Wynn woke up.

For a brief moment, he was floating, suspended in time. He had no past or future—he was simply a being, wrapped in the coziest comforter he'd ever had the fortune to snuggle up in.

Peace, he thought. That's what this feeling was.

How sad, though, that it was so unfamiliar.

He licked his lips. His mouth was dry, and frankly, pretty gross—it tasted like he'd eaten a handful of dryer lint.

And that's when he remembered where he was.

Wynn sat bolt upright, his eyes flying open.

He heard a soft laugh from the corner.

"You awake?" Alfie said.

Wynn blinked a few times, trying to clear the last of his sleep from his mind. Alfie was curled up in an armchair in the corner, his sketchbook on his lap. And though it had been twelve years since Wynn last saw Alfie draw, he was struck by the rightness of this scene—Alfie, glamorous and self-possessed and still utterly incorrigible, looking lovely as ever. He had a smudge of ink on his nose, and Wynn marveled at the way it made Alfie seem artsy instead of sloppy.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other. Wynn had no idea what was going on in Alfie's mind, but he knew his own brain was far too overwhelmed to manage words right now.

And what words could possibly encapsulate this moment? How could Wynn possibly describe the feeling of seeing the one he'd loved—the man he'd loved—watching him with such patience, such softness, that Wynn's battered and bruised heart could barely take it.

"H-how long was I asleep?" Wynn asked at last, his voice so hoarse the words barely made it out.

Alfie grinned crookedly as he glanced at the clock on the wall, an aggressively modern piece that clearly valued form over function.

"Just under twenty hours," he said, and Wynn's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh my god—" he said. "Alfie, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Wynn," Alfie said, cutting him off. "I want you here. But if you apologize to me for something one more time, I'm going to kick you out onto the street."

Wynn opened his mouth, but then caught himself.

"You were about to apologize for apologizing, weren't you?" Alfie said slyly, and Wynn blushed and nodded. Alfie laughed. "That's pretty cute."

Wynn's heart sang.

"I tried to get you up for breakfast this morning," Alfie said. "You sat up, and I thought you were awake, but then as soon as I turned around, you just slumped right back over. So I figured I'd let you sleep."

"I guess I needed it," Wynn said.

Wynn roused himself, motivated by the desperate need to pee, and the even more desperate need to brush his teeth. He was surprised to find himself wearing sweatpants and a San Francisco t-shirt, and Alfie told him about tucking him into bed. Wynn realized he barely remembered what happened beyond the walk home from the pizza place.

When Wynn felt slightly more human, he padded into the kitchen. Alfie's apartment was spacious, and though it wasn't particularly untidy, it was remarkably uncluttered, given what Alfie's bedroom had looked like growing up.

Wynn could feel a hundred thousand thoughts and concerns swirling at the edge of his consciousness, like dark, roiling storm clouds on the horizon, but for now, they stayed where they were.

A small miracle, Wynn thought. He was being given a chance, for the first time in his life, to simply do what his heart wanted, not his head.

Alfie was at the coffee maker, and Wynn couldn't help smiling. The sun had already set, but Wynn's circadian rhythms were so far beyond fucked that caffeine in the evening would hardly make a difference. And the sight of Alfie, carefully measuring out fresh grounds, was wonderful, a small, intimate moment, a snapshot of who Alfie was now.

And Alfie was still just as extraordinary as he'd always been.

A floorboard creaked beneath Wynn, and Alfie glanced over, his face lighting up as he saw Wynn. It was a pure, unfiltered moment, Alfie's heart right there on his sleeve, and Wynn felt a flash of something he recognized as courage.

He'd found the summer spot again, after all these years. He'd never had the strength to go there by himself after Alfie had left—it would have felt like a graveyard, and he hadn't been able to stand the thought of sifting through a lifetime of memories, mourning the loss of what had never been.

But now, he'd found it once more. With Alfie.

And perhaps that's what the summer spot had been all along—not a place, but a person.

"Wynn," Alfie said, almost shyly, and for a moment he looked like he had at eighteen—hopeful and unsure, but fiercely determined all the same. He swallowed. "Why did you come here? To… to me."

He glanced down at the ground, playing with the hem of his shift, just as he'd done when he was younger, and Wynn realized, then, what Alfie was asking.

It was time to be brave, Wynn knew. He'd had and lost this opportunity before.

He wouldn't lose it again.

"Because I love you," Wynn said, softly, without hesitation. "Because I've thought about you every day since you left. Because not going with you was the biggest mistake of my entire life, and I've spent the last twelve years regretting my choice every single day. And I know I don't know who you are now, and that this probably sounds insane—I know you're probably an entirely different person, and I might be dredging up the past and a bunch of painful memories, but… I had to tell you. I had to make sure you knew that, that I love you now, and I loved you then, and I was so afraid of how deeply I needed you that it took me more than a decade to figure it out."

He didn't know where those words had come from—he meant every syllable, of course, as deeply and fiercely as he could mean anything. But it was as if another person were speaking through him, someone braver, someone wiser—

Or, maybe, he realized, it had been him all along. It had been the Wynn that Alfie saw.

The Wynn that Alfie deserved.

Alfie was staring at Wynn, his fist pressed to his mouth, eyes wide. Wynn realized, then, how surreal this all must be for Alfie, to have his childhood sweetheart—or whatever they'd been—come crashing back into his life.

He must be so freaked out, Wynn realized with horror. He's probably about to call the police.

"I—I—I’m—I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable," Wynn said, rubbing the back of his neck, flushing. He'd at least managed at the last moment to not apologize, as Alfie had asked, though he realized that unsolicited declarations of love might warrant an apology. "I know I'm just dredging up the past. I can leave—"

"Wynn," Alfie said.

And in that moment, Wynn didn't need any more reassurance, because he could see the truth shining in Alfie's eyes, making the threads of gold against brown sparkle even without the sun.

Wynn's hands fell limply to his sides, and he realized he was trembling.

"Do you remember what I said to you when I left?" Alfie said.

Wynn nodded slowly. He'd turned the words over and over in his mind for years now. At first, the memory had been barbed, scraping at all raw, bleeding wounds created when Alfie had left. But after a few years—when he'd begun to resign himself to sadness, Wynn realized—the words had become a sanctuary.

