"That we meet again today of all days," I say, trying to chase away the crushing weight of his words. Yes I have been thinking a lot about this incredibly handsome man. The image of his eyes sparkling with happiness and lightheartedness, the mischievous grin on the curved line of his lips, his big strong hand on my hip. Every detail had been memorized, I enjoyed exploring the curves of his body with my tongue. And yet it feels strange lying here thinking about a night that affected me greatly. I feel a pang of guilt. Another sits even deeper, boring painfully through my skin. Paws studded with sharp claws scrape along the outside of my bones, a crack becomes a fissure, and suddenly I feel like I can barely breathe. Three years later I find him again, the man from my dreams, and I just can't manage to tell him what I feel. I am not free, but my body reacts so incredibly intensely to his touch.

"Fate or a bad joke of the universe?" asks Alec seriously. I ask myself the same question.
"Fate." Unambiguous and clear. What else could it be?
"Bad joke," he replies, still way too serious. Really? Confused, I look into his blue eyes, frown, and his fingers try to smooth the furrows. Gently, his skin brushes mine and everything tingles, the same feeling I had in London. Fuck.
"What do you expect? What are the odds we'll meet again at a party honoring my childhood friend? And you're in a relationship with a man in our trio. The beginning of a great tragedy," Alec says, snorting. I understand. He must have felt the same way I did. Or worse. After all, I live openly with a man and don't have to fear losing my life. How must it have been for him to see me again? And then the realization that his childhood friend, his first husband, his teammate, is in a relationship with his one-night stand.

"I always wondered where you were. If Magnus is your real name, if your life is easy and your thoughts are with me. Or if you have another guy waiting for you in every town, I'm long forgotten and just another guy, a new name. I wanted so much to see you again. But I didn't know where to look for you. And then came the next practice, the decisive game, and my life just went on. I couldn't allow myself to dwell on my thoughts. And certainly not to a man. If that had come out. I can't imagine what kind of floodlight pole they would have pulled me up. I had to function, no matter what my heart told me. So I did what I do best. I functioned, played football, showed up at sponsors' parties and agreed to an interview about my private life. But I never forgot you," Alec says in soft almost whispered words.

"I never told Jona," I say just as quietly.
"I couldn't. And that kills me."
"Why should you? Does it matter?" he asks, and with widened eyes I stare at him.
"Yes. Of course it matters. Not just that we slept together. You've been sharing a bed with us for three years. I know that sounds stupid. Physically, you're not there. But mentally. Often I see you and not him. And that sucks. He doesn't deserve that," I reply, upset. I never expected to have such a conversation in Jace Herondale's backyard. Lying on my back, in the grass, hidden by roses and lavender bushes. No one can see us; Clary created a protected spot of privacy years ago. I have often told her that a hammock would be a wonderful addition. But somehow she always thought my idea was funny. A small wooden bench which offers just enough space for two average adults, stood one day in the place where a sky-blue hammock floated in my imagination. The dark wood with beautifully turned armrests has sturdy legs and, to my displeasure, fits surprisingly well in this oasis. Yes, I admit it, the bench is an asset.

Alec brings me out of my thoughts about non-existent hammocks.
"And yet you do. It didn't bother you in London yet. You think of me when you're having sex?" asks Alec, and I nod mutely. Yes I do. And Jonathan doesn't know about it. It's also better if he never knows.
"You're probably not the only one," he replies, chuckling, and I slap his chest with my free hand.
"Don't do that. It's not funny," I growl angrily. Reflexively, Alec reaches for my hand, gets a grip on my wrist, and before I can say anything, he pins my arm above my head in the fragrant grass. I feel his breath on my lips, warm and steady. He radiates a calm and serenity, but the violent beating of his heart in his chest betrays him.

"Do you love your wife?", I ask, the excited voice with the anxious words sounding so wrong. 'Your wife' He is gay, I confirm to myself in my mind. No woman belongs at his side. A man should be. Deep down, he will be aware of this. And yet there is something that keeps him from living the way he wants to.
"I need her," he replies, and I nod mutely.
"It's not that I hate her. But we don't have much in common. Except for... never mind. I don't want to talk about her right now." His breath tickles my lips and I close my eyes. Just for a moment, just for a moment to sort out my thoughts. I'm still lying under Alec in the soft grass, the scent of lavender clouding my senses. But it could also be Alec's eyes. That blue, so intense and radiant. Green is my familiar color, but blue just won't let me go. The tip of his nose brushes mine and the lavender mist continues to close in. But it is not too late."But at some point, we should. About everything, us and London." I barely manage to get the words in the right order. Alec's proximity is not conducive to my thinking.

