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WC:5.5
Back at my apartment, and after Trace dropped me off I turned back on my phone and saw that I had a number of missed calls and texts from Manny.
I called him back right away and he sounded incensed, "Bro, fuck. Why can't you answer your damn phone?"
"I was meeting Trace's parents," I explained, "I told you this."
Manny groaned. "Oh shit, yeah you did. I'm sorry, okay. I'm just— mijo, it's crazy."
"What's wrong?" I asked, beginning to panic. I sat down on my couch in my living room and readied myself for bad news. "Is it Marí? Is it the wedding?"
Manny let out a nearly hysterical strangled laugh. "God, no, Darius. Darius, you need to check your fucking YouTube channel. I'll be honest, I just upload without paying much attention to anything but you need to check it out."
"Is it bad?" I said in a quiet voice. I never watched the videos on YouTube and I didn't read any of the comments. Manny uploaded so I wouldn't have to expose myself to that potential can of worms.
"It's fucking insane. Just search up what you made on your first video."
I searched up some variation of dream cake and the first video that popped up was a thumbnail of me holding what I wished I'd made on Baking Beasts. It was a beast of a cake and when my eyes roved over the view count I choked.
"A million views? Why do I have A MILLION VIEWS on one video?!"
"Dude, the number is just continuing to skyrocket, you're getting so many messages on the account email and people want to sponsor you. Or have you advertise their artisanal spoons or some shit. And some other people on baking YouTube—I can't believe this is a thing but other people on baking YouTube want to collaborate with you. YouTube wants to send you some kind of plaque for getting so many views and that's not even all of it."
"Did all this happen while I was camping?" I groaned, " how did I not even notice?"
Manny sounded embarrassed. "It snuck up on me, too. I was supposed to keep track of this shit. But I've been researching. Like, actual research. I saw what the big channels are doing and I think if you keep this up and keep your fans entertained you can make some serious money."
"Money? When did this become about money?" People who made YouTube videos made money? How? And what was this business about artisanal spoons?
Manny laughed. "Mijo, there's money in everything and if all these people are falling all over you, there will be a way to make money out of it. I could help you manage things for now, but—"
"Couldn't you just be my manager and keep track of things? I don't know that much about social media. You know I try to stay away from it... I would pay you."
"Darius, we're family," Manny said almost furiously, "Why the fuck would I take money from you?" Only Manny could say something so heartfelt in such an aggressive way.
"C'mon Manny, don't be stupid. If there's any money in this and all I've done is record myself while you edited and added music and transitions and made the YouTube channel and posted... I think it's fair. If we're family then wouldn't I want you with me?"
There was silence on the line before Manny sighed. "My minor in marketing is going to come in handy and we're going to fucking kill this."
"A couple hundred extra dollars a month could come in handy, right?" I tried to be hopeful but it felt weird. Baking was going to make me money and it wasn't going to be Baking Beasts? This didn't make any sense.
Manny laughed. "Darius. People make a living off of this. Off of baking in their kitchens and posting on YouTube. Good, comfortable livings."
Reality set in and I gasped. "Really?" I never imagined I'd be a YouTuber..."What do they even... like about me?"
"They like your voice, and your muscles and the fact you seem like a gentle giant. Their words not mine. And some people even attempted your dessert in some Darius Desserts replica challenge. And they think you're so talented. An early trailer came out for the show and some fans connected the dots. They just like you. So they'd watch anything you do. People are asking for a Q&A, too."
The entire time I'd been back from Baking Beasts I'd tried to ignore the worry I'd had about how people would react to me on the show. And Manny was telling me a million people wanted to see even more of me. It was too much and I felt choked up. I sniffled and let out a wet laugh. "Wow..."
"You okay?"
"Just surprised, is all."
Manny sighed. "You deserve for people to like you and even if some people don't I don't want you to pay attention to that shit. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Now tell me about your day," he ordered.
I relaxed into the couch and soon me and Manny got wrapped up in me recounting my afternoon to him. It felt normal and right and for the first time in a long time, I was really happy with where my life was going. I had a boyfriend who I loved and who loved me. A best friend who was basically my brother and Baking Beasts had been a terribly humiliating disaster but it was over now. And...I had tried. I had put myself out there. Maybe this life of me trying and fumbling and failing wasn't as terribly ugly as I'd thought it was going to be. Maybe it was even worth it.