Because no matter what happened in Wynn's miserable life, he'd known love. He'd had it, even if he hadn't recognized it at all. There had been days so bad, so bleak, that this thought had been a strange, fatalistic kind of solace.

His life meant nothing now—but it had meant something once.

"You told me you'd loved me every minute of every day that you'd known me," Wynn whispered.

Alfie nodded, crossing the kitchen. Wynn's breath hitched as Alfie stood before him and reached up, cupping Wynn's face with both hands, tilting his face down towards Alfie.

"That's still true," Alfie said, and the tears in his eyes glinted in the soft light of the kitchen. He looked up at Wynn, their faces so close their noses brushed together. Wynn's heart was torn between racing and stopping entirely. "Every minute of every day."

And when he kissed Wynn, for a split second, Wynn knew that every sad, hard thing that he'd ever endured had been worth it, if only to lead him to this exact moment.

Wynn made a soft little noise as Alfie pulled back, looping his arms around Wynn's neck.

"You really did get taller, didn't you?" Alfie said, and Wynn smiled.

"So did you," he said. Alfie touched the tip of his nose to Wynn's and laughed softly. Wynn's arms were hanging at his sides, still, and though all he wanted now was to gather Alfie into his arms at long last, he couldn't seem to move.

"And you're not dredging up the past," Alfie said, more seriously now. "Yes, you're part of my past, but you're my present and future, too, Wynn, because you're a part of me. Do you really think I could forget you so easily?"

Wynn was shaking harder now, and Alfie ran his hands down the length of Wynn's arms, grabbing his hands and squeezing hard.

"I love you, Wynn," Alfie said. "I loved you then, I love you now, and I'm always going to, whether I like it or not. I made peace with that a long time ago."

Alfie was crying freely once more, and Wynn envied him. He felt as though something inside of him was dammed, and there were thirty years of emotion shoving up against the blockage, demanding to get out. Wynn felt like he should pull Alfie into his arms, kiss his tears away, and promise him the world, but he couldn't even manage to talk.

Wynn sighed, a hoarse, rough noise that sounded like a sob.

"Tell me," Alfie said softly. "What are you thinking? It's okay."

And there was something about the way Alfie said it that made Wynn believe him. It would be okay. Maybe not now, or even soon.

But maybe this was the beginning of a new chapter in Wynn's life. A chapter where not every sentence was underlined in pain.

"I—I don't know," Wynn stammered. "Everything—everything is so different than it was… a few days ago, hell, even a few hours ago, and it—I—I—"

He trailed off, lost for words. He didn't know what to do, what to say—

He wanted Alfie, wanted whatever Alfie would give him, but he didn't know how to ask for this. He was terrified and hopeful and anxious and elated, and his thoughts kept banging into one another until he couldn't think anything at all over the din.

"I—I—" he tried again, his eyes wide, pleading silently that Alfie would somehow understand.

And, of course, Alfie did.

Alfie had always known Wynn, even Wynn hadn't known himself.

"Come with me," Alfie said. "Let's lie down."

Wynn let himself be led into the bedroom. He wasn't sure how he got there, but he found himself curled up on the bed, his head on Alfie's lap as Alfie sat leaning against the headboard.

Alfie stroked Wynn's hair softly.

"It's going to be okay," he said again, his voice soothing. "It's been a long time. This is scary for me, too. But we can do this. Because we're going to do it together."

Then, Wynn understood. Alfie didn't expect any action, any answer, from Wynn. He was giving Wynn permission to simply exist, giving him a place to fall apart, to rest.

And though Wynn couldn't let himself fall apart—he'd spent thirty years trying to keep himself together, and it was an instinct not so easily overcome—he could let himself rest, at least for a moment.

So Wynn let himself be held. Alfie continued to murmur soft things to him as he stroked Wynn's hair, and Wynn surrendered himself to the wordless, swirling wellspring of emotion inside him.

And though he couldn't promise himself that everything would be okay, he could at least let himself believe Alfie.

* * *

Wynn couldn't fathom how he could possibly sleep more, but somehow he managed, because a little while later, he woke to Alfie gently rousing him.

"Let's go get some dinner," Alfie said. "Or breakfast, in your case."

Unlike Niobrara, a town perpetually half-asleep even at the best of times, the city streets were full of life. Wide-eyed, Wynn followed Alfie, marveling at the glitter of lights and the way the buildings seemed to lean in over him, like gentle, curious giants checking in to see where he was off to. He'd never been in a city bigger than Sioux Falls, but even there, the wide openness of the plains colored the architecture too—nothing was ever too close or too tall.

Here, though, every bit of space contained something—a person, a sign, a menu, a coffee shop. No matter where Wynn looked, there was something to see, and he smacked into more than one stranger because he was so entranced.

Wynn tried Thai food for the first time, and Alfie laughed at Wynn's complete inability to handle even the smallest amount of spice in his food. And when Alfie suggested they catch a movie, Wynn couldn't think of anything that he wanted to do more.

It was just like old times, stocking up on their favorite candy—some things never changed—and sitting in the dark, letting the colors of the screen wash over them as Alfie leaned over to whisper his irreverent commentary into Wynn's ear.

But this time, Alfie's hand found Wynn's in the dark, and they watched the movie like that, hand in hand.

He'd never imagined that simply holding hands with someone in a dark theater could affect him so deeply, but Wynn could barely focus on the movie, because all he could think about was their fingers laced together, Alfie's palm warm against his. This alone, somehow, was more erotic than any sex Wynn had ever had.

They walked home holding hands, too, and though Wynn had a brief moment of panic as Alfie's hand found his in public, he shook it off. It was hard to believe anyone would care when he'd just seen two women kiss goodbye outside a restaurant, unconcerned and unafraid.

There was no room for anything in Wynn's heart but happiness by the time they got back to Alfie's place.

"Thanks," Alfie said, his cheeks flushed from the crisp night air or something else. He bit his lip. "I… I had a lot of fun."

They were standing in Alfie's entryway. All night, Wynn had been thinking about kissing Alfie again—the kiss in the kitchen had been so chaste, so fleeting, and at the time, that had been all Wynn's heart could handle.

But now, all he could see were those old familiar freckles on the bridge of Alfie's nose—constellations he hadn't even known he'd remembered—and the pinkness of his lips, the way, even now, his hair still fell forward in his face when he talked.

