by Seth King
Talk about fortunes being reversed. This morning I woke up thinking I was about to lose my roommate and my best friend, in one fell swoop. Now I suddenly feel like I am potentially walking into an entirely new chapter of my life.
But can it be real? Is it really happening? This is something out of a movie. Is this fantasy happening in real life? And can he possibly feel for me as deeply as I feel for him?
As I kiss his neck, I reach over with the other hand and turn on the TV to the big ball drop ceremony. This is one New Year I’m going to want to remember forever, and besides, the show adds romance to the air, too.
“Wait,” I say soon, realizing something. “This is technically our first date, and I want it to be special. Hold on.”
I get out the bottle of wine I got for him earlier in the week, the expensive kind from the front of the store. Then I find two champagne flutes and pour us each a glass, trying to act like it’s a traditional New Year’s Eve couples’ situation.
I hand him a flute, and we clink and kiss. God, I will never kiss him enough…
“So there are some things I want to clarify,” he says soon. “Some memories that don’t make sense to me, but looking back, maybe it was all because of this. Remember on my birthday, when I went out with that guy from Grindr for dinner?”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Aw, I’m sorry. And he wasn’t cute, anyway. But the next morning, I found a homemade cake in the garbage can.”
“You saw that?”
“Yes, and I was confused, but I thought maybe you were just experimenting in the kitchen or something. Was it…was it for me?”
I feel myself blush. “Once I overheard you mentioning your favorite cake was coconut. I taught myself how to make one by watching an hour of YouTube tutorials. And then you shocked me by going out on that date, and I sat at home all night pouting, then ate a big piece and threw it away.”
“Fuck,” he says, kissing my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I was so sad not to spend it with you, but I knew that would’ve been weird for me to suggest it, as ‘friends’ or whatever.”
“Speaking of that,” I say, “one day I walked in and you were crying. You got up and walked out, and we never spoke about it. What was that?”
“Want me to be honest?” he asks, and I nod. “I was really sad about the whole situation, and I was rummaging through the kitchen drawers looking for a wine opener, and I found a picture of you as a little kid. It made me think of how I’d never have you, and…yeah. I cried through one whole rerun of Golden Girls.”
“Aw,” I say, running my hands up his arm. “Well you have me now, Tom.”
We spend probably twenty minutes going over the memories from our rocky, turbulent time together, and suddenly everything makes sense. All along, he thought my strange behavior was because I was secretly homophobic, and he was acting “too gay” around me. And all along it was just because I was afraid to reveal my attraction. I can’t believe so much got lost in translation.
He really gets a kick out of the Reddit post, though. Soon he starts to look through the comments, laughing at different things, then reading the media articles about it after it went viral. Some of them were even written today. Thankfully, nobody seems to be trying to find out our identities. Not yet, at least.
“Oh my God, I was secretly famous, and I had no idea!” he says soon. “This is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard of!”
“Trust me,” I groan, “I didn’t plan it that way. I thought nobody would ever see it, and I was mortified to expose my deepest shit to the entire Internet.”
“What if this actually works out between us,” he laughs, “and we have grandkids one day, and show them this article and tell them the story of how we met?”
“I would enjoy that,” I say, and he goes still.
“I…I was just kidding,” he says soon. “But…fuck, Evan. I would enjoy it, too.”
“Just being here, sitting with you, I’m glowing. I’ve never felt this way before.”
“Me, too. It’s hard to explain, but – I can feel the earth moving, but there’s nothing underneath me. Does that sound crazy?”
“No. I feel it, too.”
As he looks through the comments, he frowns. “Wow. Some of these are kind of hateful. Not many, but some. They’re calling you a closeted faggot, and stuff…”
I shield the phone with my hand. “Hey, if it’s upsetting, you don’t have to read it. I’m sorry I exposed you in this way. I noticed – some of them were shocking.”
He shrugs me off. “Honey, I haven’t been shocked by homophobia since the first time my older cousin called me limp-wristed at our family reunion in South Carolina. I’ll survive.”
He’s still frowning, though.
“What?”
“It’s just…let’s celebrate the moment and everything, but let’s also be real. How would this work? In the real world? You are…still straight, I think, and…”
“I know, I know. And…the truth is, it’ll be hard. I’m still…I don’t know.”
“Are you ready to come out, if it goes there? And what if people find out about us like, soon? You know, through the post?”
“All I need is you,” I say with certainty. “It might be hard, but I think I can deal with whatever comes, as long as you’re there. And wait, actually…speaking of that…”
“What?”
“Honestly, I can’t afford this rent anymore with school costs, and everything. Even splitting it with you is hard. The landlords mentioned there was a one-bedroom upstairs. Would you consider…”
“Moving in with you?”
