Chapter 7: Stiff, Stiff, Stiffer

Carter took the glass of wine from the table with a methodical gesture, brought it to his lips and took a long sip of ... nothing.

“Do you want more wine?” Aron asked him.

“Just give me the bottle,” he mumbled.

He needed more than that, but he had to make do with whatever he had at his disposal. So he just drank straight from the bottle, while Aron continued to just watch him in absolute shock and silence.

“You knew that,” Aron eventually spoke. “That is why you were so pissed.”

He could not talk right now. He was way too busy drinking wine straight from the bottle to reply to that. Okay, maybe he was starting to feel a light buzz ... Nope. He could handle his liquor a bit too well, it looked. Perhaps just another thing in common with Alex. Good alcohol tolerance.

“Do you have anything stiffer?” he looked at the wine bottle with regret.

“Alex, don’t get drunk. C’mon, for how long are you going to run away from this? We’ve never had this conversation about Carter. Maybe it’s time to have it. I want to tell you one thing before you go ballistic or, whatever, drunk. I intend to talk to him if he ever wakes up from that coma. And, while I do care about what you think and I love you very much, Carter is my best friend, and I must settle things with him. It was completely out of character for him to act the way he did. I deserve an explanation, and I’m going to get it.”

Carter could feel the muscles in his legs going all soft. And something was happening somewhere in the middle of his chest again, but he had no intention to go there, to be honest.

“Carter is your best friend?” he needed the confirmation on that.

“What?” Aron looked at him like he could not get it.

“You said it like he still is your best friend. Not ex-best friend.”

Aron sighed.

“If you want to fight, fine. But this is one decision you cannot make me come back from. No matter how much you pout. You are my husband, and you should support me, even if you don’t always agree with me.”

“I don’t want to fight. I just want to know,” Carter rested the empty bottle against his forehead. There was no way for him to face all this on a clear head. But the cool sensation was making his tangled thoughts a tiny bit clearer right now.

“Okay. You know,” Aron spoke, still a bit irritated.

Carter had no idea how to react to that. Aron? Crushing on him? How? Why? When? Why? Oh, no, he was repeating himself.

“Fine,” he placed the empty bottle carefully on the table. “I mean, I’m fine with it. I mean, with Carter still being your best friend. Not with you crushing on him, though. That is weird as fuck.”

Of course, it was weird as fuck. And how come he had no idea about it? He was trying hard now to remember things, situations that should have given Aron’s crush on him away. But, at this point, he was just coming up empty. And there was no amnesia to blame it on. Anyhow, there was a solution to that, and, until he could clear his head and decide what to do, a bit of info could not hurt. Or it could. But he needed to hear Aron out.

“You have no reason to be jealous,” Aron spoke. “It’s all in the past. But he is still my best friend, and, despite his homophobic tendencies, he might come to live with the idea of me being gay. I need to make him see things how they are. He was such an important part of my life for so long. The fact that I’m married to a guy shouldn’t matter this much. He just needs some adjusting, that’s all.”

“Stop making such a case for him,” Carter cut Aron short.

What the hell. Frankly, now he was feeling embarrassed. Aron wanted so much to forgive him that he was willing to just forget about all the idiotic things Carter had said at the wedding. Carter wasn’t so sure he was supposed to be forgiven.

“Well, I have to. He’s not here to defend himself,” Aron replied. “And who knows? Maybe...”

Aron didn’t speak the words and just looked away. Carter got up, thankful he was not drunk and walked over to Aron. He wasn’t sure how to comfort the guy, seeing that they were actually talking about him. So he just awkwardly embraced him. Aron hugged him back, and for a few seconds, they stood like that.

“Better?” he caressed the other’s back slowly.

Aron threw him a grateful look. Excellent. Now he felt even more of a douchebag than before. He went back to his chair.

“Care to tell me about it?”

Curiosity was needling him to ask. He had to ask.

“About me crushing on my straight best friend?” Aron chuckled. “Are you sure?”

“100%,” Carter nodded.

Maybe he was blind. But a weird kind of blind, the kind that could see things, except for important stuff like his best friend crushing on him.

“Well, where do I start?” Aron said slowly, as his eyes became a tad unfocused, smiling at the memories.

“From the start,” Carter shrugged. “When did you fall in love with him?”

“Ah, that’s a difficult question,” Aron laughed. “I cannot really tell. Maybe since forever. But I’m not in love with him now,” he added quickly, stealing one nervous glance at his husband.

“Stop fretting. I can take it.”

Well, not exactly true, but he needed to know, and that was final.

“I realized something was not quite right about it all, one night when we were in 9th grade.”

“When you were 14 years old?”

“Yeah, about that time. Carter was so upset that night. I can still remember everything like it was yesterday. He had just seen some girl he liked kissing another boy. He was so inconsolable. It is true that he had a tendency of being overly dramatic, but when you’re only 14, it’s not like you have too much of a choice but to be overly dramatic. He was sleeping at my house and, for the entire evening, while we were supposed to go to sleep, like good boys, he just complained about that girl. Before eventually wishing me good night, and after making very strange and elaborate plans of how to impress the girl or just beat up the boy who had stolen her from him, he told me this: I wished so much my first kiss to be with her. And he fell asleep after that, and I just stood there, without turning off the lamp, and stared at him. At his lips. And all I could think of was how that girl could be so blind and not see how awesome Carter was. And that moment I knew who I wanted my first kiss to be with.”

