I do what I'm told. I text him with my name and a bunch of smiling emojis. I want to text him kissy ones but I don’t know if I should.

I don't really know what I'm doing though. I'm pacing around in the bathroom, the regular bathroom, not the employee bathroom. I gave him my bags, after a torturous fifteen minutes when I had to carry them to the gate area from the VIP lounge and the employee only area.

They were near impossible to carry, because they are so bulky and big, so by the time I got there I was gasping for breath.

Then I saw him and that didn’t make me feel any less breathless.

I really appreciate him keeping them behind the counter for me. It's nice, just like everything that he has done for me up to this point.

I don't understand why he's being so nice to me. Even after what we just did, it's really hard for me to fathom that Jason Mayes is being kind to me.

Because I don't deserve for him to be nice to me.

When he first told me who he was, I expected him to bitch me out or something, but he hasn't. He hasn't even brought up the past, not even once. He was angry when we first saw each other, but I think that has more to do with the fact that I didn’t recognize him straightaway.

But how could I have recognized him straightaway when he looked so different? I mean, I guess if we'd kept in touch, I would have recognized him more easily. But we couldn’t have kept in touch, because I was a huge dick, so of course we weren’t in each other's lives.

That's what I want to tell him, but I don't think that he wants to hear that from me. I've already apologized, and that's the best I can do.

If his actions are anything to go by, then he's already forgiven me. I'm just worried that I haven't forgiven myself and that that's going to affect my relationship with him. I shake my head and tut as I stare at my very tired and dazed-looking reflection, because there is no relationship with him.

Hooking up in the bathroom with somebody doesn't mean that you're in a relationship with them, no matter how much I want it to mean that.

I need to ask him what he wants. I need to sit him down and have a conversation with him, maybe take him out on a date. If he wants to go out on a date, because again, I have absolutely no idea what Jason wants to do. I'm making a bunch of assumptions about him. If he does want to date me then I'm going to have to ask him out. Like a normal person, not like one with a shit-ton of baggage.

I scrub my face with cold water to try and keep myself awake. I'm struggling, but at least I don't have to watch my bags anymore.

I can fall asleep while waiting at the gate if I'm hugging my laptop and my cell phone. There are a lot of people around though so I don't think I'm going to be able to get much sleep. Even if there weren't a lot of people around, there’s still a lot that I need to process about what has just happened.

I do my best processing when I talk to other people, so I call my brother, but he doesn't answer the phone. He's busy, which means that it's better for him to text, because at least he can do that while he looks after the children and talks to them. He’s told me that phone conversations are way more distracting to him.

Part of me doesn't want to text him about it. I would prefer to have a conversation, but I really do need to talk about this and I think that if anyone will have good advice on it, it’ll be Alex.

He knows me and he knows Jason, too.

He has known Jason since we were little.

I sigh as I look down at my phone. The picture on Alex’s contact card looks staged: one baby in one arm, a toddler on his shoulder, a little girl looking up at him with squinty eyes but a huge smile. I know it’s not staged, because I took the picture.

That’s the kind of dad Alex is. For a second, I feel a pang of jealousy. I think I would have loved a family if I hadn’t decided to pursue acting. I don’t think it’s going to happen for me now but as I’m thinking about Jason I find myself wondering… maybe.

No.

No, it won’t.

Fuck, I really do need to talk to someone about this.

I text my brother immediately. [Me: hey, Al. You got a minute?]

The reply comes almost instantly. [Alex: Yeah, sure, little brother. Everything okay?]

[Me: Do you remember the person I was telling you about?]

[Alex: Yeah. The one you ran into.]

[Me: Right, yeah.]

[Alex: What about them?]

[Me: You know them.]

[Alex: Oh. Is it someone from school?]

I shake my head as I answer, a smile on my lips. It’s weird reconciling the Jason that I knew back then to the one I’ve just been in contact with for the past several hours. They don’t coexist in my head well, and part of that, I think, is because I don’t want to face just how shitty I was to Jason when we were kids. It’s easier for me to think of him as a separate entity now so that I don’t have to face what I did to him.

The very idea of recalling our past makes me feel sick to my stomach.

I finally gather enough courage to text my brother back.

[Me: No. Well, yes but that’s not where we know him from.]

His message comes back almost instantly. [Him: Wait, hold on. Hold on. Him?]

[Me: Yeah.]

[Alex: It’s a guy?]

[Me: Yeah. It's a guy.]

His message comes back almost instantly. [Alex: And it’s someone we both know? Not from school.]

I nod my head and laugh bitterly. [Me: Yeah. Someone that grew up on the same street.]

I don’t even have time to think about what he’s going to reply when my phone vibrates in my hand once again. [Alex: Are you fucking joking?]

