“I fell in love.
I fell in love when I was eight years old and you were eight-and-three-quarters.
You sauntered into Miss Jean’s classroom with the sort of confidence I’ve only ever seen on the faces of Navy SEALs or astronauts. You walked straight towards me and stuck out your hand, an oddly proper move for someone who wouldn’t learn to tie his own shoes for another three weeks. I was tongue-tied and gave your hand a limp shake while you announced, loud and clear, ‘I’m James. I like your pants.’
They were blue corduroys my mom had bought me the day before. I didn’t have the presence of mind, then, to compliment your peacoat jacket, or your eyes that matched the sea during twilight, or your hair that looked like sunshine and was already a mess despite your mother having fussed over it all morning.
This story is a work of fiction. All characters are older than 18. They have fun having gay sex. If gay sex is not allowed in your country, you should consider moving to another one. The characters are not having safe sex, please use condoms while exploring your sexuality.
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‘That’s Theo,’ someone else told you while I tried to remember how to breathe.
‘Theo..,’ you mused, as if tasting the word. Then you smiled and told me, ‘I like it.’
And that was that.
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I fell in love all those summers by the river, where we crouched on the big rocks and learned to skip stones, always trying but never succeeding in getting them to the other side. And the time you told me you saw a turtle but pushed me in when I got close to the water. And when I pulled you in along with me, turning your laugh into a roar – the one thing you loved more than getting someone good was when they got you back even better.
I fell in love during our winter breaks, sledding in the backyard before running inside where you mom would warm us up with hot chocolate. Snow still sparkled on your hair, making you look like a Christmas tree ornament yourself.
I fell in love when you excitedly showed me your first chest hair at twelve-and-a-half (I, still only eleven-and-three-quarters, which you would never let me forget). You were well on your way to manhood when mine first few sprouts appeared, but you still managed to show genuine excitement and told me of the joys of puberty to come.
I fell in love when all our friends at school were panting over girls and Playboy magazines, but you just shrugged your shoulders and told them you didn’t need a girl when you had a best friend like me. I blushed and looked away, because I was just beginning to learn that I wasn’t as interested in those same magazines as I was in you when we went to the community center pool.
I fell in love on our first day of high school when Julia Reynolds asked you out on a date because she’d had a crush on you since seventh grade. I was sitting beside you in the cafeteria while our entire grade watched you reject the pretty redhead, who ran crying to the bathroom with a pack of her girlfriends giving you dirty looks.
I fell in love the night of our senior prom, where we watched movies in my parent’s basement and sat too close to each other on the tattered old couch. I found myself watching you more than the actors on the screen, and in fact hadn’t noticed the credits rolling until you turned toward me to make a comment only to find me staring at you with an intensity I’d tried to suppress for so many years.
I fell in love when you kissed me. So quick and fast I barely registered it, I just stared at you with eyes the size of dinner plates; you bit your lip, looking nervous for the first and only time I can remember. A moment stretched into hours while the second that transpired a minute before etched itself into our history. And then, slowly and tentatively in contrast to your rapid advance, I moved towards you with a cautious deliberation that would remove all excuse for error and further cement our fate.
I fell in love when I felt your soft lips press against mine for the first time. Deep and steady, we moved together in much the same way as lava that would forever change its’ landscape. I’ll never forget the way you pulled me in close, one hand on my neck the other holding my hand, and how I felt your sweet hot breath wash over me for what would be one of a thousand times to come.
I fell in love a week later when we knew we had to tell our parents about the new development in our friendship turned relationship. You held my hand again as we faced first your parents then mine, and partook in the most terrifying sequence of conversations either of us had yet to bear. And when they all took it better than we could have possibly expected, you told me you loved me then kissed me – and ran home before I could tell you that I did too.
I fell in love those first few weeks at school where we were the biggest rumour come true and the newfound target of the bigots and idiots who threw slurs at us while we held hands as walked down the hallway. And the day we graduated, you kissed me in front of our entire class and their families, laughing at their shocked faces at out public display.
