8. Elías #2
I’m kinda fucking myself up overthinking that I did.
My stomach dips, and not because he’s asking in a sexy kind of way. Underneath all his bluntness is care, awkward and rough and holding its hat in both hands.
Elías
Yes, I’m sure. I am very vocal when I don’t like something in bed or when something is too much for me.
It’s a good sore. I promise.
Fabián
Good? So like… it was good for you?
Normally I would assume a guy was fishing for me to boost his ego, but with Fabi, I think he actually needs to know that I enjoyed myself.
Elías
Yeah, Papi. It was really good.
Stop panicking in the pews.
Fabián
I’m not panicking.
Elías
You type like your soul is sweating.
A few seconds pass.
Fabián
My tía just asked why I keep looking at my phone.
Elías
Tell her you’re texting the man you railed in his childhood bedroom.
Fabián
That’s it.
I’m blocking you.
Elías
No you’re not.
Fabián
No… I’m not.
I grin at the phone, and then his next message comes in.
Fabián
I don’t regret it.
Everything in my body goes still. The room goes quiet around me even though the fan keeps clicking. I stare at the message until the words blur slightly.
I don’t regret it.
I swallow.
Elías
Good.
That word seems too small and casual for this situation.
Wrong, almost.
I type again.
Elías
I don’t either.
His reply doesn’t come right away, and I imagine him sitting in church beside his tía, phone flipped over in his lap, jaw tight, probably wearing some nice button-up because even he must fear God a little.
Sunlight through stained glass and the heavy scent of incense in the air.
His tía whispering for him to pay attention.
Fabián staring at my name in his phone like it is both a sin and a map.
My phone buzzes.
Fabián
I really thought I would.
I roll onto my side and hold the phone closer. A part of me wants to be offended by the statement, but I don’t think he means it in a mean way… like he’s discovering something about himself..
Elías
Because I’m a guy?
The message sends before I can soften it. Before I can turn it into a joke. Before I can protect him from the question, before I can protect myself from the answer.
Fabián
Yeah.
I close my eyes because it hurts.
A little, and it’s not like he said it cruelly; it’s just that Fabián doesn’t know how to be gentle with his own truth yet, much less mine.
Another message comes.
Fabián
And because I wanted you way before I knew what to do with that.
Oh. That’s worse.
That is much worse.
My heart, traitorous little chismosa, drags a chair closer.
Elías
How long?
I regret sending it immediately, because it makes me seem too attached.
But I leave it.
Apparently I’m also a man who enjoys emotional danger before noon.
His reply takes a while. Long enough that I picture him looking at the altar, pretending to pray while trying to figure out how to confess something that is not going to fit in a text bubble.
Fabián
I don’t know.
Maybe longer than I’ll ever admit out loud.
My throat gets tight.
Elías
You always did stare like you were mad at my bone structure.
Fabián
I was mad.
Elías
At my bone structure?
Fabián
No pendejo.
At how much I noticed you.
I stop breathing for a second. Then two. The sound of the fan clicking in the corner takes me back. To how the room smells like him and my body aches from him. And now he’s texting me from Mass that he noticed me before he knew how to let himself notice me.
This is bad.
This is so fucking bad.
Elías
Careful…
Fabián
Why?
Elías
Because if you keep talking like that, I’m gonna think you like me.
A long pause.
Too long.
Fabián
Maybe this is my way of saying I do.
Like you.
I sit up so fast my whole body complains.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
My phone feels hot in my hand, and I stare at it and feel something in me step forward before I can stop it.
Elías
You saying that in church feels illegal.
Fabián
Probably is.
Elías
Did you at least genuflect after?
Fabián
I’m Mexican, not a monster.
I laugh, then I reread the “maybe this is my way of saying I do,” and the laugh leaves my face.
Because this is how it happens, isn’t it?
Not with declarations or stupid flowers.
Not with somebody standing outside your window holding a boombox like a romantic with a noise complaint.
It happens with a man texting you from church because he can’t wait until later.
With him making sure he didn’t hurt you when he fucked you for the first time.
With him saying he noticed you long before he was even comfortable allowing himself the thought of liking the same sex.
With him saying maybe I do, and your chest acting like that is enough to build a house on.
I’m not stupid.
No, actually, I’m very stupid.
But I am not blind.
Fabián’s not ready.
The man wears crop tops cut high enough to cause traffic accidents. He has his nipples pierced, a barbell through his dick, silver jewelry that reads like a warning label, and a face that looks like it belongs on a bisexual thirst trap account run by Satan himself.
But he has only ever dated women out loud.
He works in a shop full of men who turn everything into a masculinity contest before breakfast. He has family who raised him, watched him grow up, and probably still think they know every part of him because they fed him through the worst parts.
