1. Frankie #4
Frankie sat down next to Diego and, against his better judgment, placed a gentle hand on Diego’s arm.
Diego didn’t flinch this time, but he did stare critically down at his hand.
“Coming out is never a burden, Diego. It’s your story and your identity to share.
Thank you for sharing it with me. Truly.
I know it shouldn’t, but… it does help me get to know you and where you’re coming from just a little bit better. ”
“Discussing medical procedures feels rather like an overshare,” Diego said looking away from Frankie.
“I mean… if you start using words like drainage or crusty–which trust me, my mom said all that and worse after her surgery–I might have to ask you to stop, but only because I have a weak stomach, not because you’re a burden.
My mom’s surgical site got infected too, and once she knew she was safe, she spent weeks freaking out about the aesthetics of the scar and hers was this tiny little thing on her back that no one would literally ever see.
For you, I imagine there’s a lot more tied into the cosmetics and how the scars end up looking.
I can’t even begin to fathom how stressful that must be. I’m sorry that’s happening.”
Diego bit his lip and his eyes went a little glassy.
“I… yeah that’s… definitely part of it. It’s stupid, I know, but…
it is, in essence, an aesthetics-based procedure and to get this far just to have my health threatened and…
I knew there was always a risk of getting keloids and messed up scars but…
now it’s pretty much a guarantee and I just—” Diego’s voice broke, and he pulled his arm out of Frankie’s grasp to press his fingers into the corners of his eyes.
Though his eyes remained dry, the expression on his face was pained.
Frankie felt the bottom drop out of his stomach and he bolted up off the sofa, startling Diego and seeming to startle away the pained expression.
“Would you like a distraction? Cause, hot damn, there is a lot of material in this midterm exam. We’re probably going to have to spend hours, if not days working on it.
Also, I brought donuts–or, I mean… I was going to eat a pack of those powdered donuts for breakfast but forgot about them, but… sugar should help… right?”
Frankie gave Diego his most charming smile and Diego snorted and rolled his shoulders, relaxing a little more comfortably into the couch.
“You’re right, we should get started. I actually really like those donuts, so… thank you.”
Diego gave a soft smile. Frankie thought he might like that one more than the sexy smirk.
In the end, they spent almost nine days studying together, and Diego was well enough to sit for the midterm but didn’t begin regularly attending class until right before Thanksgiving break.
Frankie had tried to inquire about his plans for the holidays during one of their study sessions, but Diego had shut the conversation down immediately.
Knowing Diego was trans, Frankie could take a pretty easy guess as to why the holidays might be hard, but he didn’t press.
Diego didn’t end up joining the pride planning committee, but he started attending their newly scheduled Sunday afternoon Rainbow Club meetings.
Frankie was usually too busy helping to run the meeting to interact, but he watched as Diego slowly started opening up and making new friends, including two of the trans members of the pride committee.
One day, Diego showed up to class wearing a sweater with fraternity letters on it.
They looked vaguely familiar, but Frankie never paid too much attention to what his frat-bro friends wore, or what was hanging above the doors at the parties he went to.
Frankie was currently hooking up with a nonbinary person from his marketing class who was in a co-ed fraternity.
He still saw Dustin from time to time, but he couldn’t remember off the top of his head what letters they both wore.
He overheard Diego telling a few of the women in the club that joining a fraternity had been a big dream of his as an undergrad.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to pass as a man as easily back then, and his old school hadn’t been nearly as open and accepting.
Several of the women commented that they loved the fraternity he had joined because it was so queer friendly, and one noted there were at least four trans masculine and nonbinary members in the frat.
Frankie made a mental note to look into the frat and see if he could recruit more of their members to the pride committee.
The previous year, Frankie had been one of the only male-identifying individuals, and he’d gotten unfairly saddled with all the heavy lifting even though several of the women on the committee, especially his bodybuilding friend Lara, could probably bench press him in their sleep.
He’d much rather watch some nice fraternity guys lift heavy things.
