Most shockingly, he was wearing sweatpants. They were nice sweatpants, clean and well-fitting, with no holes or paint stains in sight, but it was so wildly out of character that it had to be the biggest indicator of Aaron’s state of mind.
“I hope you meant it about this being just dinner and TV because I feel like shit,” Aaron said after Jay kept staring.
“Of course I meant it.” Remembering his manners, he stepped aside to let Aaron in. “I’m just amazed you own sweatpants.”
“I also own jeggings. Play your cards right and you might see them one day.” Aaron walked into the living room without waiting for Jay and flung himself onto the couch. “Ooh, salad! Now it’s a perfectly balanced meal.”
Aaron’s spirits lifted with every cheesy, greasy bite of the deep dish. His running commentary on the trashy dating reality show grew snarkier by the minute, and the familiar sparkle returned to his expressive green eyes. After dinner, Jay wrapped Aaron in a fleece blanket, shoved a bag of chocolate into his hands, and aggressively cuddled into him until Aaron was laughing, the weight of the day gone from his expression.
It struck Jay that this wasn’t that different from aftercare—except much longer and without a scene leading up to it. Aaron seemed to enjoy it, leaning into Jay’s affectionate gestures, melting into his body as the evening progressed. He never mentioned what had happened at work, and Jay didn’t push. Making Aaron smile was the only thing that mattered.
“I have a question I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Aaron lifted his head and faced Jay between episodes. They were pressed together, most of Aaron resting on top of Jay, each point of connection radiating warmth.
“What is it?”
“Your sister and nephews called you Jahan. Is that your real name?”
Jay nodded cautiously. “Yes, it’s Farsi.”
“Farsi…that’s Persian, right?”
Jay hummed in confirmation and gently pushed Aaron back onto his shoulder. “My parents moved here from Iran before Layla was born, but they tried to preserve the culture and make sure we knew our heritage. There’s a pretty sizable Persian community in the Chicago area, so we’ve always had other Persian people around, traditional food and drink, holiday celebrations, all of it.”
“That’s wonderful.” Aaron’s voice turned wistful. “That sense of cultural community…I’ve only experienced it a few times, when I visited my Polish grandma as a kid, but I remember loving every moment.” Aaron burrowed closer into Jay, nuzzling his shoulder. “Do you speak Farsi?”
Jay chuckled. “Oh yes. Our parents made sure of it. We had to go to Persian school every Saturday, and for a long time, it was the only language we spoke at home.”
“Why do you go by Jay instead of Jahan? It’s such a pretty name.”
He’d asked himself the same question over the years, yet this was the first time someone else wanted to know. Truly wanted to know, not just trying to satisfy their idle curiosity. Aaron cared about Jay—his life, his inner world—and Jay wanted to let him in.
“There are a lot of answers to that question. If you asked me when I was a little kid, it was because I thought it sounded cool. And easier to pronounce,” Jay chuckled, remembering how excited he was to come up with such a brilliant and unique nickname. “In middle school, it was to avoid bullying. Kids latch onto anything they see as different, and I wanted to fly under the radar. After that…I grew up and realized being Middle Eastern could be dangerous. It felt like a secret I had to keep from the world.”
Aaron made a distressed noise and squeezed closer. “Jay, I’m sorry you felt that way. I can’t even imagine.”
“I made peace with it, eventually. You can’t run from who you are. I go by Jay because I like it, not because I feel like I have to.”
“That’s beautiful.” Aaron’s voice was low and thoughtful. “Let me know if you want me to change what I call you.”
“Only my family ever uses my real name, and even they call me Jay half the time. But you can call me anything you like,” Jay whispered into the darkness of the room, leaning his cheek against the top of Aaron’s head. Instead of vulnerable, he felt anchored, like answering Aaron’s question settled something inside him. His eyes drifted shut, and he focused on the soft breathing of the warm body entwined with his own, fragile and precious.
Loud noises jolted him awake, and he realized they’d fallen asleep with the TV playing. Aaron’s head was still lying on Jay’s shoulder, and as much as Jay didn’t want to disturb this moment, both of them would be sore tomorrow if they stayed on the couch. He softly shook Aaron’s shoulder to wake him up.
“Mmm. Shit, I fell asleep,” Aaron mumbled without opening his eyes. “I should go home.”
“It’s late. Let’s just go to bed.” Jay rose, bearing most of Aaron’s weight. Aaron didn’t argue, shuffling along as they navigated to Jay’s bedroom. Jay settled him on the bed and went to brush his teeth and take out his contacts. By the time he was back, Aaron was asleep once again, his limbs spread out across the bed and his head between pillows.
Jay rearranged the bunched-up comforter, making sure it covered both of them before climbing in. He wanted to pull Aaron into himself, to blanket the small, delicate body with his own, but it felt too forward. They’d had explosive sex and spent hours cuddling on the couch, but there was something intimate about falling asleep together.
He compromised by recreating their earlier position, pulling Aaron’s head onto his chest and circling an arm around him. Their bodies melted into each other, and Jay floated in quiet contentment.
Their arrangement had started off as just sex, yet it was turning out to be the most real relationship of Jay’s life. He’d allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of someone else. Allowed Aaron into his life and his heart bit by bit, until it became glaringly obvious that he was falling in love.
Being with Aaron was akin to basking in the glow of his family’s happiness. Except with Aaron, Jay was also glowing instead of merely reflecting someone else’s light.
He tightened his hold on the man in his arms, reveling in their closeness.
The next time Jay opened his eyes, morning light poured through the open blinds. They must have shifted during the night, because Jay was now the little spoon, with the comforting weight of Aaron’s limbs wrapped around him.
