TWENTY-ONE
"I apologize." That's Paul. It's been fifteen minutes of standing outside, chilling licking bones. They've been standing attached for too long. Jules is standing apart.
He's - I'm looking at him. My love stands sunk into me, he's distancing himself from that pain again, I try to take it as a warning.
I've been trying to read more, and research things I don't know. I don't know how to navigate pain like this.
I don't understand the look on his face, or how easily he's pulled himself together after hearing the news. One breakdown and he's good, is that normal? Is that how normal brains work?
He seems angry. Then he seems remorseful. He doesn't seem cognizant.
I blame it on the stress of the evening. I see him as he is.
I don't say anything.
I don't know what he's apologizing for.
"I'm sorry that you felt you couldn't tell me," he gets out, soaked in tears. He doesn't have much else to give, his body's limp. "I'm sorry I hurt you."
"Baby-"
He doesn't wanna hear what I have to say, it's like he's been thinking about this for a while.
"I'm sorry that I put you through that." He sounds pained. "That I made you feel unsafe... or like I would... I-I wouldn't- I would never put my hands on you, Jules, you have to know that. I don't ever wanna fight with you like that again." He's shaking his head. He's staring into my eyes like he hasn't seen me in months.
Then I remember trying to distance myself, to avoid that pain. I tried to be happy enough that he felt he could break in front of me.
I want to forgive him, I remember that my therapist told me to stick firm on my boundaries so I don't say it's okay. It's not okay but I hold him a bit longer, and let him rest on me. I feel the weight of all of it just fall off, and we're standing there in an embrace for so long it feels like the guys will make it back soon.
I know I'll have to let him go. I don't want to, I don't want to be apart from him ever again.
"I've been sick for days over it, you have to know that. I'm so sorry I let you feel like... I can't, we can't go that far, I-I'm sorry I didn't try enough to work through it." He reminds, through choked-up tears. I know he feels the hurt now, it looms over us and finds a home between our chests. "I love you so much."
He's sniffling, and stepping back, trying to wipe tears as Ben loops around, and now Brandon's looking at me.
And he's nodding, some silent message of understanding. He's smiling, it's sad. It's all so morose and I'm trying to guide a dazed Paul back to me.
I'm trying to catch his gaze, he's zoned out. He doesn't exist beyond this pain he is right now and I try not to make it worse.
It kills me to see him so lost.
"P-"
He's quiet when Brandon stands a bit closer, feeling like he can sink into himself. He's looking down, eyes married to the asphalt. Benji tosses an arm over his shoulder.
And then we're all hugging him. It's hard, heads at the same level, shoulders knocking each other but we try. We try to put Paul in the middle, I feel warm hands on my back, a soft chill brushing through crisping on the side of my neck.
We hear Landon a moment before he's barreling towards us, almost knocking us out in a clean strike. He's laughing, and now everyone's letting out sad chuckles, bodies on bodies, and Lanny's rambling about how much love there is.
He's tipsy, it's clear when his brother pulls back to steady him. I pull away.
I see how hard it is to stay sober in your twenties.
And Ben's still holding my love, still cradling him close, arms wrapped around his shoulders, chest pressed to back. Paul's wrapped in his arms so tightly like a python lock. I remember the story of Ben's dad, I know he feels it more.
I know they connect on that level, they gravitate towards each other the rest of the night.
And Landon speaks so softly, for the first time almost. He's smiling, he's still radiating such pure energy and he's pressed a hand to my shoulder. His eyes catch Paul, "Your work is selling." Paul smiles but it's bittersweet.
He's crying again in seconds.
Lanny's pulling us back in with another group hug.
It feels like Summer 2015.
April 7th, 2017
Jules
Isaiah was intelligent.
He was good at talking, at least. To everyone. Even me, even if I didn't care for him at all.
He was charismatic, he made eye contact.
He smiled at me in ways that didn't feel flirty.
He smelled good, it hit my five senses when he walked in after asking me for coffee that first time. He was good at making you feel comfortable.
