ALEX GRABS HIS JEANS from where he’d tossed them last night as they were getting undressed together.
“How do you not know what we are?” Paul finally asks. Out of everything, that’s the one that stings the most, somewhere over the hurt that Alex thought Paul would leave him.
“What are we, Paul?” Alex reaches for his shirt.
When Paul gets up on his knees on the bed and grabs his wrist, Alex stares at his hand until Paul lets go. “We’re — ” Paul starts, then hesitates. This feels like a moment where there are no right answers. Out of all the mistakes he’s made, he should have asked Alex about this most of all.
“Nothing, apparently,” Alex says, quiet again now and chillingly calm. He puts on the shirt.
Paul’s mouth drops open. On some level he understands that Alex is terrified, has been