Maybe.
#
That evening came quickly and I was relieved enough at the fact meeting Trace's parents was over I was even willing to go to a bar. Trace had promised it would be intimate and it would feel like it was just us because he wanted to celebrate us passing a relationship milestone.
I was in a good mood and it was easier to convince me to go out than it usually was. I was surprised at how Trace chose painted on jeans and a snug t-shirt that advertised his piercings and then he chose a shirt that was almost as snug for me. It was clearly the kind of clothing guys wore at gay bars and I was nervously excited to explore a space like that with Trace.
When I told him about my YouTube channel he smiled, congratulated me and kissed me. Trace spoiled me, he really did, and he was teaching me how wonderful it was to be spoiled.
The lounge that Trace took me to was pretty swanky. There was a line wrapped around the block but Trace and I just walked to the front of the line and the bouncer let us in after a short conversation with Trace.
I was impressed by Trace's connections and he gave me a smile before we were escorted inside. It had a dark and sensual atmosphere and implied an intimacy that I liked. Everyone was dressed in clothing that was a little too snug or a little too short but that felt par for the course for bars. The age group of the patron seemed to range from guys looked like they were barely old enough to drink to men who were old enough to be my dad. But it was mostly couples, which was comforting.
The lounge was two levels. The floor was shaped like a circular dome, with a stage at the front and tables surrounding it. Then there was a winding staircase that lead to a second level which overlooked the stage. We were guided up to the second level to a roomy, dark, booth.
I was oohing and ahhing all the way to our table. "This place is really nice," I told Trace once we were seated and given menus. "It's so chill."
Trace nodded. "Yeah, I didn't think you'd enjoy a club with a bunch of horny yuppies in painted on jeans and optional clothing who can't hold their liquor."
I laughed. "No, I haven't done anything like that in a very long time. I find gay clubs especially kind of...too much." The few times I'd gone to gay clubs I had been touched, squeezed, and groped far more than I had prepared myself for. Later on I realized people had been coming onto me but I hadn't understood it for what it was when I went to the bathroom to have a panic attack. After that particular incident I'd just made an excuse to my friends and gone home.
But right at that moment I was with Trae as we watched the live music, played footsie under the table and ordered one of the lounge's specials. I'd seen some other gay couples around the lounge so I wasn't worried about showing affection but I liked that if we did it wouldn't be weird.
We kissed and touched and it was fun. I was on a date with my boyfriend in a public place having fun like a normal, functioning human being.
Part way through the night I realized I just wanted to go back to my place and hang out with Trace one on one. He looked really good in his outfit, and his hair had some product in it that made it look extra silky. I just wanted to run my fingers through it, and kiss him. Then, maybe do some stuff without any shirts or pants.
Trace surprised me after our meal by moving beside me in my booth. His eyes were bright. "You look like you want to kiss me."
"We could go back to my place," I suggested softly. Most of the time, we slept together at my place because we'd never have to worry about being too noisy and I wouldn't have to worry about being overheard by Trace's sister. Not to mention my bed was big enough for the both of us.
Trace kissed me a few times, and I fisted a hand in his hair as I opened my mouth against his, sucking on his tongue and then his lip. Kissing him was always so incredible and I would never get used to it. He slipped a hand under my shirt and palmed my stomach, running his fingers over my skin.
"And what would we do at your place, baby?" Trace murmured against my mouth.
"You know," I said, flustered, "stuff."
"How about dessert, and then we can get out of here?"
I nodded, just a little breathless. "Okay, Trace."
Trace moved his hand away from my chest and snuggled against my side. He talked very softly about what he wanted to do once we got to my place and I was quietly losing it. The teasing was almost too much for me but as much as I was losing it I was revelling under his attentions.
"Can I help you two gentleman with anything else this evening?" A waiter interrupted. He was dressed in a casual all black uniform and had full tattoo sleeves on each arm. He'd also been staring at me far too much all evening. I couldn't tell the reason why.
Trace kissed me on the neck, and turned towards the waiter. "Do you have a dessert menu? My boyfriend always has such an appetite." There was an almost emphasis on the word boyfriend and something about the waiter's attitude changed. His eyes slid over to Trace's and he frowned.