"I guess that was kind of our first date," Wynn said, a little shyly. Alfie had said, as plainly as anyone could, that he wanted Wynn. But still, Wynn was unsure. He didn't know what Alfie wanted, what Alfie needed, if Wynn could even give him any of that—

Alfie laughed, looking pleased.

"Do I get a kiss goodnight, then?" Alfie asked, and it was a tone Wynn hadn't heard in years—Alfie trying, and failing, to be casual as he asked for something he desperately wanted.

Be brave, Wynn reminded himself.

He pulled Alfie to him and kissed him hard. Almost immediately, Alfie melted against him, sighing against his mouth.

Wynn pulled back, his heart in his throat, and Alfie looked up at him, slack-jawed and dazed.

"Do you want more than that?" Wynn asked seriously, and Alfie's eyes went wide.

"I—I mean—er—" Alfie stammered. "We don't have to do anything you don't want—"

"That's not what I asked," Wynn said. "I asked what you want."

Alfie's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and Wynn felt a shiver roll through him.

"I want—I want whatever you want," Alfie said, eyes still shut. "Anything. Everything. If—if you're sure."

When he finally glanced up at Wynn, his gaze was hot, and Wynn felt heat pooling in his groin, outstripping any anxiety he felt.

"I'm sure," Wynn said firmly. He drew a deep breath. "I've been overthinking things all my life. I'm tired of it."

Alfie nodded breathlessly, and he grabbed Wynn's hand, tugging him into the bedroom.

"I think I can help with that," he said. He gently pushed Wynn back onto the bed, and Wynn appreciated that Alfie was taking the lead. Wynn had always been competent at best in bed, and while he wasn't inexperienced—he had, after all, been with Rebecca for more than a decade in total—he'd never felt particularly comfortable in the bedroom.

It had taken him much longer than he felt it should have to realize why.

He shooed this thought away, which wasn't difficult, because now Alfie was climbing on top of him, and as soon as their lips touched once more, all of Wynn's nervousness vanished. This was Alfie. He was Wynn. This was exactly where they were supposed to be.

Wynn flicked his tongue out along Alfie's lower lip, and Alfie made a surprised little noise, his lips parting. Wynn deepened the kiss, pulling Alfie closer to him. Alfie was almost weightless on top of him, but Wynn needed to feel Alfie against him, needed the proof of his body that this was really happening.

He slid his hand down to Alfie's low back, pressing their bodies together, and he felt a sharp spike of arousal as the hard ridge of Alfie's cock pressed against him through their clothes. He was surprised to find he felt no anxiety, no panic.

He simply wanted more.

Wynn was hard now, too—how could he not be? But he felt no urgency to get off. Right now all he wanted was Alfie on top of him as they kissed, to run his hands over Alfie's slim figure and hold him close.

Alfie broke the kiss, smiling down at Wynn, their noses close enough to brush against one another.

"I dreamed about you," Wynn found himself whispering.

Alfie raised an eyebrow.

"Did you, now?" he said, and Wynn nodded.

"The first time it happened was a few months after—after you left," Wynn said, surprised to find he had the strength to talk about that time in his life, when it felt as though the sun had gone out. "I dreamed that we were on the couch in the rec room again—"

"For kissing practice?" Alfie said with a laugh, tracing his fingertip over Wynn's lips as he spoke. "Which, for the record, was not the most straight thing two guys have ever done together."

Wynn pressed his lips together.

"I know," he said, glancing away.

"I'm sorry," Alfie said softly, pressing a kiss to Wynn's cheek. "I won't tease you about that."

"Maybe someday," Wynn said. "When—when—"

He couldn't bring himself to finish. He'd been trying to tell Alfie that there would be a time, in the future, when they could look back on those fumbling afternoons, sweet and desperate, and appreciate the quintessentially teenage cocktail of earnestness and absurdity.

But right now, those memories simply reminded him of all the time he'd lost.

"I believe you were telling me about a certain dream you'd had," Alfie said, shifting slightly, his thigh rubbing against Wynn's cock.

"Dreams, plural," Wynn corrected. "And yes. Freaked me the hell out the first time it happened, but—"

He stopped short, not even quite sure why he'd brought it up, but feeling as though there was something important to say.

"I wanted you to know that—that it wasn't practice for me either," Wynn said. "I meant it then. I just didn't know how to let myself… realize that."

"Oh, Wynn," Alfie said, his voice full of love and heartbreak.

"Can we—can we not talk about this?" Wynn said quickly. "I know I brought it up, but—"

"I understand," Alfie said gently. His hand trailed down Wynn's torso, his fingertips slipping underneath the hem and grazing along the skin just above the waistband of his pants. "Let me help you get you out of your head."

Wynn nodded, and it only took a few moments to get down to their underwear. Wynn's cock was pressing needily against the fabric, a wet patch forming, and he couldn't help the low moan he let out when Alfie straddled him, sitting firmly on it and giving Wynn an impish smile.

"God, you're gorgeous," Alfie said, running his hands hungrily over Wynn's stomach and chest.

"I could say the same to you," Wynn said, bringing his hands to Alfie's hips. Alfie at thirty was far more refined than Alfie at eighteen—he'd filled out some, no longer quite so scrawny, but more than that, he'd learned how to occupy his body by now. Instead of skinny and spastic, Alfie had become thin and graceful and electric, moving like a dancer.

He remembered, again, vividly, the day they'd kissed on his parents' couch, how Alfie had looked beneath him, his shirt shoved up to expose his chest, his cheeks flushed and eyes wild, and how Wynn had longed to lean down and flick his tongue over the hard, pink peak of Alfie's nipple.

There was nothing stopping him now, he realized, and Alfie made a delighted noise as Wynn rolled them over so he was laying on top of Alfie, letting his part of weight fall down on Alfie, liking the way Alfie's hips seemed to rise up to meet him without Alfie even realizing it.

He kissed all the parts of Alfie he'd wanted to kiss but hadn't. The quiet spot at his hairline, just behind his ear. Along the span of his delicate collarbones. The junction of his neck and shoulder, where Alfie squirmed and gasped beneath Wynn as Wynn sucked a pink mark into the skin.

And then lower still, he continued his exploration, grazing his lips over Alfie's nipple, feeling it harden against him. When he flicked the tip of his tongue over it, Alfie's hand tangled in his hair, yanking hard, and when Wynn glanced up, he saw Alfie's eyes were squeezed shut, and he bit his lip hard as if he were on the brink of orgasm.

