35. THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-FIVE
The Planned Parenthood was tucked between Backyard Bird and Fountain of Juice. For anyone else, it was a clinic. For Kieran, it was a replica of every sterile, fluorescent-lit waiting room of his adolescence.
“It’s a couple tests,” Rory said, his voice casual.
Kieran stared at the building, his hands tight on his knees. “I know what this involves.”
“Then why the death grip on your seat?”
Kieran forced a laugh, but it came out sharp. “I’m fine. It’s...the smell. It takes me back to my mom’s treatment days. It’s a sensory thing.”
Rory softened, reaching for his shoulder, but Kieran shifted away. He didn’t want comfort, he just wanted to be anywhere else. “Don’t,” he whispered. “I’m fine.”
Rory didn’t pull back. Instead, he reached over and firmly took Kieran’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“I know.”
“This is a formality. We go in, they take some blood, we wait a few days for results, and then…I get to blow your back out without a wrapper.”
Kieran’s face flushed, the heat in his cheeks a sudden, welcome distraction from the cold dread in his gut. “You can’t say that in a Planned Parenthood parking lot!”
“Why not? That’s literally the only reason we’re here.”
“Still.”
Rory laughed—a low, grounded sound that cut right through the hum of the air conditioner—and gave his hand a final squeeze. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
They walked in together, and Kieran clocked every detail his anxiety could latch onto—the pastel waiting room chairs, the faint smell of hand sanitizer and something vaguely medicinal.
A young woman at the front desk looked up and smiled. “Hi! Do you have an appointment?”
“Yes,” Rory said. “Two appointments. Rory Kline and Kieran Doyle.”
She typed into her computer. “Great. I’ll need you both to fill out some intake forms. You can sit anywhere.”
She handed them each a clipboard with several pages of paperwork, and they found seats near the window.
Kieran stared at the form like it was written in a foreign language.
Name. Date of birth. Insurance information.
Reason for visit? STD screening.
He checked the box and moved on.
Sexual history.
His pen hovered over the page.
Number of sexual partners in the last 12 months: _____
He glanced at Rory, who was filling out his own form with the calm efficiency of someone who wasn’t having an internal crisis.
Kieran wrote: 1
Types of sexual activity (check all that apply): ? Vaginal ? Anal ? Oral
He checked the last two, heat rising in his face, despite the fact that literally no one was watching him.
Last time you were tested: _____
12 months ago
Results: Negative for all
He finished the rest of the form and handed it back to the receptionist, who smiled and told them someone would call them back shortly.
Kieran sat back down next to Rory and started bouncing his leg.
“You okay?” Rory asked.
“Fine.”
“You’re vibrating.”
“I’m fine.”
Rory put his hand on Kieran’s knee, stilling it. “Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“Deeper,” Rory said.
Kieran took a deliberate breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth, and his shoulders dropped.
“Better,” Rory said.
A few minutes later, a nurse appeared in the doorway, a man in his thirties with kind eyes and a name tag that read “David.”
“Kieran Doyle?”
Kieran stood. “That’s me.”
“Come on back. I’m David.”
Kieran glanced at Rory, who gave him an encouraging nod.
He followed David down a short hallway into a small exam room that smelled like latex gloves and industrial cleaner.
“Have a seat,” David said, gesturing to the exam table.
Kieran sat, hands gripping the edge of the table.
David washed his hands and pulled on gloves. “So you’re here for STD screening today?”
“Yeah.”
“Great. We’ll do a full panel. HIV, syphilis, chlamydia, gonorrhea, hepatitis B and C. Sound good?”
“Sure.”
David pulled up a stool and sat down with Kieran’s intake form. “I see you listed one sexual partner in the last twelve months. Are you currently in a relationship with this person?”
“Yeah. We’re…” Kieran hesitated. “We’re together.”
“And are you practicing safer sex? Condoms, barriers, that sort of thing?”
“We have been. That’s why we’re here. We want to stop using condoms, so we’re both getting tested to make sure we’re clean first.”