But then the waiter smiled. It was a little too slick and it made me feel gross. "A man built like that definitely has to have an appetite to match. How tall are you, honey?"
I cast my eyes down to the table, not saying anything for a long second. I looked back up at the man. "Too tall," I joked in a stilted manner. It was such a normal question that had been twisted for me over the entirety of my life. I hated the question with a passion.
Trace cut in gently, putting his hand on my stomach. "My man is starving, do you mind...? Just give us two of the house special for dessert."
The waiter sniffed and walked away.
"You good, baby?" Trace murmured.
"Yeah," I said, "I just hate that question so much. Your parents didn't ask how tall I was and I know you must've told them not to. Thank you for that."
Trace rubbed my stomach absently. "I didn't want them to make you uncomfortable when meeting them was already hard on you. And you did such a great job with my parents, Darius."
"I didn't know you never introduced a guy to your parents before?"
Trace blinked and then blushed. "Damn, did my mom tell you that? Well, it's true. I guess...everyone before you was pretty casual. And having a guy meet my parents makes it real. My dad said not to introduce a guy to them unless I could see myself marrying him because he didn't want to get attached to someone and have them end up not being part of the family."
My eyes widened and I stilled. "What?"
Trace started to say something but then our desserts got to the table and we lapsed into silence. My mind raced. Trace could see himself marrying me?!
"What's gay marriage like in Japan?"
Trace snorted. "Nonexistent right now."
"Oh."
"What's it like in Ghana? Or Togo?"
"It's looking like jail time if someone is so much as caught in being in a same-sex relationship."
His eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah, I— I know where I come from but I could never realistically live there. I haven't visited in a while but I just visit with my family if I go." I looked around, trying to find a change of topic. "The live music here is really nice."
Trace reached out and squeezed my hand. "It is really nice. But...Darius do you see yourself getting married eventually?"
I tried to work out a reply but we were interrupted. For a moment I thought it was the waiter but to my surprise it was my first ever boyfriend, Carter.
The shock of seeing him there was enough for me to loudly drop my fork on my plate. The past and present superimposed onto one another in a strange blur and I was overtly conscious of who I'd been in university with Carter. My first relationship, my first of nearly everything, and a man that I'd been so addicted to at one point I would have followed him anywhere.
But therein lay the problem of our relationship, Carter was in charge, implicitly. Because he was a year or two older than me and he was more experienced and more mature. But it got to the point where I realized I wanted to be an equal in a relationship and not a follower. Yes, even I could admit I needed some leading but not forever and not always.
Carter was mixed, half Black and half White, but his skin was a light brown and his eyes were a honey brown that hooked guys in and made them pay attention. He had one long dimple on the side of his cheek that appeared whenever he frowned or smiled and and curly hair that he kept short. I'm sure others thought Carter was attractive, confident and charming.
If Carter was honey and sunshine then Trace was a smouldering ember set to ignite. Being with Trace made me understand how much I wanted to have a relationship that just about set me on fire.
It had been years since I last saw Carter and he gave me a warm smile like the last time I saw him was yesterday. "Ah, Darius, I thought it was you."
I laughed. "Wow, Carter! It's been years. How are you." I had to let go of Trace's hand as I stood up from my seat briefly to give him a hug. It lasted longer than I expected and his hands dug into my waist. A little too comfortably. When it was over I gestured towards Trace. "This is my boyfriend, Trace."
Trace and Carter shook hands briefly but Carter stood at our table for the next few minutes as we caught up.
"Wow," I exclaimed, "You're a professor now?"
Carter grinned. "Yeah, Dee. Right where we got our undergrad, I did my masters and then went straight to do my doctorate. It's been amazing. I feel so lucky to be a faculty member even if I'm one of the only Black professors in my department. I like knowing I'm making a difference."
Trace had been quiet up until that point. "What do you teach?" And his voice sounded odd. Hard and flinty.
Carter looked over to Trace and for some reason it looked like his smile dimmed marginally. "English literature. But my research primarily focuses on the Black diasporic experience in modern literature and the duality between belonging and being an outsider. Lots of immigrant literature and diaspora experiences for Black people and a bit of research in North American Indigenous cultures. But...I don't want to bore you." Carter looked back to me and he almost seemed nervous. "Could I ask for your number, Dee? It would be nice to reconnect now that I'm back in the city."
