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The strobing lights painting his skin red are all too familiar to Boston. The throng of bodies on the dance floor, emanating heat and contagious adrenaline that is the same no matter which club he goes to, both here in New York and back home. His first few months in the city were a blast. He started a photography course that he genuinely wanted to put in effort for, and for once, he felt his life had direction. Meaning . Whether or not he could make something of himself here, he knew this was what he was meant to do.
Hitting the bar after his evening classes is routine by now. More often than not, he was able to score a date to invite back to his apartment. Hunting for new prey is almost as easy as it was back in Bangkok, but despite the slight language barrier, his charisma and aura are undeniable to his one night stands. If you asked him, Boston would never say that he would ever get tired of this lifestyle, but deep down, he knows why it isn’t as fulfilling as it used to be.
Tonight is no different. He is nursing his drink by the bar, when a cute guy sits down beside him. He looks to be younger than Boston, probably a freshman in university. His wide, earnest eyes find Boston and immediately strikes up conversation. He is from Thailand too, having come to the States for law school. Boston is surprised that he is actually his age, and not younger like he first thought. He ignores the slight pang in his heart as he continues chatting up the boy, whose name is Max. He takes the hint when Max’s fingertips brush his hand laying on the counter, and leads him to the bathroom.
Being slightly taller than him, Boston has to lean down a bit to capture his lips in his mouth. They make out heatedly, Boston’s lips sliding down his jaw, down to his neck. Suddenly, he stops, lips still hovering over the guy’s collarbone. Max stares down in confusion. Boston looks up with an apologetic, almost scared look in his eyes, before muttering a hurried “sorry” and leaving.
Once he’s out of the bar, Boston does not stop. He keeps walking down the busy streets (still busy despite it being close to midnight). He does not know how long he walks for. Once he can barely catch his breath, he stops, leaning against a shop window displaying various mannequins. He silently berated himself. It’s been nearly two months. Why the hell couldn’t he get Nick out of his damn head? Much less while he was making out with some random dude at the bar?
Boston knew he saw the similarities in them, and that was what ultimately drew Boston towards him, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it. He scrubs his hands over his face. His phone is somehow already in his hands, fingers hovering over Nick’s contact. He still hasn’t talked to him since New Year’s. Every time he thought of calling Nick, he decided against it. Who was he to try to get back in Nick’s life when he explicitly told him he didn’t want Boston anymore?
Boston really envied Nick for how honest with himself he could be. All this time, Boston thought that he had been the one who was upfront, honest and direct about their relationship and what he could and couldn’t give Nick, while Nick was the delusional romantic of the two of them, always wanting more even though he knew damn well he wouldn’t get it from Boston. But in the end, Nick was the one who managed to walk away from him, strong enough to tell Boston that he loved himself more. In the end, Nick was the one who left, leaving Boston with the words, “Don’t go,” left unsaid on the tip of his tongue.
Even though he enjoyed this lifestyle, hooking up and having fun with no strings attached, Boston could not deny the fact that he missed Nick. Whether or not that meant he was romantically attracted to him, Boston knew he still wanted Nick in his life. But vowing to change for the better meant that he shouldn’t force his way back into Nick’s life, what with him in New York now and Nick back home.
Home . Boston never really thought of anywhere as his home. His father’s house was where he grew up, yes, but to call that a home might be stretching it a little. They say home is the people you share your life with, and for a while, he found it in his friends. Mew, Ray, Cheum. They all had their issues, and they all took shots at him for his slutty behaviour every once in a while, but he liked being friends with them. They were a fun bunch, and made him feel warm inside. Until he went to ruin everything, of course. He really didn’t blame Mew, but sometimes he wondered if he hadn’t let his horny self get ahead of him, would everything be different now? Would he even be in New York right now? Would Boston still be together with him ? These thoughts plague him on the regular, whenever sleep evaded him or during moments of weakness like these, when he thinks of the person he belatedly realised was his home the last few months before he left.
Nick was everything Boston was not. To some, he was a hopeless romantic, wanting the perfect, fairytale relationship and a boyfriend to reenact cheesy, romcom-style movie scenes with. To others, he was stupid, delusional even, for wanting something like that with someone like Boston, whose wild spirit couldn't be tied down to a singular person. When Boston was trying to be the textbook boyfriend for Nick before he left, he knew going around making out with other men at clubs would hurt Nick. But for some reason, he really could not find it in himself to care. Yes, he kissed men who weren’t his boyfriend. But at the end of the day, wasn’t it Nick whom he was going home to? Somehow, Boston couldn’t understand why he still did it, knowing Nick’s reaction to it would be anything but good. Maybe it was because he took Nick’s attachment to him for granted. He knew no matter how shitty he was to Nick, Nick would still come crawling back to him eventually.
The first time he really felt the drop in his heart wasn’t from when Cheum and the others cut him off. It wasn’t when everyone found out about him and Top. It wasn’t even when Nick wanted to take a break before New Year’s. It was when Nick walked away from him, leaving him by the sidewalk, telling him he loved himself too much to continue ruining himself for Boston. The jarring reality of it broke any semblance of security Boston found in Nick. Even when all his friends left him, he still had Nick who stood firmly by his side. He had Nick who understood and loved him for every part of him, no matter how shitty. He had NIck, who gave him everything even though he got nothing from Boston for so long.
The sinking feeling didn’t register in Boston until he was set to leave for New York. He had caught himself wanting to text Nick about his flight, but he deleted the message before he ever sent it. The fact that he could no longer call Nick his home was heartbreaking. He didn’t even realise he was crying until the middle-aged lady sitting beside him offered tissues.
Now that Nick isn’t there anymore for him, Boston finds himself missing him more than ever. Back when they were boyfriends, Boston never really cared about the implications of his actions because at the end of the day, Nick wasn’t going anywhere. But with them not speaking and being halfway across the globe from each other, their separation made Nick’s absence very much real, and Boston found that he couldn't stop himself from missing Nick.
With shaky hands, Boston makes a decision. Fingers hovering over his screen, he finally hits the call button and puts his phone to his ears. The pounding of his heart almost drowns out the tone, and he has to stifle a sigh in relief after the click, indicating the person on the other end of the line picked up.
“....Ton?”
Even with tears streaming down his face, Boston couldn’t hold back the huge grin on his face. “Nick. …How are you?”