Green Before Me

Neither of Devon Long’s faces were beautiful, but the one he showed in public would have to do for tonight. Fortunately, blind dates didn’t have high expectations. He understood, shifting about in his clothes, fitting but never comfortable.

“Don’t be mad at me, but I don’t think I’m gonna go through with it,” he whined into the phone hugged to his ear. Staring at his mirror shouldn’t have been so tense. “All these outfits have me looking like a bloated walrus. I thought I needed a boyfriend, but let’s add a zookeeper to that, too.”

“Shut up,” Nia scoffed from the other side of the line. “I’m vetoing that decision. We’re within half an hour from the agreed-upon time, and Mr. Potential has already confirmed he’s on his way.” 

A lump formed in Devon’s throat. The outfit suddenly looked like a potato sack, with the potatoes still inside. 

“Girl, Mr. Potential? Just tell me who he is already! How does he get to know who I am, but I can’t get any information about him?”

“He doesn’t know anything about you! But it’ll all be totally fine, trust me. After extensive consideration, I’ve confirmed he’d be perfect for you.”

“And how was that confirmation done if he still knows nothing about me?”

“...subtly...”

Devon narrowed his eyes. “I hope you didn’t show him an unapproved picture of me. Unless it was one of my charcoal self-portraits. I always make sure to get my best angles.”

“Why don’t you trust me when I say I got your back?” sighed Nia. “I subtly confirmed it through indirect interrogation. I learned what he likes, what he’s into, his celebrity crushes—the whole picture. He’s another creative, though in a different medium; he’s got a big family that he’s close to, which I remember you said was important to you after swearing off other estranged only children; and he’s super single and also looking for a serious relationship.”

“And? What about his—”

Nia groaned. “No, he doesn’t have any ‘preferences’, whatever that actually even means. There’s nothing you don’t fit. He’s open to a lot. I specifically asked, just as you demanded. He even told me he had a thing for Tyler Perry growing up. Isn’t that random? I guess we all had our strange tastes. Anyway, I swear I did my due diligence getting the fine details.”

“Ummm…”

“Seriously! We’ve been working together for like three months now. The moment I found out he was gay and single, you were the first person on my mind. I started collecting clues, and it just got more and more perfect. You’d think I’d set you up with just anybody?”

“Of course you wouldn’t, my wonderfully thoughtful bestie,” Devon quipped, trying on another outfit. “But why aren’t we doing this the regular way, again, where I’d at least be able to know what I’m walking into?”

“Because I know how you’d reject everyone I chose if you knew ahead of time. The only way you wouldn’t is if I added the element of mystery to it.”

“That doesn’t have the appeal you think it does,” he countered. “In fact, I think I’m starting to fear for my life.”

“You’ll survive,” Nia deadpanned. “I don’t think we can trust your choices in men anymore, so we’re leaving this one up to me.”

The comment stung more than Devon wanted to admit. He tried to fix his face, but it wasn’t enough to ward off the reactive sympathy.

“Too soon?”

“It’s fine. It only hurts because it’s the truth. Leave it up to me, and the results would be questionable at best. We cannot end up with another Victor.”

“And we won’t, friend. There’ll be nothing else like that in your future. This guy is the exact opposite: he’s very kind, he’s understanding—and he’s got a nice body, so all the works.”

One could only hope. Optimism was in short supply, but Mr. Potential would only be an improvement.

Devon fished out a more agreeable outfit. He peeled off the current frumpy selection and squeezed into the next. Technically, the sweater was his size, and the warm, neutral colors complemented his deep complexion. Dragging himself to the mirror, a smirk tugged at his mouth as he saw it lying flat across his torso. He turned to the side, and his smirk dropped as the curve at his midsection appeared. The love handles weren’t sexy. Though they’d probably never be noticed by the upcoming date, they were totally conspicuous in his eyes.

“Are you spiraling again?”

“What? Huh?” Devon muttered.

“You went quiet all of a sudden,” Nia said.

“I’m fine, really. Just making sure the outfit looks good at every angle.”

Nia softened her tone. “Are you gonna be okay? Like actually? I thought you’d be fine to handle this after, what has it been, like seven, eight months? It’s finally time to get back out there! It’ll be worthwhile. And obviously better than another one of our reality show therapy sessions.”

“Okay, okay. I just needed the proper time to mentally prepare,” Devon said. “But a blind date? Really? Don’t people start this when they’re old, like in their thirties?”

“You’re twenty-nine.”

“And only 73 days!”

“Exactly. So before you shrivel up, we need to make sure you have at least one positive dating experience!” Nia argued. “Your whole life could change in the matter of one year. Or a month! Or even a week! You never know.”

That was the thinking last time, when another man had waltzed into his life, only to leave disaster in his wake. That wouldn’t happen twice. Apps could never replace proper friend-vetting.

“Change for the better or for the worse, sure,” Devon said.

“Oh, don’t be so negative. Even if I didn’t know Mr. Potential, I’d still be encouraging this. It’s gonna be great. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but sometimes you gotta do some things that might initially seem unappealing. That way, you can go back and know for sure you don’t like them. Blind dating is the prime example.”

“Whatever, Dr. Phil.” He inhaled deeply before checking his phone. Almost time. Glancing once more into the mirror, he made up his mind. “I’m gonna have to hang up this phone, or else I’m gonna be late.”

“So you’re going?!”

“I suppose,” he grumbled.

“Good, because Mr. Potential just texted me saying how nervous and excited he is. So cute!” Nia cheered from the other side of the line. “What are you wearing?”

Devon rolled his eyes and described what he’d managed to throw together. “That’s it. Bye, Nia.”

“Good luck, my handsome, smart, totally ready-to-mingle bestie. Have fun!” she sang. “Bye, Devvy!”

Devon hung up the phone and grabbed his keys. Each minute of the ride towards the restaurant added another ounce of pressure to his burdened shoulders. Questions circled his mind like a reel spun on double time.

What food would be acceptable to order?

What side of the table would be best to sit?

How to avoid the conversation about the ex?

They didn’t stop until the moment he parked the car. He fluffed his hair and brushed the wrinkles out of his sleeves before getting out and heading to the door. No turning back now.

Nia had come up with the bright idea of sending them to a steakhouse. As Devon trudged inside, the bustling dining room greeted him with smells of seared meat. Under normal circumstances, the aromas would’ve welcomed him to enjoy a favorite plate, unbothered by the indulgence. Tonight, it was powerless.

He greeted the host, who showed him to a booth under a glowing ceiling lamp. She left him alone, just as the indecision heightened.

Don’t run. Let him surprise you.

Nia had vigorously coached him, but the compulsion was hard-fought. He stared at the menu, making notes of what he’d actually order if this wasn’t a date, and the options he’d begrudgingly consider. Steak salad seemed polite.

“Welcome to Artem’s Steakhouse. Thanks for joining us tonight!” A waiter appeared beside the table. “Are you dining alone, or are you waiting for someone else?”

“I’m waiting for someone else. He should be here soon, I think,” Devon replied. For some reason, saying it this time stirred excitement within him. The waiter’s flamboyant introduction invited him to continue. “I’m waiting for a date. A blind date, actually. He could be here any minute. But he and I were both told that the plan was seven o’clock, so I’m thinking soon.”

“He?” the waiter clarified warmly, and Devon nodded. “That’s exciting! Love seems to be in the air tonight. I hope you two hit it off well. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

Part of him wanted to invite the waiter to sit down himself, but he stopped a mile short of requesting. If he were any indication of the geniality coming to the date, then the experience might be pleasant after all.

“Nothing in particular. Maybe just water to start off?” Devon said before reconsidering. “Actually, I’ll have a martini.”

“Can’t hurt!” chimed the waiter.

Devon grinned as the waiter turned to head to the kitchen. “Thank you.”

The atmosphere of the sprawling dining room wrapped him in an unexpected warmth. The booth on the other side of the median held a family of four enjoying their meal as much as each other’s company. Two young kids, a boy and a girl, danced in their seats as they munched chicken tenders and fries, while the mother slurped soup, and the father scarfed down a steak. Between bites, they playfully taunted the children with genuine amusement. At the next booth sat an older man and woman, assumedly another married couple. The man smiled hard at the woman across the table, revealing shifting dentures, at which the woman giggled and reached across to rub his arm.

Adorable.

“Here you go, sir.” The waiter returned with the martini and set it before Devon, who immediately took a sip. “Do I see somebody’s still a little nervous?”

Devon’s eyes dipped down into his glass. “I’m trying to shake it.”

“Don’t worry! You got this! I know it’ll be fabulous.”

Devon shrugged. “I don’t like blind dates. I want to be hopeful, but you just never know.”

“I get that. It’s hard out here these days with people you know, not to mention those you don’t.” The waiter nodded. “But I’ll just say I put a special wish into this drink that will give you the superpowers of charm and grace. So nothing to worry about from here on out. If a man walks in looking lost yet hopeful, then I’ll know just where to send him.” Devon thanked him once more before the waiter strutted away from the table to his next assignment.

The stage was set. The restaurant’s buzzing atmosphere promised something special for this date. Devon sipped his drink and surrendered to the ambiance. His reflection stared back from the pool in the glass. Surprisingly, it didn’t look terrible. Handsome even? Possibly. He set it down, his eyes contentedly scanning the room to catch more of the lilting dinner conversations.

The face he found in the crowd shattered that entirely.

Devon’s eyes squeezed shut before shooting open. The surrounding conversations grew muffled. His stomach plummeted like his bottom half had vanished to leave the top half suspended in mid-air. Only one person had this kind of effect, and their offenses were recent. The face across the dining room recalled a horror of the distant past.

Middle school was nearly a lifetime ago, but Nico Rivera’s presence evoked the same icy dread as the last time he’d slammed then dragged Devon’s face across the lockers. After years of hurled slurs, pinches on his love handles, kicks on the back and to the stomach, Devon had declared all the hate in his body was owed to one person. Always the scars of the bully were both fresh and deeply embedded.

Devon’s breath sawed in and out as he watched Nico slip through the front door. He was about eight inches taller than during his reign of terror fifteen years ago, tormenting the weak, the fat, and the gay: the Devons of the school. He stood doubly broad now, with his shoulders and chest bulging in a quarter-zip sweater. His short black hair was gelled back. His low eyebrows sat manicured across his forehead. His stubbled, maple-toned face beamed, unblemished as it offered a tight smile to the hostess.

Devon prayed to combust rather than be caught by him while preparing for his date—a gay date. If Nico were the same asshole, then that finding alone would be enough to provoke another full ritual of humiliation and assault before everyone in the room.

Devon hid behind his menu, sliding deep into his seat as he frantically tried to refocus on the date to come. Regardless of what tormentors had done in the past, it belonged to the past, or at least until that devil left and the forgetting could resume again.

He took several gulps of the martini. At least the first conversation topic with Mr. Potential had presented itself. He kept his eyes glued to the pages, reviewing all the pieces of information Nia had offered. He shuffled through every detail again and again to dilute the panic.

Just focus on the positive and promising.

Suddenly, the waiter returned to his side. “Sir, I think I’ve found your date. Have fun, you two!”

Devon looked up to find the face of the man his best friend had lauded for weeks. His smile faded. A shiver rolled down his neck. His stomach sank to another level of hell.

Standing beside the waiter was the last very person he’d expected, let alone wanted. 

Nico Rivera.

Silence suffocated them as Nico crouched down into the booth. His face drained all the warmth and joy from the atmosphere, just like years ago.

“Devon…Long?” 

Devon’s mouth went dry, his skin moistened, and his arms readied to shield his face. It had to be a terrible mistake. But no, it was Nico joining him at the table.

Devon’s legs tensed, preparing him to bolt while somehow also keeping rigid. Fight or flight, they called it. Even as he waited for his body to respond, the conflicting signals kept him parked. Because, despite the terror gripping his spine, he also couldn’t deny he was shamefully drawn.

“Hi,” he finally whimpered.

Nico’s eyes dropped. At least Devon wasn’t the only one struck with unease.

“What a surprise,” he stammered. Tiny beads of sweat condensed on his forehead as he shifted in his seat. “You look great, though.”

Devon sat inanimate. A compliment? The words crashed all signaling neurons, the lapse in his brain extending for more than a few moments. This was completely surreal. Wrong even.

“So…how’ve you been?” His date’s eyes flicked about as the flustered muttering escaped his lips.

The muffled sounds of the dining room underlied the echo of the beating pulse in Devon’s head. The more he looked at Nico, the less he could contain his shocked indignation.

“Is this a joke?” he breathed.

Nico’s attempted smile faded. “Let me start off by saying something I’ve wanted to tell you for a very long time: I’m sorry. For everything. I’m so disgusted by how I treated you. I think about it a lot, and I can’t imagine how you—.”

“This has to be a joke,” interrupted Devon. “A complete joke.”

He wouldn’t hear another word, not in that voice that used to strike fear in his adolescent heart. Just as his old taunts held the power to destroy his ego and decimate him, his new apology chafed at unhealed wounds.

“You’re my blind date, no?” asked Nico.

Devon pursed his lips. “I’m sure it’s not lost on you right now that your blind date is another guy. You wanted that?”

Nico lowered his head, and his eyes peered around. “Yeah…”

“Oh, really? But I seem to remember you calling me every gay insult in the book. Some of them I literally learned from you: pansy, fairy, fruity, fag, fudgepackers, cocksucker,” Devon spat each venomous name the same way they’d been launched at him. “That’s just off the top of my head. Should I go on?”

“Look, I’m really sorry, man.”

Devon’s jaw clenched, and nostrils flared, “So if I’m all that, what does that make you—the one who chose to come to a blind date with another guy?”

Nico flinched. His mouth fell open, and a series of babbles sputtered out. After stumbling around the question, he took a breath to steady his trembling voice. “I’m all that, according to the old me, and the people who think like I used to think. People I love, even. And that’s fine, because I don’t give a shit anymore. I accept it all.”

Again, he struck with a stupefying blow. His voice was familiar yet possessed an entirely new timbre, like the same instrument repurposed to play a different genre. This was the same person, but maybe with a brain transplant.

“And you miraculously discovered this after ruining my teenage life?” Devon retorted.

A frown pulled the corners of Nico’s mouth as his face sagged. “Not after; during. Everyone knew about you, and that made you a target. I heard how the other kids talked about you behind your back. Some of it was worse than what they said to you. That pushed me even deeper into the closet; it got me even more scared about it. I took it out on the person carrying everything I hated about myself.”

“Wow,” Devon exhaled, crossing his arms. “So I was a cover-up and a punching bag.”

An agonized groan escaped Nico’s lips. “It’s just that you were…there. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Well, you could’ve done what I did and tried to deal with it in the moment. You know, stood up for yourself. It was hard, of course, as the only gay kid, but you didn’t really leave me any other choice. Despite what you guys always used to say to me, I like to think I was showing some courage and a lot of toughness.”

