Unhidden

The room was quiet except for the sound of our breathing. For a few seconds, neither of us moved. I lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to slow my heartbeat while Jamal rested beside me. His breathing was still uneven, and there was something almost peaceful about seeing him like this. Relaxed. Soft. Mine. At least for the few hours he allowed himself to be mine. I turned toward him and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Then another. His cheek. His neck. Jamal gave a quiet laugh. “Andre.” “What?” “You’re doing too much.” “I haven’t even started.” He rolled his eyes, but I could see the small smile on his face. I kissed his forehead again. I loved this part. Not the physical part. This. The quiet afterward. The part where there was no phone ringing, no excuse to make, no family member calling his name, no pretending that we were anything other than two men who loved each other. I wished I could freeze time here. Unfortunately, Jamal had other plans. He sat up. I watched him reach for his clothes. My smile disappeared. “Baby.” He didn’t answer. He simply started getting dressed. “Baby, where are you going?” Jamal sighed. “Dre, please don’t start, okay?” I pushed myself up onto one elbow. “I’m not starting anything.” “Yes, you are.” “I’m asking a question.” “And I know where this conversation is going.” I watched him button his shirt. “Where are you going?” “Home.” “Home?” “Yes, Andre.” “It’s almost midnight.” “I know.” “So?” “So I need to go.” I stared at him. “Could you just spend the night here?” His hands stopped for a moment. “Maybe?” “Jamal.” “Dre.” “Baby, please.” He looked at me. There was no anger in his eyes. Just exhaustion. “Andre, you know I can’t.” “Why?” “You know why.” “No, actually, I don’t.” His jaw tightened. I immediately regretted the sharpness in my voice. I softened. “Baby, I’m not asking you to announce anything tomorrow. I’m not asking you to tell your parents. I’m not asking you to change your entire life tonight.” I reached for his hand. “I’m just asking you to stay.” He looked down at our hands. “I need to go.” “Jamal…” “I’ll call you.” “You always say that.” “And I do call you.” “Sometimes.” His eyes lifted toward mine. I knew I was pushing. I knew it. But God, I was tired. Three years. Three years of loving a man who could hold me behind closed doors but couldn’t hold my hand outside them. Three years of being introduced as a friend. Three years of watching Jamal walk away from me every night because someone might notice he wasn’t sleeping at home. Three years of pretending it didn’t hurt. And the worst part? I loved him too much to leave. Jamal picked up his jacket. “I didn’t say I was spending the night,” he said quietly. “I said I would see you.” I let out a humorless laugh. “Jamal, Jamal… you know that’s not fair, right?” His expression changed. I could see the guilt immediately. “You just know that’s not fair.” “I know.” “Then stay.” “I can’t.” “Just tonight.” “Andre.” “Please.” He shook his head. “Dre, I can’t spend the night.” I got out of bed. He was already fully dressed. Of course he was. Jamal always looked like he was prepared to leave before he even arrived. That thought hurt more than I wanted to admit. I walked over to him. He looked at me cautiously. I wrapped my arms around him from behind. His body relaxed against mine. I kissed his shoulder. “Baby.” “Dre…” “Please.” He closed his eyes. “Don’t.” “Just stay.” “I can’t.” “One night.” “I need to go home.” I tightened my arms around him for a moment before finally letting go. “Okay.” He turned around. I forced a smile. “Fine.” Jamal studied my face. “Are you angry?” “No.” “Andre.” “I’m not angry.” I was. Not at him. Not exactly. I was angry at the situation. At the secrecy. At the fact that I could spend hours loving this man and still have to watch him leave before morning. At his family. At the fear that controlled him. At myself for accepting it. But most of all, I was afraid. Afraid that one day, loving Jamal would no longer be enough to make me stay. He stepped closer. “I’ll text you.” I nodded. “I know.” “I mean it.” “I know.” He touched my face. Then he kissed me. Softly. Slowly. Like an apology. When he pulled away, he whispered, “I’m going to text you, okay?” I nodded again. “Okay.” “I need to go.” “I know.” Jamal gave me one last look before opening the door. Then he was gone. Just like that. The door closed. And the room became unbearably quiet. I stood there for several seconds. Three years. Three damn years. My name is Andre Alex Hamilton Jr. I’m thirty years old. I’m a firefighter. People think my job is dangerous because I run into burning buildings for a living. They have no idea. The most dangerous thing I’ve ever done is love Jamal. Because loving him means loving a man who is terrified of being known. Jamal was twenty-six. He was gay. He knew it. I knew it. But his family didn’t. Or maybe they knew and refused to accept it. With Jamal’s family, sometimes I couldn’t tell which was worse. They were difficult. No. Difficult wasn’t the right word. They were the kind of family that could make a person question every decision they’d ever made. Jamal had spent his entire life trying to be the son they expected him to be. The successful son. The respectable son. The son who would eventually bring home a woman, get married, have children, and give them grandchildren. And then there was me. Andre. The man he loved behind closed doors. The man he couldn’t acknowledge in daylight. I walked back toward the bed and sat down. His scent was still there. I closed my eyes. I could still feel his arms around me. I smiled despite myself. That was the problem with Jamal. Even when he broke my heart, I still loved him. Even when he frustrated me. Even when I wanted to scream. Even when I promised myself I wouldn’t let him hurt me again. One smile from him. One touch. One quiet I love you whispered when nobody could hear. And I was gone. Completely gone. My phone buzzed. I grabbed it immediately. Jamal: I’m on my way home. I stared at the message. Then another appeared. Jamal: Don’t be upset with me. I swallowed. My fingers hovered over the screen. I typed: I’m not. I deleted it. Typed again. I love you. I stared at those three words. Then sent them. His response came almost immediately. Jamal: I love you too. I smiled. And that was when I realized something. I could survive the distance. I could survive the secrecy. I could survive the sleepless nights and the unanswered questions. But I didn’t know how long I could survive loving someone who was constantly preparing to leave. Because one day, Jamal was going to have to choose. Not between me and his family. Not between love and fear. He was going to have to choose whether he wanted a life with me. And when that day came… I wasn’t sure what either of us would be willing to lose.