I imagine him coming over- maybe getting to the point where he doesn’t even have to knock, he just comes in, having parked his fancy ass car in my garage, we laugh and play music and I crucify him at video games, eat snacks, talk, make out a little. That last part, Shit. I really shouldn’t be having those kind of thoughts seeing as I haven’t seen him in almost a decade. And we have only been reunited for under an hour. He’s just so... he’s the same, his gorgeous eyes and his uncertain, boyish smile take me back to ten years ago when we were crammed into one bunk laughing, but cautious because we were the kind of kids to think even touching a guy friend was ‘gay’. A lifetime in the critical spotlight plus a journey of self discovery over the years lead me to the conclusion that I was just that. Gay. Or, at least partially. My exact label is up for debate. Thinking about that, I consider Ryan- and I wonder whether it’s appropriate to ask. Everything feels comfortable, but. It’s a leading question. I file it away for when i have consumed more alcohol.

[i]Maybe I will.[/i] A surge of earnest hopefulness and joy shoots through my body and I crack a smile, faint, praying to the god I don’t believe in that he isn’t just saying that in a jokey way because I would give anything to see him again after we have reunited. It feels like coming home. It’s not like throughout the past decade I have felt empty or even lacking- but here Ryan is, tall and beautiful and smart and funny and suddenly I yearn for what could have been- and now, what could be. [b]”I’m serious,”[/b] I say, just to make sure he doesn’t think he’s just playing along with a joke. [b]”Come over sometime. Whenever.”[/b] No going back from that, I muse distantly- it’s an invitation and it was not open to interpretation. It was a direct offer. Somehow, beyond my better judgment, I don’t regret it.

I am wondering whether ‘I want to see if you taste like I remember’ is acceptable grounds for kissing someone when Ryan responds to the question I forgot I asked right after asking it, mostly because I’m not even a big car person and I don’t really care how much the car is. It’s pretty, the interior is gorgeous, it’s just the kind of car someone like Ryan should have. I remember to listen to him instead of just staring. [i]Hasn’t anyone told you it’s rude to ask that? Don’t know why, but people say so.[/i] [b]”Those people have six foot poles up their asses, don’t listen to people who have a weird thing about cars. They fuck the exhaust pipes when nobody is looking,”[/b] I reply, matter-of-factly, flashing Ryan a grin. [i]Around $40k, not too bad.[/i] Not too bad- that’s a bargain, in my opinion. But then I don’t know much about cars. Thankfully. I have a goddamn Tesla, for fuck’s sake. [b]”That’s alright- and worth it, it’s fuckin... sexy.”[/b] The alcohol had gone to my head already- or at least that’s the excuse I’m using. [b]”...The car, that is. Although.”[/b]

I’m inside the car leaning against one of the windows and Ryan climbs in, folding up because he’s so tall and gangly in order to fit properly. He stops short of moving any closer than pretty much the edge of the car seat, and I notice, my gaze flicking down to the space between us as I wonder exactly why he won’t move closer. Because he doesn’t want to? Because he thinks I wouldn’t want him to? I’m reading too far into this, I realise- like this is a silly high school crush. [i]I bought it after figuring out that there wouldn’t be another Young Veins record.[/i] ...Take a Vacation. Vivid memories of listening to that album when it first came out rush through my head like some kind of montage- I remember sitting and obsessing over the lyrics like a lovesick fool. Not that I have ever been in love. [b]”I love that record,”[/b] I say plainly, smiling at Ryan. [b]”It’s a real shame you stopped with just the one.”[/b]

[i]It’s my mid-life crisis purchase. Yes, 24 is mid-life for me.[/i] [b]”Well, It’s not the worst mid-life crisis buy I’ve ever seen. It’s dope. And shut up, you’re still young and hot.”[/b] Still grinning, I down the glass in my hand that I’ve been carefully balancing and then I shift closer to Ryan. [b]”You know.”[/b] It’s meant to be the opening of a comment but it sounds more like a flat statement. [b]”It’s really good to see you again.”[/b] We’re closer now, and suddenly I feel that the most sensible course of action is to cut myself off there and make excuses to leave. Instead, my eyes linger stupidly on his mouth, so I take initiative and move a little further away to save myself any embarrassment. [b]”Everything feels the same.”[/b]