“You were,” Nico affirmed. “I even saw that at the time. I admired that about you, especially because I could never find that in myself.”

“So, even though you realized you were gay in the moment, probably even acknowledging it to yourself, you decided to rally your friends to torture me on a weekly basis? There was a whole week once when I couldn’t even walk because of how hard you guys kicked me in the tailbone. Do you even remember that? Of course you don’t. You probably didn’t even realize I was out of school. I could barely even get out bed.”

Nico held his face in his hands. The slow rise and fall of his round shoulders left Devon flustered and frustrated. “I am so, so sorry. I wish I could show you in a way you’d accept. I know it sounds so cliché, but we were kids. I just wasn’t brave enough to stand up. Now I am.”

“Whatever,” growled Devon.

“I’m being genuine. This has eaten away at me for years since I’ve never gotten a chance to say all this to you. We can’t go back to the past, but I’m here to talk about it right now, if you want.” He opened his arms. “Go on, say what you need to say. God knows I’ve given you some nasty hits. I could stand to take a few myself.”

Devon wanted nothing more, but he’d probably hurt his hand trying to swing on that hard jaw or chest. That thick, sturdy wall of a chest. “What would that really help at this point? You did what you felt you had to do, and I was just the closest target. It happened. And I don’t want to hold on to all of this forever. I swear I don’t. But apologizing isn’t going to magically fix everything.”

“Of course it won’t. But you deserve to hear it,” Nico offered. “All of this haunts me now, too, because I’ve just finally started to accept it all in myself. The fear and the shame of that experience involve you. It can’t be separated. Just seeing your face brought back everything. I didn’t even realize how much I was holding onto.” Nico rubbed his temples before glancing at Devon. “You were outnumbered and weaker than the other guys. Instead of leading the people who fucked up your life, I should’ve been the one to defend you, or we could’ve leaned on each other. Because I think I needed someone to confide in sometimes.”

“Incredible,” Devon huffed in disbelief.

“I’m just trying to be real with you.”

“But where was that when I needed it? You think you can just put your hands on me for years and say sorry like you don’t deserve the exact same thing?” Devon barked. The poison in his words left a sourness on his tongue.

Across the table, Nico’s words halted, his upper lip struggling to keep stiff. His eyes became misty.

It took all of Devon’s strength to keep his eyes from rolling. Scorn twisted at his sides as he watched the pitiful display. The sniffles were an extra touch, but Devon kept rigid—until the expression began molting Nico’s hard exterior. With his uncertain shifting and labored breaths, the hardened image began sloughing off to reveal a contrary man underneath.

“Listen, let’s just leave it in the past and try to move on,” Devon surrendered. “You hurt me a lot, that's all. That kind of damage can never be undone. But I think you understand, at least part of it. And for that, I can try to accept your apology.”

“You can?” Nico’s eyebrows reluctantly shot up.

Devon exhaled with a nod. “It’s not gonna happen overnight, but hearing you say that will help things. One of the things about that time in my life is the thick skin it builds. When you’re the gay kid who realizes it early, you face the choice to either embrace yourself or reject yourself. Clearly, I chose one way, and you did the other. I’m glad it went that way, though. I couldn’t run away, and that helped me understand myself and accept that, regardless of the backlash.”

“Yeah,” Nico’s shoulders sank, and his face sagged with guilt. “It’s my time to do that now.”

“Really?”

Nico nodded sheepishly. “I’m newly out and working on it. Late, but I’m here.”

“Well, better now than never,” Devon said, a strange well of sympathy growing within him. “So what does ‘newly’ out mean?”

“Like only a few months of telling people in my life. Some people, at least. And this is like my third week trying to put myself out there and be more public about it. And I mean out there, out there. You’re the second guy I’ve been on a public date with. It’s kind of wild to step back and think about it all. I try not to, otherwise I might freak out too much and revert back. I can’t do that. That version of me has to stay in the past.”

The tremor in his voice battled with the resolve that tried to steady it. Devon understood and admired it all.

How could this be the same asshole from middle school? He looked like a larger, older, harder version of the boy who used to give him hell, but every time he opened his mouth, a disarming tenderness emerged. Devon nodded deeply, unable to fight the compassion shifting his perception.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I feel like I don’t even know who I’m talking to right now,” admitted Devon. “I mean, it’s all for the best, obviously. But, like you said, this is a new version. I hope you don’t blame me if I’m still trying to adjust to it.”

Nico grinned, his dark eyes softer. “Not at all. No hard feelings. I hope this makes it easier to leave everything in the past. Could we promise that?”

He extended a hand. Devon watched it, hesitating for a moment. That hand had a history. It was solid and thick, just like he remembered. Except this time it wasn’t a fist or a clap across the back of the head. This version held a gentler form that looked safer to take. His grasp of this softer version felt like a remedy. Their shake broke away the first layers of scar tissue formed after the years of mistreatment by that very hand.

The waiter returned to take their orders, and promptly brought their plates and drinks. Over shared bites and drinks of their dinner, their conversation lightened with the atmosphere of the room, and the tension of Devon’s muscles relaxed with the exchange of their laughs, each one slightly more uninhibited than the last.

“So what have you been up to since we…last saw each other?” Nico asked. He’d only eaten a bit of the pasta before staring across the table. 

“I was away for a little while, out in New York City doing the hungry artist, queer discovery thing for a few years. It was fun while it lasted, but I kinda got burned out from all that after a while. I really wanted to come back down south and be closer to family. And maybe even try to settle down,” answered Devon.

“Some people love it up there, and some people hate it, I hear,” Nico suggested.

“And I was definitely part of the latter group,” Devon smiled, finishing his fries. He’d nervously devoured most of the plate. Realizing the mistake, he pushed it away as he realized the opening, if Nico still had the inclination for fat jokes.

“What kind of art?” Nico asked, not noticing it at all.

“I like doing abstract paintings, usually in acrylic. It always sells better.”

“Oh, so I got a little Picasso in front of me? You’re professional with it,” he leaned back with exaggerated awe. “Can I see something you made?”

Devon blushed, hesitantly pulling out his phone and opening to the curated portfolio in his camera roll. “I call them triple entendre paintings, where you’re seeing three different images, depending on the angle that it’s displayed.”

“Woah,” Nico gasped, landing on one of the paintings. “Is this a mother hugging a kid?”

Devon checked the image. “Yeah, and a tree behind a sapling. Anything else?”

Nico squinted at the screen as he rotated the phone. “Maybe like a bowl and a set of ingredients…?”

Exhilaration struck like a lightning bolt, intense and unexpected. A smile swept Devon’s face. “You’re the only one who’s seen that one.”

Nico smirked, taking a sip of his drink. “Well, I’m primed for that image more than your average artist.”

Devon arched an eyebrow.

“You ever been to La Casa Rosa?” 

“That Mexican bakery downtown? Only a few times, but I love their stuff,” Devon gushed before tempering the enthusiasm. “I wanted to get some for the family since they hadn’t tried it.”

“Well, I hope they liked it. My uncle owns it with my dad, but I basically run the place,” Nico said. “And I think we need to get you in the back doing some cake designs because your eye for that could be pretty insane.”

“I’ve never had a cake as a canvas, but I’d be willing to give it a try. You think your family would be okay with a non-baker infiltrating the kitchen and drawing all over their cakes?”

“Please,” Nico scoffed. “They help out now and then, but I’m doing most of the work around there. I make the decisions, and I’d love to see what you could do.”

Devon put his hands up, “Well, excuse me, jefe. I didn’t know a single individual could run that entire place. Seems like a lot for just one person.”

Nico shrugged with a tall sigh. “Oh, it is. My brothers, sisters, and cousins had all gone off to college or straight-up refused to help. I wanted to leave, too, but I just couldn’t abandon them and the business.”

“And you were okay with being the one it all fell on?” Devon inquired.

“I thought I wouldn’t, but then my dad got cancer three years later. I took over while my mom and the rest of the family helped him get through that and recover. He never had the energy to come back to running it, so it’s pretty much just me. I’m used to it all now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Devon. A twisted earlier version of him that had walked into the restaurant might’ve been tempted to point out Nico’s karma. That’d settle the score a little, easing the pain that had been inflicted upon him. But this reformed version of Nico would’ve already had that thought long before. “If it means anything, I’d say you did the right thing. Moving away and having your gay awakening is overrated. You were able to be here, at home, where it counted.”

“I mean, sure, I guess,” Nico replied. The dismissal couldn’t hide the heaviness of regret coloring his tone. “Looking back, it was just delaying the inevitable.”

“Well, that’s the beauty of the present, right?” Devon urged. “Let me be the one to tell you: you didn’t really miss out. Trying to build your career, survive, and navigate the dating scene was tough. Like emotional and mental olympics, especially at an age when so many people are ready to take advantage of you. And most aren’t even invested in the long-term. I’d say, you probably saved yourself a lot of heartbreak and so many stupid mistakes.”

“Maybe that makes me feel a little better,” Nico smirked before his face suddenly straightened as a realization emerged from the other thoughts. “Oh shit. Now I feel even worse. After putting you through so much, you can’t be the one trying to make me feel better.”

Devon waved away the concern. “No worries. We can repurpose what should’ve been a blind date into a therapy session. I’m a veteran specializing in trauma management and navigation.”

“What if I wanted to keep it as a date?”  Nico’s eyes sparkled in the light as they traced Devon’s face and shoulders.

Devon twirled the fork in his hand before abandoning it on the table to run his hands down the sides of his pant legs, wiping the sweat off his palms. The pounding of his chest intensified like a runaway engine that accelerated the longer he was captive to the dark, enchanting stare.

“How’re you guys doing here? Anyone hungry for any dessert?” the waiter interrupted, suddenly reappearing at the side of their table.

Devon and Nico nearly leaped from their seats. Nico readjusted himself. They scrambled to regain their bearings as the smiling server awaited a response.

“No, thank you—”

“Yeah, we’ll have a key lime pie. Just a slice,” Nico interjected. “That sound good to you, Devon?”

It sounded lovelier than he’d ever admit. Devon had already spotted it on the menu and noted to get it later whenever he came back—alone. Now was not a time to indulge, much less with someone who had a history of fixating on parts of his body specifically for taunting material. And who might be examining again for other reasons?

“Sure.”

Did he see me looking at it?

“Is that all?” the waiter asked.

“Yep, thank you,” Nico confirmed, and the waiter trotted away.

The gentle hum of scattered conversations filled the space as more parties filed in and occupied the surrounding booths. Devon glanced back across the table, but the desire in his date’s eyes was crowded out with another thought.

“So, how do you know Nia?” Nico mumbled.

“We were in the same workout class. When I moved back here from New York, I found that no one was really left here to reconnect with. I guess that’s what happens after a whole ten years away. So I decided to try to make new friends. I started going to this new gym and tried out their group classes. I met her on the first day, and we just hit it off right away. She’s pretty much the reason I’ve kept up any gym schedule at all.”

“Sounds exactly like Nia. When she started working at the bakery with us, she was determined to make me her friend, too. Honestly, I suspect she might’ve been interested in getting to know me a little better, if you know what I mean,” Nico chortled. “When she clocked that I wasn’t going to be an option on that front, she immediately started digging into my love life.”

Devon rolled his eyes. “She stays in everyone’s business. I love her to pieces, but it never seems to click to her that not everyone wants to divulge the messy details of their past situations.”

They shared a laugh just as the waiter returned with the plate that he had set between them. Nico picked up a fork and took a scoop while Devon scraped off a morsel.

“She’s persistent as hell, but in a weird way, keeping my love life secret kind of prompted me to nuke it all,” Nico admitted. “Which was good. I needed to get out of that situation anyway...”

Devon cocked an eyebrow. “Do tell. If you’re comfortable, that is.” 

Nico stared at the pie, his last bite swallowed slowly. “I was still in the closet; he was not. All the time, he’d threatened to out me before I was ready. If I didn’t do things his way, then he’d come with that as leverage. The whole situation created this really imbalanced dynamic.”

“Sorry you had to go through that,” Devon said. “I can relate. I was in a pretty bad situation, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Not with as much to lose, at least reputation-wise. My ex just used to play on my insecurities all the time. Typical narcissist game. Little did I know that when we were opening up to each other, he would be taking notes and writing a playbook of how to mentally and emotionally manipulate me. Shouldn’t have said so much about the bullying…”

“Oh god, Devon. Again, I’m so sorry for all of that.”

“It’s okay,” Devon chuckled. “Like you said, trying to save myself from getting manipulated caused me to confront them all. I think I needed to go through that to feel more comfortable in…in my skin.”

The word sat in the air, strangely resonating in both directions. They stared at one another, feeling merely inches apart. An invisible line drew them closer.

“I’m glad that’s at least something we can relate on, however unfortunate it may be. If we couldn’t support each other back when it mattered the first time, at least we can now,” Nico encouraged. “Because it left a mark, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Same here,” Devon said. “And do you wanna know the worst part?”

“What?”

“I’ve escaped him, but I’ll never get the chance to forget him. Not just because of what happened, but because of what he does. His face is everywhere now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s an entertainment personality. Kind of like a professional voice to follow for info about the local arts scene. He knows a bunch of people and goes to all these events to help artists promote themselves. That’s kind of how we met. And of course, after he dumped me, loaded with all this extra baggage, his career takes off. Now everyone sees him as this golden boy—”

“That’s a crazy coincidence. And he’s from where you used to live before you moved back?”

Devon sighed. “No. Local, unfortunately. Why?”

The pause that followed filled with more than just Devon’s tempered enjoyment of the tang of the citrus dessert. The lapse in conversation shifted the air inside the booth. Devon picked another bite and brought it to his mouth, glancing up to see Nico’s eyes bulging. Lines etched into this forehead.

“It’s not Victor Kennedy, is it?”

Devon’s fork hit the table with the piece of pie still on it. It clattered across the tempered wood, the crumbs scattering between them. The sound of the entire name spoken by another sent a tremor down Devon’s back. 

Victor Kennedy

It had an elegant ring, like the name of a prince charming to those naive enough to be duped. And that was precisely the intention: to manipulate perception to enhance his appeal. Clearly, it had worked twice already.  

“How do you…?” Devon sputtered. He didn’t even know where to begin. “You dated him, too?”

“He was my first real boyfriend,” Nico asserted. Suddenly, his words trailed off. “Wait, you’re the ex?”

“What do you mean ‘the’ ex?”

Nico paused, studying the deepening lines in Devon’s face while he unwound the thread of memory. “When we met, he said he’d just gotten out of a terrible relationship. He kept saying how overwhelmed and suffocated he was by the expectations.”

“Expectations?” 

“Of a serious relationship, I guess,” Nico added. “That’s why he said he wanted someone like me, who wouldn’t put him through all that stress of rushing into something before he was ready, because I wasn’t even ready.”

