Page 14

Aoi

Jason leans in and uses that sulky voice to tempt me. “You should come by tonight.”

His breath tickles my ear, making me playfully shove him away. He’s always been a shameless flirt. I know how strange it must look to outsiders, but it’s normal for us. Jason and I have known each other since my birth. He is and has always been an integral part of my life.

My grandparents adopted him when my father was seventeen and Jason was twelve. He became a part of the family, a pillar of my existence. When I was born, my parents didn’t know what to call me. They struggled with too many ideas to choose from, until my uncle recommended 'Aoi'.

My parents told me stories about the way he always doted on me as a child. I recall memories of Jason starting my fourth birthday, which is when he gifted me my first book, but I wasn’t yet adept at reading. He would read the books out loud and whenever I didn’t understand a word, he’d explain it for me.

He always found time for me, only me. Jason didn’t behave the same way with my sister, Maia. He was nice to her, of course, but it couldn’t compare to the love he showered me in.

After years of reading and debating and discussing various books with him, I started wanting to write myself. At first, it was poems then random texts until eventually it became stories. Some were short, some long, some consistent, some utter nonsense. Still, I loved it. I adored the way my imagination ran wild, the way I could ink down everything I felt, my every thought and dream on a sheet of paper.

On my twelfth birthday he bought me a computer so I could write my books and every idea, professionally and digitally. I was beyond overjoyed.

My mother supported my choices, but she thought I was still too young to know what I wanted to do in life. My father disliked the idea altogether. He wanted me to have a 'fixed job' with a 'stable salary'. I understood his point of view, but he didn’t want to see mine. Becoming an author is my dream and each book I read deepens that wish, that ambition.

While my parents saw it as a child’s wish or a futile job, Jason believed in me from the start. He invested in my potential, in my love and talent for writing. Jason saw something in me that no one else had.

Without him, I wouldn’t be who I am today. He’s my rock, my fortress. He keeps me grounded. Sometimes he locks me in a cage but never cuts my wings off. He allows me to fly as long as he can keep a chain around my neck.

“I have to get the kid home.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “So?”

“So, he’s my priority right now and I can’t just leave him to play with you.”

“I love it when you say it like that. You make it sound all innocent and pure.”

“You pervert.”

Once I turned sixteen, I started experiencing different emotions. I realized I was gay after starting to crush on a classmate in high school. It wasn’t serious in the least. A fleeting crush on a boy I barely knew but still it changed my views on the world and love.

It was terrifying to realize that I was different from the other boys. I know being gay isn’t a sin or anything, but it was still scary to be the only boy in my class–if not the whole school–to be into guys. At that time, I didn’t know of any openly queer teens which made me too scared to come out.

One night, I went out with a bunch of classmates. We had decided to hang out at one of their houses and one of them suggested we drink. We were young and reckless, so of course we got wasted. That night, I was so drunk I could barely walk, let alone speak. I was hammered .

My friends had no choice but to call the emergency contact on my phone. He picked me up the moment the call ended. I was drunk but I remember every detail of that night. I will never forget what happened after that party.

Jason drove me all the way back to his place. He knew that in the state I was, my parents would murder me for underage drinking.

I was so tired, and my limbs were weak from the booze. Walking felt like an Olympic game. Thus, he carried me to his room. That night, I wasn’t thinking straight but I knew that what I was about to tell him came from the depth of my heart.

I told him, “Jason, I- I like men. Don’t reject me for it. You won’t throw me out, huh?” Then I started crying like a freaking fountain.

From an outside perspective, it was certainly hilarious but for me who was bawling his eyes out after coming out, it was like getting drafted to war. I was terrified that he’d see me differently.

How silly. Jason would never shun me for loving the same gender, but I was young, stupid and terrified.

That night he was especially gentle with me. He helped me undress and lay down in his bed. He kissed my forehead and murmured, “I know. It’s okay I still love you.”

I was so relieved, I cried again. He’s the most important person in my life, if he hadn’t been so caring and loving, I wouldn’t be who I am today.

Weeks later, something bloomed inside of my heart. Somewhere along the way, Uncle Jason became just Jason. I stopped seeing him as my closest relative and he became…more. It was hard to hide.

If he were to discover my feelings for him, he’d be disgusted, right? Well, turned out I was dead wrong.

One day, as we hung out at his place, I grabbed destiny by the balls and confessed my love for him. It was stupid of course but I couldn’t hide it forever, could I? Jason, to my surprise, didn’t say a word. Rather than that, he answered my confession with a deep and passionate kiss.

It was beyond my expectations, beyond any of my wildest dreams.

I was sixteen and he was thirty-two.

For an entire year we dated. I was head over heels for him and took any opportunity to be by his side. I slept at his place more often than my own. I lacked friends at that time, but I couldn’t have cared less because I had Jason.

I hung out with him almost every day and of course we were intimate. My first time with him, and ever, was a few weeks after my confession. It was during a warm summer night. School was over and summer break had just begun. Jason took a day off and I hung out at his place like usual.

That night though, the air was different. He kept watching me the whole evening. Sneaking glances at me as I ambled around the room in underwear and one of his shirts.

My parents raised me to be free in my sexuality and he liked it. He claimed it gave me a sweet charm he apparently couldn’t resist.

In the ears of someone desperate to be loved, it sounded like poetry. I was too young to understand how incredibly sick and wrong it was.

Suddenly, the room went quiet, and he called me over to the couch where he rested. I did as he asked and as he patted his lap for me to sit, I obeyed. Being close to him sent me over the moon. I positioned myself in his lap, facing him. Those hazel eyes of his gazed at me with an inconceivable desire he couldn’t hide.

Somehow, that night, I felt daring and confident. He cupped my jaw gently and stroked it with his thumb. Sliding his finger over my lips, he parted them to kiss me lustfully.

I had never been intimate with anyone before Jason. My body reacted to his touch and set me ablaze.

I wanted to feel him everywhere . I craved his touch so ardently that I gave myself to him, completely.

Heart, body, and soul.

Our tongues danced in each other’s mouths, his fingers grazed my skin and ripped off my clothes. He was eager to taste me, and I was eager to be devoured by him. His large hands kneaded my flesh, his lips kissing, sucking, and nibbling every acre of my skin.

He taught me how to suck dick and taught me how to stretch myself out. Patiently, he demonstrated his knowledge, and I used his teachings to please him. Everything I knew bloomed from him. In return, he allowed me to feel a high I hadn’t perceived the existence of before.

It was painful at first but after some practice I could only feel pleasure. For an entire year, we had to hide our relationship for obvious reasons. He was much older than me, my uncle by law and my parents would have murdered me if they found out.

At that time, it didn’t smack me in the face that he was twice my age or that we were legally related. I didn’t care.

When you’re used to seeing everything in black and white, you start yearning for color. Whether it’s red or green, the distinction matters little. The flags are just flags.

Smiling wistfully, I say, “It’s best if I go home.”

“Are you sure? I know you miss it too.”

It’s true. As much as I hate to admit it, I do miss it. His soft whispers against my skin as he gives me the world and the stars are all I think about when I see him. That is until I’m reminded of the harsh reality.

“It doesn’t matter, Jason. I have to bring Visha home.” I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Anytime, my dear.”

I will never get used to this pet name. I don’t dislike it, but it isn’t an undeniable truth. I’m not dear to him as I hopelessly wish to believe I am.