"I haven't regretted it. How could I. I'm long past that stage," he says, and I sigh. A hidden life. Secret meetings with men, in bars, clubs or seedy motels. Always the fear of being discovered. An involuntary outing. That's what he means. He doesn't have to say it. Every gay man, and every other man, knows the story of A.J. Becks, star quarterback and darling of the nation. His outing in the hottest celebrity gossip magazine in the country was less than two years ago. It was a huge barrel of shit. I felt incredibly sorry for him, betrayed by the man he loved, robbed of his dream and future. The press cannibalized the story like a hunter, with his knife detaching every piece of meat from the bone of the game. Dirty details about sex videos and explicit recordings, callboys and coke. An orgy with guys from the street and in the middle of the Florida summer it snowballed tons around intertwined naked bodies. It was the end for his career and even the family now knew. Interviews, dirty laundry and a war of the roses were the result. Becks lives in seclusion somewhere on the coast of Maine and I have always regretted what happened.

Coming out is never easy, and as a top athlete it's ten times harder. A lot depends on success and the perfect life. Sponsors, money, contracts, fame and glory. After the barrel was spilled on the quarterback and many so-called friends and confidants revealed their true colors, I read all the articles I could get my hands on. His life and time behind walls and wearing a mask was the subject of various talk shows and sports programs for weeks. So much for five minutes of fame, then everything is forgotten and a new catastrophe rules the world. A.J. Becks dominated the front pages and top stories for a whole eight weeks. Several times he refused to make an official statement, disappeared without a trace and left behind a devastated wife and two children. It's like a warning to every gay athlete. You are supposed to achieve success, win medals and trophies, always stand at the top of the podium and the anthem of your country should sound. And I wonder why, then, it matters what sexuality an athlete has.

The community, on the other hand, stood behind Becks from the very beginning, organizing events and protest marches against the press, which supplied the explosive topic with ever new chunks of information. He was not ready to reveal himself to the world, all efforts to pull him under the protective cloak of us like-minded people, he blocked. There was no movement from his side, not a single word or small gesture. I hope and pray that one day he will find the courage and strength to leave this experience behind him and take the step into a new free gay life.
"But you are not living free. You're not outed. You meet guys in dim pubs and escort them to their rooms. Is it always tourists?", I ask, upset. Two shapes in my head. One wants to know everything, every detail, no matter how painful. The other doesn't want it, just doesn't want to hear the truth.

"No. Mostly it was flirting in a club which was even dimmer than the pub."
"Works to your advantage. No one sees you that way," I say with an unusually pointed tongue. I'm hurt, feeling bad at the same time that Alec is causing all the hormones in my bloodstream to have a wild debauched party. Deception. Six letters waft through my mind in bright colors. Cheat! Yet I want him, so badly. My fingertips automatically trail over his strong arms, the taut muscles making me sigh in pleasure even then. I love that in a man. The stature of a Greek athlete, Achilles would be envious or even in love. A tall handsome man, black hair, sensual lips, sincere eyes, empathetic gaze, strong hands and toned muscles. Alec is everything that in my hormone-fueled teenage fantasies, blew all the fuses.

"Magnus. It's not that easy. Coming out is my athletic suicide. Football players aren't gay. At least not officially. They are straight, have a pretty wife, two or three kids and win trophies for their club. I know players who are like me. Don't ask me how I know that. I'm not going to talk about it. They are usually the ones with the most beautiful and happy families. On the outside they have the most perfect life you can imagine. They play football, travel around the world, happy family photos beaming with joy, they win tournaments, championships and are loved and some even idolized by fans. But it's all just a facade. I know what it looks like inside them. How hatred for one's self and one's tendencies lurks deep in the dark. Working its way through your body more and more every day, poisoning the mind and eventually you break down screaming in your house and just want to escape it. I want nothing more than a normal life. But I can't have that. And the thought eats me up inside."

"But you wouldn't be alone," I say, trying to relax the agitated atmosphere. Alec is still half on top of my body, his warmth steadily working its way through the thin layers of clothing, breaking through skin and muscle and spreading pleasantly tingling throughout my insides. Is this what it's supposed to feel like? Is this what he wants? A piece of normalcy? A moment of simply being the man that slumbers deep inside him? I experienced him free and detached, filled to the hilt with passion and succumbing to the desire for ecstasy and satisfaction. His confession left me staring at the ceiling of my London hotel room for the rest of the night with a thousand thoughts and eyes wet with tears. I tried to understand what was going on inside him, how he managed to live this life and how much strength it must have taken. I found no answers to the swirling questions, instead new ones kept coming.