I fell in love the first awkward night we slept together the weekend our parents went to a wedding the next state over. We feigned busy schedules that would excuse us from the affair, a lie that they surely saw through but pretended to believe. We all but fell over ourselves to my newly vacated house, and with somewhat more apprehension, climbed up the stairs to my bedroom.
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I fell in love watching you bite your lip as you unbuttoned my shirt for me. Your fingers shook and it felt like ages later when the fabric finally fell to the floor. You gave a little gasp as you gazed at me chest – though you’d seen it before from all those locker room changes at the gym, you never let your eyes linger for more than a half-moment at a time. We clumsily continued undressing each other, cheeks pink from equal parts lust and embarrassment at our oh-so-inexperienced selves.
I fell in love when, at long last, we were naked before each other. I had never seen a more erotic, beautiful sight; in point of fact, I still haven’t. First our eyes met, then our lips, and finally our bodies. We spent the entirety of that weekend learning every detail of each others’ bodies – I, for one, discovered that you were ticklish when I licked beneath your ribs, and that you shivered when I nipped at the back of your neck, and that your skin flushed bright red anytime I neared the singular apex between your thighs.
I fell in love that first weekend where we found heaven on each others’ lips and immortality in each others’ gasps. For all we cared, the world could have fallen to shambles outside my bedroom door – as long as we could study the curves and fissures of each others’ bodies, the fire in the room could very well match the fire of the apocalypse.
I fell in love all throughout our college years, where you could have had your choice of any attractive young man that threw himself at you but you stuck faithfully by my side. You whispered in my ears sweet nothings, making up reasons why they weren’t even half as handsome as I was (you said) and how they could never love you and much as I did (I said). While all our friends were going through new relationships like new pairs of underwear, we were a fixture amongst their rotating selection of love interests.
I fell in love on moving day. Not that of dorm rooms or parents’ houses, but into the falling-apart, matchbox-sized, walls-thin-as-paper apartment that we called our first home in the middle of New York City. We were free, truly free, for the first time. Ready to take on the world, with each a squeeze of the other’s hand we leaped headfirst into the world of adulthood. Though we stumbled several times we never fell, and found our strength at our home, on our sofa, in our bed.
I fell in love at the top of a mountain on a quiet spring morning where it was only you and I, forget the world. I turned to spread a blanket beneath an apple tree that was just beginning to blossom, and by the time I turned back you were on one knee with a little velvet box propped open in the palm of your hand. I couldn’t help my laugh, one that crumpled your hopeful expression like a piece of scrap paper, before realizing you’d so obviously taken it as a comment on your gesture. I scrambled to the cooler we’d brought along to carry our lunch, and out of a small pocket took out another tiny box, this one of wood, that held the same contents as yours of velvet. Understanding then my amusement, we proposed to each other and made love in the grass (luckily, startling only the birds).
I fell in love through the series of jobs and apartments, that might break weaker couples apart but only served to strengthen us. As the years went by, I could slowly identify the smallest of creases in the corners of your eyes that made you only more distinguished to me. I still loved to run my hands through your hair that still looked like sunshine, if a bit thinner than it had been years before. We ended every night with kisses full of passion, wandering hands that left red trails in their wake, and explosions of ecstasy that never failed to leave us lightheaded.
I fell in love the day we became ‘Daddy’ and ‘Papa’. Though not of our own flesh and blood, we couldn’t have treasured them more even if they had been. Stressed and confused, we muddled through parenthood once- twice- thrice – until we were bursting at the seams in our house that miraculously grew bigger with each crying, screaming, gurgling new addition. My heart grew every time I saw you kissing a bandaged knee, or baking a cake covered in sprinkles. And when we fell in exhaustion onto our bed every night, you held me close end ran your hand along my cheek with sparkling eyes despite the long day preceding and even longer days to come.
