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When I have Rowan alone in the en suite with the door shut and locked, I find everything I need and pile it all within arm’s reach of the large tub, then I turn the water on to hot. Meanwhile, Rowan’s a statue. Standing, breathing, but completely still. His dreary eyes are on the floor, staring, as cooperative as a mannequin while I undress him.

“You can talk to me, you know?” I tell him before tugging my shirt off. “Whenever you’re ready, you can tell me anything.”

He doesn’t answer, but his eyes have shifted to my body, so I know my Rowan is stillin there.

November has chilled the air. It seeps through the walls and makes the near scalding bath water feel all the more comforting when I help Rowan into the tub with me. I’d found a bath bomb and tossed it into the water, so the water looks milky and smells like vanilla and honey.

I leave the faucet turned to a trickle to help keep the water hot, and it’s the only sound in the room besides the gentle slosh of the water as I dunk a fresh washcloth into our pool. First thing I do is bring the steaming cloth to Rowan’s head to wet his hair and massage his scalp.

Eyes fluttering shut, Rowan moans gently and leans into my hand.

“So this is what baths are like,” he mumbles.

“You’d never taken a bath before?”

“Not that I can remember.”

I take my time with him, lathering Matt and Xia’s fancy products all over him. Not that 3-in-1 shit he buys at the grocery store, but moisturizing shampoo and conditioner, exfoliating body wash and facial scrubs. I run my hands over almost every inch of Rowan’s body. Sometimes there’s a washcloth in between. Sometimes it’s just my skin caressing his.

“Does this mean I’m the baby now?” Rowan asks, coming back to himself little by little.

“Only if you wanna be.” I stroke my thumb along Rowan’s jaw and consider how dreamy he’d look with a beard. How stunningly masculine.

Like he’s reading my mind, Rowan asks, “You think I’d look good with a beard?”

“You’d look super hot with a beard.”

He groans. “Itchy, though.”

“I’ll shave it for you.” I hear him breathe a small chuckle as I turn and reach an arm over the lip of the tub, finding Matt’sshaving cream and a disposable razor from a pack I found in a drawer below the sink.

“Gonna make my face baby smooth like yours?” he asks.

“Just wait til you find out my face is this smooth because I can’t grow a beard.”

Slight chuckle turning to a bright laugh, his smile reaches his ears. It’s a healing sight, as if I’m the one who needs to be healed.

I bring Rowan’s legs over my hips and pull him close to shave his face with the same focus and delicacy as if I were shaving his balls. The whole while, Rowan keeps his arms slung around my waist and his dark eyes locked onto mine.

When I’m finished, I wet his washcloth and clear his face of excess cream until he’s back to looking as young as he is. I take time studying his face, memorizing it, because moments like these are fleeting, and time with people we love is never as long as we want it to be.I want it to be forever.

“Tommy?” he quietly asks.

“Yeah?”

“I’m gay.”

Not wanting to make a huge deal about it, I just smile and say, “I know.”

“I know you know,” he says, his mouth forming a rare pout, “but I never told anyone before.”

Curling my arms around his shoulders, I pull him into me, smooth cheek to smooth cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did so much.”

He leans back, reconnecting our eyes before he leans in and kisses my mouth, gentle and sweet. “Are you gonna wash my dick next?”