Page 5 of Doors & Windows (Liam & Jonah’s Story)

Jonah fumbled gracelessly with them. It was impossibly endearing, watching the clumsy way his fingers struggled to hold them in place.

Twice, when he tried to use them to pick up a piece of the salmon roll, one of the sticks clattered to the blanket.

Liam, shamelessly eager for any excuse to touch Jonah’s hand, offered his assistance.

The sight of their fingers overlayed—pale against bronze, long and thin curled around knobbed and callused—sent his stomach tumbling. He could have gladly sat there all night, touching Jonah’s skin under the guise of instruction, but then he got a better idea .

“Open up?” Liam said, picking up a piece of sushi with his own chopsticks. Immediately, his brain fired off with red-faced regret at his own suggestive word choice, but Jonah only raised a brow.

“Are you going to make airplane noises with it, too?”

“If you want,” Liam said. Then, in a sing-song voice, “Here comes the plane.”

Jonah’s mouth opened on a laugh, and Liam placed the food gingerly on his tongue. He watched Jonah’s reaction, eager for him to like this thing he was sharing with him. When he finally swallowed, he tilted his head.

“Cold fish is a new sensation,” he said. “But I see the vision. Going to need another piece to confirm.”

Liam smiled.

By the time they reduced their picnic to scraps, the sun had begun its slow retreat toward the horizon, painting watercolor clouds behind the Manhattan skyline.

Jonah indulged him when Liam asked to take a photo, stretching out a long arm to capture as much of the view behind them as possible.

He stared at it for a few long seconds and realized it was the only photo they’d ever taken together.

He made a mental note to change that. Thoroughly.

When the daylight had all but faded, they folded the blanket back into a neat bundle and slipped on their shoes for a walk along the river.

Liam was the one to reach out a hand first that time, holding his breath until Jonah took the offer .

“I believe you were going to tell me something,” Liam prodded as they wandered, river water sloshing noisily against the side of the walkway.

Jonah smirked. “I don’t know. Do you think I’ve waited long enough yet?”

“Jonah Michael Prince.”

He snorted (a sound that Liam filed away inside his brain to replay later). “Okay. Fine. You know that house in Long Island my crew has been working on? They’re looking for a painter, and I gave them your name.”

“Oh.” Liam blinked. “I mean… physical labor has never been my strong suit, but a job is a job. I can roll up my sleeves and get to work.”

Jonah’s smile twitched like he was holding back another laugh. “Well, that’s good to know. But I think we’re talking about two different kinds of painting here.”

Liam’s steps slowed beneath him, and Jonah followed suit, coming to a stop along the chrome railing that separated them from the water.

“They want someone to paint a mural for their nursery,” Jonah explained. “It’s not just throwing paint on a wall. It’s a commission for your art.”

Liam was momentarily speechless. When he did manage to speak, it was only a breathless “What?” that made it past his lips.

“It’s not a sure thing yet,” Jonah went on. “Ultimately it’s up to the homeowners, and I didn’t want to share any of your work samples without your permission, but they already said they would look at them. I guess the mom is a Fordham alumnus, so she has a soft spot for you already.”

“That’s like…” Liam shook his head, grasping for words. “Jonah, that is a huge deal. That feels way above my paygrade.”

“It’s not,” Jonah said immediately. “Well, I don’t know how much they’re paying. Maybe a decent amount? These people are incredibly rich.”

“Oh my god—”

“But,” Jonah cut in, “I know that your art is worth it. I’ve seen what you can do, Liam, and I wouldn’t lie to you, or set you up for something I thought you would fail at. This is an opportunity to get paid for something you love, and you deserve it.”

“Jonah, I…” Liam thought he was going to pitch over the side of the railing and into the water. He thought he was going to leap forward and kiss Jonah until he couldn’t breathe. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll consider it. Say you’ll at least send them some paintings of yours to look at.”

And because Liam was weak for Jonah in a way he had never felt in the presence of anyone else, and because Jonah had done this incredibly kind, incredibly thoughtful, incredibly lovely thing for him, he said, “Yeah. Okay.” He swallowed, trying to wrap his head around the turn this conversation had taken.

“Thank you, Jonah. I don’t even know how I could ever repay you for this. ”

Jonah kicked the toe of his boot against Liam’s shoe. “Now you know how I feel.”

