Chapter 10
STRAWBERRY SLUSH
On any evening other than this, Oscar would have taken the bus, and it would have made more sense for Aaron to go back home with Joe and Anna, given the coffee house was a five-minute walk from the cathedral.
But this was not any other night, and when they all walked out with their stomachs full, still laughing, Joe found Oscar’s eyes and gave him a discreet nod.
“See you tomorrow, Ronnie,” he said, tugging on Anna’s hand and leading her away.
Maybe he’d heard them talk. Or maybe he could just assume. Maybe it was clear. Oscar imagined his irises had turned into heart-eyes, pumping large and quick like in the cartoons, his eagerness plain and clear for all to see. A Powerpuff Boy.
Any veneer of normalcy shattered when Aaron once again slipped his fingers into the gaps between Oscar’s, and they started walking in the other direction.
Aaron talked about his day, as if nothing had altered between them and the fabric of the universe hadn’t rewritten itself in the hours they had passed in the company of Aaron’s friends.
And Oscar listened, because even if the universe had shifted, he would always want to know about Aaron’s day.
They talked about the gym and about the teenagers and Joe lecturing them.
“He’d make an amazing dad, honestly,” Aaron said, laughing. They had already passed a few bus stops, but Oscar didn’t mind the walk, not with Aaron’s hand clasped in his. “You should see the way he is with Riley. He really stepped up for them.”
“Are they much younger?” Oscar asked. He thought about Lina, and how she had been the one to step up for him, even though he was older. He hadn’t asked her about Ryan yet, not in all their texts since she’d moved, since that night.
“Yeah. Joe’s twenty-four. Riley’s only nineteen.
They had a really bad go of it when they came out to their parents as non-binary.
Joe turned what used to be the laundry room into a spare bedroom for them until they could find somewhere to be on their own.
” Aaron shrugged. “It’s how I even found the apartment.
My old landlord didn’t want to accept me paying in installments for a while because of my surgery and being unable to work, and Tobe actually helped Joe and Riley with the whole process of going no-contact and coming to terms with it and stuff.
And they helped Riley find a place closer to college, so they didn’t have to commute, and it was cheaper than student housing. ”
“That’s so great.” Oscar had been quite impressed when Aaron had told him Marta and Tobe worked together for a non-profit helping queer people with housing and other aid.
He could imagine that pink-haired person from Aaron’s pictures doing something like that, and the girl who’d helped Aaron with his transition, too.
“Yeah, so they knew that Joe and Anna had a spare room freeing up and asked if they’d accept me paying in installments.” Aaron’s lips wobbled. “I haven’t paid a cent yet, Spike. They said rent can wait and just asked me to help out with some food. That’s all.”
“Yeah. They’re really nice. Joe’s…different than I thought.” Oscar shrugged.
“He’s really the nicest guy I’ve ever met,” Aaron replied, shaking his head. “I wish I had siblings like him.”
Oscar squeezed Aaron’s hand because he didn’t know what to say. As tough as it had been with his mother, Oscar had struck gold with the rest of his family.
“Have they been together long, him and Anna?” Oscar asked.
“Three years, I think?” Aaron’s hand twitched in Oscar’s as he swung his arm, swinging Oscar’s with it. “You know, he gets her a cupcake every single month on the anniversary of her legal name-change?”
“Oh?” Oscar hadn’t meant to sound so surprised.
“I thought you knew. She’s very open about it all and wears a trans pin on every shirt she owns. I didn’t mean to…” Aaron nibbled on his lower lip, distracting Oscar entirely from the conversation. “Oscar?”
“Hmm?” Oscar looked up, finding amusement in Aaron’s eyes. “Sorry, I got distracted.”
“Fair enough,” Aaron murmured. His voice was sweet as strawberry jam, trickling into Oscar’s chest, filling it with warmth.
“Well…” Oscar stopped walking, tilting his head back to look up at the building they had conveniently reached.
“Well.” Aaron was smiling when Oscar looked back down. “Shall we?”
The journey upstairs was a tumultuous voyage of hearts threatening to splatter on each sharp-edged step, Oscar’s hands growing clammier by the second as they got closer and closer to the front door of his apartment.
Through the wood, Luigi was mewing loudly, expecting dinner, because Oscar hadn’t left him enough dry food in his bowl to account for the extra hour he’d spent out, so the master would be waiting.
He curled around their ankles when they came in, trilling and skipping and rubbing, tail curving into a question mark.
“I just have to…” Oscar’s voice trailed off.
Aaron gave him a nod, and Oscar zoomed off, rushing for the broom closet, reaching for the dry food as though Aaron would disintegrate should he take a minute too long.