"Okay?"

Alfie's eyes flew opened and he nodded, looking a little stunned.

"Yeah—" he gasped. "It's—god, Wynn, you are—you're perfect."

Wynn grinned, and, encouraged, returned to the task at hand, sucking Alfie's nipple into his mouth and lavishing attention on first this one, then the other, loving the way Alfie's breath had gone short and ragged.

He let a little more of his weight fall on Alfie, who by now was grinding his hips up against Wynn desperately. Alfie cried out and then suddenly was pushing Wynn away roughly.

"Wha—did I hurt you?" Wynn said, pulling back quickly, brow furrowing with concern.

Alfie shook his head, scrabbling for words. He looked gorgeous like this, hair disheveled, lips kiss-swollen, with a trail of pink marks Wynn had left all down his chest.

"Far from it," Alfie said. "I—I need a minute to, um, cool down."

Wynn frowned, and Alfie laughed.

"You never did let me get away with being obtuse about things," Alfie said. He ran a hand through his hair. "As much as high school Alfie would have loved to come rubbing himself against you, present day Alfie has higher standards."

Heat rushed through Wynn's stomach to his groin, and he let his gaze fall to Alfie's cock, clearly outlined as it strained against his underwear.

"I could…" Wynn started, not quite sure what he was offering, but knowing he wanted to give Alfie something.

"Can I blow you?" Alfie said, and immediately he clapped his hand over his mouth, like he hadn't meant to say that. "I mean—"

"God, Alfie, yes," Wynn breathed. "If you want—"

"Oh, believe me, I want," Alfie said, and then Wynn found himself on his back again, looking up as Alfie moved to straddle his thighs. Alfie hooked his fingers in the waistband of Wynn's boxers and slid them off. Wynn's cock bounced free, precum glistening at the tip, as Alfie tossed the last of their clothing aside.

Alfie looked down at him, and though Wynn felt exposed beneath his gaze, he didn't feel vulnerable or embarrassed.

He simply wanted to give himself up to Alfie entirely, to this man who had always seen him inside and out.

"Jesus Christ," Alfie said, licking his lips rather obscenely.

"Okay?" Wynn asked, smirking slightly, and Alfie rolled his eyes, swatting Wynn on the hip.

"Shut up," he said. "I know you know you have a cock that is, frankly, fantastic. I'm not going to stroke your ego. I will, however, stroke your cock."

He took Wynn's cock in his hand, stroking him once, and Wynn moaned at the friction. Alfie hummed appreciatively as he ran his thumb through the precum at the tip, slicking the shaft. It had been a very long time since Wynn had even jerked off—masturbation wasn't a good stress relief when the thing you got off to was also the source of your anxiety—and even longer still since he'd been with another person.

And now, to go from a months-long dry spell to a naked Alfie reaching down to stroke him—Wynn was nearly to the edge from this alone.

Alfie shifted a little further down and lowered his head, brushing his lips across the head of Wynn's cock. Their eyes locked, and Alfie's tongue flicked out, tasting the precum. Wynn's cock twitched wildly in Alfie's hand, and he couldn't help moaning.

Alfie let out a low, satisfied laugh.

"You're so responsive," he whispered, and this time, he took the whole head into his mouth, sucking expertly. Wynn had to fight to keep his hips from bucking up into the slick heat of Alfie's mouth, desperate for more.

Alfie slowly stroked Wynn's cock with his hand as his tongue swirled around the tip of Wynn's cock, seeking out every sensitive place, like he was committing the contours of Wynn's cock to memory via his mouth. It only took a few minutes for Wynn to be reduced to a writhing, moaning mess beneath Alfie.

And when Alfie finally took the entire length of Wynn's cock in his mouth, bottoming out as his nose hit Wynn's stomach, Wynn's cock in his throat, Wynn nearly lost his mind.

"Alfie—" Wynn choked out, scrabbling desperately at the sheets, as though he might float away entirely if he didn't hang on for dear life. "God—fuck—please—so good—"

He pressed his hand over his mouth, aware that he was babbling.

He watched as Alfie pulled off all the way, a single, obscene strand of saliva trailing from his lips to the head of Wynn's cock. Wynn filed this image away—Alfie's eyes hungry and dark, his chin slick with spit, face inches from his cock—knowing it would be seared into his mind for the rest of his life.

"Let me hear you," Alfie whispered. "I love the sounds you make."

This time, when Alfie sank his mouth down around Wynn's cock, Wynn didn't try to silence himself, crying out loudly instead.

Alfie hummed around Wynn's cock and nodded, setting into a steady rhythm. Wynn threw his head back, trying to keep himself from running right over the cliff and to his orgasm. He felt Alfie's hand slide between his thighs, urging them apart, and then Alfie's hand was slowly rolling his balls.

"Fuck—Alfie—I'm gonna—I’m gonna come—I’m close—"

And then Alfie's mouth was gone, and Wynn felt a little bit like he wanted to throw himself off a very high building.

He blinked his eyes open, gasping for air, and found Alfie watching him closely.

"Why—wha—" Wynn stammered.

"Will you fuck me?" Alfie asked quietly.

Wynn's cock throbbed wildly in Alfie's hand. Wynn pushed himself up onto his elbows, trying to string together a coherent thought.

"You—you'd… let me?" Wynn asked.

Alfie laughed.

"Let you?" he asked. "That's what you said the first time we ever kissed, too. Wynn, I can't think of anything I want more."

"R-really?" Wynn asked, trusting Alfie but wanting to hear him say it all the same.

"Yes," Alfie said. He let go of Wynn's cock, crawling up to kiss Wynn deeply. When they parted, he looked fiercely down at Wynn. "I want you to fuck me. I want your cock in my ass, and I want to feel you come inside me, and I want you to feel how hard you make me come—"

"Message received," Wynn said desperately, pulling Alfie in for an inelegant kiss. "I am—I am more than happy to—"

"Good," Alfie said, scrambling away. He dug through a drawer in his nightstand and tossed something onto the bed beside Wynn—a small container of lube. A moment later, a condom appeared, flashing dully in its gold foil packet.

Wynn looked at them hesitantly, as though they might bite.

"You do know what lube is, right?" Alfie asked with a laugh. "Poor Rebecca—"

"Kiss my ass, Alder," Wynn said, but he was smiling. "I know what lube is, I'm not completely virginal."