Carter could feel his throat getting drier and drier. And the bottle was just so, so empty.

“And?” he dared.

He remembered that night, too. Particularly a strange thing, like the dream he had had right after falling asleep. Like he had just walked into that dream.

“I did a stupid thing. Not that I exactly regret it, in retrospect. Maybe it was then that I started to realize I was gay. Not immediately. I was still a kid. But maybe it was a good thing.”

Aron was staring at his hands.

“C’mon, Aron, what did you do?”

Carter was pretty sure he was holding his breath right now.

“I got up from my bed,” Aron began talking after a few seconds, his eyes still lost or, better said, fixed on a vision floating in front of him from times past. “I tiptoed to Carter’s bed, and I looked at him, for several minutes, I think. Or less. It all felt so surreal. He was deep in sleep. His chest was rising and falling. His lips ... Damn, I can’t believe I’m telling you all these.”

“I cannot believe it, either,” Carter mumbled, cradling the empty bottle to his chest.

“Should I bring you some water?” Aron made a move to get up from his chair.

“No,” Carter manipulated the bottle to point at Aron. “Sit down and confess everything.”

“It’s like I’m being grilled by the police,” Aron joked.

“Shut up and talk,” Carter said, this time more irritated.

Aron opened his mouth to comment on the absurdity of that request, but he was a wise man. He knew when not to dally.

“I stared at him, and I just thought of how beautiful he was to me. The most beautiful person in the world, that very moment. So I just leaned over him, and I placed my lips on his mouth. I had no idea about kissing, either. But I supposed it was enough to count as a kiss. So, there you have it. I stole my best friend’s first kiss. What’s the verdict, judge?” Aron made a small attempt to joke, but it was clear to Carter, clear as day, that the guy was nervous.

He remembered that night. All too well. The dream he had had, the girl’s soft lips on his, all well in his imagination, he, the chosen boy, not the other. Funny thing, he could not remember her name, or her face, or anything about her right now. Only the sensation - the imaginary sensation - of her lips on his.

And now, at 32, 18 years later, 18 frigging years later, he was learning that it had not been his imagination, but a real thing, and it had not been that girl, but his best friend?

He got up so fast that the chair dropped with a loud thump on the kitchen floor.

“I think I need a bit of air,” he said and walked stiffly out of the room, still holding the empty bottle close to him, like it was the most precious thing in the universe for him right now, a link to the real world, because if that crazy body swap had not managed to convince him he was crazy, this ... this could not be real.

He took a seat on the steps outside. The street was quiet at that hour, and there was no one around to see him just sitting there, looking most probably like a perfect lunatic with an empty bottle held close to his chest.

And he just felt betrayed all over again, just like that time when Aron had told him he was marrying some guy.

What was he to do with that information? Aron had been the first guy to kiss him. No, that wasn’t right. The only guy to ever kiss him. And the first person to ever kiss him.

It seemed childish to be mad. And he wasn’t. He was just ... confused. He didn’t know what to feel, what to make of it. He had been curious about it the moment Aron had mentioned his old crush. And now he only had more questions. Why did Aron have to be so...

Gay? Was this really why he was fretting over things? When had he been bothered, ever, by such things? Live and let live. Make love, not war. Blah, blah, blah. Still, he believed in such things.

Everything was such a mess because of Aron. Because, if Aron hadn’t liked guys, it would all have been straight and simple. Straight, he snorted. But it was not like Aron could help it, right? He could not just choose not to be gay.

Damn, everything was so confusing. What if he was the one fucked up in the head? Aron had said that he had realized he was gay because he liked Carter more than just a friend. Wait. Did that mean that he had made Aron gay? Was it something he did? They had always been close, but...

No, that was stupid. Even he knew that. He groaned and slumped his shoulders. What the fuck was he going to do now?

He froze as he heard Aron opening the door behind him. He wasn’t ready to talk to him right now.

“Hey,” Aron sat down and touched his elbow gently.

“I’m okay,” he mumbled. “It just came as a shock, that’s all.”

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Aron asked, with a mix of hurt and disappointment in his voice. “We should take you back to the hospital, run some tests, maybe...”

Carter could feel Aron’s mistrust. Alex must have been a class A diva if no one believed him that he was amnesic. And the truth was, he wasn’t. He was just not Alex.

“And?” he asked. “When did you fall out of love with Carter?”

“When I met you.”

There was no trace of hesitation in Aron’s voice now. God only knew what Aron could see in Alex. Oh, okay, he knew what. The guy was beautiful, and not only by gay standards. But his personality seemed to be the problem. Or maybe Carter was just jaded about the guy stealing Aron from him. But he was not that much of an asshole not to admit that he was unfair. For their teenage and youth years, he had basically friendzoned Aron. Unconsciously, yes, but still. And if there was one thing Carter had always hated was this friendzoning thing. He had never tolerated girls doing it, and now he was finding out that he was the one who had friendzoned his best friend.