I smiled. "Yeah, of course. I'm sure Manny would like to see you again, too. We could play some pick up basketball at that place we used to go, too."
Carter nodded and he sounded unexpectedly eager, "I'd really like that."
"Did you have a date tonight?" Trace cut in politely. But, when I really listened his voice was distant. Trace was up against my side and for some reason I could tell he wanted to touch me but he was holding back. Under the table I squeezed his right knee and he relaxed.
For the first time I looked at Carter's outfit and I saw that he was dressed up, and he was wearing the same cologne he always wore on his dates, so I knew the answer before he replied.
Carter ran a hand through his dark curls. "Yes, but it didn't go very well. We'd been texting and before our date he said he was well read, but, it was pretty obvious that he probably doesn't even read magazines, never mind, novels. I spend so much time dissecting and close reading but I still love reading." His voice was soft, wistful, "do you remember how we went through Les Mis that one weekend and bawled our eyes out?"
I remembered it very well. It was such a depressing story, I'd had to stop more than once for tissues.
"It really is a heartbreaking musical," Trace said, his voice soft and reflective.
Carter coughed. "The musical is sad, but I meant the novel. The original in French, obviously. Now, that is heartbreaking."
Carter was very particular about what he wanted in a partner. He seemed more mature and adult but had the same attitude I'd long ago been familiar with. He was nearly aristocratic in his mannerisms and exuded high class. I remembered attending some of Carter's lectures when I had free time, just staying at the back of the auditorium as Carter absolutely shone. He didn't care that he was usually the only Black English Lit student in the lecture hall and he was absolutely dedicated to being top of his class, top of his program, top of wherever he went.
That competitive, bulldozer quality in Carter had once attracted me but I also found it exhausting. I'd never wanted to be the best, I just wanted to be good enough.
After we exchanged contact information, Carter said his goodbyes and left. There was a moment where he looked back and gave me such a longing look I couldn't help but understand it.
I didn't get it. We'd broken up mutually. We weren't a good fit. Had Carter thought I would wait for him to get wherever it was he wanted to get to and then just rekindle things? No, that was ridiculous. The thought of even being with Carter again made me feel claustrophobic in a way that being with Trace made me feel right.
I turned into Trace and moved a hand onto his thigh, squeezing. I nosed the shell of his ear, and spoke softly, "Can we get out of here?" I said, "I kind of want to go back to my place and—do stuff?"
But Trace's expression was distant and when I followed his gaze he was watching Carter. He sighed as if discovering something unfortunate. "He's pretty hot..." Trace said bitterly.
My eyes widened. "Carter?" I was more surprised at the fact I was openly coming onto Trace and he had not commented on my forthrightness at all than the fact he was talking about my ex.
Trace slumped in his seat. "Yeah, at the very least I was hoping he would be ugly, or have a dumb voice or a wart on his nose or be boring."
"Why?" I continued blinking at Trace, so utterly confused.
Trace shook his head instead of answering. He flagged down the waiter and paid for our dinner despite my protests to split the bill. We left the lounge hand in hand and took an Uber back. Our ride was quiet and when we got to my place I stopped Trace outside the door to my apartment door. The light in the hallways was always very bright and put everything in sharp relief.
"Is something wrong?" I asked, unable to help how worried I sounded.
Trace shook his head but avoided my eyes. "No."
I frowned. "I'm not the only one who's supposed to be honest about things, Trace."
Trace looked up at me for a long moment before his expression fell. "I'm just— I don't know, thinking about your ex. He had that fucking smile with the dimple, and he's a professor and he went to Oxford? What the hell. And he's tall. Taller than me. And ykno he's Black...you're Black. I mean I have a fatter ass but I also have like half of one leg so...I don't know." He let out a self-deprecating laugh that seemed to make him look small and vulnerable. "And none of that should bother me and it doesn't really. But, the way he was looking at you? That bothered me."
"What are you talking about? Carter isn't— he wouldn't— and who cares if me and Carter are Black? Trace, I'm so lost right now. Didn't you go to MIT? And didn't you double major in computer engineering and physics? Why are you even comparing yourself to Carter?"
