

Come to lunch with me? I said.

He looked around at his work. Yeah, sure.

I took him around the corner to this cuban place he loves, and as he slid into his seat he said, “So what’s up? Is Justin okay?”

He’s fine, and we’re not talking about him.

He laughed. We always talk about him.

We’d come back to that. First, I took some paperwork out of my briefcase and pushed it across the table to him. Now. I’m not expecting you to sign any of this now. You should get an interpreter to go over it with you. But…you can start looking it over.

“Okay…”

The first one’s for the house, I said. We want to get your name on the deed.

I didn’t pay for the house.

Neither did Justin. Who cares. I flipped to the second contract. This is Justin’s power of attorney. This means that if–when–he’s not able to make medical decisions for himself, you’re cleared to do it. Same as me.

He nodded slowly. “Yes. Yeah. Okay.”

And I don’t have paperwork for this one because I’m not involved, but I think you should talk to Emily and Gwen and Justin and try to get something on file for Jane. Maybe not official custody or anything like that, but some piece of paper that says if God forbid anything ever happens to Emily and Gwen, that’s your kid. God knows you put in the work with her. That’s your kid.

His chin shook a little at that one, and I had to look away.

None of this is me trying to lock you in, to be clear, I said.

“No, I…I didn’t think it was.”

If you ever do decide to leave, you should leave with something, I said. Or if something ever happens to me, or to Justin, I don’t want you to have to deal with some fucking lawyer saying the house isn’t yours. This is your life. You own it. Okay?

He swallowed. Okay.

And there’s one more thing, if you want it, I said. We’ll tell the Pittsburgh people about you. And Justin’s mom. And we will define it however you want us to define it and disclose however much you want us to disclose. I paused. But there’s a catch for this one.

A catch.

I nodded. I want you to talk. To me, right now.

Talk. About what?

About you. About growing up in LA. About when you ran away to New York. About Adam.

He held eye contact.

I want you and I to sit here and have lunch and have a conversation about something that isn’t Justin. I want to know you better.

He laughed. So what is this, a date?

I guess…yeah. I guess it’s a date.

Evan leaned back in his chair watching me, with his arms crossed. A smile on his face. “Okay, Kinney.”

“Okay.”

The waiter came, and we ordered food, and Evan talked. About LA, and running away to New York, and Adam. And I sat there and ate my food and watched this boy and his words and the way the sunlight shone spots on his cheek, and the way the whole world stopped when he smiled and I thought, maybe not forever, maybe right in this moment… but this is my favorite laugh.

And that is something.

All in all, not a bad first date.