“Will do,” I told him.
“Nice meeting you, Frank,” Caelyx called before disappearing through the doorway. I followed him, smacking the door shut behind me.
“I am going to kill you,” I warned him, the moment we were alone.
He snorted, chuckling at my indignant expression.
“Aw, relax. Frank says people should live how they want.”
“That makes me feel so much better,” I responded dryly, raising an eyebrow. “You are seriously deranged.”
“Not deranged,” he corrected me, coming up a few steps so he could circle my waist and pull me into his chest. “Just very, very into you. I like telling people we’re a thing. I consider getting on your good side a pretty big achievement, you know.”
I opened my mouth to gripe at him more, but was forced to close it, heat washing over me and concentrating on my cheeks. It’s not like I could bitch him out after he’d saidthat. It didn’t help that we’d never exactly discussed being athing, and now it felt awkwardly late to clarify things. What did he think we were, anyway? What did hewantus to be? What didIwant us to be?
“Can’t get mad now, huh, Cupcake?” He teased, practically reading my mind. I only glared, until he gently cupped under my chin, tilting my face up for a kiss, which I begrudgingly accepted.
“Don’t talk to any more of my neighbors,” I commanded wryly. “If I ever see anyone dothisagain,” I said, raising my hands and tapping my index fingers together. “You will seriously live to regret it.”
“Yes, dear,” he responded, looking repentant, even though I knew it was a lie and he was all too pleased with himself for publicly asserting our relationship to some random guy. I wanted to be more annoyed than I actually was, but… There was something embarrassingly adorable and flattering about it. I’d never have to worry that he was trying to hide me or his feelings for me. If it was up to him, there’d be an international press conference about it.
Now that he’d managed to wriggle out of trouble with me, which he was absolutely impeccable at, he started looking around my living room. I was sure it was plain and tacky compared to whatever he was used to, but at least it was mostly clean.
There was a small, fake Christmas tree set up on the coffee table with a random assortment of ornaments hooked to it, and a few strands of tinsel hanging around, which I noticed his eyes kept lingering on.
“I love Christmas decorations,” he said, so earnestly that I couldn’t help but find it cute.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he said. “My mom just puts up a tree. Well,shedoesn’t put it up. One of the housekeepers will set it up, but it has to be a certain way or she complains about it looking messy,” he said. “All the ornaments have to be perfectly spaced, and all in one color so nothing clashes. It’s kind of depressing, actually.”
“That doesn’t sound very cheery,” I acknowledged. We’d always been poor, but my mom had given her best effort to make the holidays sweet and memorable for us.
“I used to get so jealous when I’d see those houses with all the lights everywhere, and the inflatable snowmen in the yard,” he said, grinning a little though his eyes looked kind of sad and wistful.
I wasn’t used to seeing him like that, and a wave of sympathy hit me, followed by a wave of protectiveness. I didn’t want him to have to feel like that ever again. Not that I had any kind of power to make his life better. I could barely keep my head above water in my own little limited existence. But if he thought that one day I could have some fancy little sports car like his Porsche, then I could encourage his dream of holiday decor.
“You can do that stuff, when you get your own place,” I said, and he smiled. A real smile this time, to my relief.
“Yeah?” He asked, tilting his head as he stared down at me. He hadn’t let go of my waist yet, his arms still comfortably hooked around my body, keeping me close. “You gonna let me decorate as much as I want, Cupcake?”
I scoffed, glancing away from him as the implication of his words hit me. He was always saying stuff like that, and I could usually laugh it off but it had started feeling more and more… Real. Was I allowed to lean into it and really believe that we’d live together someday? Protecting my feelings by blowing everything off had become my default, but Caelyx hated letting me have any defense mechanisms.
“I… I guess. Whatever you want.”
He chuckled, kissing both of my heated cheeks before gliding to my lips.
“Can I see your room before we go?” He asked, and I sighed. I’d been hoping he wouldn’t ask.
“Fine.” I led him past the kitchen, down the tiny hallway and past the closed door of my mom’s room, into mine. Knowing what was coming, I marched through the doorway and plopped onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling.
“Oh, my god.” His laughter was immediate and completely unrestrained.
My mom had basically always let me run wild with whatever hobbies or creative endeavors I wanted, and my bedroom was no exception. It was like stepping into a Hot Topic wet dream. The walls were black, but you could hardly tell anyway, because basically every inch was covered by posters. Punk rock and emo musicians everywhere you looked, all sporting eyeliner and leather and piercings. They’d served not only as all my crushes, but what I’d aspired to look like, as an awkward little trans boy who was still taping down my chest and practicing talking in a deeper voice.
“Holy shit,” he said as he made his way around the room, staring down all my rock stars and picking up some of the stuff I had displayed.
I collected bat plushies, and had a bunch of those stuffed on top of a bookshelf. The fairy lights strung all around myheadboard were red, giving the room a creepy glow when I flicked them on. The full length mirror I’d used to take selfies with my middle finger up and my tongue out had song lyrics penned around the edges.