Trace rolled his eyes as if his own accomplishments were meaningless. "That hug lasted forever. And he's totally into you. If I wasn't there I'm sure he would've been coming on even harder."
"We broke up years ago. Right before he went to Oxford. Carter didn't want to do long distance."
"So, you broke up on good terms?"
"Yes."
"He's definitely gonna ask you out soon. Trust me."
"Why would he do that when he knows I'm with you?"
"He doesn't see me as a threat since you guys have gone out before. He probably thinks I'm a fucking placeholder." He threw up his arms. "He probably thinks I read magazines, for fuck's sake! I haven't read Les Miserables or War and Peace or Jane Austin or that Doystoyevsky guy. I'm not cultured like that guy."
"So, you being quiet the entire way back is because you're jealous?" I concluded.
"Jealousy, insecurity, selfishness. Whatever word you want to use probably fits."
It surprised me that he admitted it so freely. But Trace never seemed to be embarrassed by how he felt about anything. "I don't understand this."
Trace surprised me by putting his hand on my chest and beginning to unbutton my shirt. "You asked and I answered. Logically, I know none of what I'm feeling is productive. You've mentioned before that he made you feel safe. He seems so stable. Is that what you want? You barely open up to me sometimes, Darius. I tell you all the time how I feel but what do you see in me?"
Trace never sounded insecure when he spoke and even now his tone didn't sound like he was worried but his eyes seemed to be pleading with me to tell him what he wanted to hear. I cupped his face and gave him a brief kiss. "I want you, Trace. Because you make me feel safe, and you're stable, and interesting, and beautiful and you're the one I want to be with. You see me. From the first time we met I felt like you really saw me and I see you, too. I see how intense you are, how you give everything your all and how cocky you can be. How some of that cockiness is because you're still hurting. I see how stubborn you are and I love it, Trace. I love you. And I know I need to work on communicating better and being more upfront with you but I want you to understand right at this moment that I love you and the person that you are."
Trace had closed his eyes during the kiss and proceeded to bury his face in my chest after I'd started speaking. As I went on and on he tightened his hands in my shirt and was quiet. Seeing him embarrassed was as interesting as it was oddly endearing.
He said something into my chest and then repeated himself when he stepped back. "I'm an idiot. You're just so sweet and I want to keep you."
"Well, you've got me," I said quietly before we kissed again. Trace's hands massaged my chest while we kissed and he started to unbutton my shirt. A button popped off and as hot as that was I had to lean away. I hated losing buttons.
I went onto my knees to look for it and Trace gasped. "Damn, Darius. We're not even inside!"
I looked up at him. Right up between his legs. "Oh wait, this isn't what it looks like. I'm just looking for my button."
"Oh," Trace said in a surprisingly disappointed tone.
After I found it we went into my apartment, and the clothes came off pretty quickly after that. It didn't matter how often I saw Trace strip, every time was equally as mesmerizing when his smooth skin, rippling muscles and taut stomach came into view. Trace loved showing off though I wasn't sure if he had an exhibitionist quirk but he'd said once he liked the way I looked at him when he was naked.
Trace was familiar with my apartment now and he docked his iPhone into my speaker system before stripping as it started to play songs with a deep rhythmic beat and not many lyrics at all.
Another thing Trace enjoyed was stripping me. He would start at my shirt, kiss his way down my chest, take his time getting my legs out from my trousers while touching and teasing me along the way. He was a tease and we both liked that.
That night wasn't different from any other. Except, he was a bit more possessive. Biting more than nibbling and sucking more than kissing. He was in such a rush to claim me that he didn't even bother rolling off his sleeve. Other than that Trace was just miles and miles of perfect skin.
"Can we—please?" I moaned into his mouth. Trace and I were on my bed, just lying down and kissing. But really Trace's nude body was cloaked over mine, kissing me hard as he sensually rolling his hips over mine. It was impossible to think like that. With all that heat and passion and the constant distraction of Trace being naked. I could never get used to it.
Trace laughed against my throat. "It's been half a year and you're still so shy." He sucked my ear lobe into his mouth and I yelled because it was good but surprising.
"I can't help it," I said quietly.
"Not all of you is shy," he teased me.