Alfie shrugged innocently as he climbed back into bed.

"Also, maybe we don't talk about my wife right before I'm about to fuck you?" Wynn mumbled, not quite meeting Alfie's eye.

Alfie hesitated.

"She—she knows you're here, right?" Alfie asked, and Wynn's heart sank. Yet again, he felt like Alfie was looking for a specific answer. And yet again, he wasn't sure what that answer was. He could only offer the truth. "That you were coming to… so we could…"

"Yeah," Wynn said. "She does."

"Oh," he said, his face inscrutable. Wynn didn’t want to have this conversation now—he didn't want to have this conversation ever. But, at the same time, he needed Alfie to know that Alfie wasn't a dirty little secret, that Wynn hadn't gone slinking out in the night to find him.

Well, he had gone slinking out in the night, but at least Rebecca knew—and while she hadn't given her blessing, obviously, she hadn't… not given it.

"She—she asked me," Wynn continued, the words tumbling out. "When I—when I told her. That I was, um—gay." He swallowed, still tripping over the words—he'd thought saying it aloud would get easier sooner. "She said…"

He licked his lips. Alfie's expression was carefully neutral, and Wynn desperately wished he could read Alfie's mind, the way Alfie always seemed to be able to read his.

"She called you the love of my life," Wynn said quietly. "I… I think she was right."

Alfie's eyes fluttered shut, and he seemed a million miles away.

"Alfie?" Wynn asked, wondered if somehow he'd brought this fragile, miraculous thing crumbling to the ground. "Are—are you upset?"

Alfie's smile, small as it was, was as clear and lovely as the sunrise.

"No, Wynn," he said, blinking back tears. He sniffed and wiped them away impatiently. "I swear I don't usually cry this much. But no, I'm not upset. I—I—" Alfie paused, looking up at the ceiling. "It's hard to believe that… I finally have something I've wanted for so long."

It took a moment for the words to filter in—he heard them immediately, but for a moment, he had the strangest sensation of feeling them fluttering around inside his head, like birds searching for a roost.

And then it clicked—Alfie felt the same way.

"Alfie—" Wynn choked out, not even sure what he could possibly say.

"Please—" Alfie said, scrambling forward for a clumsy kiss. "Just—fuck me, now. I need—I need you."

All Wynn could do was nod.

"Have you done this before?" Alfie asked. "Anal?"

"I've only been with Rebecca—"

"That still counts—"

"No, I haven't," Wynn said quickly, blushing and shaking his head, and Alfie snorted.

"Fair," he said. He pressed a quick kiss to Wynn's temple. "Lie on your back."

Wynn let himself be guided so he was lying on Alfie's bed, Alfie straddling him. His cock apparently hadn't been paying attention to the emotional outpouring going on above it, because Wynn was still hard.

He reached up, letting his hands slide up Alfie's torso. He was still slim, as he'd always been—Wynn was pretty sure Alfie couldn't gain weight even if he tried—but Wynn could feel muscle, too, light and lean, where Alfie had filled out a little. It was such a luxury to touch Alfie like this, to drink him in, to want him without shame.

Well, Wynn was dimly aware of shame and fear and a dozen other dark things roosting in the corners of his mind like bats, waiting to come out to play, but he refused to let those things ruin this moment. He'd spent thirty years hating himself for what he wanted and who he loved.

But not tonight.

Wynn's eyes traced up Alfie's body to his face, and his expression sent a bolt of pleasure through Wynn. Alfie's eyes were half-shut as he leaned his body into Wynn's touch, his lips slightly parted, as if he could come just from the sensation of Wynn's hands drifting up his stomach.

Wynn felt a sense of rightness click into place, a little bit of confirmation he hadn't known he had been waiting for. It was only then that Wynn realized he'd been holding onto one last fear, only seeing it now that it had flown away—the fear that he wasn't really gay, that he was simply unhappy and searching for increasingly absurd and self-destructive solutions.

But no. This—the heat in his blood, the thump of his heart—was real. This was right. He was right where he was supposed to be.

"Come here," Wynn said, surprised by how hoarse and possessive he sounded. He slid his hand around the back of Alfie's head and pulled him down for a deep kiss. Alfie let out a delighted little sigh, and Wynn could feel Alfie's cock pressing against his hip, could feel the warm smear of precum against his skin.

Yes. This was definitely where he was supposed to be.

Alfie broke the kiss, sitting back on his heels, and grabbed Wynn's hand. Wynn couldn't help laughing as Alfie grabbed the container of lube and slicked Wynn's fingers, as if he were too impatient to wait for Wynn to do it himself.

"God—I can't believe—" Alfie whispered. "After all this time—"

He guided Wynn's hands between his legs and looked down at Wynn. Wynn realized his hands were shaking—he wanted to make this good for Alfie, but he wasn't even sure how to do that.

He ran his fingers down the cleft of Alfie's ass experimentally, grazing across Alfie's hole, and Alfie's breath hitched. Alfie nodded, encouraging Wynn. Wynn traced his hole lightly again, and Alfie let out a little laugh, pressing his ass back against Wynn's hand.

"You're teasing me," Alfie said, his voice a little breathless in a way that Wynn's cock very much appreciated.

"Not teasing," Wynn said. "Exploring. I've got a lot of time to make up for."

Alfie pretended to grumble, but it wasn't very convincing given the way his eyelids fluttered and his hole twitched eagerly beneath Wynn's fingers.

And the noise he made as Wynn pressed inside him lit up Wynn's whole body—a long, low whine, as if this is what he'd been waiting for his entire life. Alfie's ass was hot and tight around Wynn's finger, and Wynn's cock twitched in anticipation.

"This okay?" Wynn asked, and Alfie nodded.

"It's beyond okay," he said. "Please—"

Wynn wasn't even quite sure what Alfie was asking for, but he slid his finger out and pressed back in, and that seemed to satisfy him, judging by the way his brow knit and his mouth fell open. Alfie rolled his hips, urging Wynn to move his hand again.

So Wynn did, finding a slow, careful rhythm, working his finger in and out of Alfie's hole. The sensation was incredible, the way he felt Alfie begin to relax around him, the way Alfie's hips moved against him—but feeling it wasn't enough.

"I—I wanna see," Wynn said, the words out of his mouth before he realized he was saying them.