I bite my lip. “I know it sounds crazy. Is it too crazy? I want this year to be a whole new start, a new beginning. And it wouldn’t be different at all – we already spend every moment together in here. We’d just be sleeping in the same bed. And there’s no rush, our lease isn’t up for three months.”
“We might kill each other,” he says soon, “or we might just get married. I’d certainly like to explore it, though. I can barely afford my life at all, since I got fired, and everything. Wanna text the landlords and tour the unit together in the morning?”
“I’d like nothing more in the world.”
“God,” he sighs, “I already can’t wait to fall asleep tonight with you – I don’t think I’ve ever said that sentence before. How is it that you make even sleep thrilling?”
“Somehow, I know exactly what you mean.”
I try to focus on the TV, but I can’t. I’ve never even really thought about any possible next steps between us, because I didn’t think a future was in the cards.
But after tonight…
“About the ‘coming out’ thing,” I say soon. “How would that work?”
“Oh, it would change everything. There is no going back. If we go public with this, and a relationship happens, the world will see you a little differently forever.” He leans into me in a way that both feels new, and a thousand years in the making. “God. I don’t even want to imagine how your friends would take this…”
“Trust me – I’ve thought about it obsessively. None of them have any idea. They think I’m…one of them. Some would be okay. Some wouldn’t care. But some of them say things behind closed doors about gay people that would shock the hell out of people. Even the word itself, the F word – it’s used as the worst insult anyone could ever be called.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“What should I do?”
“Right now? Nothing,” he says. “Hang out with me. Get to know my life, my friends. And in a real way, not as that weird way from before. Everything will change, that’s for sure. So you have to ask yourself: is it worth it?”
“Tom. You are worth anything to me. You need to understand that.”
“Trust me. Somehow, I do.”
Finally he puts down the phone. “So, tell me: after this went viral, and you knew you had to sit me down and explain. What did you think would happen? I’m curious.”
>
“I thought you’d say you liked me as a friend, but weren’t into me, and then the friendship would be destroyed.”
“You’re delusional,” he says. “I was obsessed with you. Did you not notice that I cooked dinner for you every single night?”
“Um, I never thought about it, I guess? I figured you were just making portions for two, because it was easier…”
“And do you think that’s a normal thing that roommates do?” he cackles. “On what planet do you live, honey?”
“I don’t know. I guess we really were both lost in our own heads. And tell me something now. When you realized you liked me-”
“Loved you,” he corrects, and I smile.
“Okay. Loved me. What did you think would happen if I found out?”
He grimaces. “Do you really want to know?”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
“Okay. I thought that if you ever found out, you’d deck me in the face, or worse.”
My jaw drops. “Come on! I would never do that.”
“I know, I know. But I’ve heard bad stories. And…I don’t know. The whole thing terrified me.”
I squeeze him so tightly, he has to reach up and stick his hand between my arm and his chest.
“Oh, sorry, sorry! I’ve just been wanting to do this for so long…”
“Same,” he smiles. “I’d just like to live to see New Year’s Day. And get to suck your cock for the first time. Ain’t no way I’m getting accidentally strangled before that happens.”
I go still. “You think about that?”
“I think about it every day, Evan.”
I just inhale his scent, which is something floral and sweet. “And I can’t fucking wait for that,” I whisper into his ear, making him shiver.
“You wanna know something funny?” he asks. “When I walked in here tonight, I was even thinking of moving out.”
“Why?”
“Because I loved you, and it was driving me crazy, and I didn’t know how we would keep being roommates…”
I flinch. “Please don’t use the ‘roommate’ word anymore. I want to be with you. Not as roommates. As…as a real thing.”
“Evan. You already had me. From the first day, from falling down those stairs, to now – I’ve always been yours. You were just too much of a bonehead to see what everyone else saw from a mile away.”
I laugh. When I graze his chest, I feel that his nipple is hard, and it makes me moan.
“What?”
“I’m going to have so much fun figuring out gay sex with you. Can you…can you teach me?”
He shivers again. “As soon as the ball drops, I’m taking you into my room. I can’t wait another second. Is that alright?”
“It’s more than alright.”
He reaches down and starts feeling around, making me groan.
“Jesus,” he whispers, “How big is this thing?”
“I’ve never measured it, but I’ve never had complaints.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
He jerks a little. “Oh, and remember that girl you brought home?”
“What?”
“The brunette with the Mercedes. Remember? You brought her home from the bars, and you guys had sex.”
“Oh, God, that’s barely in my memory…I went out, depressed about the whole thing, and she came onto me hard. I was so desperate to feel the touch of another person, I flirted back…but wait, weren’t you gone that week? For the funeral?”
“Nope, I think it was the night I got back.”
“Fuck. I never knew that. In my head, I was thinking you were still gone, which is the only reason I went out…fuck. I’m sorry. It didn’t work, either. All I did was think about you. But I never would’ve brought her around if I knew you were there.”