I flushed, and Trace laughed again before reaching out towards my nightstand. I'd laid everything out just in case we came back to my apartment. I was always prepared.
Trace made quick work of the lube, slicking more than enough wherever he thought it was needed and he got the condom out, carefully putting it on me.
Having his hands on me still felt surreal and overwhelming but more than anything, it felt right. Trace kissed me a few more times and we moved until I was laying down and he was hovering over me.
His hair was mussed, his mouth looked swollen, his face was flushed and he was breathing hard. He'd never looked better to me. "I know we're supposed to do the whole foreplay thing but I just can't tonight."
Trace reached down to caress my cheek and he leaned down to kiss me before seating himself. He moaned in a low voice. This was around the time when Trace slipped into occasional Japanese and even when he spoke English it was harsh, and accented. It was like he was losing it and focusing on speaking his third language was too much for him.
This part was always so incredibly slow, but hurting Trace wasn't ever a part of this. I almost felt helpless lying on the bed as he had his way with me. My mind emptied and my body bummed.
It was just me and Trace in a way that would always feel perfect.
#
The condom broke. Somehow. Some way. I felt sick. Trace didn't seem concerned at all, just the same as he always was.
"Well, I don't have anything and you don't have anything so it's not a big deal. We'll go to a clinic and get tested just to be sure. But this is part of having sex, Darius. Things happen." Trace was still naked and he seemed strangely peaceful. He was just laying in my bed, as if he was ready to go to sleep.
"You're not worried?"
Trace blushed. "You're my boyfriend and we've been together for a while. Even if we...stopped using protection it would be okay since we're monogamous. Let's just take a shower and sleep, okay?" Trace reached over and kissed me soundly.
"Alright," I mumbled, somehow comforted.
I got up and took a shower first, and then drew a bath for Trace. Afterwards, I helped him into the bathroom and got him situated in the tub. He'd forgotten his shower leg at home and I was surprised when he let me help him with walking at all. He was sensitive about his leg, but there I was with an arm slung over his waist and helping him make his way to my washroom.
"You should keep a crutch around here for me," Trace said as we walked, "this won't be the first time I forget my shower leg, I can promise you that."
"I could always carry you," I suggested softly.
Trace snorted. "You know I would hate that."
I smiled a little sadly. "You shouldn't have to hate asking for help sometimes. I'm strong and I can support you."
We got to the bathroom and I helped Trace into the water. He groaned appreciatively at the hot water. But then he looked at me. "I know you can support me, Darius, but my leg is something I have to deal with for the rest of my life and I'm capable of handling it. I just— forgot about it today."
I lowered myself to my knees outside the tub so I could get Trace to see how serious I was. "Noor," I said quietly. Intently.
Trace blinked and stared at me. "Darius—"
"Just think about it, okay? Relying on me sometimes wouldn't be a bad thing. I can support you just like how you support me. That's the kind of relationship I need."
Trace nodded slowly, staring at me. "I'll think about it, baby." He wrapped a hand around my head and kissed me. He struggled with his next words. "I'll call you when I'm done and you can...help me. But we never finished what we talked about earlier. Can you see yourself getting married some day?"
I thought of saying I was too fucked up to marry and no one would ever want me for life but I realized those were insecurities I had to work on.
"I—" I stopped. "I would love to get married one day." I couldn't say the other words. I would love to get married to you, Trace. Gay married. In front of my friends and family. To you. And I want us to move in together. Somewhere without a lot of stairs. And I don't know about rings or weddings but I just want to be with you. But I couldn't say those other parts. Not yet at least.
It was like Trace could read my mind because he kissed me again. "I'll take my bath now, and I'll call you if—when I need you."
I left the bathroom door open so he could call for me and once he was done I helped him out of the washroom, too.
We both changed into our PJs and watched an episode of one of our zombie shows before falling asleep together on the couch.
#
Writer's Note: thank you guys for wishing me well and stuff. It means a lot.
Overall thoughts?
What do you think of Trace's jealousy in this chapter?
Do you think Carter will actually call?
Thoughts on one of the last scenes where Darius tells Trace to rely on him more?
Can you see D&T married some day?
I think D&T should go out on more dates together but I never know where they should go. Any places you wish they went?