David smiled. “That’s great. Responsible. And just to confirm…you’re only having sex with each other? No other partners?”
“Correct.”
“Good. And have you had any symptoms? Discharge, sores, burning when you urinate, anything like that?”
“No. Nothing.”
“Perfect. One more thing…are you currently on PrEP?”
“No.”
“Is that something you’d be interested in?”
Kieran hesitated. “I mean, we’re only with each other. And we’re both getting tested today.”
“Totally your call,” David said easily. “If you ever change your mind, we can prescribe it here.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Great. Then we’ll do the blood draw and a couple of swabs and you’ll be all set.”
Kieran’s stomach tightened. “Got to love the swabs.”
“The full trifecta—throat, urethra, anus. It’s like an unfortunate game show where nobody wins, but hey, at least you get a lollipop after.”
Kieran laughed at that.
“Okay. Let me grab the supplies.” David stood and pulled out a butterfly needle, a tourniquet, and several vials.
Kieran’s vision tunneled.
“Deep breaths,” David said kindly. “You’re doing great.” He tied the tourniquet around Kieran’s arm and swabbed the inside of his elbow with alcohol. “Little pinch.”
The needle slid in and Kieran looked away, focusing on the ceiling tiles, counting them to distract himself.
One. Two. Three.
“Almost there,” David said.
Four. Five.
“All done.”
Kieran looked back and saw David pressing a cotton ball to his arm, taping it in place.
“See? Not so bad.”
“Yeah,” Kieran said, though his hands were still shaking.
“Okay, now the swabs. We’ll do throat first. Open wide and say ahh.”
Kieran did, and David swabbed the back of his throat quickly, uncomfortable but over in seconds.
“Good. Now the urethra. This one’s a little more awkward. I’ll need you to pull down your pants and underwear, just to your thighs.”
Kieran stood and did as instructed, feeling ridiculous and exposed.
David handed him a small paper drape. “You can cover yourself with this if it helps.”
Kieran took it gratefully.
“Okay, I’m going to insert this swab about half an inch into the urethra. It’ll feel weird but it’s quick.”
“Great,” Kieran said weakly.
David was right, it was deeply unpleasant.
“Turn around for me and put your elbows on the table.”
Kieran took a breath, staring at a poster about flu shots on the wall as David took the final swab—quick, efficient, and thoroughly unglamorous.
“All done,” David said, stepping back. “You can pull your pants up.”
Kieran did, relief flooding through him.
“That’s it. Results should be back in three to five business days. We’ll call you when they come in, and you can also check them online through the patient portal.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
David smiled. “You did great. You can head back to the waiting room.”
Kieran walked back out on unsteady legs and found Rory sitting there, scrolling his phone.
“How’d it go?” Rory asked.
“They swabbed my urethra, Rory. And I didn’t get a lollipop.”
“Rory Kline?” A different nurse appeared in the doorway, a woman this time, older, with bright purple scrubs.
“That’s me,” Rory said, standing.
He glanced back at Kieran. “You good?”
“I’ll survive.”
“That’s the spirit.” He winked.
Rory disappeared down the hallway, and Kieran was left alone, processing.
In a few days, they’d have their results, and assuming everything came back clean…no more condoms.
The thought made his stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with medical anxiety.
Ten minutes later, Rory emerged, looking exactly as calm as he had going in.
“How was it?” Kieran asked.
“Done. It was quick.” Rory moved into Kieran’s space, his hand settling on the small of his back, a steadying presence. “You holding up okay?”
“Yeah. Ready to be out of here.”
“I hear that.” Rory gave his back a gentle rub. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. I’m buying you a smoothie.”
Kieran managed a weak, genuine smile. “I earned it. That nurse promised me a lollipop and lied.”
Rory laughed, and leaned in to bump his shoulder against Kieran’s. “I’ll make it up to you. Smoothies are better than a lollipop anyway.”
They walked out into the afternoon sun, and Kieran thought about how strange it was that something as unromantic as a clinic visit could feel like a promise.
Three to five business days. And then…nothing between them.