Alfie's face lit up.

"See what?" he asked slyly, and Wynn snorted.

"You really haven't changed one bit," he said.

"I haven't," Alfie said. "You were saying?"

"I was saying that… I want to see… you," Wynn said. "Your… y'know."

"My what?" Alfie asked.

"Oh, fuck off, Alder," Wynn said. He slid his finger in a little further this time, and Alfie gasped. "I wanna see my fingers, in your ass, as I get ready to fuck you."

Alfie's eyes went wide.

"Oh my god, Wynn," he gasped. "That was the hottest sentence I have heard in my whole life. I am more than happy to oblige."

Wynn laughed and slid his finger out, and Alfie scrambled off of Wynn, getting on all fours. Wynn's breathing was ragged, his cock dripping precum, as he knelt on the bed, his eyes sweeping over the sight of Alfie on his hands and knees for Wynn, shoving his ass back towards Wynn eagerly, waiting to be fucked.

Wynn slicked his fingers again—more lube never hurt—and though his hands were still shaking, he felt only hunger now instead of nerves.

"Use a second finger," Alfie said over his shoulder, and Wynn nodded. He brought one hand to Alfie's hip, bracing himself, and pressed inside. Alfie mumbled something incoherent, dropping forward onto his elbows, his head hanging down.

"Fuck, Wynn—" Alfie gasped, and Wynn liked the way he was slowly losing his words. It made Wynn feel like he wasn't completely useless at this whole thing. And this view was certainly excellent—Wynn knew he'd remember, as clearly as a photograph, the sight of Alfie's tight, slick hole swallowing his fingers.

And the next time he slid in deeper, Alfie cried out, a visible shudder of pleasure rolling through his body.

"Right there—" Alfie begged, and Wynn found this same spot again, teasing another moan out of Alfie.

It was amazing to see the effect he could have on Alfie, how just working his fingers slowly in and out of Alfie's ass was completely undoing him. Alfie was gorgeous like this, his skin glistening with sweat, fucking himself back against Wynn's hand, his face buried in the comforter, his hands scrabbling desperately at the sheets. Wynn ran his hand up along the neat line of Alfie's vertebrae, loving the way Alfie's body rolled as it sought out every ounce of pleasure it could find.

Wynn found his own hand wandering from Alfie's hip, seeking out Alfie's cock, and it was only when he wrapped his hand around it that he realized this was the first time he was really touching Alfie's cock. He smiled to himself—they'd never had a normal relationship, and it was only fitting that their first time together would be so unexpected and yet so perfect. He stroked him once, marveling at the way touching someone else's cock felt both familiar and completely new all at once.

But then Alfie's hand was on his wrist, pushing his hand roughly away.

"Sorry—" Wynn said, pulling his hand back like he'd been burned.

"It's not—" Alfie choked out, picking his head up and glancing at Wynn over his shoulder. He looked utterly wrecked, heavy-lidded and flushed. "I don't wanna come yet—too close—"

Wynn's cock twitched.

"Can I—are you—are you ready?" he asked, and Alfie nodded, his head falling back down as he arched his back, pressing back against Wynn's hand before Wynn slid his fingers out.

He was glad to have a moment to compose himself as he ripped open the wrapper and rolled the condom on his cock. Unbidden, Wynn remembered his first time with Rebecca, remembered them pawing at each other on prom night a few weeks before graduation in the backseat of the Wynn family car, remembered feeling as though he were reading from a script as he gasped that yes, he loved her, too, as he pushed his cock inside her for the first time.

This experience was so different that Wynn could hardly believe they'd happened in the same lifetime. He felt no self-consciousness now, no uncertainty. He only felt a bone-deep need to be buried to the hilt inside Alfie, to be as close as he possibly could to the man he loved.

He steadied himself by the base and lined the head of his cock up with Alfie's hole. He hesitated for a moment, but Alfie nodded, and so Wynn slowly plunged inside him.

"Oh, god, Alfie—" Wynn gasped.

He'd brought himself back from the brink of orgasm after Alfie had blown him, but he found himself right back on the edge again as his hips nestled against Alfie's, his cock buried in Alfie's ass.

Alfie reached back, squeezing Wynn's hand, and Wynn realized he'd been gripping Alfie's hips so tightly his fingernails had left little crescent indentations in his skin.

"Sorry," Wynn whispered. "Alfie, you feel—you're fucking incredible—"

Alfie made some kind of noise that was lost in the comforter.

Wynn slowly moved his hips, sliding his cock almost all the way out and watching as he pressed back inside Alfie. Again, he was struck by how much this affected him, by how seeing his cock inside Alfie sent a wave of pleasure through him that was deeper than a physical sensation.

When he no longer felt like he was about to come apart, Wynn began to move, with slow, deep strokes that Alfie matched, rolling his hips to meet Wynn's. His ass was impossibly tight and hot around Wynn's cock, and Wynn found himself babbling once more, completely overwhelmed by this moment—Alfie and Wynn, together, at last.

His hips fought to set a faster pace, and Wynn couldn't resist anymore. He realized, then, that while he'd been wrapped up in the sensation of fucking Alfie had gone quiet. He was still moving against Wynn, fucking back against him in slow, languid movements, but he hadn't said a word.

"Are—are you okay?" Wynn asked, stilling his hips but not pulling out.

It was as if Alfie were waking from a trance—he lifted his head a moment later and nodded.

"Yeah—" he mumbled, his voice thick. "Wha—"

"You—you're really quiet," Wynn said, finding it very difficult to string a sentence together when his cock was still buried in Alfie's ass.

Alfie shifted forward, sliding off Wynn's cock, and Wynn's heart sank. But when Alfie turned around, he was smiling broadly. He looked almost drunk, his eyes unfocused, swaying slightly as he leaned in to kiss Wynn.

"I should have warned you," he said as he moved to lay on his back, spreading his legs so Wynn could kneel between his thighs. Alfie's voice had a low, husky quality that made Wynn's heart do all kinds of backflips. "I'm used to partners who like me to be vocal. But… when the sex is really good…"

"So it's… okay?" Wynn asked, hating that he suddenly, desperately, needed Alfie's explicit approval.

"Wynn," Alfie said. "I've been pretty much about to come since I put my mouth on your cock. I can guarantee you this is fantastic."