“Are you kidding me?” Devon shrieked. “He pursued me!”

“That’s not how he made it sound. He said his ex was clingy and insecure about the relationship. That they—you—were desperate to keep it going regardless of how he tried to tell you he didn’t really want that with you.”

Devon clenched his jaw, biting back the indignation. “Of course I was! A guy like that was giving me attention, feeding me affirmations. How else was I supposed to react? I’d been starved of that for so long!” He leaned into the table. “I hate to tell you this, but you played a part in creating that dysfunction. He had so many buttons available to push.”

“I understand,” Nico said, his eyes dropping. “I don’t even have an excuse. I was just happy that someone would let me explore and come out pressure-free. And on my timeline. But turns out all that was his way of reeling me in.”

“Of course it was, because there’s always a plan with him,” Devon said, shaking his head. “What else did he say about me?”

Nico paused. “It doesn’t matter, does it? He’s in the pasr for both of—”

“Just tell me,” insisted Devon. “I need to know everything.”

 Nico winced, stalling for a few moments before finally obliging to Devon’s exigent glare. “He always used to compliment me based on things in relation to you: my body, my voice, my demeanor. He said I was always more agreeable, though he probably meant easily manipulated. He said he liked how I was ‘so masculine’ and ‘an actual man he could be with’.”

Devon’s fingers twitched along with his eyes. Though Nico merely recited the words, the insults still had a potent effect that stung as soon as they touched his ears.

“Un-fucking-believable.”

Nico reluctantly nodded. “I thought those were all good things. And the opposites to those were exactly what he hated about you. I didn’t know what to think, really. I was just accepting compliments where I could, like you. I was more concerned with catching up on all the experiences I’d missed out on, making sure I wasn’t some bedroom dud. Now I know he was just trying to flatter me, and I was too naive to recognize it.”

Devon exhaled. Was this guy really going to play the victim all night? He had one bad relationship, and he walked away shaken. Nothing in comparison to those across the table who’d undergone years of denigration and had walked away scarred, bruised and shattered.

“And he never told you my name?”

“Nope. I think he thought it’d make me more jealous if he kept it vague. I didn’t really even want to know anyway, but it was something he always referenced. He said you were the one who caused all the problems in his life. Like the —.”

“And you really believed all that?” Devon leaned back in awe. The unfolding revelation was unfathomable. “You took him at his word?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I didn’t know any better!” Nico cried. His voice shot up to another octave. He checked around to see any shocked glances before immediately lowering it. “He said my innocence is what made me special. It was another thing you didn’t have.” 

Bile welled in Devon’s throat, unleashed by more than any of Nico’s past transgressions. Because the prints of Victor Kennedy were found across his newly repaired core, barely intact.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to put too much more shit in your head.” A knuckle plugged Nico’s mouth.

Devon sighed. “I’m not blaming you. Victor is the problem.”

Rubbing his temples, Nico inhaled and released slowly, emptying all his breath and whatever else that had been recently unearthed. “Yeah, he’s a psycho dick—and not in the good way. Three months isn’t enough to get over a ten-month relationship. Some of the things he’s said will take forever to clear from my mind.”

“Ten-month relationship?” Devon interjected. As if the story couldn’t get any worse. He asked with a moment of pointed clarity, “When did you meet him? When did you start dating?”

Nico stuttered, his eyes flicked about as he scoured his memory. “Back in September? Maybe early October? It was still kinda warm outside, so early fall of last year.”

“Piece of shit!” Devon spewed the obscenities from his clenched jaw. Nico stared for a moment before the question arrived.

“You think he...?”

“Yeah—he cheated,” Devon stared blankly. “I met him on an app the first month when I moved back last March. He was the one who offered to take me out. Then he asked for a second date. Soon we were seeing each other every week.”

“So you were serious?”

Devon scratched his chin for a moment. “Sure, but it feels stupid saying that now. But it was definitely more than casual; we’d hang out for hours, just talking, getting to know each other. We shared so much deep stuff. Stuff I’ve never felt comfortable telling everyone. And he did, too.”

“You guys talked about…” Nico started, but his voice faded. Devon shot him a quizzical glance. Both held their breath, waiting for the other to fill the gap of silence. 

“About what?”

“About…” Nico started again. His eyes flicked around as if he were either trying to pluck a word escaping him, or if he was trying to pluck up the courage to proceed. “About….if you were officially together?” His tone pivoted.

“What else would you call that? Those kinds of conversations told me what we were. Even after a few months and some weird behavior, I could feel it was ending. I didn’t want it to be true, but it was. It made me hold on to him tighter, which is probably why he said all that stuff. He tried to pull away at the end, and that’s when the worst came out of him.”

Nico reached out a hand, only to miss his date’s retracting fingers. “You don’t have to talk about it. I wasn’t with him for as long, but I think I could get it.”

A long sigh helped release the tension of it all, though his pause was filled with more unspoken than was shared. Devon pushed the plate away. The murmurs of the room played as a background soundtrack, more neutral and insipid than ever. But they were perfect to dilute the ugly truths spilling out like toxic waste.

“Do you believe in fate?” Nico finally said. Waiting for the punchline, Devon stared in disbelief.

“What are you talking about?” 

“I’m just thinking, despite everything that we went through, it might’ve been for a reason, right? Like, a weird way, I’m glad this all happened.”

Devon’s face twisted into an expression of bewildered horror. “What are you even saying?” 

“I’m saying that given all that’s happened to you and me, we ended up here tonight. Together. Don’t you think there could be something special about that?”

Special.

Was it ‘special’ to be sitting across from his repentant tormentor? Could ‘special’ describe the dueling magnetism and repulsion Nico had since he first started to speak tonight? Perhaps there was something to that, but it certainly wasn’t the ‘special’ he probably meant.

Devon drummed his fingers. This bad-guy-gone-good thing was getting tired. If only Nico were on the receiving end of this, he’d understand. The ones who suffered the least were always the same ones who wanted to preach about moving on.

“...there could be something more to this. There’s an opportunity we could take advantage of now. We’ve been given something special.”

Devon’s ears perked up. Even without context the phrase strangely resonated. He waited, unsure where his mind was headed. With anything related to Victor, it was only a descent. Crashing at the bottom revealed something depraved and unhinged in the pit of his thoughts.

“There very well could be…” 

“With it being what?” Nico asked in a disoriented rhythm, as if his own stream of consciousness had been derailed.

“Hear me when I say this: I believe you’ve changed. But I know there’s still part of you that could hurt someone, right?” A sly smile spread over Devon’s face.

“Huh?” Nico muttered. “No, I’m not that person anymore. Sure, that was me, but it wasn’t really who I am. The anger propelled all that. I’m trying to release all that.”

“No, don’t release all of it. Not yet, at least.” Devon steepled his fingers. “Because I’m wondering what you’d think of an idea I have…”

Nico’s brow creased. “What idea?”

“Something you said about an ‘opportunity to take advantage of’. I know the perfect opportunity for you and me.”

The edge of Nico’s bewildered frown suddenly curved up. “What’s that?”

“Well, clearly we’ve both had the same experience with dear old demon Victor. And he’s gone around without any consequences. From both of our experiences, we could…communicate our feelings in a way that he’d understand and would never forget.” Devon’s voice dropped to a whisper. “We could ruin him.”

The idea was more delicious than the pie. Just like the pieces Devon had scooped into his mouth, he wanted more. One taste wasn’t enough; he wanted to gorge on the whole thing, in action, fully indulgent and uninhibited.

Reluctantly, Nico stuttered, “How?”

“You and I could figure out a way. We could make it hurt.”

Nico put down his fork. A grimace wrinkled his face. “I think I’ve built up enough bad karma for a lifetime. I don’t know if I need to be hurting anyone else…”

“But this is for someone who deserves it. Getting back at him once isn’t going to make any bad karma for you. It’s a drop in the bucket compared to the bad karma that he’s built up.”

“Is that how it works?”

Devon waved a dismissive hand. “Regardless, we’re his bad karma. Just like you said, there’s an opportunity to take advantage of now. With our combined knowledge, there’s bound to be something we could do to really stick it to him.”

“I guess. You’d know more than I do. But I really think it’d be better for everyone if we just left him in the past. I could really use someone to help me navigate this whole coming out experience.”

“If we let it all go, then he’ll just turn the next guy’s life upside down. Just think about it. All of this could stop at us. Doing nothing is more harmful to everyone else. We have to make him feel consequences, or he’ll never learn.”

Nico’s shoulders stiffened as he chewed his lip. His searching eyes lost the sparkle that had lit them earlier in the night, replaced with something darker and much more troubled.

“I guess some people don’t have those revelations to stop treating others like shit, like I did,” he conceded, locking eyes with Devon. “What did you have in mind for this plan?”

A smile broke across Devon’s face. Revenge usually never had any particular appeal; growing out of pain was the only way to find healing. Blah, blah, blah. Following platitudes never gave any real gratification. Real closure only came from showing a monster what real ugliness was.

He sat back, scratching his chin. After a moment of silence, his eyes widened. “His reputation.”

Nico’s brow creased.

“If I’ve learned anything about him, it’s that his image is more precious to him than gold, above everything—me especially,” Devon sneered. “Which is probably why I never actually had a chance with him. He probably thought I was too gross-looking to fit with his brand.”

“And maybe my resume wasn’t flashy enough to impress his followers,” Nico wondered.

“Either way, if we can damage that, or even threaten it enough, that’ll end his career and his life, like he did to ours.”

“And that’s something he could eventually recover from,” Nico said.

Devon rolled his eyes. “Sure, but hopefully not.”

“How would we even do this, exactly?”

 Devon’s mind hunted, but found nothing sufficient. “Let’s sleep on it. Great revenge needs marination.”

Nico’s eyes widened as he received the advice. Silence settled between them. “Your wisdom is terrifying.”

“Let mistreatment fester, and this is what you get.” Devon shrugged, playing with his napkin. “I hope you’re not reconsidering, though. You already agreed,” he countered, his grin crooked with mischief. “It’s basically an oath.”

“Okay, Dr. Evil Genius. Maybe my real purpose in this scheme is to keep you in check. For Victor’s sake.”

“He’ll be fine, depending on the plan.”

“Oh, so you do have something in mind?”

“Well, let’s just say I may or may not have already entertained using a plan like this on you once upon a time. All in my imagination, of course.”

Nico chuckled with mock panic. “Sure. There’s probably plenty of great material stored up there, aged like the best wines. Not saying I don’t deserve any of it, but can we save your best ideas for Victor?”

“Yeah, I’ve moved some of the harsher stuff into the Victor catalog. Yours still has plenty of material left, don’t you worry.”

Their shared laugh blended like a harmony over the chorus of voices in the dining room.

The waiter returned with the check and placed it between them. Devon reached for his wallet and pulled out his card. By the time he could place it on the table, Nico had already slipped several bills into the folio. 

“Don’t you worry about this, I got it. It’s the least I can do after all…you know.”

“Oh god, it’s fine. I promise.”

Nico nodded with a gentle grin. “I want you to know I really meant it. In fact, I’m gonna show you. I hope this scheme we got cooking up could also give us an opportunity to get to know each other again. The new us—the real us. Including the parts we’re hiding...”

Devon reluctantly accepted, his grin fading.

They stood up and left the table, ambling towards the front door of the restaurant. Outside, they each drew in a deep breath of summer evening air before starting in opposite directions across the streetlight-painted parking lot. In only a few steps apart, an invisible tether stopped them in their tracks. Devon glanced over. A strange mixture of dread and elation fluttered in his chest as he watched Nico’s silhouette slowly approaching. A lump lodged in his throat.

“Tonight was so great,” Nico said. “I feel lighter than I have in a long time.”

“Is that better than what you were expecting?”

“Way better.”

“Well then, mission accomplished, Nia. Don’t tell her I said that. Her hats will hate us if her head gets any bigger.”

Nico chuckled. He stared into Devon’s eyes, then his mouth, lit under the glow of the lamps.

“Before I go, I gotta ask you one more thing,” he said. Whatever it was, it yearned to be released. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he checked his surroundings and timidly came closer.

The coast was clear. Just the sound of crickets chirping over a light breeze. Devon’s muscles relaxed, his back arching, something his middle school self would’ve never believed possible in the presence of this face.

Nico leaned in, his mouth parted. He inched closer, with a sudden wrinkle forming in his brow. He passed Devon’s mouth and placed his lips beside his ear, whispering.

“Did he pass it to you, too?”

Incessant phone vibrations syncopated the bass shaking the wood-paneled floor. Devon ignored it. Surely it wouldn’t stop until he responded, but that was a problem for later, stuffed at the bottom of the gym bag that lay on the back wall of the studio.

Today’s workout class was circuit training with a mix of intermittent light cardio, ideal for distraction, at least for an hour. In the mirror, he watched his body quiver with the dumbbells in hand, holding a deep lunge. Impressive, considering the few seconds he could manage in the first class. But the unearthed memories from last night’s date had primed his eyes for an even more critical evaluation. Though not as flabby as middle school, his stomach still spilled over his waistband. His face was still too round.

He pressed deeper into the lunge, even though it wouldn’t burn it all away. That might help the exterior, but never the issues underneath it all, the issues he and Nico now shared.

“You’re not getting out of here until I get the full debrief!” Nia exclaimed over the music. Her station, a foot away, usually felt closer, but last night’s revelation now made the matchmaker feel more like an ignorant stranger than a friend.

The song was on its last chorus, and the final minutes of the class were running out. Devon’s dread rose with each word of the rapped verse. Somehow, the explanation for Nia would need to be ready before he’d even had a chance to fully process the night himself.

“Good job, guys! Y’all killed it out. See you next week!” The instructor called her dismissal. The lines of sweaty bodies broke formation and headed towards the back to collect their belongings. Despite the grueling workout, Devon’s pulse continued to climb as he plodded towards his bag. Another workout would’ve been better than reading whatever waited on the screen.

He reached into his bag and reluctantly fished out the phone, taking a breath before waking the screen. A stream of notifications flooded the interface.

Yesterday

Hey Devon it’s Nico. Thanks for a great night. Im so freakin glad we got to reconnect. Ur a great guy and I’d love to get to know u better (again lol)

Yesterday 

Also totally didnt mean to scare u with the question. Im just feeling a lil desperate tbh

1h ago

Good morning :) Hope u slept well. Sorry I just came out the blue with all that last night. I think we connected well. I’d really love to see you again (not just saying that because of Victor’s present)

40m ago

And I know u said stop apologizing but I’m also so sorry about being such an asshole to u. The guilt is just eating me up. I hope youll forgive me. 

28m ago 

Also not just saying that because of this thing. We def had a connection beyond that

20m ago

What workout class do u go to w Nia? You might be at my gym ;)

19m ago

Lemme know and I can swing by. Maybe we could talk. And train together! I’d be happy to work u out if ur down ;) 

14m ago

I know I been spamming u this morning lmao. Not trying to be creepy here btw. Just relieved to know someone else out there knows what it’s like w this. It’s a curse :/ 

Devon paused, lingering over the oldest message before scrolling to the most recent.

“So? Is he blowing you up to make a plan to blow out your back?” Nia’s tease ambushed from behind.

“Girl, shut up! We’re in public!” Devon swatted at her and tapped his index finger over his lips.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, let me translate this into the queen’s English for your prudish ears.” She cleared her throat and straightened her posture. “Is Nicolas requesting to arrange an intimate encounter after the wonderful date you two partook in a fortnight ago?”

Devon rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell you after we get some smoothies.”

They headed toward the snack bar and ordered two of their regulars. Under the hum of the blender, Devon grasped for the description to deliver. Like the drink slid across the counter, it would consist of unrelated elements that would somehow make sense in combination, and discarding the nasty bits that might ruin the entire concoction. Not that she’d expect the omission anyway. Nico was now the only other person who knew, fortunately.

Besides Victor, of course.

“Okay, I’m all ears, bestie. Did Cupid Nia do her thing or what?” she demanded with a toothy grin. 

Devon sighed, “Sure, but don’t get too hyped up. It wasn’t exactly a blind date because he was…not unfamiliar.”

“Ooh, I didn’t know you’d been around the block like that, friend! Was it a Grindr hookup? I guess all gays really are only two degrees apart…”

“Girl, bye. You already know I don’t give this out to everybody,” Devon took a playful sip of the smoothie. “We knew each other because he went to school with me.”

Nia’s jaw dropped. Her eyes widened. “Like high school?”

“Worse: middle school. And to make things even more perfect, not only do I know him, but we’ve had plenty of physical interaction before because he was my middle school bully.”

She frowned. “I’m sorry, Devvy. I promise, this wasn’t a setup or anything like that. I swear I had no idea. When I tried to ask him about himself, he gave really strange answers sometimes. I thought he was selective about what he shared because he was still coming out of the closet.”

“It’s okay. I doubt he’d tell you that he used to slap me around at school with his friends. It was a long time ago.”

They both took an extended sip of their smoothies. 

“And there’s one more small detail I need to fill you in on.”

She cringed, leaning back from the table. “What is it?”

“He and I didn’t just share a middle school experience,” Devon said, drawing in a tall breath. “But we also shared an ex—of the Victor variety.”

She clapped a hand over her gaping mouth. “Shut up.”

“Yes,” he sighed.

“Okay, clearly I did the worst vetting of anyone ever. I’m so sorry for making you relive all that trauma in one night!” 

“It’s fine,” Devon chuckled. “Based on what he said, it sounds like his experience with Victor wasn’t too different from mine.”

“Damn. So you guys did a spill session?”

“Not about everything, but the basics. You know how Victor did a secret psychoanalysis of me at the beginning and then weaponized all his findings by the end? Turns out that he did something similar to Nico, except that he gaslit him, manipulated him, and broke him down, too. Honestly, I think that’s the reason he changed so much from the version I knew. Karma came back to bite—hard.”

“Sure. Did finding out all that make you feel better about anything?”

Devon mused for a moment. “Maybe slightly, but not by much. Even though middle school Nico was the source of my insecurities, Victor’s mind games were vicious. And sophisticated. Like psycho stuff.”

“I mean, one situation was childhood teasing, and the other was a grown man with time to hone his evil,” Nia suggested.

Devon nodded with a blank stare. “And time to leave you with stuff that just permanently changes you.”

Nia’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Anything else you want to talk about?”

Perhaps it was finally time. The harm had been done, and now the secret was out with another person, albeit another victim.

Devon bit his lip. Nia silently waited, her eyes searching.

“Not right now,” he decided.

“You sure? If it’s not something you’ve already said, I can just—”

“We’ll discuss later,” Devon interrupted. “I’m gonna take a point from Nico. I’ll come out with it on my time, whenever that is.”

Her smile was soft with compassion. “Well, whenever that time is, I’ll be ready to listen. Clearly, it’s sensitive, so don’t feel the need to do it before you're ready. I’ll be gentle, though. I promise.”

She’d never understand it all; most of the people wouldn’t, unless they felt it. It was too rough. Too bristly. Too sticky. Too hideous.

“Thanks. Give me some more time, and I will.”

They finished their smoothies in silence and headed out. Sharing a sweaty embrace, she rattled off the next few dates of the workout class before waving goodbye. Devon reached his car and climbed inside without turning it on. His body sat numb, the questions, fears, and ideas ignited in endless rounds like a battle raging on. As much as he wanted to be in peace and process it alone, they wouldn’t be quelled easily while trapped inside, amplified with the echoes. There was one way to resolve it.

Devon slipped his phone out of his pocket. The notifications flooded the screen again, with each one screaming out like a desperate voice pleading between the lines. This was not the same voice belonging to the one who’d choked him, pinched his rolls, slammed him against walls. This wasn’t even the voice from last night. This time, the voice speaking was his own. The past thoughts and fears had just been spoken from a new source.

His finger hovered over the screen.

He took a deep breath, unlocked the phone, and tapped the call button.

The voice answered after the first ring.

“Hey,” Nico said. Though his voice was still smooth and rich, it sounded more worn than last night.

“Hey. I saw your messages. Sorry, I should’ve called sooner.”

“No worries. I don’t blame you for needing a chance to breathe and get your thoughts together. I was getting anxious, but I understand. I figured you wouldn’t be ready for any of that. I just had to ask. I really can’t deal with this all on my own.”

Devon nodded. “I know. It’s just bringing up a lot of emotions. I’ve lived with this for a few months now, and I’m still learning and getting used to it. I’m not sure how to feel about someone else knowing.” 

“Obviously, I can relate, at least with the anxiety and need to protect it. Have you not had anyone else to talk to about it?”

“No. Victor ghosted me by the time my body started changing. Blocked me and everything. I felt like I couldn’t tell anyone else—and I haven’t. Not Nia, not my parents, and really not even to myself, at least in an honest way. Last night, you caught me off guard. Something about you saying it out loud just made it unavoidable. More than anything, I wanted to escape that. Like not just you, but that. A secret I’ve been shielding has been exposed, and the person with the longest history of weaponizing my flaws now has access to it? It’s kind of a shock.”

“I sensed that. But I—.”

“Look, I know you’re looking for answers, but I don’t have them all.”

Devon heard a weary groan from the other side of the line.

“I’m in the same situation as you, Nico. You’re acute, I’m chronic—with everything. The emotions, the spirals, the effects of it all, I’m just a few notches down the pipeline. All I can tell you is this: we’re kind of in this together at this point. It’s not me versus you anymore. It’s us versus Victor. And versus this curse. Are we on the same page?”

Nico gulped. “Yeah.”

“Good. Because if there’s one thing that this is all revealing, it’s that asshole cannot get away with this. We’ll get him back, though.”

Devon could hear Nico on the other side huffing in agreement. It would be hard, he knew it best, but the revenge would be worth it. Unless Nico was changed on a molecular level, he shouldn’t be above any of this. But clearly more was on his mind. The silence from the other side confirmed it.

“Can you hear me?” Devon asked, but there was no response. He waited for another moment. Only quickened breaths, like a great obstacle was being cleared. Like a wall of nerves was being navigated. “You okay?”

The hum of the idling car line filled the silence.

Finally, Nico’s voice reappeared, dim and overstrung. “Do you think he transforms like us? You think he also turns into…a creature?”

Devon’s neck stiffened. He stared into the distance. The answer froze in his chest, unwilling to reach his lips. Eventually, it wriggled itself free.

“Yes,” he answered.

La Casa Rosa was closing in less than an hour. The time had been branded onto Devon’s mind since the moment they’d agreed on their plan to meet in secret. At the last customer’s exit, he’d be ready at the back door, knocking in the pattern they’d outlined. Not that any of that was necessary. It’d just signal the pact that neither of them wanted yet desperately needed.

Devon tapped the steering wheel as he stared at the bakery from the back of the parking lot. The pink awning protruded from the white brick facade, nicely shading the patio tables. Behind them was a large glass window displaying rows of enticing pastries. Patrons poured out of the front door with paper bags and rose-colored boxes, stuffing their careless, content faces. If his stomach wasn’t in knots, he might’ve been more inclined to indulge. But his mind wouldn’t let him focus on anything beyond the anticipation of what was to come.

In the passenger’s seat sat his studio bag. He glanced over to it with an ounce of hope. Bringing his markers, brushes, pencils, and sketchbook wasn’t included in the plan, but the idea of showing Nico what he could do had oddly excited him. Considering the last time they’d seen each other in person, he’d directly invited it. Devon found himself relishing the opportunity to show off.

Hopefully Nico would like it. That new, softer interior, contrasting the firm, bulky shell, had more unexpected appeal than Devon was comfortable accepting. Other surprises could be waiting with some more exploration.

Devon checked the clock again. Another thirty minutes until he was due to make the entrance. He traced the grooves of the steering wheel, his eyes searching for something to occupy his attention while the minutes waned. The silence kept leading him back to the same idea. Despite his attempts to push it away, Victor’s face kept materializing like a salacious specter in the darkness.

He opened his phone and went to the browser. His fingers pecked the name into the search bar with a shameful urgency. 

Victor Kennedy 

Immediately, the face arrived on the screen, photos populating the primary images. Those blue eyes seemed to pierce through the screen with an amused glare, as if delighted to see Devon come crawling back. His profile had risen since the last time Devon had mustered the nerve to spy on him. He looked healthy. He looked accomplished. And worst of all: he looked happy—at least that was what the new headshot exuded from the results page.

Bitterness pinched his tongue as he scrolled through the social media feed. The captions were like hearing his voice all over again. 

7 weeks ago:

“Life is beautiful, even in the rougher parts. We can’t have the good without the bad. When it knocks you down so many times, the cold, hard ground suddenly becomes a launchpad. Use it well.” 

2 weeks ago: 

“Learn to love yourself. Then you’ll never have to question the person staring back from the mirror.”

6 days ago: 

“Omg attention everyone! I have some very exciting news! After years of early mornings, late nights, and long days covering the local entertainment scene,  I’ve been selected to moderate a panel at the District Film Festival. You can watch live or attend next Saturday, June 4th at 4 PM. Soooo excited for this opportunity to be a voice in the local entertainment space. Woot woot! Hard work pays off and dreams really do come true!”

The posts hit like sucker punches. Of course Victor would be living perfectly well, probably not wasting a single thought on the exes he’d left behind to pick up the pieces. He just moved on, smiling that devilish smile, so disgustingly beautiful.

He clenched his jaw and tried to scroll past. One weak moment didn’t define anyone’s strength. But the lapse of control of his body might.

And it happened in a blink. A finger pushed against the screen triggered the reaction, indicated with a large white heart that appeared in the center of the photo and quickly faded.

A chill gripped his body before bleeding out to numbness.

That did not just happen.

All sensation drained from his hands and feet, and the phone felt a hundred feet away. He tried to draw in a stabilizing breath, but it never came.

He refreshed it, verifying it was gone. And another time. And a third time for good measure. And a fourth. No matter the number, the impression had been made. But probably not seen.

Right?

Devon tore his gaze away as he flipped his phone over and flung it to the side. Never did it help to look backward, and this was exactly why. He swallowed hard, glancing at the car clock. Still five minutes left until the meeting. Each minute dragged on like an hour in itself. He fixed his attention on the bakery. Now the soft pink brick under the sunlight appeared more like a refuge from humiliation than a bakery ready to close.

A buzz whispered from the passenger’s seat. His eyes crept over to the phone.

Pulling the latch on his other side, he popped open the door and ejected himself with his studio bag from the car. He slammed it shut behind him, locking the phone inside by itself. Hopefully it would suffocate and fry in the heat by the time he came back. A total erasure of his digital footprint and the minds of anyone who’d seen it would also be fantastic. In the meantime, there was a welcome distraction to come from whatever awaited at the bakery.

The last customer’s exit triggered an instant dimming of the neon ‘ABIERTO’ sign on the front window. Devon recognized the signal and hooked around the building, scurrying through the adjacent alley. Arriving at the door, he knocked the pattern into the metal.

After a minute, he was still standing outside. He raised his hand to knock again as it suddenly swung open. Aromas of yeast and butter poured out, carried by the current of vanilla and cinnamon, all wonderfully inviting. Nico’s face appeared on the other side, flour speckled his cheeks, and his blue apron wrapped around his torso over a fitted white cotton t-shirt. His wide eyes probed Devon’s hesitant expression, and his face lit up with a nervous grin. Without a word, he motioned for Devon to enter. Through a pair of metal swing doors, they slinked into the dark kitchen.

“Do we have to be quiet? I thought you were here alone,” Devon whispered.

A laugh rumbled in Nico’s throat. “Oh yeah, sorry. It’s just weird for this to be here, considering what we’re about to do.”

“Which is…?”

Nico’s silhouette whirled around. Only the outline of his brawny frame was visible in the darkness. His shoulders raised and lowered quickly, and his breaths hastened.

“Are you okay?” Devon asked.

“Uh, yeah, I think.”

“Well, why don’t we start by turning the lights on. Then you can tell me why you called me here. Unless you wanted to sit in the front and talk about it?”

“No,” Nico blurted. “Too many windows for that. We’ll have to stay back here.”

A click of a light switch illuminated the bakery kitchen. Chrome countertops matched the sleek appliances, reflecting the white fluorescent glow. Layered sheet pan racks stood all around the room, stacked with all kinds of pastries, cookies, and breads. Mounds of dough sat on the corners of floured cutting boards, and a large commercial mixer whisk was still covered in something white and sticky.

Nico shifted his weight. His hands shook, and his eyes flicked from one direction to the other, watching Devon silently.

“So, what was this sneaky invitation about?” Devon demanded.

Nico glanced at his studio bag over his shoulder. “Well, I was gonna propose we brainstorm this little Victor scheme, but seeing that you’ve come with different ideas, I’m now wondering how you’d work a pipe with some icing.”

Devon pulled out the sketchbook and a pen and began jotting down notes. “Good idea. We gotta start discussing a plan for this, get the details all ironed out. I have a couple things in mind, but I’ve mostly been stuck trying to decide whether I want to be there for it or not.”

“In person?”

“Yeah. That way, he won’t be confused about where it came from. He’ll know it was us, and he’ll instantly know why it’s happening. I’d just love to see the look on his face in that moment,” Devon proposed. “If not, then it just won’t feel the same.”

“I thought the point of this was to teach him a lesson.”

Devon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, whatever. That’s part of it. But we can do that and get some satisfaction out of it. That’ll depend on how we’re going to humiliate him.”

Nico pondered for a moment. “Humiliate? That could mean a bunch of different things. There’s so many options to choose from. We could ambush him and confront him at the same time. He’d probably be so embarrassed to know that we know what he’s said about you.” 

