“You’re sulking. Why?”

     Silas was thrown out of his thoughts by Vance’s question and he looked up at the male standing in the doorway to the living room, his lips parted to speak, but he had to do a double take.

     Vance stood there, red-eyed in baggy sweatpants and a white t-shirt, holding a tub of ice cream in one hand and a bottle of alcohol in the other. Around his shoulders was his blanket and under his arms was a large collection of movies.

     He looked rough.

     Vance frowned, looking down at himself self-consciously. “What?” He muttered, moving to take one of the recliner chairs in the corner of the room. “Friday is my pity party day.”

     Silas rose an eyebrow curiously, cocking his head to the side. “Pity party?” He asked. “Why?”

     He waved his hand as if gesturing to the air. “I’m heart-broken. I need a day to swallow in how shitty my life is to be better for the rest of the week.” He nodded towards the collection of items in his lap. “You’re welcome to join me, but that means you need to spill what’s on your mind. And you can’t have any of my ice cream.”

     Silas had to smile, even though he knew it didn’t reach his eyes and he admitted, “I don’t really like ice cream.”

     Vance was silent for a very long moment, staring as if he couldn’t comprehend what he had just said. Then, he shook his head very slowly. “I don’t understand why Franco likes you so much,” He muttered to himself. “Who doesn’t like ice cream? That should be a crime.”

     Despite how humorous that statement was, the second he said Franco’s name, Silas felt his mood deflating.

     And Vance noticed it.

     “Ah,” He said quietly. “Trouble in paradise?”

     “I’m not gay.” Silas said quickly, but even he noticed how his voice was strained.

     “I never said you were,” Vance said slowly, taking a long sip of his beer and studying Silas carefully. “Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind, kid?”

     Immediately, Silas was on his feet, pacing the length of the room with Vance watching. He had dried up all his tears last night, which means that now his depression had faded into restlessness and all he wanted to do was piece together the puzzle that was his mind.

     “I don’t feel anything when I kiss girls.” The sentence was out of his mouth before he could stop in, and then as if Vance was pulling on an invisible string inside him, all the words started tumbling out. “Nothing. Not repulsion. Not arousal. Just… emptiness. And it’s always been like that, ever since I was kissed in fourth grade. I thought it was normal. If I never felt anything, then how was I supposed to know I was missing something?” His hands threaded through his hair and he tugged harshly. “But then Francisco kissed me last night.” He paused and spun around to face Vance’s attentive expression and as he began to spoke again, his voice quickened and his hands moved around wildly the further along he got into everything. “And it felt freaking amazing! Sparks, fireworks, passion: everything that every romance novel stated was felt in that kiss. And it scared the shit out of me. Because. I. Am. Not. Gay.”

     Silas never realized how easy it was to talk to Vance. He kept quiet the entire time, and his eyes were always understanding, even though Silas knew it probably wasn’t easy to listen to his problems. Vance never interrupted, even when Silas paused to collect his thoughts and he found it… Refreshing. He should make an effort to talk to Vance more often.

     “Was Franco the first guy you’ve kissed?” Vance asked curiously, taking another sip of the beer and tilted his head to the side. His eyes were calculating, as if he were trying to figure out a chemistry equation.

     “Yes.” Silas grunted, hating the way that his heart thumped in response to the thought, even though his mind told him he was messed up for feeling that way.

     Vance nodded slowly and sat up, pushing the blanket off his shoulders. “I want you to kiss me.”

     “What?” Surprise made him stumble back a step and he stared at Vance as if he grew two heads. “I’m not gay! Why would you-”

     “Relax,” Vance rolled his eyes, running one of his hands through his hair. “I’m not gay either, remember? Only one girl holds my heart.” His eyes flashed with pain, but he kept talking, keeping his voice nonchalant. “This is an experiment. I just want to see if I’m right. This won’t mess up our friendship and we’ll never have to talk about it again, but I just need to see something. So kiss me.”

     Silas’s face screwed up in a wince, but he approached him quickly, bent down and planted a quick, small kiss to his lips before backing away just as fast.

     Vance blinked, grinned and rolled his eyes. “That was not a kiss,” He said in amusement, taking another sip of the beer and pushing himself to his feet. He approached Silas with confidence and although Vance was a few inches shorter than him, he reached up to grip his chin and plant their lips together.

     That was it. Vance didn’t move his lips, and neither did Silas. They just stood there, their lips locked together for a long moment before Vance pulled away.

     They were both wiping their lips furiously and Vance collapsed in his chair again before taking another, much larger drink of alcohol. “What did you feel?”

     “Huh?” Was Silas’s brilliant response.

     Vance snorted and leaned back, not seeming bothered by the fact they had just been kissing moments before. “What did you feel when I kissed you?” He said slowly, as if talking to an illiterate.

     Silas was silent for a long moment, frowning before he muttered, “Nothing.”

     A wide grin pulled at Vance’s lips and he nodded to himself, as if his response just confirmed something.

     “I don’t think you’re gay,” Vance started, and Silas was just about to shout a ‘thank you!’ to the heavens when his next words made him pause. “But I think your soul was made to be with Franco.”

     “Huh?” He said, once again.

     “Think about it,” Vance said, waving his beer. “You don’t feel anything when you kiss girls. You didn’t feel anything when you kissed me. You only felt something when you kissed Franco. No, you’re not gay. But you’re not straight either, because your soul only recognizes Franco as the person you need to be with.”