He grinned up at Wynn, gesturing for him to come closer. Wynn obliged, his breath catching slightly as Alfie grabbed his thighs to hold himself open for Wynn. And when Wynn's cock was buried inside him once more, Wynn draped himself over Alfie, nuzzling his face against Alfie's neck, breathing in his clean, blue sky scent.

"It's nice to have a partner I don't have to perform for," Alfie said as Wynn kissed his neck. "I never have to be… anyone but myself with you."

Wynn could have filled an entire notebook with the things he wanted to say in response—that he felt the same way around Alfie, that he couldn’t believe that, even after everything that had happened, Alfie trusted him like this, but no words came.

All he could do was hold Alfie tight as Alfie wrapped his arms and legs around Wynn.

"I want to feel you come inside me," Alfie whispered in Wynn's ear, and Wynn nodded. And this time, as he began to fuck Alfie once more, he smiled when Alfie grew quiet. He could see Alfie's face now, could see how serene he looked, how each time Wynn thrust into him, he gasped silently, his brow furrowing sweetly.

Eyes half-closed, Alfie reached between them and began to stroke his own cock, letting out a little sigh as he touched himself, and Wynn couldn't wait any longer. He groaned and buried his face in Alfie's neck once more, letting his hips take over at last. Alfie gasped as the pace suddenly increased, and he reached down, squeezing Wynn's ass encouragingly.

As if Wynn needed any encouragement.

"I'm close," Alfie whispered.

"God—Alfie—you feel—fuck—this is—I’m gonna—"

He started several sentences and finished none of them, because Alfie cried out softly, his ass clenching tightly around Wynn's cock. Wynn felt a warm streak of cum hit his chest, and he was pulled over the edge into his own orgasm, gasping Alfie's name as bright fireworks bloomed behind his closed eyes and he spiraled up into some pleasure far, far above the earth.

He collapsed down on top of Alfie, breathing hard. He could feel Alfie's pulse hammering against his own, as if their hearts were tapping out secret Morse code messages to each other. He had the brief, ridiculous thought that he wanted to stay there forever, their chests smeared with sweat and cum, his cock still buried inside Alfie, their cheeks pressed together as they caught their breath.

But eventually Alfie began to squirm, claiming Wynn was suffocating him, and Wynn sat back and pulled out, quickly hurrying to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When he came back, washcloth in hand, he found Alfie still sprawled across the bed, grinning lazily up at the ceiling like he'd just told himself a great joke.

"What are you laughing about?" Wynn asked as he crawled back onto the bed, kneeling once more between Alfie's legs.

"I'm laughing because I can't even fucking move," Alfie said. He held one arm up and let it fall back limply onto the mattress. "That was… the orgasm of a lifetime. That was beyond an orgasm. That was, like, a structural rearrangement of my brain on a cellular level."

Wynn snorted.

"That's probably a bit of an exaggeration, but I'll take it," he said. Without thinking, he brought the warm washcloth to Alfie's chest and began to wipe the cum off his skin. Alfie hummed appreciatively, so Wynn kept going, cleaning off Alfie's chest, his hips, his softening cock, even pushing his thighs apart to reach his slick, freshly-fucked hole. It felt deeply intimate and perfectly natural all at once, like recalling a dream, and Wynn had the brief, lovely thought of some ancient incarnation of the two of them doing the exact same thing however many lifetimes ago, the memory tucked away deep inside their very DNA.

"Thank you," Alfie mumbled as Wynn tossed the washcloth aside and moved to lay next to Alfie, spooning him and pulling him in tight, burying his face against the crown of Alfie's head, breathing in his Alfie-and-shampoo scent.

Wynn burst out laughing.

"What?" Alfie asked.

"I forgot I was going to make fun of you for this last night," he said. "But then I fell asleep right after I showered. Do you really have watermelon-scented shampoo?"

Alfie laughed too, his thin frame shaking in Wynn's arms.

"Shit," he said. "You caught me."

"Do they even make that for adults?"

Alfie wriggled around in Wynn's arms to face him.

"Would you still want to be with me if I told you that, no, they don't, and yes, I did buy it from the organic kids section in the fancy grocery store near here?"

Wynn grinned and kissed him.

"I want to be with you no matter what," he said, and for once, the truth felt light and simple, instead of bristly and fanged.

Alfie reached up, lightly tracing Wynn's lips with his fingertip. Wynn thought he might speak, but he stayed quiet, simply looking at Wynn with those gorgeous gold-brown eyes of his.

"What happens now?" Wynn asked.

"Define now," Alfie said, a little hesitantly. "Do you mean… in the next few minutes? Or… days?"

Wynn swallowed hard, willing himself to be brave. If he couldn’t be brave here, then where could he be?

"I mean it all. Minutes, sure, but days and weeks and—" Wynn stopped, drawing in a breath that sounded more like a garbled sob. "I—I was only thinking about finding you, when I left. I never thought about what would happen… after I did that. It was—it was too painful to hope for anything more than… just finding you."

"You did find me," Alfie whispered, smiling up at him.

Wynn opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. He wasn't worried about finding Alfie anymore—but he was worried about keeping him.

"Tell me," Alfie said gently. "What are you thinking?"

Again, Wynn tried to speak, and, again, Wynn failed.

Alfie sat up abruptly, pulling Wynn into a sitting position as well.

"Robert Andrew Wynn," he said, taking Wynn's hand.

Wynn made a face.

"Stop giving me that look," Alfie continued. "Robert Andrew Wynn, I'm trying to tell you something important. I'm going to go out on a limb and say something, so if I'm totally off-base… I dunno, poke me in the eyeball or something."

"I probably won't do that," Wynn said, and Alfie snorted.

"I wanted to tell you that—" Alfie paused and glanced away, and Wynn realized with a start that Alfie—ever fearless, ever sure—was gathering his own confidence. "I know things are crazy for you right now, and that your whole life has been turned upside down. And I also know you, or at least I can take a stab at what you're thinking right now. And I think it's something we're both thinking, but are too afraid to say, and that means, if it's gonna get said, I'm gonna have to be the one to say it—"

"Alfie—" Wynn said, torn between anxiety and anticipation.

Alfie laughed and rubbed his nose, looking eighteen again for a moment.