Somehow he ended up at my favorite spot, a little cafe three blocks from my Dad's on the day my final flight landed. I didn't think at the moment why he was there. Maybe he's stalked me enough on socials.
When he spotted me, he instantly asked if I'd seen a direct message he sent.
Maybe he was looking for me.
Ben's words were ringing in my head when I looked back on it. I couldn't stop thinking about the first time that he wasn't just some bad memory, an antagonist in my head... when he became a real person, with real feelings.
He was in love with someone who couldn't love him back and that fucking sucked.
I could remember that feeling.
The way he looked at me like we were friends, and we hadn't collided in Paul's doorway. I felt almost guilty for this war we've fabricated. I could see how we were both on the same side.
We both want what's best for him.
I checked my general requests, one and it said izzyg ... worry, anger - they melded. jealousy bit at me. It was sent two days before we ran into each other, I didn't see it until I decided to come back home already.
He thought I did it cause he asked and I didn't care to correct it. I only cared that he cared about Paul.
It was my first day back, I didn't even see Paul.
And I saw Izzy.
Izzy was sitting across from me in these steel chairs and he watched me click through my message requests.
izzyg: can we talk? 11:06 am
April 5, 2017
izzyg: he's not doing good. whatever you did, you gotta undo. 3:42 pm
April 5, 2017
*
After the long-awaited bromance, we re-entered the gallery. The energy had changed, people were louder, mingling more, fluid, and draping themselves across each other. A woman gravitated towards Paul the minute he stepped back in, a cleaner face from some wipes Wren had in my car.
A fake smile.
He sold another piece in ten minutes, one more would sell by the end of the night, and even more commissions would pour in before we found our way back to his place.
He was pocketing enough to be set for the year, almost. I didn't want to but I could mentally make note of how much he had made in just the night. He could as well.
"Pablo, esto es precioso." That's Carlos. He was so cautious, I wonder when my frontal lobe developed so much but I can tell he doesn't wanna upset me.
Carlos is turning to me while Paul gets pulled away into the crowd. Big brown eyes stare at me, I wonder if he's a libra. I can see the love he has for Paul, its so clear how much everyone loves him.
I hope he feels it.
Carlos is smiling, he's pulled me in for a side-hug and I don't even think of how close we'd been before. It doesn't matter.
"Jules. Nice to see you." He's turning to say hi to the rest of the guys. "The show's going well."
"You're nervous," I call out.
"I am." He laughs, it's small. "You are too."
I FEEL THE RUSH
My love was riding the high of the night, I knew he compartmentalized that pain the minute he was brought back to reality.
And he was still so happy, I didn't have the heart to question it. I knew the darkness had wedged itself in the closet, to be unearthed the minute we lay to rest.
For now, he was smiling. He was kicking his shoes off, he was changing into my Santa Barbara sweatshirt, the sleeves falling over his hands. He was burying himself into the couch in silence and I found something to cook for him in the destitute kitchen.
I wondered when the last time he ate was, stuck some potstickers over the flame, and found some rice in the back of the fridge.
"Babe, how long has this rice been here?"
His voice is soft when he calls back to me, "few days."
I check the Tupperware and press the rice in with my finger. It's good enough to fry up, I find veggies at the bottom, just some frozen broccoli.
A single egg.
I cook as he flips on the TV, I watch him tip over onto the couch, face pressed to a throw pillow. He's curling up with a blanket. He turns on some gory zombie flick, and it's halfway through the first kill when I make my way over with two plates and a sweaty forehead.
We eat in silence, immersed in the rough sounds of digitized decimation. He's finished quicker than I am, I try not to sound too satisfied when he puts the plate on the coffee table and leans over into my lap. He lays there and lets out a soft sigh, it feels like home.
I feel guilty for how much joy we have. He's kissing me slowly, we don't let it get too far. We lay there in silence.
ADDICTED TO YOUR TOUCH
I didn't know Izzy.
That was for certain, I didn't even have his number saved but his voice was so clear when I answered the phone after eleven that night.
I figured it could be an emergency, and thought it was right to cover bases when a Chicago caller ID was present.
"Hello?"
"Hi." It was breathless, nervous like he didn't think I'd answer.
And I immediately connected the voice. "Hey?" I couldn't say his name, not with Paul sleeping beside me. Guilt bloomed in my chest as I kicked my feet to the side, pulling the sheets off, feet in my slippers.
I trudged to the kitchen in silence. "Um, is there a reason that you're calling me so late?" Or at all, honestly?
I tried not to sound too harsh but still tried to make it clear that this was off. Isaiah knew what this would look like, why is he putting me in a compromising position?
Is it all in my head?
He sounds a little liquored up.
"Where are you?" He tries.
"Uh, home? Why?" This is weird, it's obvious he feels it too. His voice shakes a little.
Then he laughs. "I-I don't know why but I'm outside."
Outside?
I wander to his old room, it faces the street, and my eyes catch him exactly where he's said he is. He's outside. He's pacing, and he looks so mildly uncomfortable, I frown. His voice carries through the open window, it almost feels like he'll wake Paul so that - and my curiosity - is what makes me put on a hoodie and head downstairs.
Isaiah has never looked messy.
Tired, yes, annoyed yes... but never sloppy. He looks like he's forgotten how to match. His shirt is a pattern, oversized, and doesn't go with the jeans or shoes he's decided to throw on.
He looks like he was in a rush.
He has a bruise under his eye like someone's punched him in the face.
"Jules, hey." He trips when he glides towards me. He laughs a little when we collide. "Hey, I'm sorry I-"
His breath is soaked in liquor. It feels like a sheen of sweat on his skin, even in the cold, he's still so fucking warm. I try to ignore the way my stomach turns.
I can tell it's a problem now. He looks blasted and not in a good way. I worry about how much time they've spent together.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I don't mean it to come out brash.
He doesn't expect it, it visibly knocks him back, he thinks. Maybe he thinks we're still fighting.
"I thought we could talk."
"Izzy, it's midnight."
And Paul could see us?
"It's, it's Friday and it's eleven... I-I mean, I took my chances. I thought you'd be at his show." He's laughing and it's awkward and uncomfortable. I feel so fucking uncomfortable with all of it.
I let him talk, but he doesn't say anything else. He just steps back from me when I remove myself and we put a two-foot distance between us. I try not to stare at the bruises on his neck. Or the bruises on his wrists. I worry, for a man I barely know.
I wanna ask more but it doesn't feel like my place.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Huh?"
Huh-at the fuck?
"I wanted to talk to you... I saw that his show was tonight so, um, so I figured he'd be-"
"Sleeping."
He thought he'd be out. He thought I was still here wondering where Paul has been and I can finally see the kind of game he's playing. "At his home." I'm trying to find humor. It's just kinda of funny the location, you know? "I don't know if you came here cause you think I'll hook up with you or-"
"I-I needed to talk to you, and I-I just got off work, I didn't think it could wait." He doesn't look like he's gotten off work, he looks like he's gotten into a fight. I can tell he's lying.
I can tell he's been crying.
Because you didn't want to wait... because you wanted to speak to me when you wanted to. "So, you woke me up?" I try not to care too much but he's looking down, he's avoiding my gaze and I just wanna know what's up with him.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you." He puts it plainly. "I don't know if I've been reading this wrong but-"You have.
"I've been thinking about you for a while now and I just wanted to check on you, I just thought-"
I think you get attached easily. "This could have been a text, Izzy." Or like, even attempted scheduling?
Even if I was single, this would be absolutely horrifying.
"I'm an old-fashioned guy." He jokes, and then I realize it's probably bourbon. He seems sleepy, Wren's told me bourbon works like that. "We work, Jules. You can't pretend that that's not true." I don't even know where this is coming from.
"Did you wanna come inside? Like the lobby- it-it's cold, Izzy."
He doesn't care.
"I like you."
No, you don't.
"I've liked you since I met you, really. I know it sounds weird-"
It does.
I try to give him grace. "Izzy, it's fucking cold out here." I want him to realize how off this is.
He shrugs. "I'm not cold." It's a lie, his cheeks are blushed up. He's chattering a bit, I can tell it'll snow soon, probably tomorrow.
"Whatever I feel about you, Izzy..." I don't feel anything but lust, it's clearer now that I've felt that love so deeply tonight. Now that I've seen my lover and felt his warmth. Just small moments with Paul, his little laughs, his cries. It all hits me.
Here, this moment with Izzy... it feels misplaced. It feels like this feeling he's giving me is meant for Paul. I wonder if we feel like the same to him. "It doesn't give you the right to just show up in the middle of the night because you feel like it."
"I know that he's not-"
"No, not because of Paul... because I don't know you." It feels mean, but I know it needs to be said. I've let it get too far, I've let him feel comfortable calling me and coming to see me. "And you don't know me, you just knew we were in a bad spot." You're going after me to get to him.
He doesn't hear me. He just tries to analyze me, the same way he's always kinda did. His nose is red, he looks like he's been crying but his pupils are so dilated, it feels like he's looking through me.
And then he tries something different.
He tilts his head to the side, and his eyes finally meet mine and they're narrowed. I don't know if he's trying to break me down when he asks, "Why don't you think people can like you?"
In the middle of the fucking street, at midnight, with chill nipping at my bones.
I tuck my hands under my pits, try to regain the warmth in just my sweatshirt and some shorts.
"What?"
"It's because he makes you feel like an option." He answers for himself. I notice he does that. "You're not an option, Jules, you're perfect."
It feels like he's lying through his teeth.
"He said you been through a lot, I can assume he doesn't make it easier." Now this is about Paul?
"You don't know how he makes me feel."
"He's cheating on you." He laughs.
How quickly it turns to aggression is scary. It feels like he's trying to manipulate me. His cold hands reach for me, they grab my wrists, and he holds me in a place where I am already standing like he knows I wanna pull back. "With Carlos, the same way he was cheating on me! You might not remember what it feels like to be in something healthy but I—"
"He wasn't in a relationship with you, he was dating, Izzy." I can tell it's not what he wants to hear but he's being pushy. I know I have to push him back. "I'm sorry I led you on by getting coffee with you.." twice.
"I don't understand how you..." could possibly be into me being a crying mess over him unless you like watching someone break.
Unless the sexy part about it is the brokenness.
He's stepping closer, it's kind of intimidating, and my body is nearly confused because of the attraction.
I'm attracted to him, physically. I know I can't be where he is; I try to let him down but words fail me. I'm still on edge because this is the first night Paul's really seemed to sleep through, and I don't want him to stir awake and look for me.
I know he won't get this because I don't. He'll assume the worst, I would too.
This is weird, everything Izzy's done is and I kind of have to remind myself. He smells good, and I remind myself that he doesn't look like he left work.
I have to shake his hands off.
"I don't like you, Izzy and you're being manipulative." I try to get through to him because I can tell he doesn't really see it that way. "You trying to talk to me on his night is wrong. And I don't want you talking about him like that. He's not just some fling, he's my partner."
"He was—" mine.
"He's mine."
I don't want to not care. But I really don't care. I don't care how many nights they've spent together or how much they've talked about. I don't care how clear it is that he's just realized his place in our life because we've made it abundantly clear. "I'm sorry that you were involved but we're better now—"
"You think he loves you the same way?" Izzy tries, and he laughs, it's bitter now.
I wonder if he's always laughed at Paul like this. If anything that he's told me is genuine.
Because he looks so honest even when he lies. I know that he knows and he still pretends he doesn't. Convincingly. "He keeps proving that he's lost... you think he can love anyone right now?"
He's gulping, opening his mouth like he wants to say more but I'm getting angry now.
"Go home."
"Jules—" He's touching me again, and I really don't want him to.
"Go home."
He steps forward, I step back. Like a dance.
He noses at mine, presses a kiss to my lips.
He's the moving in, I don't understand until he breaks away to move back in.
I don't want to push him. But I pull back.
He bites his lip.
He kisses hard.
He looks confused. I wonder if he's ever been rejected.
"You're not gonna manipulate me into fucking you." I'm stern in my words. He tries again like he can't hear me. He tries to kiss me again and I dodge it. "I'm good."
"Hey, that wasn't—"
"I'm good."
I have to step back before he realizes what just happened and then he looks sorry. He looks sad, and I wonder how much I have to say to get him to leave. I don't want him to do something he'll regret either cause I'm placing more space and he's still looking at me.
"You love him?" I try. It doesn't feel like it.
He doesn't process, just nods.
"I didn't ask you to kiss me."
"Yeah."
"So, why did you?"
Shrug. A soft smile, small. "I wanted to kiss you."
"I didn't."
"Yeah." He's suddenly aware. Like it slipped from him and he's nodding. I'm not sure that he's "got that."
He's shuffling. Looking down, blinking. It's nervous and almost itchy.
"He's the love of my life, Iz." I remind. "Sorry that this happened."
"Me too." It's gritty.
It's silent, again. A nip of the Indiana wind. "I miss you."
I'm quiet.
"I miss you when you're away." He continues."You need me too, right?" It's desperate, I'm not sure what he's on about... "Like that need."
"Iz, what are you-"
"I miss you. Everyday when you're away, I miss you to bits." He's whimpering, he's tugging at my shirt now, he's looking at me like he doesn't understand and I try not to demonize him but it's starting to feel like he didn't ask Paul anything before burying himself inside.
Like he forced his way because he saw something that wasn't there.
He's crying.
"I don't know what you're-"
"You said you'd come back, you always came back."
"Colin-"
"Julian." I remind, I try to get through it him.
He blinks.
"I'm sorry." It's miserable, the way he sounds, like he's in so much pain that nothing can bring him out of it. I can see how sad he's been. I remember what he's said about Colin, how much he lost in so little time... how unexpected it was.
"Isaiah..." He's shaking his head. "Let me-let me call you a cab or something, okay? Come inside."
I don't think I can help but I know I have to try, if not for him... for us... so he doesn't keep coming around. I don't know if our relationship can handle another hurdle so fucking soon.
I usher Izzy into the lobby, eyes connect with an old doorman. I smile as if to assure him there's no issue and I know he's watched the entire interaction through the window. He nods and watches as Izzy's consumption starts to show in his movements.
He's slow with reaction, we sit in these cold leather chairs until the taxi comes, and I show him inside with a promise to call in the morning - one that I have no desire to keep.
I'LL MAKE IT THROUGH THE WINTER IF IT KILLS ME
Paul's in the kitchen when I make my way back up. He's putting a kettle on the stove in just my shirt and some boxers. I kick off my shoes, and meet him where he is. "Hey."
He leans into me when I twine my arms around his waist. His voice is gritty, and he yawns when he speaks. "Hey," he's rubbing at his eyes when he turns in my arms, to face me, "where'd you go?"
"Outside." I smile, let the blunt I lit up once I got Izzy in the car be my alibi. "I didn't wanna stink up the place."
"You smoke?" He confirms, I know he's oblivious to it all and I don't have a desire to let him know. I nod.
He nods back, hikes himself up on the counter, and opens the cabinet behind him to pour sugar in two mugs.
I'm finally relaxing when he presses the heel of his foot into my calf. He bites down on his lip.
"I'm really proud of you tonight." I remind.
I lean to kiss him, hope he can't taste Izzy on my tongue. I know I have to tell him but I wait for morning.
He kisses me back, twines arms around my neck. And he leans into me as the kettle starts to scream.
"Don't leave."
YOU GOT ALL MY LOVE
oct 14, 2023
happy pride weekend from atlanta