Chapter 5
Chapter Five
JAMES
“Ireally appreciate you coming over, but you didn’t have to,” James said, cracking his knuckles in front of his chest as he led Noah into his kitchen.
“Since Aspen absconded with Leon for the evening, I assumed you’d be free and would maybe like some company,” Noah said, in the matter-of-fact way he so often did.
He looked around the kitchen, eyes skimming over all the photos of James and his mom, as well as the copious amount of Valentine's Day decorations.
“No baby photos?” he asked, his tone detached as he finished scanning the picture frames.
“Mom took them all down,” James said, chewing on the side of his lip. “Do…your parents still have yours up?”
Noah’s expression was hard to read as he slowly nodded his head. “Yeah. When I was home for Christmas, they managed to use my pronouns at least, but my name was still wrong on the stocking and at least half of the gifts.”
James waited in case Noah wanted to share anything else, but when all he did was place the bottle of wine he’d brought on the counter, James decided to let the topic rest.
“I don’t really have any plans for tonight, other than prepping for tomorrow,” James said as he walked over to one of the tall cabinets he hadn’t been able to reach as a child.
He pulled down the fancy wine glasses–the ones with actual stems, not the ones made of the non-breakable plastic his mom had insisted on when she started developing neuropathy–to go with the fancy wine Noah had brought over.
He wasn’t a sommelier by any stretch of the imagination, but there were a few signs he looked for, like embossed labels and the names of certain regions in France.
Sometimes he also just liked to drink from the fancy glasses, and the night before his big Valentine's Day date felt like as good a time as any.
“Honestly, anything is better than what Aspen and Leon are doing,” Noah said, and James could hear the shiver in Noah’s voice even without turning around to look at him.
“Yeah, I can’t say a torture museum sounds like fun to me.”
“Me neither. I don’t know where Aspen finds these things.
Last year, it was a discontinued candy museum, the year before that was something about wigs, and before that, I think it might have been a sex museum.
Those sound fun and even educational, but I genuinely do not understand the appeal of this one. ”
A candy museum actually would have been a really fun pre-Valentine's Day Date. Torture museum? Not so much.
James placed the wine glasses down and retrieved the corkscrew, offering it to Noah, who held his hands up and shook his head. “I cannot be relied on for that. Ask Aspen. I manage to break the cork nine times out of ten.”
“No problem,” James said, as he easily twisted the corkscrew. “I still need to finish my gift for Leon, while also trying to figure out if I’m doing too much–or too little…or somehow both, because it feels like it might be both.”
The cork came free with a loud pop, and James fought to unwind it from the screw while Noah poured them both generous glasses.
“I know what you mean, but given what little I’ve seen of your relationship, I think it’s safe to say you’re not at risk of doing too much, so why don’t we focus on adding more to it? ”
The ball in James’ stomach, which had developed an anticipatory thrum since the moment James admitted to himself that he loved Leon, gave an anxious pulse.
“I don’t know. It’s definitely possible it’s too much. It…well, let me just show you,” James said, grabbing his glass and leading Noah up the stairs to his room.
Noah was behind James on the stairs, but as they entered his room, Noah stepped around James to approach the bed, and his eyebrows disappeared behind the fringe of his bangs.
“Yes, I’m aware that it looks like a Hallmark threw up in here.”
Noah nodded cautiously. “It does, but do you want to tell me about it anyway?”
James’ bed was covered with his mom’s leftover decorations and quite a few new ones James had picked up at the dollar and party stores.
He had wanted to decorate the basket with garland and hang some of their takeout menus from it, to create a mobile-like effect.
He’d transferred the most important items from the memory box into a much more organized memory book, and his plan was to fill the bottom of the basket with pretty tissue paper to hold the book and some of Leon’s favorite snacks.
Unfortunately, the garland had been too long, and instead of cutting it, he’d decided to rim the border with it and coil the rest at the bottom of the basket.
That would have been fine, except it was the exact shade of red as the memory book, making it appear almost invisible when placed inside.
It was also much fluffier than the tissue paper, leaving little room for snacks—and there were a lot of snacks.