The year came to a close, filled with red and green adorned parties, and an unreasonable number of onesie-themed bar crawls.
As he finished writing the last sentence on his Entrepreneurship final, it hit Frankie that he wouldn’t get to see many of these classmates again.
He wasn’t enrolled in any graduate level courses for his final semester, and three of the four other undergraduates were graduating the following week.
As he carried his exam up to the professor’s desk, he passed Diego and for just a moment, let himself admit there was one classmate in particular he was going to miss most of all.
Dr. Thompson smiled widely at him as he approached the lectern.
Just before he gave his, “Thanks for everything, see you never” speech, she gestured for him to follow her into the office attached to the auditorium.
For some reason, Frankie glanced over his shoulder and noticed Diego watching him with a curious expression.
Frankie obediently followed her, and found their TA also waiting in the office.
“Congratulations on an amazing semester, Frankie,” Dr. Thompson said. The TA, a PhD student named DeQuan nodded enthusiastically. “We just wanted to pull you aside for a quick moment to ask you a question.”
Frankie adjusted his backpack strap on his shoulder. Was he in trouble? Was this like a, “did you cheat on this free response exam that would be virtually impossible to cheat on,” sort of question?
“Next fall we want to launch a lab to accompany this class, which would be a start-up, shark tank style format. It would only meet once a week and would be an extension and an add-on to the in-class projects and discussions, but would allow for a little more theory to be taught in class.”
Frankie had been surprised at how practical the class had been. He’d always assumed master’s level courses were going to be all high-level thinking and theoretical posturing. He’d really enjoyed the projects and discussions. He quickly shared this feedback and DeQuan nodded.
“We’re hoping the lab allows for even more of that!
” Dr. Thompson said. “Unfortunately, the idea only occurred to us halfway through the semester, and this class is only offered in the fall. We were hoping we could beta test the idea this spring with a few of the students who took the class this fall, and we wanted to ask if you would be interested in being one of those students?”
Frankie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Me? I’m just an undergrad though,” he said, repeating Diego’s teasing from the first day of class.
“You are, but we want to attract more undergrads and possibly even offer two classes and two labs if enough people are interested. Your feedback would be incredibly valuable and you’d be able to shape the curriculum we offer to future students,” Dr. Thompson said.
Frankie suddenly felt very important, a little like how he’d felt scribing for Diego.
Diego…
“Do you know which other students you’re going to include?” Frankie asked, maybe a little too eagerly.
Dr. Thompson and DeQuan gave each other a knowing look. “Well, we were thinking of Sylvia, Akeissa, and… Diego.”
Frankie couldn’t stop the grin that broke across his face. “That sounds like an amazing group. Truly, I think those are some of the best students in the class. I’d be honored to help. I have my schedule right here.” Frankie fumbled with his phone and pulled up his schedule for the next semester.
“Because there are so few of you, we’re going to try and find a time that works for everyone, and then go back to the school with the offer. You’ll get one credit for the course just like any other lab and there won’t be grades, just a Pass/Fail so long as you attend 90% of the classes.”
Frankie couldn’t stop grinning. “That sounds amazing. And we'll meet every other week?”
“That’s the plan. We’ll send around the coursework we’ll be referencing from this semester before each lab, and then we’ll brainstorm different ways we can engage students in the lab,” DeQuan said.
Frankie could barely wipe the grin off his face as he left the office and paraded across the front of the classroom. He caught Diego’s eye and gave him a campy salute followed by a completely unnecessary wink.
He practically skipped back to his apartment and carried his excitement all the way to the final frat party of the year.
This one wasn’t quite as garish as some of the other parties that week, but it was still decked out in a fair amount of tinsel and garlands.
Frankie met Dustin on the front porch. They exchanged a quick kiss and waded into the crowd vying for the overly sweetened punch and spiced-beer keg.
Frankie idly noted to Dustin that whoever bought an entire keg of holiday flavored ale didn’t deserve their diploma.