I fell in love while you convinced me and reasoned with me to allow our eldest to go on their first date. And soon the second had their turn, then the third, and our apartment was quickly a madhouse of teen hormones and a sudden spike in our laundry pile and water bill. You were the one to laugh and roll your eyes at all the craziness, even when we were demoted to ‘Dad’ and ‘Father’. It didn’t matter; we had our little ducks safely in our nest, and as long as they were okay, so were we.
I fell in love when our damned eldest broke our heart and moved away for college. We cried into each other, trying to hide our despair when we knew it was all for the best. But we couldn’t fool the kids, and the younger two promised they’d never leave us – that is, until two years later when the middle one did, and as it goes, so did the baby of the trio. We held each others’ hands then as ever, for it was the only way we could get through it all. And then our tiny little apartment that had grown eighteen years thrice over felt like a mansion with only us two to fill it.
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I fell in love as we dressed up in our best suits and matching red-wine ties to attend wedding after wedding of our ducklings turned swans. All to kind, smart, and charming women, we could hardly contain our pride at our beautiful boys suddenly turned husbands. It wasn’t surprising over the next few years where we became ‘Grampy’ and ‘Poppy’, but it filled us with more joy than even we could have anticipated. W showered those little bundles of joy with affection, and spoiled them at every chance. We fed them too much candy and pastries, gleeful in the knowledge that we could hand them back to their parents when they became too much.
I fell in love year after year with you. A lifetime of love, of nights that could have shaken the very Earth, of sweet memories that dance through my mind every time I close my eyes. Your hands always in mine, your lips ever pressed against me, of your encouraging words that never failed to lift me out of my bad spirits. Through decades of this crazy world changing all around us, I loved your constant state at my side in every sense. I always will.”
“You’ve always been the romantic out of the two of us,” I hear an old man’s voice say out of your mouth. I brush a lock of hair out of your face that our grandchildren tell me has turned silver.
“You still look like sunshine to me,” I whisper.
You offer me a half-smile. “And I still like your pants, Theodore.”
“James…,” I sigh, my voice cracking.
“Theo, it’s okay. Remember,” your say with a glint in your eyes, “I’m three-quarters of a year older than you are.”
I take hold of your hands and hold them to my lips.
“James, James, James,” I pray into your wrists. I kiss them, but the tubes mar the sensation. “I never thought you would be the first.”
You bring our entwined hands onto your chest, but these past few months have ruined even that. For, rather than the feeling of skin-on-skin we’ve treasured for a lifetime, there is an unwelcome layer of blue polyester standard for hospital patient robes.
“I had to be the first, Sweetheart,” you breathe into our clasp with a kiss on our thumbs.
“No, Jamie. I always told you that you weren’t allowed to die. We were supposed to live forever and teach these kids how love is done.”
“I think we’ve taught them all we can, Theo.”
I come in closer to you for another kiss of your lips; we know we have a limited number of them left. A tear rolls down my cheeks, and down yours, too. We don’t bother to wipe them away.
“James, you mean more to me than anything, anyone. You’re the love of my life. Thank you for making me the happiest man on Earth each and every day. I don’t know how I’m going to go on without you,” I sob softly.
Your breathing is labored, and you’re crying too. You’re scared, but not for yourself – for me. Of course, always for me. But I’m scared for me too, because I already know you’ll end up amongst saints, gods, and idols. I climb onto the hard, small bed beside you and we both ignore the tubes. We kiss and cry, holding each other close before the inevitable end that was coming sooner than later.
“I love you, Theo,” you gasp into my lips.
It’s the last thing you say to me.
I sob into your neck, your hands in mine as if it were any other day, kissing your unmoving lips that would never miss the chance to kiss me back had they been able.
“James, I love you more,” I repeat over and over, wishing you could come back at me with ‘I love you most’. But you can’t, and never will, but I know you always will. And so will I.
You will always be my sunshine, James.
Written By: Food Of Love
Picture: Google+
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