James had panicked in the grocery store and bought every food he’d ever heard Leon talk about. There was now enough to fill the entire basket, which he’d gone ahead and done, and then there was some leftover, and still no place to put the memory book.
He explained all of this to Noah, his voice pitching higher and higher as his panic level rose.
“And now I have enough for two baskets, but is that ridiculous to give him two baskets? It’s probably ridiculous.
I should just take him out to dinner and give him a card or something and let Mom decorate the rest of the house with the garland, eat the snacks with Linda and Howard, and absolutely never try to give a surprise gift again,” James concluded.
Noah had been slowly pacing around the bed while he listened to James.
Something James had noticed during one of their first hangouts was that Noah never made eye contact when someone was venting, complaining, or sharing anxieties.
He would look right next to their head or at their shoulders, like he was giving them space to breathe and think–or at least, that’s how it felt to James.
As soon as he stopped speaking, Noah looked over at him with an easy smile.
“I think doing two baskets is a great idea. One can be snack-focused–I’m pretty sure we can combine a few of these boxes, because they never fill them all the way–and then the book and the nice chocolates can have their own basket that’s a little less decorated, but just as impactful. ”
James chewed on his lip, and Noah looked away again, running his finger over the basket’s handle.
“I would have to check with Aspen, and you’ll of course want Leon’s permission, but what if Aspen and I take Leon out for coffee tomorrow afternoon, and you can go over to Leon’s place and decorate before he comes home? ”
James felt his own eyebrows take up residence at the top of his forehead. “Uhm…”
“Just an idea, of course,” Noah said, plucking one of the six balloon strings that were knotted on the bedpost at the end of James’ bed.
“But I told you, I’m confident that doing too much isn’t a worry for you two.
I feel like there’s no better time to go all out than at the beginning of a relationship.
Those sorts of gestures seem to fade as the years pass. ”
For the hundredth time, James wondered about Noah and Aspen’s relationship. “Have things between you and Aspen…faded?”
“Oh, no. If anything, I think Aspen’s gestures of love get even more outlandish the longer you’re friends with them.”
James pursed his lips. “And…you guys are just friends?” He purposefully stared at Noah’s chevron sweater in case he needed space to answer.
Noah laughed softly, and James glanced up to see that his smile hadn’t wavered, and now his eyes were dancing with mirth. “We’re best friends, who have really amazing sex–oftentimes by ourselves, but also with some of our other friends as well.”
Huh. Well, alright then.
Before James could respond, Noah continued. “We’re still figuring ourselves out. We’re both polyam and, for the moment at least, not in romantic relationships with each other or anyone else. I don’t…know if I ever want a traditional romantic relationship.”
If it had been any other evening, James would have caught himself before he blurted this out, but he was tired and emotionally wrung dry. “Oh, are you aromantic?”
Noah slowly blinked at him, his hand frozen in mid-air where he’d been reaching for the basket. “This actually isn’t the first aspec discussion I’ve had this year. Which, in and of itself, might be a sign.”
James wasn’t really sure what to say to that, but since he’d opened the can of worms, he figured the least he could do was give Noah space to talk about it.
“I know it's a bit of a spectrum. So, if you think you have a romantic, romantic-ish, or even romantic adjacent connection with Aspen or your other…friends? Maybe you’re more like greyromantic.”
Noah’s lips curved up in the tiniest of smiles.
“Yet more vocabulary words for me to research when I get home.” He glanced at the basket and then looked up at the balloons, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Maybe it is something like that. Not entirely one thing or another but…somewhere in between. For example, I’m aware that Aspen is planning something for us tomorrow night, even though we said we wouldn’t do anything special for Valentine’s Day.
Even if I am…whatever I am, I feel nothing but grateful for every moment and every gesture I get to exchange with them.
Romantic or platonic, to me, love is all the same. ”
That ball in James’ stomach jumped up and down excitedly, happy for any sort of love, even the sometimes confusing kind. “I think that’s all that really matters, then. That you’re happy, and they’re happy.”
Noah’s smile didn’t disappear, but the light in his eyes dimmed a little. “I’m very happy. I just hope that’s enough. I feel like nothing is guaranteed in life, and there can be so many obstacles in the way of finding and keeping happiness.”