“Oh, it’s fine, I did the same thing with my date. But, confession time: I listened to you fuck her, and I jacked off while I did.”
“Fuck. That is sexy. And…what did you think?”
“I was shocked, actually. You were a super freak. I’d never even heard things that dirty being said in real life – only in porn.”
“I guess I get carried away sometimes…”
“Trust me, I loved it,” he says, making a jacking-off motion. “Oh, and I have one more confession. The next morning, before she left, I spit on her car.”
“You didn’t,” I laugh.
“Just on the wheel, she’d never notice. But I just had to stick it to her, for slobbing on my man like that.”
“You know what?” I ask soon. “I actually like that. I enjoy a little possessiveness.”
“Good, then. You don’t have any other options with me.”
On the screen, everyone starts assembling for the New York City mayor to press the button for the ball drop. The moment is here. One year ending, another beginning…
“Why is everyone so obsessed with this night, anyway?” he asks, peering at the TV. “You go out, spend a hundred bucks you don’t have to stand in an overcrowded bar, then make a bunch of promises to yourself you can’t keep, and will end up breaking by February.”
“I asked my mom once,” I say. “She said it was because people are inherently stuck in the past, and the idea of getting a chance to start over is too tempting to ignore. But we always end up going back. Sliding into our old ways.”
“But not anymore,” he smiles, squeezing me again.
“Nope. This change is one that’ll last, I hope. And all I had to do was ‘get the fuck over it,’” I smile, thinking of the helpful stranger at the call center.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing. Private joke.”
Auld Lang Syne starts playing, and I giggle about something again.
“Seriously, what?”
“It’s just funny. All of this. I mean, I know the New Year is about new beginnings and everything, but Jesus…”
“I know. Sheesh. This is quite new, isn’t it?”
“As new as can be. And all I had to do was write that love confession, and turn my life upside down…”
He tenses. “Hey. I don’t like the word ‘confess’ for this.”
“Why?”
“People ‘confess’ to crimes and bad things, and that word carries a connotation saying that to confess your love for a man is to confess something bad. There’s nothing bad about being gay.”
“I never saw it that way.”
“Here, let’s look up the dictionary definition.”
He shows me the page, and I wince at the sentence: “a formal statement admitting that one is guilty of a crime.”
“You’re right,” I say.
“Let’s just call it a dose of honesty instead. A declaration. And fuck, oh my God, I can’t believe I forgot this!” he says, getting out his phone.
“Forgot what?”
“I wrote you a letter, too! Well, a list. In my Notes app. I do it all the time – write about things I want to remember. I did it sometime between our fights about our hookups.”
“I remember – after that guy ghosted you, when we first met, you wrote a list of all the reasons he was a ‘soul-sucking succubus,’ if I remember correctly.”
“Oops!” he shrugs, and I laugh. He does some scrolling and then finds something. Nervously, he hands me the phone and turns away.
A LIST OF THINGS I CAN’T STAND ABOUT MY STUPID ROOMMATE
The way he drinks water straight out of the jug.
“Hey!” I cry, turning to him. “We talked about that, and I stopped!”
“Keep reading,” he murmurs, so I get back to the list:
The way his dog licks my guests all over their legs whenever they walk in.
The way he walks around in front of me in boxers, because his dick flops around, I can’t look away.
The way I want to be around him all the time, and can’t even tell him.
The way that sometimes when I’m in bed, I try to hear the sound of his breathing in the darkness, just because I can’t bear to say goodb
ye yet.
The way I can’t think about anything or anyone else
The way he hates all the Drag Race girls that I love. (I mean, seriously, Starla von Teese?! That girl is a nightmare in a wig.)
The way I want to grow old with him.
The way I will never be able to tell him any of this, so instead I’m just writing it in my phone like a loser.
But most of all, I hate the way he has my heart.
I look at him with tears in my eyes. “Tom. This is the nicest stuff anyone’s ever said about me.”
“Well it’s all true,” he blushes. “And now we’re even.”
“How?”
“You wrote me one confession, and now I did, too. Or admission, or whatever we’re calling them.”
“But mine was a total disaster. So let’s do it one over, then,” I say, and just to be funny and mock the big romance movie moments, I slide to the floor and get down on one knee, at his feet. “Tom Carlile, I declare hereby that I am accidentally in love with you, on purpose, and that I always was, and that I want to start the year with you in my arms, and then have you there for as long as you will have me. Is that okay?”
His eyes glowing, he leans in and kisses me. “More than okay. I love you more than you know, you weirdo. You know they say that how you spend New Year’s Eve is how you’ll spend the rest of the following year?”
“I can only pray.”
“Aw. Now get off your knees.”
“No,” I smirk.
“Why not?”
“I know you said you wanted to wait, but…I’ve waited long enough. Long enough for a lifetime, actually. And I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the year on my knees for you, either…”