[Me: Nope.]

I don't want to elaborate. I'm sure he already has a good idea of what I mean. Of who I mean.

Part of me doesn’t want to tell him in certain terms because he was there when everything went down. He was there when I started being a dick to Jason. He was there when I started avoiding Jason after he came out. He watched Jason cry as he walked away from the house after I pretended not to be in.

We both did.

[Alex: And he’s talking to you?]

[Me: Surprisingly, yes.]

[Alex: Okay.]

He doesn't say more than that. He doesn't have to. I already know that this is super messed up.

I don't want to fuck it up even more. I don’t want to fuck it up the way I did when I was a scared, confused and dumb teenager, which is the reason I'm reaching out for advice.

When I was a kid, Alex was the one who told me I was being a cock. I sighed a lot around him and didn’t believe him at all. I thought I was just doing what I had to do.

He had shaken his head and tutted as he told me he knew I would regret the way I was acting for the rest of my life. He told me to stop being an immature little kid. I told him to stop being a dick. He didn’t bother with my business anymore after that.

I didn't believe him at the time, but of course he was right. I've regretted it a lot. I think about it a lot. I think he knows I think about it a lot too because he never brings Jason up around me.

Sometimes, when my family is gathered, we talk about neighbors, as you do. They talk about the Mayes family, but the topic of Jason is expertly skirted around by Alex. He talks about the family, of course, and he talks about the neighborhood but he never brings up Jason's name. I think he knows that it hurts me.

Honestly, I wish that he would bring it up. I wish that he would talk about it because I want it to hurt me. I don't deserve to get away from this, I know that. I've been punishing myself for so long for what I did that it strikes me as weird that anyone would do me the kindness of not bringing Jason up.

As far as I'm concerned, Jason should be the one that gets to exist, not me. I don't get to live without the guilt of what I did to him. And that's okay. I can live with that. I think. But now that Jason's back in my life, as brief as this has been, everything has been thrown into disarray.

My future has never seemed less certain. It's weird because it's hinging on this person that I don't really know anymore. I made sure that I didn’t know, that I couldn’t know him, because of the way that I acted around him.

Still, it hurts me that he doesn't answer straight away. I know that he's the last person to have talked, and technically, I'm the one that's supposed to answer him, but I can’t right now.

It's hard because I want him to say something else, I want him to take the lead in this conversation.

I want him to tell me that it's okay. That it’s okay that I ran into Jason and that it’s okay that things are complicated between us.

That what I did as a kid is okay, that I was just a kid.

But he's not going to tell me any of that if I don't explain the situation, and I don't want to explain the situation to him.

Part of me thinks that he's going to rub it in my face, even though Alex isn't like that.

Part of me feels like I still deserve to be punished for what I did. And I'm probably not wrong, because I think Alex would be a little more supportive if I hadn’t been such a dick to Jason back then.

I need to rip off the bandage and tell him what’s happened if I want his advice.

[Me: So, we started talking after I bumped into him.]

[Alex: He's talking to you?]

I shake my head as I roll my eyes. I still can’t believe that he is, in fact, talking to me. [Me: I told you, yes. You’ve already asked.]

His message comes through almost instantly. [Alex: Yeah tell me about it. So you guys are still talking? Like right now?]

I swallow. [Me: Yes. No. I mean, I don’t know. Things got a bit more complicated than that.]

[Alex: Wait, what do you mean things got a bit more complicated than that?]

[Me: Well, we didn't just go for coffee.]

[Alex: You didn't just go for coffee? What did you do?]

[Me: We hooked up.]

I look at the words, and they make no sense. It’s so hard for me to believe this is something that legitimately happened.

[Alex: Wait, you did what?]

[Me: Yeah, we hooked up.]

[Alex: When?]

[Me: I don’t know, like a couple of hours ago?]

[Alex: Wait, you hooked up at the airport? With a dude?]

I want to say yes, I hooked up at the airport with a dude. Not just with any dude, but with Jason. I don’t know how to answer him though, even though the answer is so simple. I should just be able to tell him the truth.

[Me: Yeah, man.]

My fingers hover over the send button before I manage to click it. The speech bubble indicates he's about to send me a message appears, then disappears, then it appears again.

He clearly doesn't know what to say to me, and part of me thinks that he's going to tell me he never wants to see me again. But nothing like that happens and eventually I get a message from him. It’s a nice one too, one which I wasn't expecting. Not because I wasn't expecting Alex to be great about this because I always expect Alex to be great, just because I was dreading the worst.

[Alex: Oh. That makes sense. Well, you know that nothing has changed for me, right? I'm still here for you.]