But Luigi was munching and crunching happily a few minutes later and Aaron was still waiting where Oscar had left him, standing just behind the door, in his day-old cashier clothes and Oscar in his filthy gym wear.
And nothing in the history of the universe had ever been more perfect.
Oscar stood in front of Aaron, blinking, studying each curve of his soft face, the arch of his pink lips, the freckles underneath his nose, that hair.
Oscar’s hands weren’t so clammy anymore as he cupped Aaron’s face, thumbs brushing his cheeks, fingers sliding into the short hair at the back of his head.
Their lips met, and it was strawberries in the spring, slush in the summer, hot chocolate in the autumn.
Oscar kissed Aaron, and winter ceased to exist. His lips cushioned every blow Oscar had taken to his self-esteem, his eagerness chiseling away at every biting comment Oscar had ever received.
Aaron obliterated every ugly thing.
His lips parted, the coffee from the shop warming his breath as his tongue slipped between Oscar’s teeth. A soft whimper of a moan passed through Oscar, entered Aaron, lived in his body, an echo in a temple chamber, flickering a flame they had been stoking for weeks.
Oscar fell to the couch with a thud and Aaron landed atop him, the flat planes of his stomach pressing into the soft cushioning of Oscar’s, shirts rubbing against each other, the shiny fabric of Oscar’s gym pants swishing against the thick, rough cargo pants stretching around Aaron’s thighs.
His knitter’s fingers found the snags in Oscar’s hair and knotted inside them, exploring the curve of his neck, smoothing the tension in his back, climbing beneath his shirt and finding his warm skin, sliding through the folds of Oscar’s side.
To kiss him was to live, and Oscar felt immortal.
They flipped, and Oscar pulled away, looking down through short wavy strands that framed his face at a man he’d met once in a clinic, glasses on his nose askew, lips red and ripe from kissing, cheeks flushed.
“Aaron…I…” Oscar swallowed, courage dwindling a little as Aaron’s eyebrows rose, the air between them cooling as Aaron gasped in all the warmth. Maybe he wasn’t ready for it yet, maybe Oscar would scare him away.
Oscar didn’t want that.
He dove in, kissing him again, tasting him, taking the soft moans and gentle whimpers as confirmation that maybe Aaron felt the same, and if he didn’t, then he could.
They lay there kissing until Oscar’s mouth ached, until his lips felt almost numb, until he was inclined to stretch them back over his teeth, confirming he still had lips at all. He sat back on his heels, tilting his head to the side, eyeing Aaron and his disheveled hair.
“You’re so gorgeous,” Oscar murmured.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the clinic,” Aaron replied. His lips curved to the side.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have ghosted me to begin with.
” Oscar narrowed his eyes. He’d never brought it up, and now Aaron looked surprised, as though he didn’t fully understand.
“You know…not getting my number from reception and then realizing only weeks later that you should have?” He cocked an eyebrow.
Aaron leaned back, gasping, pressing a hand to his chest as though he were appalled by the insinuation.
“Sir!” Aaron gaped at him. “No, you did not!”
“I did not what?” Oscar asked. Aaron scrambled to sit on his heels, mirroring him, hands flailing about, shaking his head and muttering to himself. “Aaron?”
“You did not fully date me for weeks thinking I’d do something like that! Oscar!”
Date Date Date
“Oh, wow, Oscar. Must be in big trouble.” Oscar scratched his head. “I mean, didn’t you?”
“Spikey,” Aaron groaned in exasperation. “We agreed you’d ask for my number! I waited for you to text or call for weeks, and then I got to stalking because I knew there was no universe in which I had imagined our chemistry, that I couldn’t simply have made it all up in my head.”
“Sorry, what?” Something dropped in Oscar’s stomach, heavy as a rock. He thought back to the clinic, to those hazy moments before he’d been taken to the table. He remembered everything so well, so clearly, even if the rest was unclear. Even if it was a blur, Aaron wasn’t.
But maybe Oscar had been too lost in those blue eyes to make sense of anything remotely useful, like how they’d get in touch.
“Yeah, I thought you’d write me off forever if I just reached out, but I had to.
I thought…I thought it would be tragic if I didn’t even fight for it, for the thing I had wanted for so long.
I figured the worst that could happen was more ghosting, but I knew that couldn’t be it.
I never got the courage to ask about it, but when we started talking, I knew something else must have happened.
I’m so glad I tried, that I risked it.” Aaron reached for him now, tugging on a strand of Oscar’s hair.
“Not knowing you would have been…I’m glad I didn’t listen to my fears. ”
“Yeah,” Oscar replied, leaning into his touch, turning his cheek into the palm of his hand. “I’m glad you didn’t listen to your fears, too.”
A moment later they were kissing again.
And for all the moments after that.