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Frankie grimaced and rubbed his temples. “It’s beensohard being here with you, and not reallybeingwith you. I thought it would be easy, just like an extended hang out session, but you’re so different at home, and you… you’ve been showing me different sides of yourself, and it’s been this beautiful, amazing thing. I thought maybe that would be enough. Maybe I could just appreciate the deepening of our friendship and the beginning of our business partnership but… it's still not… what I want. Or at least not everything I want.”
Frankie leaned his head back on the door and stared up at the ceiling for a moment.
“And… what is it that you want, Franklin?”
Frankie heaved a loud sigh and looked back at Diego. A tiny bit of his usual joviality and sass peaked through in the slight curve of his lip. “To be your quesadilla burrito boyfriend, D. I thought we just talked about this.”
Diego sucked in a breath and took another step back. “You… have you ever even been in a relationship?”
Diego cringed at how mean the question came out, but Frankie looked unfazed. “Not since high school, which should probably speak to how fucking badly I want to be with you,mon chouchou.”
A startled laugh escaped Diego’s chest. “Did you just call me a cabbage cabbage?”
“Colette explained it to me as a sweeter way of saying my darling,” Frankie said. Spots of color appeared high on his cheeks.
“You really like that endearment, huh,” Diego said softly, taking a step towards Frankie again as if drawn by a magnet.
Frankie hesitantly lifted one hand and then the other to rest on the meat of Diego’s hips.
“I always thought if I had someone to call my own they’d be my darling. Didn’t really matter what gender or gender expression, even though I know in French and Spanish you have to identify the gender of everything and everyone, but… I just wanted someone to be mine.”
Something Frankie said didn’t sit right with Diego, and he pursed his lips as he tried to put words to his thoughts. Frankie must have taken his silence as judgment because he turned away, fidgeting with the lock until it finally clicked into place. He remained facing the door, his head hanging low and his shoulders hunched up.
“Diego, I—”
“My gender is important to me,” Diego said. Frankie jerked slightly at the interruption. He turned around and gave Diego a questioning look, his shoulders remaining up near his ears.
“You said it didn’t matter what gender or what gender expression your partner had and I get that you’re bi or pan or whatever, but for me… being a man is important to me. And being with a man is important to me because I… I fought hard for my right to be who I am, and I don’t want you to like me despite my gender, I want you to want mebecauseof it. Because that’s definitely a reason I want you. I am demi, and to me, that does mean I want you because you’re you, but…youare an incredibly strong, funny, creative, intelligent, and sexyman. I think I… I want you to want me for the same reasons.”
Diego wasn’t sure why this was the hill he was staking his claim on, but he knew it was one thing to be a trans man, and another to be a trans man so vehemently into other men, but that was who he was.
There was a sharp tension between Frankie’s brows as he seemed to consider what Diego was asking of him. “I… think I’m actually omni, and to me that’s different from being bi, or pan. I like peoplebecauseof their gender. I find some women sexy because of their femininity, while I also find more androgynous and masculine women sexy for that type of gender expression, too. The same goes for men and nonbinary people. I find gender and the way people experience it and share it to be hot as hell. I like you because of the way you are a man. The way you carry yourself is so fucking sexy and confident, and I never once thought of you as anything other than a man. Learning you were trans just helped me understand the way that you–... I don’t want to say choose, because I know it’s not a choice to be trans, but you did get to pick the ways you express your masculinity in your name and the parts of your body you accentuate – or don’t. You will always be a man to me, Diego, and it is one of the many,manyreasons why I want you.”
Diego felt a weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying finally shed from his back. It felt like putting down a heavy backpack, or the relief when an ache was finally relieved. Unfortunately, there was another burden, and this one seemed to be sitting on his chest.
“But… I’m also your business partner.”
Frankie frowned, a channel of confusion on his forehead. “And… you want me to want you as my business partner? Not just… as you?”
Diego sighed and felt a tension headache beginning to form. It ran from the back of his head all the way down his neck. He turned to walk into the kitchen when Frankie reached out and grabbed his wrist, hard.
“Diego!” he cried, and his voice was pure anguish.
“I’m just getting a glass of water,mi corazón. Would you like one?”
Frankie followed Diego into the kitchen, so close he was practically standing on top of him. “That means heart, right?”
Diego grabbed their water pitcher and two plastic cups and began pouring water. “It does. That was the new one I was going to use for you this week but… it felt a little too… on the nose.”
Frankie accepted his cup, letting his fingers graze across Diego’s. After they had made out and practically dry humped, as Frankie so elegantly put it, the brief contact should have been nothing, but to Diego it was everything. It was a small point of connection they had shared countless times this past year and would share countless times again co-owning a business together. But could they share it as more than friends?
He reached out and pulled Frankie into his arms, startling him into spilling some of his water. It soaked through part of Diego’s shirt and dripped down onto the waistband of his sweatpants.
“Diego—”
“What would happen if we broke up?” he asked. Frankie’s mouth snapped closed with an audible clack of teeth.
They stood there, Diego slightly damp and Frankie a near statue in his arms, for an uncomfortable few moments of silence.