That's all he says. That's the only thing he has to say. I tear up a little bit even though I'm just sitting in public at the gate and trying my best to keep my composure. I think I was so afraid of my family not accepting me for such a long time that Alex’s words feel like they weigh a lot more than they do.

I look up and away from my phone to see Jason, who is working at the counter. He's not looking at his phone, and I'm wondering if he's gotten my text. I want him to have my phone number, I want to talk to him about everything that’s going on.

[Alex: So are you guys like together?]

I shake my head as I start typing into my phone. [Me: No. I don't know. We haven't talked about it.]

[Alex: Oh, so you just like, hooked up in the bathroom.]

[Me: Yeah.]

[Alex: Well, isn’t that just so romantic.]

[Me: Hey, don’t knock it. It was good, okay? We… I mean, I don’t know about him, but I really liked it.]

[Alex: But he’s still a little faggot, right?]

I wince. Those are my words being used against me, and I know this is Alex’s way of telling me I need to man up and give Jason a real apology, because I’m not sure if what I already said counts. I wish he would come out and say it. I don’t want him to use my words against me, but looking at them makes me realize just how much I need to make it up to Jason.

I was already feeling guilty, but seeing my own words like that makes my head spin. I don't like thinking about all the names I used to call Jason back when we were in high school. I mean, the way I used to try to think about it was that when we fell out, I just stopped worrying about Jason altogether.

But that's not what happened.

In actuality, I would bitch about him a lot. Not to our mutual friends because that would have been extra shitty and I was trying my best to keep my feelings to myself. Or rather, away from myself. I was trying my best not to think about my feelings for Jason, because I was so angry at what he had done to me.

The one person I bitched to, more than to anyone else, was Alex specifically. Alex would listen patiently and then tell me to get over myself. I think he must have known how I felt back then, but he wasn’t going to tell me how I felt.

He knew it wasn’t his place.

Of course, Alex is now bringing all this up so that I am aware of how awful I was to Jason. As if I wasn't aware enough already, but I get it. I need to come clean to Jason about everything that happened if a relationship is going to happen between the two of us.

Still, I want to diffuse the situation with humor.

I look away from my phone as I type. I’ve memorized the keyboard on the touch screen and I’m watching Jason as I grimace, thinking back on how terrible I was and all the things I would say about Jason behind his back.

[Me: Yeah, I mean, I guess technically he’s still a little faggot.]

I send the message before looking down. I’m about to type, “then again, I guess so am I,” but I don’t get a chance to.

Something’s wrong with Jason.

There’s a lull in the line in front of Jason and he looks down at something. He pales for a second and then I look down at my own phone as it vibrates.

There’s a message on the screen that tells me the phone’s about to run out of battery. My phone’s operating system makes it so the last person’s incoming message shows up on my screen and I realize, with a growing sense of horror, that I didn’t send that last text to my brother.

I sent it to Jason.

That’s why he looks so shell-shocked.

That’s why he looks like he wants to throw up.

I look up at him and try to catch his gaze with mine, but his eyes dart away from mine the moment our gazes lock. He doesn’t even seem angry, he’s just bewildered and hurt, and his skin has taken on this off-green hue that makes it seem like he’s going to throw up.

I need to explain it to him. I need to show him the texts between me and my brother so he knows that I didn’t mean anything by it. I need him to understand the context of it, I need him to know that I didn’t mean to offend him.

I need him to know that that's not the way I think about him. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, though, because even as I stand up and walk over to the counter, bypassing the line, he goes back to work.

He calls the next person in line, who is an older man and he takes his sweet time with him. I walk up right next to him and swallow. I'm trying my best to keep myself looking like I'm not about to be sick, but I'm feeling dizzy and I think my eyes are watering.

“Jason,” I say weakly.

He doesn't even look at me. He gives the guy in front of him one of those customer service smiles, the ones that don’t quite reach his eyes, and he continues to ignore me.

“How can I help you, sir?”

The man starts to speak, but I'm not paying attention to him. I'm paying attention to Jason. He’s still not looking at me though he's clicking on something on his computer. “Jason.”

He tilts his head so that he's staring right at me.

“Can’t you see I’m with someone?”

I open my mouth and he seems to realize that he’s not just in public, he’s also doing his job. His face turns into a pained attempt at being neutral.

“I'll be with you in a minute, sir. Please go to the back of the line and wait, like the rest of the passengers.”

I don't know what I expected.

I meekly nod and then get to the back of the line. I need to talk to him, he's not going to talk to me like this, so the best chance I have is to be his customer.

I text Alex and tell him that I'm going to be getting back to him in a while, that I'm going to be busy for a bit. My phone beeps in protest. I really need to charge it.

I wait. Waiting sucks. The line is long, and Jason's taking a while to see and deal with everyone’s problems.