“You’re not wrong, but we can take it a step further,” Devon said.

“A step further? Are you trying to leave this man traumatized?” 

“Just to the edge of that, yeah.”

“So what do you have in mind to get him to that point?”

“Don’t ask me how I know this, but he’s having an event on June 4th. We could try to crash the whole thing. He really just needs to get exposed in some kind of way in front of the crowd. If everyone else sees what he’s hiding, then he’ll have to confront it himself. It’ll wreck him.”

Nico chewed on the idea for a moment. “So you wanna be there so he can see you, put him on blast in front of the crowd. How could we even pull that off without making ourselves look crazy? I don’t want to embarrass myself out here or ruin my business.”

“True.” Devon scratched his head, thinking hard. “Do we have any pictures, videos?”

Nico slipped his phone from his pocket. “You’re talking to someone who was formerly in the closet. Evidence was not my friend.”

His voice trailed off for a moment before another idea popped into his head. “What about voicemail?”

Devon tilted his head. “What do you mean voicemail?”

Nico scrolled through his phone, turning it around to show the catalog of his inbox. Victor’s name made up the majority of the entries of the first several rows. “If I didn’t answer his calls, he’d leave so many voicemails so that his message got through. I’m not sure why he did that. I told him when my dad got sick, he started leaving voice messages telling us he loved me if I missed his call, which he never used to do before. I think Victor thought it’d be a good idea to do that to twist my emotions. His messages went from nice to pretty nasty when he was ready to throw me away.”

“Oh, I see,” muttered Devon. It was a plausible theory, though he wondered if the more likely inspiration was his own shameful attempts to regain Victor’s interest. When his calls had been screened, the voicemail was his last attempt to get Victor to hear his voice in hopes it would spark some memory of why he’d chosen Devon in the first place. “That makes sense. They’re probably personal, though.”

Nico nodded. “Some of them. But others mostly just make him look bad.”

“Can I hear them?” Devon reluctantly requested.

Nico’s brows shot up, as if he was suddenly caught under a spotlight. He looked down at his phone screen. After a minute of scrolling, he put his phone down. “I’ll have to curate them. That’s something to deal with later.”

Devon thought that would bother him more, but he felt a little relief as Nico slipped it back into his pocket. 

“You want a tour of the kitchen?” Nico asked, his voice bright as the fluorescent bulbs above them.

Before he could even fully agree, Devon was already being led to every station around the space. He hadn’t come expecting to learn about convection oven fan delay and its critical role in determining the crispness and butteriness of the orejas, nor that the right condenser coils of the refrigerators extended the lifespan of pay de queso. He quietly followed along as Nico gave his lecture, and relished every sample he was given.

“Good, right? I’m trying to optimize it from the family recipe. It’s like my tongue imagines how it could taste and I’m just trying to get as close to that as possible,” Nico said. “It’s like you probably have a vision in your mind about how you want your pieces to look. Then you put brush to canvas or pencil to paper and keep working on it until it’s as close to that vision as possible.”

Devon nodded enthusiastically. He thumbed a piece of coconut off his lip from the strawberry yoyo. 

“That’s one of my favorites. Sometimes they make it with sugar, but most of the customers seem to prefer coconut.”

“Sabrosa!” Devon exclaimed as an explosion of crumbs launched from his lips across the floor.

He clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes bulging as they bounced between the mess of crumbs and Nico’s equally shocked face. Their moment of silence didn’t last more than a few seconds before they burst into laughter. They slapped the countertops and scattered flour into the air. Nico collapsed forward, and a shard of his gelled hair fell into his face. Devon had the urge to put it back into place, but resisted with all his strength. They gasped for breath, and Nico sneezed on the airborne floury haze while Devon choked, sending them into another fit of giggles.

Finally catching their breath, their tearful eyes met. Something still rested behind Nico’s eyes.

“Can I ask you something?”

Hesitantly, Nico propped himself up, almost bracing for an unexpected weapon to be wielded against him. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“You didn’t call me here to talk about Victor, did you?”

Nico sighed uneasily. He swallowed hard, rubbing his neck. “No, I just needed to talk. There’s just been so many questions swirling around in my head. Stuff that I needed to know. We couldn’t just be out anywhere discussing it.”

Devon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re crawling back into the closet again.”

“Very funny,” Nico said wryly. “I don’t know if you realized this, but we’re both in the closet now, except this isn’t one you come out of. This is one where we have to hide from everyone.”

As much as the shield of denial had protected from that truth in the past, it couldn’t hold up to being directly confronted. Devon inhaled and laid down his defenses.

“You want to see, don’t you? My other side.”

Nico stared blankly, not at Devon, nor at the ground, nor at the mess of a kitchen that surrounded them. An indiscernible thought clouded his mind and occupied his gaze. It hung from him heavy like an anvil.

“I just want to know how you change. What triggers it?”

Devon rocked back on his heel and began to pace the kitchen. Smells of warm vanilla layered over the round, rich scent of chocolate icing. Lemon met his nose in a few more paces. A collection of saccharine dressings waited at different parts of the kitchen, ready to transform a mound of dough into an irresistible confection. The absurd urge came to cover himself with it, masking with charms that would make even his most repulsive side palatable.

“I told you, I’m not that much further ahead living with this than you. I’m still figuring it all out myself—.”

“Well, what do you know so far?” Nico demanded. “You gotta have more information than me. What sets it off? How long does it last? How do you control it?”

“Okay, step 1: calm down. Do I look like Wikipedia to you?” Devon held his hands up. “I can’t answer everything. All I know for certain is that I didn’t have this before meeting Victor, and after the first few times we hooked up, I started changing.”

Nico’s eyes widened. “So he knows.” 

“I don’t know, he always insisted we turned the lights off when we did it. Of course, I would’ve suggested that myself, so it was perfect when he did it before me,” Devon recalled. “But yeah, I started feeling weird a couple weeks in. Everything felt so slick and soft. One time, we were in the middle of doing it, and I ran out when I felt my body getting all gross and slimy. I nearly had a panic attack because I felt so nervous and disgusting. I thought it was just in my head. But then I went to the mirror and screamed…”

“Same,” Nico stared blankly at the floured countertops. “He always made sure everything was dark when he was teaching me how to do stuff. The first few times were nice, and I didn’t care because I was finally able to do what I’d always wanted with a guy. But then, I started feeling like you. Well, at first it was on him, and I thought it might be just how he was, like maybe he was really into what I was doing to him, and it made him sweaty. But then it started happening to me. And it kept happening, until I saw a little bit of myself in the reflection of his TV.”

The lines in their faces deepened as they each privately pedaled through the distressing memories.

“Okay, so it’s triggered by sex?” Nico asked again, his tone slightly more desperate. “That seems simple enough to avoid.”

Devon shrugged uneasily. “I don’t know. But if I had to guess, there’s more to it than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m saying this because of my experience after Victor. I’ve had the attempted hookup here and there, but it didn’t happen at all with the others. Granted, they were all pretty awkward, and we didn’t do anything like I was doing with him. But from that, it’s probably safe to assume there’s another component.”

“Being what?!”

“Emotion? Attachment? Infatuation? I don’t know!” Devon exclaimed. “I know you’re confused, but remember, I’m right there with you!”

“None of this makes sense,” Nico sighed. “If that’s the other necessary part, then how would Victor have given it to us, considering he clearly didn’t really care about either of us…”

“Well, maybe Victor’s is different than ours. Maybe yours is different than mine.”

Nico rubbed his temples, shutting his eyes and pacing back and forth before Devon. A long exhale escaped his lips.

“Are you okay?”

“This can’t be happening,” he whined. “It’s already hard enough being gay. Now we’re minorities in a minority, in an even more microscopic minority. How’s it ever gonna feel comfortable enough connecting with anyone, not to mention the amount of guys we’d have to search through to finally find someone to accept this?”

“If I had a dime for every time I’ve had the same thought...”

“So, what do we do, then? We’re still too young for something like this to ruin our lives! I just came out. There was so much I was supposed to experience, but now my life is ruined!” Nico groaned, his pacing accelerating.

“Some of us already had the cards stacked against us; we were already playing this whole coming out thing on hard mode. There was no entitlement to any flowery, fabulous experience.”

“I know. You’ve had it worse than me—”

“I’m not asking for pity,” Devon interrupted. “I’m just saying this to say that I might not know everything about what’s going on with us, but I can say you’ll get used to it. It’ll probably have to be an internal situation, always kept private. It’s okay, though; you’ll learn to live with it. It’ll just be another challenge in navigating through this life.”

“I don’t want more challenges. We shouldn’t need to go further into any closet,” Nico paused his pacing for a moment. “I have to figure out how to control this or get rid of it because I can’t go back to hiding.”

“You don’t have to think about it like hiding, just masking. We’ll only be able to live outside with a part of us always tucked away. Not everything, just a certain part. It’s okay, that’s just how the world is. I’ve been doing it forever. Ever since middle school.” Devon conceded with a tone dipping sour. “When the world tells you it doesn’t want or accept you, sometimes you have to adjust yourself to fit in, however much you can. I hate it, but sometimes you have to do that to survive.”

Nico frowned and shook his head sternly. “At least we don’t have to fit in or change anything here. That’s kind of why I wanted us here. So thanks for trying to make me feel better, and for being here to talk it out. I appreciate it all, I hope you know.” He pivoted and ambled over next to the spot where Devon leaned on the counter. Reaching out a hand, Nico gently placed it on his shoulder. “If it means anything, I never actually thought there was anything wrong with you. I hope you believe me. I just said all that stuff about you because I thought it’d make me sound less gay, funny enough.” He hesitated before continuing. “In all honesty, you were—are—really freakin’ nice. Handsome, too. I couldn’t really explain it, but you just had a face that just felt good to look at. Like an aura. They used to say that’s how they knew you were gay, but I just thought it was peppy.”

Devon tried to temper it, but his eyes slightly narrowed. “You say these things all these years later, but it’s gonna take more than a few words to undo all the other things you said.”

Nico put his hands on his hips. “You don’t believe me?”

“I mean, you used to hurl the comments about my body like it was the most offensive thing to assault your eyes. And that was usually after you’d exhausted the gay humor.”

Nico awkwardly grimaced and shook his head. “Funny thing about that. It’s gonna sound even weirder, but when I called you all that, I just remember really wanting to feel you. Like, put my hands over all the places where your clothes fit really tight.”

Devon stifled a laugh. Not from what was being said, but the rationale. Life and its timelines were cruelly ironic.

“All around weird. Puberty hormones really did a number on us, I’m saying. You don’t want to know some of the crazy things I thought to myself at that age. I’d tell you, but then you’d probably die of shock or concern.”

“You know, the more I think about how different my mind is, the more similar I realize my body is,” he said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Devon giggled, realizing Nico had turned to face him. Devon’s breath caught in his throat.

“I just hope we can figure this all out. This curse. But…” Nico started. “Maybe this was all fate. I said it on our date, if you’re okay with me calling it that, and I haven’t stopped wondering about it since.”

 “Fate that we both ended up cursed?”

Nico shook his head. “Fate that we’re both dealing with this together. The more I think about it, the easier it gets when I realize that I wouldn’t rather have it happen with anyone else.”

His eyes traced the lines of Devon’s face, then roamed his body. Devon couldn’t make out what exactly he was staring at, what he was thinking, but something inside him didn’t care. Nor did he want it to end. 

Nico leaned closer. In the sterile fluorescent glow, his dilated pupils were clear, growing as they got closer. Until his lips pressed into Devon’s.

A prickling thrill cascaded down Devon’s back to the soles of his feet. He collapsed under the unexpected elation that permeated his body and rushed through his veins. Reflexively, his hand reached to touch Nico’s arm. His fingers graced a fleshy, slimy surface studded with soft hairs.

Devon jerked back. A pair of yellow eyes bulged out, staring back through vertical black slits. They searched his face between wet, nictitating blinks.

“You’re changing.”

The towering metamorphosis lengthened Nico’s body with each of his shallow breaths, adding a foot to his height. A sheen of slime glistened on his skin, now a variegated loam brown and crocodile green. Filaments extended from either side of his neck like dozens of tiny wiggling fingers.

His saffron eyes flicked about the kitchen, finally landing on Devon. An unmistakably human shame rested just behind them. He shrank into himself and backed away. 

“This is what I am,” he whispered, his voice lower and more guttural. “Monstrous.”

“Never that.” Devon shook his head. “Well, you were in middle school, but not this. This is just part of who you are now. That we can’t change, fortunately or unfortunately.”

“How are you not horrified?”

“I’ve seen worse,” Devon shrugged, taking a step forward and reaching out a hand. “Do you mind if I…?”

His hands itched to explore this new body. Freed from the ambivalence that Nico’s other face stirred in him, Devon didn’t hesitate to close the distance.

Cowering back, Nico’s amphibious body hit the back counter.

“Not with that hand. It’s clean. It’s still human! Who knows what could happen to you if you touch it!”

Devon reached further. “As I said, I’ve seen worse.”

“No, please. I didn’t know this would happen. I thought we’d do it together. Both of us, like…this. You should stay back.”

“I’ll be fine. That’s if you’re fine with me touching you like this.”

“But why?”

Devon considered. “I’m just curious. I’ve just never seen it like this. It’s strange but familiar. I just want to know what it feels like from the other side. Is that okay if I touch you?”

Nico paused as Devon’s hand rested inches away. His head finally gave a labored shake. He pressed himself against the kitchen wall, knocking off hanging spoons as Devon approached. Unable to retreat any further, his rough, slippery skin steeled under Devon’s human fingertips.

“You didn’t transform,” Nico remarked, a hint of concern emerging from the depths of his verdant throat. 

“I know. I didn’t.”

Nico hesitated as Devon’s hands ran through the mucous on his arm. He winced at the sound of Devon playing with the strings between his fingers.

“Why not?” Quick, nictitating blinks signaled the storm brewing in the head atop that seven-foot amphibious body.   

“Believe it or not, I guess I’m still focused on trying to get used to the fact that my middle school bully is gay, and that he might’ve had wet dreams about me the nights before terrorizing me.”

Nico collapsed even further into himself. Definitely embarrassment. “Maybe you control it better.

“Maybe. I’ve felt like a freak for years, so this is just one version that manifests when I’m feeling especially…different. That never really goes away, though. You can transform and grow, but it’ll still always be part of me at the end of the day. Not that I love that; I wish everyone could see past it, and see who I am aside from all that.” He ran his fingers across Nico’s pimpled skin. “But they always see this green before me.”

Nico nodded. His breaths were becoming deeper and more stabilized. Suddenly, the tall amphibian shape began to shrink with a series of loud squelches as Nico’s human frame returned. He held his hands before his face and watched them turn back to five separated digits.

“That was quick,” Devon chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess I settled down a bit.”

