Page 16

felt what must have been their entire soul yo-yo through their body, then drop between their legs, where it throbbed so painfully, they never wanted it to stop.

Michael was kissing them.

Michael, in his graduation robe, was kissing them, his hands fisted in their JD hood, like he had to kiss in order to breathe. It wasn’t a tender kiss. It wasn’t careful. It was hot, like they were in the bathroom of a club instead of a university auditorium. It was the kind of kiss where when licked Michael’s bottom lip, Michael bit back and pushed them against the wall, bringing ’s arms up around their head.

Every muscle in ’s body was engaged. They could feel sweat on their throat. They could feel where Michael’s stubble dragged over theirs, and their breaths were pants and noises so erotic that reached for Michael’s ass to bring him closer, to feel him tell them yes, yes with the push of his hips.

“Fuck,” whispered against Michael’s mouth before he came at them again. hadn’t known their agnostic, desperate, broken-hearted queer prayers could be answered. They would have to tithe after this. They would have to build an altar. Even if this was the last kiss Michael ever gave them, it was worth an entire temple.

They had wanted for so long. Wanted things for themself, so bad, wanted, in their very most protected dreams, this—the feel of muscled chests together, straightforward yearning, the hard thumb against their jaw, the knowledge of a man’s smile and his tears even while he fucked them.

They had perseverated for weeks when they first moved into the apartment above Michael’s, started taking notes next to him in class, shared pizza with him, felt like they had finally found something forever, even when they didn’t know what it was. They would look at Michael, wanting him, wanting him, and beg the universe for Michael to see them, to see , to see past everything, even their genuinely epic friendship, and want them in a rush of feelings that he acted on, even if he couldn’t comprehend those feelings.

Not fair. But the other option was to tell him—to tell someone, finally—and behind that door was the potential for a hundred kinds of notarized disappointment. tells him, and what? Michael says that he knows, he always knew, and touches them tenderly. Or Michael tells them it changes everything. Or Michael tells them that it’s no big deal and it changes nothing about their friendship. Or, in the vulnerable, bloody moment when tells him, Michael guesses at something else that feels and gently lets them down.

No.

So it was impossible. They would have to want Michael and be his best friend, his awkward friend from the Midwest, from Wisconsin , and, yet again, this would not be the moment for Michael to want . There was never that moment. It was just a constant inflammation of a soul that chafed against their body, but they were used to that, and they couldn’t bear any more unknowns or any more awkwardness, not when they were already studying for law school and going to court to change their name, their mislabeled and dusty papers. So they wouldn’t, not yet. They would, but not now. By this point, not now was as familiar as a sibling. A sibling who wouldn’t leave them alone and who rolled their eyes at everything said.

And that was how it would’ve ended if hadn’t come up with the solution. If hadn’t thought of something else they might be able to bear, that might be enough, then and Michael would be leaving this ceremony to pack up their apartments, and then would drive away, back to Wisconsin, watching Michael cheerfully wave in their rearview mirror to be a social media thumbs-up dude friend forever.

Instead, had decided Michael would make it possible. would be vulnerable, but by asking for help. Show me . Show it all to me.

And it had worked. It had been the most exhilarating three years of ’s life, with Michael beside them, their friendship better, but in the context of a life that was more than could have imagined. And the more that everything was more , and fit, the more felt themself expanding into the world, looking at full lips under beards, feeling a rough hand curl around their biceps at the club, taking their first one-night man to their apartment above Michael’s and giving themself over to the miraculous, rough hit of lust consummated.

Even if they would have dreams that were nothing but the way Michael smelled.

Michael pulled back, his lips swollen, his eyes dark. “I should’ve done that the first fucking day I met you.”

smiled and kissed his neck.

They were never not going to do this. They knew that now.