He has an outward life built on being hard, quiet, useful, and untouchable.
He can dress like a bisexual slut all summer long, but admitting he wants a man is different. Wanting me in my bedroom is one thing and wanting me where people can see is another.
I know that.
I know it so clearly my stomach starts to hurt.
My phone buzzes again.
Fabián
You there?
Elías
Yeah.
Just thinking.
Fabián
Sounds dangerous.
Elías
I learned it from you.
Fabián
What are you thinking about?
I should lie. Tell him that I’m thinking about his dick piercing, because that would be true but also easier. But the soft part of me, the part I did not authorize to speak, takes the phone.
Elías
I’m thinking it was kind of a big deal that I was your first.
Three dots appear, vanish, and then nothing. My heart slides down into my stomach.
I wait.
One minute.
Two.
Three.
I tell myself he’s at Mass and can’t text every two seconds. He’s probably standing, kneeling—doing Catholic calisthenics. He’s probably trying not to get caught by his tía. It doesn’t mean anything.
My phone buzzes.
Fabián
It was.
I exhale and another message comes.
Fabián
I’m grateful it was you.
My eyes sting.
Absolutely not. Stop it, Lalo.
Elías
Don’t make me emotional before coffee, Salcedo.
Fabián
Too late?
Elías
Way too late.
Fabián
Sorry.
Elías
Don’t be.
Fabián
I don’t know what I’m doing, Lalo.
The message lands heavy, and I read it once. Then again.
Elías
Nobody does at first.
Fabián
You seem to.
I huff, “Oh, how wrong you are.”
Elías
Jajaja. No. I just know how to pretend better than most.
Fabián
You seemed like you knew last night.
Heat crawls up my neck.
Elías
That was sex.
I’m very gifted there.
Fabián
Yeah.
Just that.
Yeah.
I bite my lip, feeling the brat wanting to come out and tease.
Elías
Do not yeah me from church like that.
You know my ass was the best ass you’ve ever gotten to come inside.
Fabián
Sorry.
You’re absolutely right.
Elías
Are you… lying to me?
In front of God?
Fabián
Absolutely not.
I would never.
Your ass is the only ass I’ve ever gotten to come inside.
Therefore… you’re the best by default.
I fall back on the bed and laugh into my pillow, then my phone buzzes again.
Fabián
I meant the other stuff too.
Elías
What other stuff?
Fabián
Letting me be nervous without laughing.
For not making me feel stupid for not knowing what I was doing.
Asking me if I wanted to stop.
My throat tightens.
Elías
It’s basic decency, papi.
Fabián
Yeah, but not everyone does that. Sometimes people forget that enthusiastic consent is still a thing for men too.
That comment makes me think about him and his ex. I only know about what happened between them because my sister is a full-on chismosa.
About eight months ago, his then-girlfriend cheated on him at her cousin’s wedding. She was caught face down on the couch in the bridal suite, taking it from some loser named Pedro.
I don’t think Fabián was ever the same after that.
What gets me even more is the way he joked about his hand being his only partner, with all that loneliness sitting underneath it. The man apologized for almost hurting me before he even had. He was shocked by being guided instead of judged.
Elías
Well, I’m not everyone.
Fabián
I know.
And like I said. I’m grateful it was you.
My chest warms and then cools immediately, because warmth is dangerous and I am not a man who handles fire responsibly. The next message comes slower.
Fabián
That’s the problem.
I stare at the screen.
There it is, the little crack in the glass.
Elías
Why is that a problem?
No reply.
My stomach tightens.
Elías
Fabián?
Still nothing.
I sit up, and finally, the dots appear.
Fabián
Because I don’t know how to do this.
Elías
Do what?
Fabián
This.
Elías
You’re gonna have to be more specific.
Fabián
You.
My breath catches, and for one stupid second, I think it is romantic. Then he keeps typing and ruins it.
Fabián
Us.
Whatever this is that’s happening between us.
Oh. Us again. That word again, except this time it doesn’t land sweetly. This time it lands like a cup slipping from wet fingers.
Elías
What about us?
There’s a long pause, and I, doing my lovely mental gymnastics, think he’s trying to come up with an excuse.
Fabián
Like what do we do now?
Elías
It was sex, Fabi.
And texting.
And you’re saying ‘maybe you like me’ from inside a church. Not a damn marriage proposal.
Fabián
Lalo
Elías
What?
Fabián
Come on, don’t do this.
Elías
Do what?
Fabián
Make it into some kind of a joke. I know you felt something too.
My fingers still. Well, that’s rich coming from either of us.
Elías
Okay?
Then say what you mean.
The dots appear, and they last so long I start counting the clicks of the fan again.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Fabián
I’m not ready for everybody to know.