Nico adjusted his shirt and his apron, now both stretched and slimy around his chest. “Can I ask you another question?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think you could ever be with someone like that if you were the non-creature?”

“I’m sure everyone’s answers to that would be different. Obviously, most people would use it as a disqualifier,  but—”

“I’m not talking about generally; I’m asking personally. Do you think you could ever be with someone like…this?”

The question smacked like a brick to the head. Devon pondered for a moment. “That’s hard…”

“I understand,” Nico muttered. “It was just a question.”

“And I have to answer honestly,” Devon asserted. He pointed a finger at his chest. “When I can finally embrace all that’s inside of me, all the ugly, the sad, the scary, then it wouldn’t even be a question.”

“You may not be able to now,” Nico said, stepping back toward him. “But I will until you can.” He reached out with both arms that twitched with hesitation. Devon reared back slightly, but Nico continued, wrapping them around Devon’s body. The kitchen melted away around them, along with the burdens carried underneath their layers of flesh.

A bell chimed from the front of the bakery, shattering the peace of their wordless embrace.

“Nico! Estás aquí?”

Nico unraveled himself from Devon and drew back, his head swiveling from side to side.

“That’s my uncle. You’ll have to go,” he whispered. Slipping a hand down Devon’s back, he ushered him back to the back door. “Can I call you later?”

Devon clapped a hand over his mouth, stifling a chuckle that could not reach further into the kitchen as he tiptoed out into the last rays of dusk.

“Yeah. Call me later. Anytime.”

Devon scurried back to his car and ducked inside, a smirk lingering on his face. His heart continued pounding as the images cemented into a memory, still pristinely vivid minutes later. He peered into the bakery’s front window, half-ensuring no one had seen him leave, and half-reliving the feeling of those lips crashing into his. He rubbed the tips of his fingers together, the slimy residue still coating the ends, so strangely viscous and smooth.

Light as a balloon released into the air, his mind floated into an elevated realm of fantasies—until the buzz of the phone sent it crashing back to earth.

Devon’s head snapped to the side to find it still sitting, faced down, whispering another insistent vibration. His reluctant hand started to reach, but wouldn’t follow through. He huffed. Whatever was on the other side was limited to the edges of the screen, and it couldn’t pierce the joy that swelled in his chest and muscles. But it all could be stolen in a moment.

He slipped a hand to this side and retrieved the phone, turning it over. The caller’s name flashed across the screen. 

Victor Kennedy 39 minutes ago

You creeping on my profile? ;)

Devon shivered. He clutched his chest. He wanted to throw the phone out the window. Maybe run it over. Then burn it to release the demons.

He flung it back into the passenger’s seat. Desperate to distract his mind, he started up the car.

Pulling out onto the highway, the wind rushed past him, the sun warming his skin like Nico had. Devon fixed his attention on the memory, replaying it over and over. The thought of his rough skin sparked a tingle across his face. Knowing this new side to Nico was like gaining another vantage point into the room of a house seen but never visited. The slimy, green form was another floor of the house, only for him to explore, and maybe inhabit.

He glanced into the rearview mirror to see his homely face staring back. For some strange reason, that impression wasn’t shared by the broad, flour-peppered pastry chef in the kitchen. Somehow, that guy saw something else. Genuine attraction? Lust even? For Devon Long? The stocky, black gay with the pansyish touch? Nico’s excuses felt far-fetched, but stranger things had happened.

They’d just happened.

Devon pulled into the parking lot outside of his apartment. He idled the car, trying to process the logic. Different perspectives meant different preferences, he guessed, no matter how bizarre they were. There was no point in questioning it further. After hearing the same thing multiple times, taking Nico at his word made the most sense.

He turned the car off. The storm of anxieties settled, revealing an image he’d been trying to discard: his face, resting against Nico’s forehead, and their bodies intertwined within each other’s arms. First, they were human, and in a flash, they transformed into alternate forms, contrasting in color, shape, and texture, stunningly harmonious.

The floating vision nearly carried him straight out of the car. A silly grin tugged at his mouth until it pulled across his face as he indulged in the vision.

He caught his breath when the phone buzzed from the passenger’s seat. A bout of nausea shot up from his stomach. He glanced over to the screen to see it brightly illuminated, with two dreadful lines in the center. 

Incoming call 

Victor Kennedy

His name alone was like a taunt. All the barbed insults and mind games returned, suddenly swallowing Devon like a sinkhole opening underneath him. His muscles tensed, his mind boiling with frustration towards a burning need to reach out and answer it. To find out.

Is he sorry? 

Does he care about me?

Did he ever really want me?

As much as Devon resisted, his strength had a limit. He grasped all the painful memories and tried to hold them close: the lies, the pain, the manipulation. The curse.

Their reminders diminished with each vibration. He resisted.

But the phone kept ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing.

“Hello?” Before he knew it, the phone was pressed to his ear. He clenched his jaw, despising his weakness.

So pitifully weak.

The greeting went unanswered. Silence continued on the other side of the line until a rustling emerged in the background, distant and low as if the phone had been out of reach. Devon waited.

“Hello, Devon.” Victor’s velvet baritone glided from the phone into Devon’s ear. Devon didn’t stand a chance. “How’ve you been?”

Everything came rushing back: his deep and musky scent; his earnest, blue eyes; his thick neck leading up to the strong jaw that pressed kisses. And sent lies.

“Hi Victor. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you…”

“I wasn’t expecting to see you in my notifications,” he chuckled. “But I guess surprises are good, right?”

Devon inhaled, stalling his response. Not that he knew what to say.

“That was an accident,” he began, but stopped himself.

“Accident? Sure. It’s okay to admit it. I’ve been thinking about you, too. A lot, actually.”

“You have?”

“Of course. All the time we spent together? You don’t just forget about all that.”

“Seems like you wanted to before...”

“I didn’t, though. And clearly you didn’t either because you were checking in on me.”

Devon cursed to himself. He detested how easily he could be maneuvered into a corner. “I was just browsing upcoming events, and I found out about the festival. Then I heard about the panel—from an announcement—and I wanted to confirm that it was in fact you. Congratulations on that.”

“Thank you. I’m sure you remember me talking about my little dreams all the time. You probably thought I was crazy after a while. I gotta say, feels great to finally get there,” Victor said, his tone inflated with feigned humility.

“I’m sure it does. I’m happy for you.”

“Does that mean you’re coming to the festival? You want to see me at the panel? I’d love to see you.”

Devon’s jaw nearly fell open. Hearing those words in contrast with the ex he remembered jerked him with disorienting whiplash.

“You sure about that? If I remember correctly, you said I was a dumpy, insecure loser who was smothering you because I’d had a taste of the best I’d ever get. What changed since—”

“People say things they don’t mean when they’re emotional. We had something really special, so of course when that starts to go left, there’d be some extreme reactions. Ones that we’d regret,” Victor assured. “Fortunately, time changes things. We’re in much better places now.”

“Sure,” Devon agreed hesitantly. “Some of the stuff you said really hurt, though. I hope you know that.”

“We both said some hurtful things. That’s why we agreed to go our separate ways, remember? I’ve taken the time to heal since then, and I’ve put all that stuff behind me. I figured you would’ve, too.”

“I’ve tried,” Devon said. “And I don’t mean to bring up old news; I just never had the opportunity to get that off my chest. That’s all.”

“Well, I’m glad you finally did. Hopefully, we can let it go. And hug it out when we see each other again.” Hints of sincerity slipped into his message.

“Uh…perhaps.”

Victor scoffed. “C’mon. It’ll be a great time. You don’t wanna put this all behind us?”

Devon’s skepticism peaked in alarm. “Of course, I’d love to. But what’s the reason for your sudden change of heart all of a sudden?

“It’s not sudden. I’ve never held any ill will toward you. Since we broke up, I let everything go.” Victor continued his dance. “And you initiated this. If anything, I should ask you that.”

He was so exquisitely talented at this.

“I just…” Devon stumbled. He’d never be as good. But he didn’t need to be anymore. “Sure. We can put it behind us. I wanted to do that as well. But there is one thing I wanted to ask you—”

“Wonderful. It’s great to know how aligned we are now, but it’s no surprise, really. Even though we didn’t work out, we had some pretty wild chemistry. It’s crazy to think back on it,” Victor said smoothly. “And crazier to realize how timing can be the killer of something with such great potential.”

“Potential?” Devon asked. Was there more forgotten than he’d realized?

“Lots,” Victor added. “But I think that’s a conversation we could have if you come to the event. Maybe we could have coffee after or something?”

The offer set Devon’s heart aflutter. He hated it.

“Maybe. It could give us an opportunity to talk about something I think you might know about.”

A self-congratulatory chuckle rolled from the other side of the line. A grin had surely spread over his face.

“Sounds like there’ll be plenty of stuff to catch up on,” he cheered. “And just one more thing before I let you go.”

“Yes?” Devon hated that he hung onto his every word.

“I just wanted this to be clear: don’t bring anyone else.”

Devon paused. “What do you mean?”

“I just think you should probably be alone,” Victor said in a cavalier pitch. “After hearing some things, I think that’d be best for you in general.”

“Hearing what things?”

“Things about you possibly seeing someone I happened to know…”

“What?”

“Don’t act dumb, Devon. You didn’t go on a date with Nico? Nico Rivera?”

“How did you—”

“How did I know?” Victor jeered. “Friends, Devon. I have a lot of friends in a lot of different places, some at Artem’s. You were there, apparently, on a date with Nico?”

“The server?”

“Does it really matter?” Victor retorted. “I’m telling you this is to help you, actually. I wanted to warn you. Nico’s not who he says he is. He’s no good. Absolutely no good. If you think it’ll work out, I’ll just say, you won’t want to get your hopes up.”

Darkness had finally fallen, and seemed to swallow Devon inside. Although his apartment was only through the door and up the stairs of the building in front of him, he stood lost and confused, uncertain which direction to take.

“He doesn’t know what he wants. He’ll mess with your head, use you for companionship while he’s trying to figure himself out. Then he’ll abandon you when he gets too scared, when things get too real. I’m surprised he’s even willing to be seen at a restaurant. When I was with him, we were only allowed to meet at my place or in the back of his little cupcake shop.”

“But you did that to me, too…”

Victor exhaled a plaintive sigh. “You’re right. And I’m sorry. Truly, I am. But my karma found me as soon as I met him, which is why I’m warning you in the first place. I don’t want you to go through that again. It’d be a shame for you to recognize it only after you’re too invested.” Devon didn’t interrupt. His suspicions mixed with his confusion. “I’m just trying to save you from getting hurt. Watch out for him.” 

The photo of the tri-colored cookies broke Devon’s resistance. Following several ignored notification bubbles throughout the morning, he finally tore his eyes away from his canvas to study the beautiful confection.

1m ago 

Polvorones. You ever tried these before? 

1m ago

Would you like to? :) 

Devon acknowledged his yearning to try everything he’d seen waiting in the kitchen yesterday afternoon. All the conchas, the wedding cookies, even the cono rellenos, looked equally strange as they were deliciously intriguing. A fantasy might’ve even taken shape in his mind where he and Nico alternated between feeding each other pastries and exchanging long kisses. But it never fully rooted itself. Victor’s warning was proving effective.

The messenger should’ve invalidated the idea entirely, but somehow it still stuck. Devon tossed and turned all night until the sun had risen. Hours later, it still squirmed in his mind.

Reluctantly, Devon sent his reply. 

Could we talk again? I’m just wondering a few things.

Almost immediately, the response appeared beneath his message bubble. 

Sure. Everything good? 

Devon hesitated. Further suspicion might be warranted, depending on Nico’s reaction to a certain question. 

Yeah. Just wanted to ask you about something. Maybe we could get a drink at Jets or something? Sports bar vibe will be cool. 

He waited. This time, the reply was a little more delayed. 

Or we could meet back at the bakery? 

I’m finishing up my shift. 

I can wait. Just let me know whenever you get off. 

The bar will be open. 

Again, a slight delay came in the reply. 

It’ll be a while. And I’ll be pretty tired when I get out. 

Please come. 

You gotta try these cookies. 

Devon bounced his knee, squeezing the paintbrush until his hand hurt. 

********

The sun had been down for more than an hour when Devon returned to La Casa Rosa. His car was parked in the exact same spot as it had sat a little over twenty-four hours ago. Still inside, he tested several versions of the message he was soon to deliver. The ‘ABIERTO’ sign had long been dimmed, and the last customer had been gone for hours.

Nico was inside, probably just as on edge. Or perhaps not. It was comfortable in there, after all, hidden away in the back of the bakery, where he was no stranger to doing whatever he wanted, with whomever he wanted. In his domain, it was his reality, in which he’d only come out—or stay inside—to whatever degree was comfortable.

Devon balled his fists. That would never be enough.

He stepped out of the car and approached the storefront, giving it a loud knock. The counter remained black, and no one came to the front, but a strip of light reached from the door and painted a faint glow on the wall heading toward the kitchen. A minute passed. He knocked again to no answer. Snatching his phone from his pocket, he began pecking the screen with his thumbs.

I’m here.

At the front. 

Just as before, the response came immediately. 

Can you come around? I can meet you at the door. 

Devon snorted. Another few minutes standing outside and he’d leave, he decided. Too many encounters had started like this, eagerly waiting, only to be smuggled into a dark corner with intimacy allowed only behind walls.

Victor was definitely untrustworthy, but a broken clock was right twice a day.

He typed another message and sent it without pause. 

There’s no one watching. 

I’d prefer to come in from the front.

The light from the back slowly expanded from a strip to a flood along the wall. A shadow appeared in the center, materializing into a silhouette emerging from the rays. Steadily, it snuck from behind the counter and approached the door. Nico’s face quickly appeared from the outline. His puzzled gaze was clear even through the glare of the streetlights’ glow on the front window. Devon pointed to the door, and Nico carefully unlocked it as if the mere sound of one click of the bolt would draw all curious eyes from across the neighborhood.

Swinging it open, his eyes shot around in every direction.

“You were scared to come around back in the dark, weren’t you?” he whispered.

“No, I just realized there was no need for it,” Devon replied at full volume.

Nico’s eyebrows jolted up. Putting a finger to his lips, he whispered, “We don’t know who’s around! Come on in.”

Devon rolled his eyes, following him through the front door. Even in the dark, there was a charming ambiance created by the whimsical decor and furniture that matched the baby pink aesthetic of the storefront. The enchantment and frustration anchored his feet to the checkerboard tiling.

Nico turned, hearing the end of the footsteps behind him.

“Is everything okay?” 

“Sure. I’ll help you finish things up here, and then we can head out somewhere. Put me to work, it’ll be faster for you that way.”

Nico stammered, “Thanks, but I don’t need any help. Come back to the kitchen to try the cookies I made.”

Something stirred in his request, gentle yet desperate. Despite the accompanying gesture towards the kitchen, Devon dug in his heels.