"Sorry," he said. "Nervous. I—I—Look, Wynn, I want to… try to make this work. I know you've barely been here for more than a day, and we haven't seen each other in more than a decade, and that this probably looks totally insane from someone else's point of view. But I know how I feel about you—how I've always felt—and this… all of this is… it's too important. I can feel it here—" He tapped his sternum and drew a deep breath. "And I know you probably need some time to think, but—I want you to stay here. With me. In California. I want us to—to have a real shot at this. At being with each other. Because this—it's—it's just—"

Wynn cut him off with a kiss, and when he pulled back, Alfie's eyes were wide with surprise.

"Yes," he said.

Alfie blinked.

"What?"

"I said yes," Wynn said simply, and, despite the fact that he was currently standing on the smoking wreckage of his entire life, he felt calmer than he had in a long, long time.

Alfie cocked his head like he didn't quite believe Wynn—and Wynn could hardly blame him.

"Yes," Wynn said once more, kissing Alfie on the forehead and squeezing his hand. "It's what I should have said before, when we were eighteen. I can't go back and change the past, but I can decide the future. And… it's you. You're the future I want."

Alfie's mouth hung open, and Wynn smiled.

"Imagine that—Alfie Alder speechless. Never thought I'd see the—ow—"

Alfie had punched him in the shoulder.

"Seriously, though," Wynn said. "We have… a lot to talk about. And… I dunno. I have to warn you, I… I'm a mess right now. I don't know what I need or how I'm gonna get it once I figure it out, but—"

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"I have to rebuild my whole life," he said softly. "And I'm fucking terrified. More scared than I've ever been, which is saying something, because I've spent my whole life scared of one thing or another. But… I want to rebuild myself here. With you. If… if you're willing to help."

Alfie lunged forward, throwing his arms around Wynn's neck, and when he buried his face in Wynn's shoulder, Wynn could feel Alfie's tears hot against his skin.

"Oh, Wynn," he said, his voice muffled. "You've never been a burden. And you never will be. I'll always want you with me, and I'll always want to help you, however I can."

For the first time in his life, when Wynn thought about the future, the entire landscape of his mind had changed. Where once there had only been low, dark clouds and flat, cracked earth, he now found a whole prism of possibility, glimmering gently, simply waiting for him to reach out and take it.

And he realized, at last, that bravery was not the absence of fear. It was the choice to move forward, even in its presence.

Sitting here, in a bed a million miles from the life he'd once known, Alfie in his arms, Wynn had never felt more scared or more sure.

* * *

When Wynn had been in San Francisco for a week, Alfie took him out dancing.

Wynn hadn't been sure at first. The city had been overwhelming, to say the least—there were more people on some city blocks than populated the entire town of Niobrara. But the way Alfie's eyes danced when he'd brought up the idea had been irresistible.

So, of course, Wynn had agreed—any amount of potential social anxiety was worth seeing Alfie's face light up like that.

"You ready?" Alfie asked, grinning up at Wynn, squeezing his hand as they stood outside the club. Music pulsed loudly, the bass line thudding relentlessly. Wynn nodded, tugging at his shirt.

Alfie had taken Wynn out shopping to get new clothing, which had been a truly wild experience in and of itself. Alfie had assured Wynn that he'd fit in, but nothing felt natural quite yet—his shirt was a little too thin, a little too tight, and his jeans clung to his ass in a way that was quite scandalous but Alfie quite liked.

When he looked in the mirror, Wynn thought he looked good. But he also no longer looked like a married man with a middle management job from some flyover state—and this was as startling as it was liberating.

Wynn nodded and let Alfie drag him inside. At this point, Wynn had spent an entire week feeling constantly overwhelmed and overstimulated by the bustle of the city, and though he was still adjusting, he was beginning to see why Alfie liked it.

Everything here was light and color and noise, and as they walked down the street, Wynn could feel the pulse of life from millions of other beings existing around him. It was so different from the stillness of the prairie, from a land where the sky was vast and eternal and uncaring.

Wynn could see nothing but a kaleidoscope of colored lights exploding above a crowd of bodies writhing on the dance floor—it looked like a snake pit at first glance. Alfie didn't drink, but though he'd told Wynn he didn’t mind if Wynn drank, Wynn didn't. He had spent thirty years numbing his existence, trying to shut things out and forget them.

There was no way he was going to waste even a minute of this second chance on giving Alfie anything but his complete attention.

Alfie towed them to the center of the dancefloor, weaving between the sweaty bodies grinding against one another. He turned back towards Wynn and shouted over the music, but Wynn had no hope of making out his words. All Wynn could see was Alfie's smile, bright in the darkness.

Wynn stood stiffly, the roar of the music pressing against his ears, as all around him, a hundred strangers danced wildly—men with men, women with women, and every other possible combination of gender, all completely self-assured and unapologetic.

He felt so completely out of his element, some stupid prairie boy who'd found himself in a crowded San Francisco club—at any moment, a bouncer would grab him by the arm and haul him out—

And then Wynn looked at Alfie.

Alfie's eyes were closed, his smile almost beatific, as he moved to the music. He moved as though he was the music, his hips finding the beat instinctively. He tossed his head back, a band of glittering pink light falling across his pale neck, and ran his hand through his hair, lost in the moment.

And then Wynn remembered that Alfie was the same kind of prairie boy, too.

They'd both grown up under the same blistering sun, been scoured by the same winter winds. They'd had the same narrow, dented lockers in school and the same cloyingly sweet milkshakes from the Starlite. They'd biked up and down the same dirt roads, their tires catching in the hard ruts left over from the spring mud.

And Alfie didn't just look like he belonged here—he looked like this world, this place, these flashing lights, had been made for him.

Wynn grinned and stepped forward without thinking. He pulled Alfie close to him, and Alfie's eyes flew open, his expression delighted.

Alfie draped his arms around Wynn's neck and slid his leg between Wynn's, and then they were dancing, and it was as natural as kissing to feel Alfie's body rolling against his own, to feel Alfie's hips grind against his as they moved to the music.

And when they kissed, Wynn felt like they were the only two souls left on Earth—or at least the only two souls that mattered.

Here, surrounded by strangers, in a city that didn't quite feel like home, Wynn caught a glimpse of what his life would someday be like—maybe not that night, that week, or even that year.

But he knew, as surely as he knew the freckles that had been sprinkled across Alfie's nose since kindergarten, that sooner rather than later, Wynn's life would be light and color and noise, too.

And, at long last, freedom.