Page 26

Mathéo

The weekend went by far too quickly and all too soon I had to get back in the car and drive home. Home ...

I’ve been in Dijon for three years, but it has never felt like home. What does home even feel like? When we were all still at school, Rennes was my home. Now that all my friends are scattered over France, there’s not much left for me there either.

It’s always nice around Christmas though, when most people go back home with their families, and you have time to meet up. But this year I was too busy fighting my feelings. Completely in vain, as I know now, five weeks later. But I had to at least try. I’m sorry, Papa. I know I’ve let you down. But how can I ignore what I feel when I’ve never felt something so strong. When nothing has ever felt so real. How?

Nothing is simple, nothing is easy and yet, when I’m with Micki, I know I’m exactly where I belong. I can lean my forehead against his, or my cheek against his chest, and all the weight lifts from my shoulders. His hand will reach gently into my curls, and his fingers will glide through the short strands, and I’ll lose all sense of time and space. It’s just him and me.

Leaving him was so hard. I can’t remember it ever being so difficult for me to drive away from somewhere. I’ve been so lost the last few weeks. Now it feels like everything is in its place, except me. I’m not where I belong.

It's afternoon, I’m sitting in my office and my phone is vibrating. I quickly glance at my watch. It can’t be Micki, he always has patients at this time of day. But who is texting me then?

I open my messenger only to find a text from Tom.

“I missed you at Christmas. Thought I’d hear from you, dude. Everything okay? How’s it going with ... shit, I’ve forgotten her name. The tall one with the dark curls, from the wedding?”

My eyes squeeze shut like I’ve bitten into a lemon when I read the text. Her. The last time I talked to Tom was before I found out Micki was a man. When everything went down, I didn’t want to text him. Tom would’ve definitely been there for me, but it felt like I had to deal with it on my own, so I could be sure of what I felt and what I wanted without any outside influence. It’s enough to know how my father feels about my relationship without him even knowing about it.

“We are together.” It feels good to write these words. Right. So damn right.

“What?! Are you serious?! YOU have a girlfriend?!” His questions are followed by three horrified emojis.

Girlfriend... not really. I shake my head with a grin at the thought. Images of Micki’s stiff dick in his hand flash through my mind. His fluttering eyelids and how he tore them open at the last moment to see me. His flat chest and his long fingers. No, I don’t have a girlfriend.

But how do I tell Tom? And am I even allowed to tell him? But Micki is out, and we didn’t hide last weekend. Not at the bakery, not in the club, and not in the café where we had a coffee. Not on Micki’s doorstep when we kissed goodbye by my car.

Subconsciously, my thumb runs over my lower lip. I can’t wait to kiss him again, to feel his lips on mine. I miss him.

“No, no girlfriend.” I send the message and wait tensely for a response.

“Huh? But you said that you’re together!”

Here’s the moment of truth. I don’t think Tom will have a problem with me being with a man, but I’m sure he’ll be surprised. And maybe he needs a few days to get it straight in his head, but I can live with that. I just hope he doesn’t cut me out of his life completely when I send this crucial message. “We are. But Micki’s not my girlfriend. He’s my boyfriend.”

Nothing happens for a while. Tom has read the message, but it takes him a while to reply.

“Are you serious? I don’t have a problem with it if you are, I swear. But, seriously now? You’re not messing with me, are you?”

I shake my head with a smile, even though he can’t see it. This reaction is so typically Tom.

“Yeah, seriously. Micki is a man and we’re together.”

“I didn’t see this coming. You’ve slept with so many women, avoided a relationship with each one, and now you’re with a man? How did that happen?” It would probably be much easier to talk on the phone, but I don’t think I can manage that. It’s easier to hide behind writing.

“I told you that we talked on the phone, Micki and me. I fell in love with Micki. And yes, it was a shock when I found out he was a man and I fought it for a long time, but it didn’t help.”

My cell phone rings, and I’m not surprised to see Tom’s name on my display. “Hey.”

“Hey, I just wanted to tell you I’m happy for you, honestly. Are you happy?”

I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face and I’m sure Tom hears it as I reply. “Yes, very much. It’s all still very new an... unfamiliar. But it’s nice. Micki is my person.”

“And... how is it with a man?” Tom sounds unsure as he asks the question. “You don’t have to answer that if it’s too private, shit. Sorry, that was stupid, wasn’t it?”

I see his face in front of me and how he holds his hands over his mouth in shock to stop himself and I can’t help laughing. The question is also so him, blurted out without thinking. We’ve always been like that; we’ve always told each other everything from an early age on. And even though we’ve lost touch over the last few years, he still feels close.

“We... um... I... I’m not ready for more, but we kiss, and we’ve showered together. It’s different, he’s my equal in every way, he takes control. I can let go.” At least when I’m not freaking out on the inside about the fact that I’m touching a man, that I’m letting a man touch me and that I fucking love it. So fucking much.