“Why?”

The pause in Nico’s breath was nearly as audible as the single-word question. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you want this? Why are we doing this? Any of this?”

The creases deepened in his brow, etched with mystification. “What are you talking about?”

“This. Here.” Devon gestured to the room. “You’re supposed to be out of the closet, yet I’m relegated to sneaking into the back of the bakery. That’s not how this is supposed to work. This isn’t where two out gay men should be going on a Friday night, friends or otherwise….”

Nico’s shoulders drooped with a harried exhale rushing past his lips. “Who cares about where we should be going? It’s quiet here.”

“Turn on the lights then.” Devon waited.

“There are lights on in the kitchen, if you just follow me back there.”

“No, the lights in here,” Devon corrected. “...in the front. Where it’s open. Visible.”

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Devon insisted. “I’m just wondering why someone who’s supposedly ‘out’ is more comfortable displaying cookies than another guy in his shop.”

The words felt strangely accusatory as they flung from his mouth. They lobbed towards Nico like ammunition, and the intention to stun had clearly worked as he took several moments to process where the hits landed.

“I’m sorry if I’m still getting comfortable with myself. I didn’t think you’d mind since you’re also getting comfortable, even spending time with me in the first place. What difference does it make if you don’t even like me like that? At least that’s what I gathered from someone whose body doesn’t even respond to me trying to show you how much I’m trying,” Nico retorted.

“This just isn’t how things are supposed to be,” Devon repeated.

“Supposed to be?” Nico asked, his tone flashed with indignation. “What protocol are you following that I didn’t know about?”

“The one you get when you leave the closet and decide to start dating someone,” Devon scoffed. “What if I don’t want to be hiding all the time? What if I want to be out in public, holding hands with another guy?”

Nico stood back. “Who says I wouldn’t do that with you? I might not be on your timeline, but I’m trying to reform myself and show I’m getting there. I’ll just need time. You had your time, how is it fair that I don’t get the same opportunity?”

“You do! I’m trying to give you time, but the process doesn’t move forward by crawling out of a safety net. You have to just put yourself out there, regardless of the response. That’s the normal thing to do.”

A loud, unbridled laugh shot from Nico’s throat. “Normal? Did you happen to forget that we’re monsters, Devon? There is no ‘normal’ for us. Regardless of how much you want to fit into a mold, you’re never going to be normal. We’ll never be normal.”

Devon gnawed his lip. His muscles tensed.

“But that’s the whole reason why I’m into you. I don’t have to hide anything about myself from you. And you can be whatever you want to be with me.”

“How do I know that’s true if you don’t even feel comfortable enough to be seen with me outside?” Devon demanded. The power of his voice diminished as the next idea resolved. “How do I know you’re not just settling because you’re too scared to be alone with this secret?”

Nico reached out and grabbed Devon’s hand, pulling him close. “I wish I could take this away from you. And the worst part is knowing it was me who put these ideas in your head. I’d wrestle them out if I could. I’d tear each one apart and break them into pieces.”

“It wasn’t just you…” mumbled Devon. 

“Well, then, where the hell else are they coming from?”

Devon sighed. “He told me this would happen.”

“Who’s he…” Nico started when the answer arrived on its own. He pressed his lips in a flat line, and his chest rose and fell. He balled his fists. “I swear, I’m gonna—”

Devon fell back at the shift in the reaction. “Okay, woah. It’s just Victor, just up to his same old tricks.”

“It’s not just that…”

Devon raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Nico shook his head, slipping his phone from his pocket. “Did he call you, too?”

“Too?” Devon stammered, unable to even begin to know where this was going. 

Nico’s phone screen glowed like the streetlights outside the glass windows. In a few clicks of his fingers, the phone screen went to the dial pad, then the call log. “I wasn’t going to show you before. I know you’re still getting over everything he put you through, and this wasn’t going to make it better. I won’t show them all to you, but…”

Just as his words trailed off, the recorded message played. None other than Victor’s voice, slurring words right into the receiver of whatever alternate phone he’d called from: 

Hello handsome. 

Rico Nicoooo. 

You know who this is? 

Of course you do. I know you still think about me. How could you not? I was your first. You’d never forget about that. And I would’ve been your first boyfriend, the one you went public with. Remember that? It was gonna be so special. Too bad we had to fuck it up.

But now I hear you’ve been on a date with Devon Long? Seriously, you could do so much better than that fat, ugly boar. I know you’re still a baby gay and haven’t made your rounds around here, so let me just give you the breakdown: he’s a sloppy bottom who’s just as clingy as he is empty. I’m warning you not to get too close. God forbid you put your mouth anywhere on him. Even the best doxyPEP won’t protect from whatever he’s got incubating between those legs.

Anyway, if you unblock my number, then we could have a real conversation. I’ll be waiting.

Devon’s mouth went dry, and his throat tightened. Suddenly, the dark felt much more comforting, like a cloak.

“Have you talked to him?” Nico growled.

Devon nodded. “He called me. He was trying to invite me to his event, but you know he had to do something to mess with us.”

“How does he know about us?”

Devon bit his tongue in an attempt to filter the message enough that would pull the brake on this trajectory. “He found out somehow. I think he must’ve known that waiter at Artems, who clearly knew him and recognized one of us. He put two and two together.”

By then, Nico was pacing back and forth. He cracked his knuckles under one hand, the shadow of his jaw bulging against the faint light from the back. “I am going to fuck him up.”

Devon’s hands flew up in a placating attempt. “Woah, let’s just relax for a second. He’s probably just mad and trying to mess with our heads.”

His grumbling, his gait, and his tone were enough of a response. The combination of them sent the child inside cowering. Devon had seen this before. Nothing had changed from middle school. The silent marauding pattern often preceded especially ruthless beatings.

“We’ve got to get him back. Humiliate him, like you said. You still think that’s the best way?”

Devon wasn’t so sure of anything anymore, especially his own ideas. His mind struggled to balance it all: the shock, the unease, and the deep humiliation of his own. Words like those in the message cut at the scar tissue left by years earlier, somehow penetrating just as effectively as before.

Devon watched Nico’s furious pacing as the idea revealed itself in his head.

“He’s trying to come between us. He’s trying to break us apart.”

Nico halted, immediately turning and waiting. “Clearly. But why? And what are we supposed to do about it? The only thing I can think of is to let my hands do the talking.”

Devon shook his head, and another idea came. The more Devon turned it over, the more genius it became. “No, not that. We’re gonna give him a taste of what he’s given us.”

The recessed lights haloed Victor in the corner of the screening room. Pacing across the line of film chairs, he walked into the beam, then out, shuffling through a stack of notecards and mumbling under his breath. The light was harsh on his pale skin, exposing him like a canvas of duplicity.

Devon hesitated in the shadows of the back of the empty room. There was still time to pivot and run away, even after all that Victor had said. Not too late to try to forget it all, nor too late to let it go. That’d surely be the more mature option, though sooner or later, he’d be right back in the corner, cowering with the curse that he’d never rid himself of.

Devon took a reluctant step forward, then ducked down. Victor’s head was swiveling from side to side. His eyes darted about the rows of seats, failing to land on anything. Or anyone.

Yanking his sleeve back, he examined his forearm. He scrubbed his skin with his other hand and rubbed his fingertips together a few inches from his nose. Even after rotating them to display every angle under the lights, they remained dry. His shoulders loosened, and he rolled the sleeve back down.

Though Victor’s fingers were dry, his forehead was studded with beads of sweat that glistened as he paced. With another labored sigh, he dragged the back of his hand across his brow to erase the conflict agitating his movements. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he clicked it on and checked the screen.

Devon continued his watch, tugging at his earlobe and bouncing on the balls of his feet. His muscles locked for a moment until he threw himself forward.

“Victor,” Devon called, descending the stairs towards the screen. When the blue eyes shot a glance in his direction, his legs nearly buckled. The smile he wore had an even more potent effect than before. Why were demons made so beautifully?

Victor opened his arms, inviting Devon inside. It seemed genuine enough, not that he could resist accepting an embrace.

His head crossed Victor’s shoulder, and his nose savored his scent. From the cage in the back of Devon’s memory, the images freed themselves: the firm back rolling, the golden hair of Victor’s arms caught in sweat, his abs tightening and loosening. Buried in that reel was the moment the curse had been passed.

“It’s great to see you,” Victor whispered with his squeeze, ending with a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for coming out. I know we’ve had our issues in the past, but this really means a lot to me to have a familiar face here to support.”

Devon drew his hands back. Slime began to web between his fingers. He watched his skin shifting, with the yellow dots beginning to form. Hiding them in his pocket, he continued.

“Absolutely. I hope you’re not letting the nerves get the best of you. You’re gonna do great,” he encouraged, lowering his eyes. They might’ve started changing, too.

“I hope, but you never know how it’ll go until it starts. It’s a panel of directors that are all pretty well known. I’ve been covering each of them for years, seen all their work, especially their films playing at the festival. It still feels like I don’t know anything, though. I’ve prepared for weeks, but still.”

The anxiety braided into Victor’s voice prodded an opening into Devon’s armor. He nearly flinched. Even after exposure to the true face beneath, he remained susceptible to the charms of the mask that covered it. But they wouldn’t ensnare him this time.

“Once you start, it’ll probably just come flowing out. Our bodies are funny like that, how they work together with our minds. Sometimes we just…respond.”

Amusedly, Victor regarded him like a babbling toddler. “You’re right. I’ve been doing this successfully for so long. I just gotta relax and not even really think about it.”

He went back to pacing and shuffling through his cards before turning around, remembering Devon still standing there. “You look great, by the way; much better than when we last saw each other. You committed to those workout classes, huh? Still doing the art, too?”

Suddenly, it felt like the spotlight switched to Devon. “Yeah, I’m still doing both pretty aggressively. I started a new series of prints that’s become a hit. It’s been selling pretty well recently.”

“Nice,” Victor said, managing to put on a thin, plastered smile. “What’s it about?”

“Frogs, salamanders, toads, newts, axolotls. Pairs of them, but with contrasting colors.”

Victor scratched his chin, his eyes flicking about the room before falling back onto Devon. “Interesting. There’s gonna be a film crowd here, but I’m sure you could network a little with people. Probably gonna be lots of photographers. They’d probably find all that interesting too. Maybe if your work continues to be a hit, then you’d make it on here, and I could even interview you.”

Devon’s swell of pride at the approval was detestable. “That’d be a funny full-circle moment. From a first date to a first interview.”

“Hopefully a different outcome following that,” Victor laughed before checking his phone again. “Looks like things are gonna be starting soon, by the way. I’ll have to do some last-minute checks with the AV people to make sure I get my microphone working properly.” He pointed over the raked seating. “Would you mind sitting in the back of the auditorium? I don’t want the other directors’ or fans’ seats to be taken. We want to let everyone participating in the festival file in up front so they can see their favorite directors up close. Don’t worry, though, I’ll still be looking out for you to help me refocus if I start spiraling. Seeing you always grounds me.”

Devon nodded, returning a conflicted smile. “Sure thing.” He turned and made his way to the row of seats at the back, closest to the door.

**** 

By the ten-minute countdown preceding the start of the panel discussion, the auditorium was spotty at best. Of those that had arrived, the seats were occupied by an eclectic array of guests, old and young, casual and formal. The collective filled the room with a roar of mumbled conversations announcing their anticipation for the panelists.

Devon glanced at the entrance behind him before finally taking his seat. He was still alone with the materials to execute the plan. He slipped out his phone from his pocket and typed a quick message. 

Where are you? You’re still coming right?

For a few moments, the message bubble sat at the bottom of the screen until another arrived to accompany it. 

Look behind you :)

“Boo,” whispered Nico. His breath swept Devon’s neck, the warmth pimpling it with goosebumps that stood with shock as much as thrilled attention.

He whirled around to see Nico standing a foot away, his brawny torso bulging in a ribbed black turtleneck. Aviator sunglasses covered his eyes, and his hair was slicked back under a baseball cap. The stubble that had quickly grown into a beard over the last week was totally shaven. If they’d only met for the first time a few weeks ago at the restaurant, then this newly transformed man in disguise would be unrecognizable. But the hairless face revealed many more hints of the bully he remembered from middle school.

He held his hands behind his back, accentuating the broadness of his shoulders. “Guess what I have.”

“I’m hoping it’s the speaker,” Devon replied, peering up at the goofy grin that wouldn’t leave his face.

“Yes,” he said, revealing one of his hands that carried a portable speaker that looked just large enough. “But I have another surprise for him.” 

Devon’s eyes bulged. “And for me, clearly. We’re revising the plan?”

Nico chuckled, bringing out his other hand. A long roll of poster paper was tight in his grasp, with thick black lines painted inside the side that Devon could see. The message was bold, even if he didn’t know what it was.

“We’re gonna reveal it with the recording. I’ll hold it up, don’t worry,” he said. The smile lowered to a frown as he watched Devon’s face. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d like this more.”

Devon shrugged. “Am I the only one still wondering if it’s worth it?”

“Is revenge on an asshole who has disrespected you worth it?”

“I meant, just in this kind of public way. Do we really have to do it like this?” 

Devon turned to the stage. Victor was still nervously shuffling through the cards, his leg bouncing.

Nico groaned, dipping down into the seat beside him. “That’s the reason why. That, right there. The hold he has on you has to stop. Don’t you remember all the damage he’s done? To both of us?”

“Yes, but does that really warrant all this?” Devon motioned to the speaker and the roll of paper in Nico’s hand.

“Don’t tell me you’re going soft. You were the one leading the charge, now you’re chickening out?”

“I’m not going soft or chickening out. I just…”

 “Don’t you remember what he just said about you in the voicemail?”

Devon snapped. “Of course I do! But there’s truth in some of it! Maybe I am a little clingy, and I don’t work hard enough to be on his level. I’ve been in vulnerable places and made some decisions that weren’t exactly upstanding. That’s not cute. Can we totally blame Victor for treating me like someone who wanted him but will just never be on his level?”

Nico snatched off his glasses. “Who the hell cares about any of that? None of it matters to the right person. The right person isn’t gonna punish you for being all you are, the good and the bad parts. Trust me, I’m saying this as someone who’s tried to play the other side. You’ll always lose. When that asshole threw me away after I wasn’t exactly the tough guy, straight archetype he thought I was, it woke me up. He’d never give me what I wanted because he never valued me. Not fully, with all the messy parts included. We should be embraced. Completely. That’s the kind of love we deserve.”

Devon stared into his dark eyes that beamed with a conviction bright enough to see even in the low light.

“You said it yourself,” Nico leaned in, pointing to Victor. He was straightening his jacket and making eyes at someone in the front row. “That asshole will never show himself completely. He’ll just go on reinforcing this idea with his curse, sending other people to this closet, where they’ll never find their way out. Imagine if we never met. That’d be us, too.”

