He explained all of this to Noah, his voice pitching higher and higher as his panic level rose.
“And now I have enough for two baskets, but is that ridiculous to give him two baskets? It’s probably ridiculous. I should just take him out to dinner and give him a card or something and let Mom decorate the rest of the house with the garland, eat the snacks with Linda and Howard, and absolutely never try to give a surprise gift again,” James concluded.
Noah had been slowly pacing around the bed while he listened to James. Something James had noticed during one of their first hangouts was that Noah never made eye contact when someone was venting, complaining, or sharing anxieties. He would look right next to their head or at their shoulders, like he was giving them space to breathe and think–or at least, that’s how it felt to James.
As soon as he stopped speaking, Noah looked over at him with an easy smile. “I think doing two baskets is a great idea. One can be snack-focused–I’m pretty sure we can combine a few of these boxes, because they never fill them all the way–and then the book and the nice chocolates can have their own basket that’s a little less decorated, but just as impactful.”
James chewed on his lip, and Noah looked away again, running his finger over the basket’s handle. “I would have to check with Aspen, and you’ll of course want Leon’s permission, but what if Aspen and I take Leon out for coffee tomorrowafternoon, and you can go over to Leon’s place and decorate before he comes home?”
James felt his own eyebrows take up residence at the top of his forehead. “Uhm…”
“Just an idea, of course,” Noah said, plucking one of the six balloon strings that were knotted on the bedpost at the end of James’ bed. “But I told you, I’m confident that doing too much isn’t a worry for you two. I feel like there’s no better time to go all out than at the beginning of a relationship. Those sorts of gestures seem to fade as the years pass.”
For the hundredth time, James wondered about Noah and Aspen’s relationship. “Have things between you and Aspen…faded?”
“Oh, no. If anything, I think Aspen’s gestures of love get even more outlandish the longer you’re friends with them.”
James pursed his lips. “And…you guys arejustfriends?” He purposefully stared at Noah’s chevron sweater in case he needed space to answer.
Noah laughed softly, and James glanced up to see that his smile hadn’t wavered, and now his eyes were dancing with mirth. “We’re best friends, who have really amazing sex–oftentimes by ourselves, but also with some of our other friends as well.”
Huh. Well, alright then.
Before James could respond, Noah continued. “We’re still figuring ourselves out. We’re both polyam and, for the moment at least, not in romantic relationships with each other or anyone else. I don’t…know if I ever want a traditional romantic relationship.”
If it had been any other evening, James would have caught himself before he blurted this out, but he was tired and emotionally wrung dry. “Oh, are you aromantic?”
Noah slowly blinked at him, his hand frozen in mid-air where he’d been reaching for the basket. “This actually isn’t the first aspec discussion I’ve had this year. Which, in and of itself, might be a sign.”
James wasn’t really sure what to say to that, but since he’d opened the can of worms, he figured the least he could do was give Noah space to talk about it. “I know it's a bit of a spectrum. So, if you think you have a romantic, romantic-ish, or even romantic adjacent connection with Aspen or your other…friends? Maybe you’re more like greyromantic.”
Noah’s lips curved up in the tiniest of smiles. “Yet more vocabulary words for me to research when I get home.” He glanced at the basket and then looked up at the balloons, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Maybe it is something like that. Not entirely one thing or another but…somewhere in between. For example, I’m aware that Aspen is planning something for us tomorrow night, even though we said we wouldn’t do anything special for Valentine’s Day. Even if I am…whatever I am, I feel nothing but grateful for every moment and every gesture I get to exchange with them. Romantic or platonic, to me, love is all the same.”
That ball in James’ stomach jumped up and down excitedly, happy for any sort of love, even the sometimes confusing kind. “I think that’s all that really matters, then. That you’re happy, and they’re happy.”
Noah’s smile didn’t disappear, but the light in his eyes dimmed a little. “I’m very happy. I just hope that’s enough. I feel like nothing is guaranteed in life, and there can be so many obstacles in the way of finding and keeping happiness.”
Wasn’t that the truth? James knew all too well how quickly happiness could be snatched away. It had happened to him while standing in an empty parking lot, talking to Eli for the last time, while sitting in an uncomfortable doctor’s chair receiving hismother’s diagnosis, and in his own home, when he realized his dad had left for good.
They stood in contemplative silence for a few moments before Noah’s eyes drifted back to James. “Does Leon make you happy?”
James nodded immediately.
“Then I think you should go all out. When you love someone the way you love Leon, you should show them, in whatever way you can, as many times as you can. Sometimes life can get in the way of big gestures and declarations, so when the opportunity arises, I think you should take it.”
James huffed. “You said you’ve had the aspec conversation a few times? Well, you’re the third person to tell me that,” he said, and he walked over to his closet to grab the second basket. “So, I guess it must be true.”
They drank their wine and passed tissue paper back and forth between them to decorate the inside of the second basket. Noah braided tissue paper into a red, white, and pink cord and wrapped it around the basket handle. “I had really long hair growing up,” Noah said as he tied a knot at the bottom of the handle.
“Really? I had these hideous bowl cuts for most of my childhood.”
James snorted as he remembered one particularly bad haircut, where he’d taken himself to a men’s barber shop. The poor stylist hadn’t known what to do with a clueless thirteen-year-old asking for a “shortcut.” He’d ended up with a Karen haircut, and his mom had tried to fix it in the guest bathroom before his dad got home.
“The day I came out, I cut all my hair off at a party, Mulan style.”
James nearly dropped the memory book. “Like…with a sword?”
“A dull kitchen knife I found at the back of a drawer in a frat house,” Noah said. The only sign of how he felt about it was the slight curve in his lip. “Looking back, I feel a little bad, because I think that might have been their only knife.”