     “Shit,” Silas breathed, slowly sitting back down on the couch. Vance was too damn smart for his own good.

     “Don’t jump right on board with my conclusions,” Vance said, probably detecting his unease. “Try running some more experiments. Kiss other people, guys and girls, see if you feel anything. If not, then you know I’m right. If so, then come back to me and we’ll  brainstorm more.”

     But Silas didn’t need to, because in his heart he knew that Vance was right.

     They were silent for a long moment, and Silas was relieved to find that it didn’t feel awkward in the slightest. Vance was telling the truth: he only kissed him to help figure things out, and he wasn’t going to let it mess with their friendship.

     “What else is bothering you?” Vance said softly, and once again, the words just started spilling from his mouth like he was waiting for the question.

     “I can’t be with Franco.”

     “Why?”

     “Because it’ll kill my parents.” His voice cracked and as he paused to take a deep breath, Vance took that moment to speak again.

     “What about you? Close your eyes for me and just imagine Franco as your boyfriend. How does it make you feel?”

     Silas’s eyes fell closed and immediately, he could picture him and Franco curled up on the couch, watching one of those strange murder television shows Franco loved so much. Silas wouldn’t be paying attention, as his eyes would be focused on the boy in his lap, leaning against his chest, totally engrossed in the show. Silas would be wrapped in Franco’s scent, his heat, his love…

     A warmth bubbled in Silas’s chest and he let out a soft sigh. “Happy.” He whispered honestly, keeping his eyes closed to try and savor the feeling.

      Vance nodded to himself, still watching Silas get lost in the thought. “Would you risk losing your parents for a while to keep that feeling?” He asked, his voice gentle.

     Silas was quiet for a very long time and when he spoke again his voice sounded smaller, much younger than the twenty year old Vance knew. “I don’t know.”

     Vance sighed when Silas’s wide, vulnerable eyes met his and he felt himself soften slightly. “Look,” He said quietly, leaning forward and keeping eye contact with the younger male. “I’ve learned that parents make mistakes. They try not to, but they do. And when that happens, it hurts like hell and we wonder what the fuck we did wrong.” He gestured to himself with his beer. “My father didn’t have anything to do with me unless it was to hit or belittle me. He didn’t know how to be a dad, because his dad didn’t treat him right. And that all changed when I was seventeen. He fucked up my entire life and I nearly hated him for it, until he decided he wanted to try and be what he wasn’t sure how to be.” He shrugged and hid the pain in his eyes by taking another drink. “Which means that no matter how badly your parents fuck up, if they really care about you, they will come back around eventually.”

     Silas was thrown off guard by the insight into Vance’s family life and he couldn’t help asking, “And what of him now? Are you and your father on good terms?”

     Vance’s lips pulled into a sad smile and he nodded. “Yeah, we were. He passed away, though. A few months ago.”

     Silas winced and apologized immediately, not missing the way Vance’s eyes flashed when he did so.

     “Don’t be sorry. You didn’t cause his death.” He muttered, and Silas remembered briefly during one of Franco’s many rants that he stated Vance hated it when people apologized for the death of his father. Something about not wanting other people’s pity.

     So Silas decided to translate his reasoning.

      “I know that,” He said quietly. “But his death caused you pain. So I am apologizing for the pain that you feel.”

     It was Vance’s turn to be silent, and, rather reluctantly, his lips pulled into a smile. “You’re a lot smarter than you seem.”

     Silas was still laughing when Vance began to speak again. “But what I was trying to get to, is that yeah, your parents love you. They’ll always love you, even when you do something they don’t like. But it’s up to them on whether or not they look past your “mistakes” and choose to accept who you really are.”

     He smiled. “And who you are, is a smart Greek guy who’s soul demanded to love our eccentric, gay Franco.”

     Silas blew out a sigh, but couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his lips.

     “So get your man,” Vance said. “And show your parents that your personality isn’t any different because you’re in a relationship with someone of the same gender.”

     Silas nodded to himself, laying back against the couch and chewing on his lower lip. “Thank you. Now you can start your-”

     Silas’s sentence was cut off when Franco’s girlish voice cut between them. “Wow, does it feel depressing in here, or what?”

     Vance raised his beer, as if saluting his friend. “Pity party.” He said simply.

     Franco marched into the room, his pink painted fake nails glinting in the light as he planted his hands on his hips and glared at Vance. “You better not have given any alcohol to Silas, mister.” He said seriously, pulling his makeup accented face into a glare. “He’s too good for beer.” He directed his gaze to Silas and his face softened into a gentle smile.

     “Hello there, cupcake.” He said, plopping down on the couch beside him, although he was careful not to lean against him. Silently, he was trying to figure out his mood. “You would not believe the day I had today. I missed the hell outta you.”

     Silas couldn’t hide his smile as the same warmth bubbled in his chest from his previous thoughts. He reached out, and one of his hands grabbed Franco’s. “I missed you too,” He said quietly, and this time, it didn’t feel wrong to admit it.

     As Franco squealed in delight and curled closer to him, Silas caught Vance’s eyes. The older male grinned, raised his beer as if he were saluting to Silas this time and mouthed, ‘soulmates’.

     And silently, Silas had to agree.