Devon nodded, flattening his feet against the hard concrete ground. “Okay. I’ll hold the speakers if you hold the poster. But when, exactly?”

“Enough time to give him a chance to present the mask. Then we’ll snatch it away.”

“And then we’ll play the voicemail?” Devon asked.

Nico slipped his glasses back onto his face. “Exactly.”

Before Devon could demand clarification, the auditorium dimmed, and the rolling mumble of the audience hushed in response. Victor returned to his seat aside from the line. One final time, he flipped through the notecards and brought the microphone to his mouth.

“Good evening, District Film Festival! My name is Victor Kennedy with the KWRR’s entertainment division. On behalf of the DFF planning committee, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the board of directors for their steadfast leadership, the dedicated volunteers for making this all possible, and to you, enthusiastic film lovers, for showing up to support filmmakers and your local arts community. Has everyone enjoyed the films they’ve been seeing so far tonight?”

He waited with an artificial grin, rotating his body to address the entire crowd. An awkwardly delayed and staggered applause sounded in response.

“I have to say the same myself. What a truly fantastic lineup this year. And I know you’re all as excited as I am to learn more about the minds behind these stories. So please give a warm welcome to the directors of each of these beautiful films this year!”

He announced the six names as the group emerged from a side door, waving to the crowd that showered them with ovations. Each shook Victor’s hands and sat down on their chairs, eagerly holding their microphones as the roar of the audience died down.

He began the interview, stumbling through the first few questions, then slowly settling into the space. The directors took their turns interacting with him. Gradually, they resorted to merely accepting his questions and began discussing between each other like a stolen toy passed around among children.

Despite being several meters away, Devon could vividly detect Victor’s insistence. His head bobbed gently, leaning in as if to remind them that he was meant to be included in the discussion. Surely no one else was paying him attention, which gave the subtle changes in his expressions a more ominous feel.

Only those who truly knew him would be able to recognize the thoughts occupying his head.

“I absolutely agree with that point. And to follow up on it before we wrap up, Terry, I wanted to mention….” he finally cut in. Most of the audience engagement had already been won by the panel guests, with the more interesting thoughts already expressed, and their incisive points made. But before its official end, Victor insisted on elbowing his way back into the conversation. “Your vision for this film was truly profound in its way of capturing the experience of how the pressure of secrecy can almost be as debilitating as the actual issue that’s plaguing the character. And I loved your inclusion of a romantic interest and the need for acceptance that complicates it. I immediately noticed the cinematography’s extremely wide shots, which I interpreted as an intention to display loneliness and alienation. Most would’ve probably missed that, but I have to say, as a queer person in media who covers many artists, that’s a common experience. Were you surprised at how universally that resonated?”

The director sat back with a smile. “I absolutely was. And may I say, that’s a keen analysis. No one else seemed to notice that.”

Victor shrugged with a grin. Those who didn’t know him might’ve thought it was genuine. “I‘ve been covering the local arts scene for a while, so knowing about the culture of the artists coming from here has primed me to watch through that lens. No pun intended.”

The audience laughed when he turned to address that to the crowd. His face resolved in response to their adoration, as he’d finally been granted a sip after being parched the entire time.

Devon’s jaw clenched. This was how it had started, almost a year ago, with his same ensnaring charm, the keen emotional insight that had almost certainly been studied and practiced.

The audience wouldn’t have a chance to see it as he did. Like Nico did. And that’s why it would work, moving from one soul to the next, depleting them, infecting them, and casting them aside before moving on to present the fresh, beautiful mask to the next.

“Don’t believe a single word of this. Nothing that he’s said is true about you. It’s all lies,” Nico’s whisper suddenly met Devon’s ear. His grab onto Devon’s forearm was followed by a squeeze as urgent as his message. The gentle warmth of his hand penetrated barriers, reaching past the shield of bitterness and implanting more than words could. They settled like a salve.

A swift click accompanied the end of his message. The surround of the speaker illuminated. 

“Ready?”

Devon braced, his eyes widened. No turning back. He furiously nodded and stood up, hoisting the speaker above his head.

Victor’s real voice poured into the auditorium. Once again, his slurred speech resonated through a muffled phone line filter: 

“…don’t believe me, do you? You’re probably wondering why I’m bringing this up again. Let’s just say I might’ve had some experience with him, too. Yes, fine, I admit it. Don’t think too badly of me; it was a super desperate moment. He was just throwing himself all over me. It was one of those things that you just hold your nose and do because what else was going for me? I felt like shit, so he was what I thought I deserved.”

Members of the audience twisted in their seats, their heads swiveling in search of the source of the interruption. Faces grimaced, brows raised, and eyes bulged. Their heads snapped back and forth, alternating from Devon and Nico’s display to Victor. A laugh rang out here, along with a gasp there.

Across the room, Victor’s glare locked onto Devon, fury blazing like a laser directed to kill. His eyes moved a millimeter. Devon turned to read the sign splayed across Nico’s chest with him.

VICTOR KENNEDY MAKES MONSTERS 

Devon’s nostrils flared, and his muscles tensed.

“And when I finally came to my senses, seeing his face and…the rest of him, I realized I deserve better. Not just in who I’m with, but just in general. Like, I could afford so much more if I just tried harder and worked on myself. I could go so far with more effort. He just didn’t fit any part of the future I wanted to make for myself. In a way, I feel like I used it as motivation. It keeps me grounded and reminds me to check my own ego, because things could be—and have been—so much fucking worse for me.”

The voice’s identity was unmistakable. There was no denying, nor escape. The mumbling grew as the voicemail concluded.

The edges of Devon’s vision blurred with a red outline. His hands trembled. The speakers slid from his grasp, crashing at his feet. The slime coating his fingers made it impossible to hold.

With every thump in his chest, his torso extended an inch, and his appendages shrank. The brown of his skin deepened to black, and the yellow spots speckled his entire body. From between his legs extended a long, thick tail that whipped back and forth before shooting outward and ejecting him from his seat.

Screams erupted from the audience as he slithered over their heads and through their scrambling bodies down the rows. The transformation accelerated as he descended toward the stage. The slime in his wake left a trail across the seats, marking his path through the audience like a cleavage where he parted the sea of people. His eyes locked onto their petrified target, who scrambled back in horror. They fixed on him intensely as they migrated in opposite directions along their hemisphere, finally settling at opposite sides of his head like two enormous, bulging obsidian stones.

Reaching the floor, he was finally leveled with Victor. He outmaneuvered his escape route in a few quick steps, pouncing on him and pinning him to the ground with his powerful and lithe amphibious body.

“Deserve better, do you Vvvvvvictor?” Devon whispered, his wide mouth struggling to articulate. “What’s better than this? YOU were the one who did this to me, after all. YOU DID THIS!”

Victor’s blanched face twisted in terror. Tears streamed down the sides of his cheeks, and he wriggled against Devon’s powerful, tetradatyl hands pressing his arms to the ground. One moved to his neck.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do this to you!” he wept. “You would’ve rejected me if you knew the truth!”

“Tell them what you are!” Devon roared. When Victor shook his head, he unleashed a tongue that danced across Victor’s face. The scream let out from under him only incensed him more. Quickly, it died to a whimper, but the others continued about the room.

“Did you hear that? He did this to me! Everyone behold the fraud, the abuser! Don’t be deceived by this face; there’s only one monster here! His mind’s more fickle than his dick. Every word from his mouth is a lie!”

The watching crowd held an array of expressions, some wrinkled with confusion, others horrified, but most wide-eyed with shocked revulsion. Phones flew into the air, raised by the hands that weren’t covering gaping mouths. Devon grabbed Victor’s ankle with his webbed paw, desperately trying to direct the attention back to the real monster. But despite his plea, the number of eyes watching him revealed their real anathema. Under the hot lights, their freakshow stood on full display. Victor wriggled out from under him and dragged himself back toward the audience.

“No, it’s him! The real monster is right here! You heard how awful he is!” Devon attempted with an emphatic point of his shortened limb. “He made me like this because he’s like this, too! You just can’t see it right now. We’re no different!”

He waited for the words to travel, for them to hear. For their outrage.

But the silence confirmed it all. The vindication was slipping from his grasp; this time, without a direction to follow or hope to reclaim it.

“That’s enough,” a voice urged from behind. Nico’s warm hand gently rubbed his tail. “They’ll never see it.”

Devon removed himself, releasing Victor to scramble backward. Though his replayed words were still fresh in the air, he was readily engulfed by the crowd as their terror, mystification, and amazement stayed locked onto Devon.

From the safety of the group, Victor’s eyes bounced between Devon and Nico, the recognition pooling in their wide blue pair. His face contorted. Fragments of an unintelligible protest fell out.

With Nico’s hand to his lanky, serpentine back, Devon slithered out of the auditorium and into the night.

“Where the hell are we?”

Devon stumbled out of the truck onto the mud. Moonlight painted the heads of a wall of longleaf pines standing before them. Chirps, clicks, and buzzing of the choir of insects greeted their arrival. With his legs finally returned to their human form, he stood his ground until the last parts of flesh firmed.

“Somewhere special,” Nico whispered. “I come here to clear my head and get away from it all sometimes. Just wanted to take you away from all that. You needed somewhere quiet. And private.”

Devon’s nose twitched with the smell of the resinous breeze before swatting away mosquitoes trying to needle his face. “When I said I wanted us to go out in public, I didn’t mean the great outdoors. And after sunset?”

“I don’t think you can make any demands after all that just happened,” Nico teased.

“What all did happen?” Devon slapped a hand to his forehead. “Actually, I don’t know if I want to hear your answer.”

“No, we should. Because I wanted to know…” Nico started. “Did we get him?”

Devon groaned. “Not like I thought we would. He practically blended right in, like he was one of them. And they just let him!”

“In their defense, he looked a lot more like them than you did…”

Devon swatted at Nico, who playfully dodged. “What even was that all for? He’s probably gonna go on thinking he needs to just watch his back from us, and that’s it.”

Nico nodded. “He should’ve done that anyway. I guess at least there’s the peace of mind knowing that he’s not gonna mess with us anymore.” He leaned on his truck, crossing his arms. “So we can focus on getting to know each other without any interruptions. That’s a start.”

“Sure,” Devon nodded, but it still didn’t quite satisfy.

“Was there more you were expecting?”

Devon shrugged. “I feel like I should say I wanted him to cry or get hurt, but no. I mainly just wanted him to acknowledge the truth with everyone watching.”

“You wanted him to change up there. Like you?”

“Yeah, then they would’ve seen that he’s one of us. He’s not better than us, even if he could end up joining them.” Devon said, suddenly swept into a thought. “But they never would’ve seen it. At least as long as I was like that.”

“That’s why I said it: play their game, and you’ll always lose.”

He didn’t want to accept it, but Devon couldn’t bring himself to disagree. 

Nico popped himself off the car and held out a hand. It sat empty in mid-air, with Devon reluctantly inspecting it and the man attached to it. Both enticed him more than he cared to admit.

His balled fists loosened. He inhaled a cool breath and took a step forward. In the darkness, his muscles relaxed for the first time. Nico’s dark eyes sparkled watching Devon’s hand inch its way toward his.

“I want to show you something. I hope you finally trust me.”

Devon gave an uncertain glare until his body thrust his hand into Nico’s, grabbing it with exhilarated acceptance.

“Come on.” Nico pulled him into the trees. “You’re gonna love it.”

Apprehension should’ve locked his muscles. Before tonight, it would have driven his feet into the ground to stop the rush into the unknown. Instead, he watched as they threw themselves down, one after the next, to chase Nico’s dash through the underbrush. His heart pounded with an exuberant rhythm as they picked up their pace, the thick summer air slipping past their faces. The glaring audience faded from memory faster than Devon could try to push them out. Giggles leaped from their mouths like springs that couldn’t be contained. They flew in the direction of total darkness, racing into the unknown with reckless abandon, when Nico suddenly slowed to a halt.

Devon gasped at his side between more laughs spilling from his lips. The placid surface of a vast silver-lit pond spread at their feet, opening in the dense overgrowth like an eye staring clear into the celestial abyss. Fireflies dotted the air like a galaxy of stars at their fingertips. Like the nocturnal chorus around them, they invited them forward.

Nico squatted down to look more closely. “When I first found out what he’d given us—what we are—I felt like I was gonna die. The first time I transformed, he acted like I was the most disgusting thing in the world. He didn’t even want to look at me, much less let me touch him. It was like the only guy I’d gotten the chance to be with had ruined me, and no one else would ever touch me like that again.

“And I couldn’t change back. I didn’t know what to do, so I just tried to escape. I just drove, and drove, and drove, like that was somehow going to leave that curse behind me if I went long enough. I felt like I had to hide, and somehow I ended up here. And I saw this.”

He motioned out to the lily pads dotting the surface, garnished with flowers. “Isn’t it peaceful? Not just how it looks, but the feeling. It’s like we’re not just existing here. It’s like we’re meant to be here. Like we could be or do anything, and it's perfect.”

Standing back up, he kicked his shoes off at the edge of the water, then slipped off his socks. His shirt went over his head with one swift movement. Locking eyes with Devon, he unbuttoned his shorts and lowered them to his ankles, and stepped out. The lines of bare silvery frame curved and rippled like an exquisite chiaroscuro. One that Devon yearned to trace with his fingers.

“Can I see you?” he breathed. “Like this.”

He backed into the water, but his stare lingered. Ripples radiated from his body, his hand held out once again, the request on his fingertips. Devon hesitated for a moment, but Nico’s eyes were pure as the forest air, clear as the glow of the moon beams on their skin.

The resistance dissolved against another push of his desire. He stripped off his shirt, and his pants couldn’t drop fast enough.

A broad, silly grin swept Nico’s face.

“Beautiful.” 

Devon ambled into the serenity of the pond, straight into Nico’s consuming embrace. The lapping of the waves against their skin cleared any doubts lingering between their crashing lips. Wading deeper, the water caressed the places their hands hadn’t yet traveled, until it absorbed them completely.

Silver rays reached with scattered shards through the waves as their bodies tangled in each other and the pondweed, thrusting, pulling, gripping through the metamorphosis. Devon unraveled in Nico’s webbed hands, unsure where either of them was in the process. But he pulled Nico close, only to be pulled even closer.

Drowned kisses carried longer with widened mouths. Short, firm muscles softened to slick, long trunks. Nico’s legs lengthened while Devon’s shortened. One hand ran over the warts of its lover’s skin while the other swept over the other’s smoothening exterior. A tail spread out from between legs to wrap itself around that of the other’s.

Drifting led to rolling, to pushing, to pulling, until their bodies had brought each other to the edge, then finished their submerged dance of passion. They sank together, finally resting on the murky bed. Their new eyes locked through the tenebrous depths with a longing. Nothing more waited behind either creature’s gaze than the promise of each other. And to rest in their pair, forever monstrous in that muddied paradise.