As they waited for their drinks to be served by a jolly looking fraternity brother, Frankie scanned the room.
He had figured out a few weeks ago that the inclusive fraternity Diego had joined was the same fraternity Dustin and Chris were in.
He hadn’t seen Diego at any of the parties, but a lot of the grad students apparently joined for the networking and community, not for the parties. How boring.
Tonight proved to be no different. As Frankie and Dustin got increasingly drunker, there was no sign of Diego and by the time the Christmas lights began to blur in his vision, Frankie had given up looking.
Dustin, however, seemed to be looking for, or possibly at someone.
They were pressed chest to chest, dancing on the makeshift dance floor, aka the living room rug, but Dustin had eyes only for someone over Frankie’s shoulder.
Frankie shifted around, pressing his ass to Dustin’s crotch, and making a big show of dancing back on him so he could scope out who Dustin had been eyeing.
Dustin’s hands came reflexively to Frankie’s hips and Frankie watched as a familiar set of blue eyes tracked the movement. No way… could it be this easy?
Frankie lifted a single finger and made a come hither gesture. Chris, the owner of said sparkling blue eyes, shook his head, bit his lip, and looked away. Frankie let out an annoyed grunt and waited for Chris to look back at them because Frankie knew he would.
It took half a song, but eventually, Chris’s eyes strayed back. Sexy hadn’t worked the first time, so maybe friendly would work better? Frankie gave him his most charming smile and waved him over with his whole hand.
Chris hesitated for just a moment and then slowly began to approach them. Frankie felt Dustin’s breath catch against his back, and his fingers tightened to the point of pain on Frankie’s hip bones. He pressed his shoulders back into Dustin’s chest and tilted his head back.
“Trust me for a moment?” he whispered, and Dustin searched his eyes before giving a stiff nod.
Frankie pressed their lips together for what he knew would be their last kiss.
Chris let out a pained noise, and before he could run away, Frankie reached out and grabbed the lapel of his bomber jacket.
He pulled Chris down until they were at eye level and grinned wickedly at him.
Chris only had time to mutter a confused, “Frank—” before Frankie crashed their mouths together.
He heard Dustin gasp, so he didn’t prolong the kiss.
Frankie pulled back and smiled, softer this time. “If you want to taste Dustin again, you’re going to have to kiss him directly. It seems my services are no longer needed.”
He stepped out from between the two men and gave Dustin an encouraging smile and Chris a flirty wink, then spun on his heel and headed for the door. He didn’t get very far before something in the corner of the room caught his attention.
Since Diego’s surgery, he had begun wearing more and more interesting clothing.
From geometric print button downs to floral print cardigans, Diego seemed to be coming into his style since he could wear more tightly fitted clothing.
Frankie hadn’t dared ask him about his surgery, but over the past few weeks he’d watched energy return to Diego’s gait and his cocksure grin return to his face.
Diego was still wearing the same clothes he’d worn to their final earlier, a red and green herringbone print sweater with slim cut jeans.
Frankie had ogled the shit out of his ass as he’d walked to his seat in class.
He’d barely been able to take in his sweater, but there it was now, or rather, there Diego was now, sitting on the couch in the corner.
His eyes were roving back and forth between Frankie and Chris and Dustin behind him.
Just to be sure his efforts had been successful, Frankie glanced over his shoulder and saw they were slow dancing in the middle of the dance floor.
Chris’s head was bent low as he whispered something, apparently quite funny, in Dustin’s ear.
Dustin turned his head slightly to the side, skimming his lips over Chris’s jaw, and Chris returned the gesture, finally catching Dustin’s mouth in a kiss so sweet, Frankie had to turn away.
He wished the person he was turning towards wasn’t Diego, because he was just drunk enough to admit he wouldn’t mind sharing a holiday flavored kiss with the man.
As their eyes met, Diego gave him his signature smirk, but his eyes were full of mirth and something that looked suspiciously like fondness. Frankie did the only thing he could think to do. He gave a flourishing bow, turned, and left.