27
—

"Can I admit something a little weird?" Ciro asked as his fingers lingered on my jaw.

I nodded.

"I miss kissing you."

I smacked his hand from my face, glaring at him for a moment before I said, "I don't get you, Ciro."

"What isn't there to get?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. I could have sworn he was being sarcastic. I mean, he had to be, right? He continued, "Just because I like kissing you, doesn't mean I'm gay..."

"Oh, my God," I sighed, walking away.

He followed me. "I'm sorry, Jude. I really am. I shouldn't have said those things. I wanted to apologize sooner, but I wanted to understand everything before I did."

I faced him again, and he continued, "I really like you, Jude, but not in that way. When I woke up that morning—after we had sex—all I felt was regret. Not because I don't like you or would hate being gay, it's just that... I felt violated. Like I thought I wanted it, but I really didn't.

"That wasn't your fault, though, so I shouldn't have blamed you. Now I realised that even if we didn't do it, I would have eventually done it with someone else." He averted my gaze. "Most likely would have felt worse. I haven't fully figured it out yet. I still don't even know why I wanted to do it so badly to begin with.

"I feel like I wanted to prove something to Fegan." He chuckled at himself, eyes downcast in recollection. "I wanted to prove to him that I wasn't the pussy he had made me out to be. I don't know if it's that or if I'm trying to place blame." He looked at me now. "I just know now that it wasn't your fault, and it was wrong of me to accuse you of... it was wrong of me to react like that."

I nodded, contemplating what to say or ask next. "So you're straight?"

He folded his arms in thought. "I don't think straight is the right word because I do like kissing guys... and touching them too, but I feel like the sex isn't for me. It's taking it too far." There was a brief pause. "You know, I tried other guys too after... it's"—he shook his head—"not for me. I also don't think I could be romantically interested in a guy the way I could with a girl." He smiled. "I figured that I'm just weird."

I chuckled. "No, you're fine."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Boys can kiss boys if they want to. Labels are overrated."

A small smile found its way to his lips before it faded. He sighed, "I'm so sorry, Jude. I take full responsibility for this mess and I—I'm willing to do anything in the world to make up for it."

"No"—I chuckled—"no, no, no, you're fine. I get you." I turned around and leaned against my windowsill, watching the trembling cocoon. "We're all just stupid—really stupid. We think because we're adults now, we have our shit figured out, but we don't."

"It still doesn't excuse how I acted—it doesn't excuse what I did."

"It doesn't excuse it, but... it helps when you understand it." The sky was bright and blue outside. The wind was gentle, evoking my realizations. "I still feel just as conflicted as I did when I was fourteen and sometimes I fear I'll never get past that."

"You will," he assured.

"I don't know," I muttered.

"You've changed a lot. I have a lot of faith that you will."

"I guess it happens sometimes..." I smiled. "When I'm with..." I turned to face my friend. "I met this guy. His name is Dante."

There was a beat.

"Are you two dating?"

"Something like that..." I walked over to my door and leaned against it. "I really like him, though."

Ciro smiled. "Does he treat you well?"

I chuckled. "Yeah, he treats me well."

"I'm happy for you."

"What, is this Déjà vu?"

He smiled and shrugged. "I dunno."

We stared at each other and breathed deeply; breathed in the essences of each other; felt each other without touch. It was strange and new, but it was Ciro. It always had been, and it always was.

"I love you," I confessed.

"I love you too."

I waited for him to add 'but not like that', but he didn't. He only approached me with open arms and held me the way he used to. I snuggled into his chest and bathed in the all-too-familiar scent. It was beyond satiating. He relaxed fully and so did I.

When he pulled away, I looked up at him. He asked me, "Do you think things could ever go back to how they were?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you think... we would ever be more?" I furrowed my brows, so he continued, "Like even if we don't have sex... we could still be—"

"Friends? Of course."

"No, I—"

"Yeah." I nodded. "We can still be great friends."

He chuckled. "Friends who kiss?"

I smiled. "Yeah."

"Really?"

"Yeah. We can be friends who kiss."

★・・・・・・★

"You wanna hear the truth?"

I furrowed my brows. "What? What are you—"

"You wanna hear the truth?" I furrowed my brows, so he felt the need to say, "I was just testing you."

I shoved him away from myself jokingly, and he came back, tightly holding me despite my protests. "You're not funny," I spat.

I gave up and allowed him to hold me. He rocked us back and forth. "But be fuh real, ah sound just like him there, ent?"

"No, your accent is horrible."

"Orhor!" he exclaimed, releasing me. "You disrespectful now?"

"I'm just being honest."

"Alright, normal," he retorted, nodding as if he had me all figured me out. "You could find yuh own way home then."

"Oh, my God. I wasn't—No, that's not fair. You were teasing me. Ciro wouldn't have said that and—"

"Buh he was thinking it, though."

"—he doesn't sound anything like that."

He held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright."

"Hello, good afternoon," greeted the overly enthusiastic ice cream boy. "What can I get you two for today?"

"Dante, you order," I shot before he could protest, shoving my hands in my jacket pockets to yell, "I want mango!" as I walked over to the car.

I liked where he had taken me. It was an ice cream place on the outskirts of town that no one really went to anymore. The only people you would ever see there were curious old people from some neighbouring town.

I leaned against the car and watched him as he ordered. He leaned onto the counter, gazing up at the ice cream boy with those domineering eyes. His hair was pulled back today. Was I just making him more attractive to other people? He tilted his head to the side and smiled before shock overtook his face. He then laughed with the guy as he received the ice cream.

When he approached me, he asked, "Ah who say gyul alone could get free ting?"

I chuckled as I received my ice cream. "Thanks."

"Want to taste mine?"

"What is it?"

"Lemon."

I chuckled. "You're so zesty."

He furrowed his brows before laughing. "I think that was the funniest thing"—he laughed some more—"you have ever said."

"That wasn't even my best like—I don't know if I should be flattered or offended," I muttered, tasting the ice cream.

"Flattered," he returned, still recovering.

He bit into his ice cream and chewed. I screwed up my face at this, but he didn't seem to notice. He instead looked off into the distance—chewing his lemon-flavoured ice cream—and said, "Ah feel ah ready to meet yuh modda."