“Actually, yeah. A little bit.”
They lay in silence and watch the orange-tinted ceiling. It’s slightly textured, and there’s just enough light to highlight the hills and shadow the valleys.
In his very serious study of the bumpy surface, Matt almost misses the faint, “I think I still do.”
“Still what?” he whispers back into the night.
“Love you.”
Matt releases a shaky breath. His lips tremble when he finally replies, “I think I do too.”
He never stopped.
The room feels warmer with the admission. Matt retrieves his hands from under his head and lays them against his cheeks. He’s burning up, almost feverish.
Maybe this isn’t a good idea after all. Maybe they should stick to daylight conversations about trivial topics. Chocolate ice cream and Azulve tequila answers.
They aren’t teenagers anymore. What they’re talking about—it’s too big to handle alongside their adult lives.
“Look over there,” Robert’s arm crosses in front of Matt’s face and points to his right. “Look at that star.”
It’s the light of a smoke detector. Still, Matt can appreciate a good distraction. “I think it’s a satellite. It’s blinking.”
“It’s just twinkling—stars do that.” There’s a hint of a wonder in Robert’s voice. “I’m gonna make a wish on it.”
“But it’s not moving.”
“You’re always so cynical. You can make a wish at any moment—doesn’t have to be on a shooting star.” He’s quiet for a moment, before he announces, “Okay!”
Matt’s pretty sure he’s being pranked, but he still asks, “What did you wish for?”
“If I tell you it won’t come true.”
“You wished on a smoke detector.”
“Atwinkling star,” Robert repeats, sternly. “Your turn—make a wish.”
Matt stares at the blinking red light. He hasn’t relied on wishes for a long time now. He has his dream job, money, support for his mother. What else could he want?
Well, there’s one thing. Something he hasn’t had for almost a decade. Something he misses every time he wakes up next to an empty pillow.
Matt closes his eyes tight and wishes.
There’s a shift in the bed and, when he opens his eyes again, Robert hovers above him. His forearms bracket Matt’s head, his knees on either side of Matt’s hips.
He smiles, caught. “Hey.”
“Hello.”
“Can I kiss you?”
Matt nods slowly. He’s not sure he’ll be any good—he’s out of practice, after all—but he’s willing to learn again.
It helps that Robert’s a good teacher.
When he leans in and closes his eyes, Matt does as well. When he’s only a breath away, Matt inhales him. It still tastes familiar, after all these years.
When Robert presses his lips against his, Matt remembers what to do next.