The train out of Brooklyn Bridge Park was crowded, but they managed to snag a seat after only a couple of stops.

Liam was relieved, and not just from the opportunity to rest his feet after a long walk.

It didn’t escape his notice, the way Jonah held himself in large crowds, and especially in the confined spaces of a shoulder-to-shoulder train.

He was good at playing it off. One thing he had always known about Jonah was how skilled he was at suffering in silence.

Particularly if it meant sparing Liam’s feelings.

Still, Liam clocked the small cues of Jonah’s anxiety he had come to learn over time: the way his knuckles went bloodless-white around the silver subway pole, the hard blink of his eyes that held shut just a second too long, his other hand flexing and closing in rhythmic spurts at his side.

Liam tried to be subtle about positioning his body between Jonah and the rest of the commuters, but it wasn’t until they were seated that he felt like he could breathe again.

Liam and Jonah fell into a contented quiet, their knees brushing every few seconds as the train rattled north.

Anyone else might have resented a commute that took up half the length of a date, but Liam was happy just to be at Jonah’s side.

It was a rare thing to find someone who could share in comfortable silence no matter the environment.

Someone who made the atmosphere with their presence alone.

Jonah had been that person for him from the beginning. For months, they had built castles out of shabby hotel rooms, crafted a kingdom in places where the light should never have reached .

After that, Liam thought, they could make a home anywhere.

Liam was reading an ad along the top of the subway car—some cheeky slogan for a dating app plastered over a photo of two men kissing—when a brush against his arm startled him.

Liam turned and found Jonah nodding off, his head lolled to one side.

When the train jostled them again, it provided just enough momentum to rock him the rest of the way into Liam’s side, his temple coming to rest on his shoulder.

Miraculously, he didn’t wake, and Liam didn’t dare move a muscle. For several long seconds, he couldn’t stop staring down at him—his long eyelashes kissing his cheekbones, the small opening between his lips, the dark hair dangling to his brow.

Liam would never take for granted the privilege of being a safe enough person in Jonah’s world that he could let down his iron guard.

They were supposed to part ways midway through the commute, Liam getting off to transfer further uptown while Jonah stayed on all the way to Queens.

But Liam watched his first transfer station pass by, telling himself he would get off at the next one further uptown and grant Jonah just a few more minutes of uninterrupted rest.

But when the train approached 57th street—his last chance for a direct transfer—Liam made a decision.

He sat and watched the doors open and shut without making a move to rouse the man softly snoring on his shoulder.

And as the train hurdled through the tunnel into Queens, he had no regrets about escorting his date the rest of the way home .

Jonah stayed fast asleep all the way to Forest Hills. Liam almost regretted having to wake him when the brakes squealed in approach to his stop.

“Hey.” He ducked his head, Jonah’s hair tickling his cheek. Careful not to startle him, Liam placed a hand on his arm and gave a squeeze. “Jonah, hey. It’s your stop.”

A quick jerk of movement was his first sign that he was awake, followed by a muttered apology as he sat up.

Jonah blinked, taking in his surroundings through bleary eyes.

He looked at Liam, then at the station tracker along the top of the opposite wall, then scrambled to stand as the first light of the Forest Hills station shone through the windows.

“Oh shit. Liam, you missed your stop.”

Liam stood after him, holding out a steadying arm as Jonah swayed. “I didn’t miss anything,” he said, shrugging his tote bag back onto his shoulder. “I just didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to nod off.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Liam insisted. “You clearly needed the rest.”

The train screeched to a stop and the doors slid open. Liam and Jonah trailed out with about fifty percent of the passengers.

“This is so far out of your way.” Jonah had to raise his voice over the rumble of the train’s departure. “Backtracking is going to add thirty minutes.”

“I’ve got nowhere to be.” Liam shrugged, following him up the steps to the mezzanine. “It’s not as if I have a second hot date after this. ”

At the top of the staircase was where they had to part ways for real. The subway exit was up ahead, and Liam would have to descend to the other platform to catch the next Manhattan-bound train. A sudden, ridiculous rush of nerves had him swiping his palms against his pants.

“So,” Liam began, deeply unsure of how to end a proper date. Was he supposed to thank him? Kiss him in the middle of the subway station? Fucking… shake his hand?

“So,” Jonah echoed, a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth.