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They couldn't stand up. Literally. Ian had promised TJ that if they met at the top of the building at the end of the street, it would be a good night. And it was, because TJ showed up — and Ian already had two crates of beer with him that he had stolen from the nearest grocery store. One for each of them and no other accompanying for the drink but each other. In three hours of endless conversations about the boy from house five who got his ass kicked by the thugs from a gang called thirteen, the neighbor from block two who was selling drugs by mail and their plans for the future, Ian's crate was gone. TJ's was almost done too, but it seemed impossible to drink the rest when it was difficult to lift his own hand to his mouth.
When they chose a place to sit on the grimy concrete of the abandoned building occupied by the area's heroin users, the unused water tank that took up half the tiny terrace seemed unnecessary. Now, it was what kept them sitting around like poor people, but with a minimum of dignity.
The sky was overcast and the night, cold. It could rain at any moment. There was no view except the building on the other side of the street, where, through the front window, if you squint a little, you could see the paid pornographic channel on TV. It was also kind of fun for two 16-year-old children of immigrants. Mainly because they knew that the owner of the apartment was a 70-year-old man who suffered from erectile dysfunction — the prostitute from the corner stop had spread the rumor.
Ignoring everything else, it was fun living there.
— Really?! Won't you drink it 'til the end? — Ian teased. — I finished mine!
TJ didn't answer. He was staring at the floor, shrugging his shoulders broad for his age as if he wanted to hide himself, and Ian knew it wasn't just because of the drink.
Carefully, he elbowed him twice in the ribs.
— Hey, it's fine. I'll drink the rest. — Ian took the bottle from TJ and took a good swig. The beer went down badly for the amount he has been drinking and still remained in the bottle that seemed endless. The conversation didn't go on.
It never seemed like the best time to ask about what Ian had been itching to know, but he no longer had the same filter since there wasn't a single sober vein in his body.
Being closed off, it was rare for TJ to be alone with anyone other than him. He drew little attention and made few friends — which Ian understood, as he had been on the other side of finding TJ a little weird, introspective. A type of guy that no one knew how he ended up in a ghetto for his good breeding and manners.
— I saw you talking to the girl from block two in the square last week. Are you hanging out?
Ian was genuinely interested. He hadn't found a better time to ask, as TJ never brought it up, so he understood that maybe he didn't want to share. Though they had been friends for at least a year, TJ was reclusive, low-key, and Ian knew he was the only one in the neighborhood to know him a little deeper since he has helped him when he had a panic attack after an accident by motorcycle. In that moment, a bond had been created and, after that, Ian understood what brought TJ to that sleazy suburb.
Before, he knew he had been responsible for insisting that TJ ride that motorcycle and relive painful traumas, so he didn't deny his measured attempt to approach him, however awkwardly. Ian knew it is important to be careful to not be invasive or inconvenient, so that he wouldn't frighten him with certain matters. Matters like this was not common among them, as it caused a strange discomfort when approached. It was as if, deep down, they didn't want to know about it.
— No. — TJ replied, not looking at him.
— Why not? She seems to like you. — Ian insisted, with a teasing half smile on his lips. He was focused on TJ next to him, trying to read every last detail. When he did, the smile faded. — Don't tell me you've never kissed before! You did, right?!
Then TJ looked at him. Ian saw the glimmer of a smile on his face and knew TJ was drunk. He also was.
— Yeah.
Because he was smiling, Ian's smile widened.
— You kissed a lot?! — He teased.
— Yes. — TJ let out a laugh. It was rare, but beautiful. — What about you?
— I've kissed a loooooot, too. — Ian's head rolled around the water tank, unable to control its drunken weight.
TJ's laugh was cheerful but brief. Before Ian could bring his hand down for another swig of beer, the silence had stretched out. When he turned back to TJ, there was no more amusement in his distant look as if a switch had been flipped somewhere.
— I can imagine how much you enjoy it… — TJ broke the silence. — Your girlfriend's really pretty. — He concluded in a whisper, picking at a small stone loose from the concrete floor.
Ian felt the melancholy of those words hit him like a blow. Not unlike other times when they have commented vaguely on kissing, hookups or relationships, TJ has darkened, putting Ian's feelings on a fine line between apprehension and relief. What was new by now was how much less implicit TJ's reaction seemed, as something inside Ian told him as if there was no longer any doubt that TJ didn't see him just as a friend; a chill in his stomach gave him that, on his side, it was reciprocal.
It was far from what he felt when he was with his girlfriend. It wasn't similar to how he felt on a daily basis with TJ either, since being in his presence was when he could breathe, being himself, without disguises or euphemisms. It was an anguishing feeling due to the doubt, agonizing with the despair of what was to come and overwhelming with the need to remedy it, since there was only one way to do it. It was bad, and it was good, in a way that made him feel alive.
Having not gotten a response, TJ looked up at Ian, and caught him already looking at him. Through his eyes, ineligible.
After he had taken his time, Ian asked: — What about me? Am I beautiful? — And there wasn't an ounce of humor embedded in those words.
TJ was taken aback by the seriousness; even more by the question. A flush crept up his neck, heating him to the hairline. He wanted to crawl into a hole and Ian realized it, suddenly eliciting a light-hearted laugh from Ian that broke the tension that had gripped the air.
He was amused by TJ simply because everything seemed funnier after a crate of beer and a few more swigs of it, but also because he said something about how he has always been thinking that TJ only liked girls and TJ managed to blush even more as it seemed impossible.
In that moment, TJ noticed how spontaneous Ian's laugh was, the dimples that showed deep in his cheeks… How much he was genuinely into him, even if Ian was a guy. He couldn't help but let out the smallest laugh, as he was infected by him, but his face burned with embarrassment after being caught — and at all the other bullshit running through his head.
With a small half-smile left over from the previous laugh on his face, TJ says shyly, looking from down at him: — You're the prettiest boy I've ever met.
There wasn't a moment when Ian took his eyes off TJ's. TJ was the first to fail, once again wishing the ground would swallow him up. Ian noted the reddening of his ears, his cheeks… His lips. It wasn't the first or second time that he was complimented on his beauty, but it was one of the first times he felt truly flattered, making him fill up inside like a gas balloon. He couldn't help smiling like a boy and, decided to ruin everything, he put his hand on his cheek, directing him to look him in the eyes after having fled.
Then TJ could see Ian's attention drop to his lips. He could see Ian's grin widen, lecherous, and his handsome face move closer to his. He didn't move a muscle. He didn't even have time even if he wanted to. In a snap of fingers, Ian's mouth was on his and his heart was in his throat, about to leap out.
Before, it hadn't felt real like it was a dream, but Ian's soft lips began to caress his, enchanting him, and TJ was sure it was. Panicking, he grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him away, this time as if he were in a nightmare. He expected a hint of a joke in his mannerisms, in his eyes… A hint of mockery at least. But there was none. As if looking into a mirror, Ian reflected his own desire to drown in him. He devoured his mouth. He transfigured the lust of those who finally had in their hands what they had wanted for so long.
Next day, TJ would blame it on the drink if he had to. He had already made up his mind — if being absurdly seduced into kissing him counted as a decision.
Ian who kissed him first. He wasn't so drunk as to be confused about who made the first move. In this case, oddly enough, he wanted to. Ian wanted to kiss him even though he already had someone else. Although he could have anyone. TJ didn't believe he had a chance because he couldn't match him in any way, from beauty to charisma, but Ian had kissed him, it was obvious on his face how much he wanted more, so later TJ would worry about regrets and denials. But for now, he thrust his hands into his hair and, pulling him to him more roughly than he intended to, he kissed him. Unlike Ian, he didn't have the same charm or flair. He invaded his mouth, tasted it from inside and swallowed a moan from Ian that numbed him more than the beer. Lips mated, tongues tasted each other without shame or revulsion, and after he had tasted enough of it, Ian gripped TJ's wrists, failing to keep up with the thirsty rhythm as he could already feel saliva trickling down the corner of his mouth.
— Taejoon… — Ian whispered, gasping for air between another kiss. Uncontrollable, he sighed in pleasure in the wind as TJ lowered himself to his neck, worshiping him as if he was a god. He licked his Adam's apple, bit his shoulder through his shirt, and his palms roamed over his back as his arms wrapped around him, so close and restless, it was almost impossible to miss his desperation. Ian shuddered under TJ's surprisingly precise movements and, at how gradually warm he was already feeling clinging to his shirt, he let out a laugh, pulling him away gently. — Calm down… If we're going to continue like this, we'd better go to my house. — He said playfully, admiring him face-to-face. His face was serious. His lips, parted and moist. His eyes, heavy. His body was completely turned and tilted towards the boy as if it attracted him like a magnet.
Until now, Ian never imagined that behind his shyness there was such an interesting universe of possibilities. A man, likely to have made him hot enough to consider allowing himself to be his on the filthy roof of a crumbling building. He had loved everything so much that the tightness in his pants warned him that he should control himself if he didn't want his recklessness to take over. Finally, he experienced a kiss that could sweeten his bitter reality, making him feel worthy of such devotion, most times he didn't feel worthy of anything. Had he finally disarmed himself?
He was never one to question himself, but he wondered if TJ has liked it as much as he did. In the boy beside him, the one propped up against the water tank, who had a furtive look and has pulled his shirt down to cover what Ian, himself, did not try to hide, everything indicated that he did.
Unable to contain himself, Ian laughed again, loose and happy. He spread his wide legs a little wider to fit in better, felt in his pants pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He tapped the box and pinched one with his lips curved in a half smile similar to the ones he used to get from the girls who had a chance with him, enchanted. He went back to looking for the lighter.
— You would never have made the first move, would you? — Ian said, trying the best he could to balance the cigarette in the corner of his mouth.
He didn't intend for the conversation or the evening to end there. It was only the beginning of something.