I think it's so he doesn't have to speak to me. I'm pretty sure he could do the things that he's doing in half the time he's actually taking to do them.

There's nobody else there with them, so at least that's good.

I'm definitely going to get to speak to him.

But when I'm like three people away from him, the redhead comes back.

She takes her place next to him and she starts calling people. Between the penultimate person and me, he leans over and whispers something to her. Her eyes widen and she nods her head.

She looks straight at me, so I know what he's told her. I'm not going to get to speak to him like this either. I'm probably not going to get to speak to him at all.

I'm not going to get out of the line though. I'm not going to waste a possible opportunity to speak to him. I need to show him my phone and explain. If he would give me a chance to, which at this point doesn't look like something that he’s going to do.

I don't understand. Or, well, I do understand. I just wish that I didn't.

I just need him to hear me out for five minutes and then he can go on to forget all about it. Right now, though, as he's talking to the co-worker next to him, things seem to be getting more and more tense by the minute.

I don't appreciate this but I don't think I have the right to complain. I'm the one that texted him the terrible thing, so I'm the one that has to deal with the fallout. He calls the next person, which means that in a couple of minutes, the redhead calls me.

She flashes me the same customer service smile. She's clearly not happy to see me, though and she looks me up and down with what can only be accurately describe as disdain. “How can I help you, sir?”

I clear my throat as I try to get Jason’s attention. Jason ignores me so I sigh and look straight at her.

“My flight got delayed, and I heard you guys are sitting people now on the next available flights. I wanted to check my status.”

“You will be notified when a space for you becomes available, sir.”

“I know. I just wanted to know how long that will be.”

“May I have your boarding pass, sir?”

“Of course,” I say.

I take a while to look through my bag, partly because it’s incredibly disorganized and partly because I want to extend this for as long as possible. If the woman that’s talking to Jason goes away, I might get a chance to speak to him.

The redhead is impatiently tapping her fingers on the counter in front of me, but I’m still taking my sweet time. I’m going to take as long as it needs to take to be able to speak to Jason.

“Sir,” the woman says. “Would you mind stepping aside so that I can—”

“No, no,” I say, finally yanking my boarding pass out of my bag. I hand it to her and watch her click on a couple of things on her computer. Jason is seeing someone else now, someone different.

“Your flight was one of the first in line to go before all flights grounded so you shouldn't be too much longer,” she says, sneaking glances at Jason as she speaks.

Jason doesn't look at me. He just looks straight ahead. A mom and her child are talking to him, and the child keeps pulling at the mom’s sleeve. The mom looks down at the child, which is the perfect opportunity to talk to Jason. I turn to look at him and say as loudly as I can, still trying my best not to make a scene. “Please. I need to talk to you.”

“No.” That's all he says. At least that’s all he says to me. He looks at his co-worker. “Hayley, you got this?”

“Yep.” That's all she says too. He steps away from the counter for a second, and I grab my boarding pass and follow him without saying anything else to Hayley.

He's going to one of the employee only areas and he’s walking very fast.

“Jason,” I exclaim.

He doesn't even look at me. “Jason, please. I can explain.”

That doesn't help. He quickens his pace, walking quite briskly and it’s difficult for me to keep up the pace.

I'm trying to keep up with him, but it's hard. He knows the inside of this airport a lot better than I do and he keeps taking turns I don't expect him to take.

There are a lot of people here, and he even seems to know how to navigate them more than I know how to. I almost lose him a couple of times, but right before he's about to turn into one of the employee areas, as he’s pulling his keycard off the lanyard on his neck, I’m finally in front of him.

“Please. Just give me five minutes, and I can explain everything.”

He shakes his head. He looks away from me and sighs, and for second I don't think that he's even angry with me. He just looks devastated.

That makes me feel even worse, because at least if he was mad, I would understand that. Anger’s fine, but Jason Mayes being sad because of me? Now that seems beyond the pale.

“Two minutes,” he says. “I’m timing you.”

He takes out his phone, taps it and flashes the screen at me. He is timing me.

“I just—I didn’t—you don’t understand,” I say. I didn’t expect him to put me on the spot like this.

I didn't expect that I would have to explain it like this in under two minutes. I mean, I guess it's better than him giving me no time to explain instead. But it's not good because I'm not prepared in the slightest. “Okay, so I was talking to my brother about you.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just watches me.

 I cast my gaze toward the floor as I feel myself blushing. “I was telling him what had happened.”

“Okay.”

That’s more than Jason has said to me in the last few hours so I’m pleased.

“I was texting him and the text was meant for him. It wasn’t meant for you, Jason.”

“Oh, right, that makes perfect sense,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, you didn't mean to call me a faggot to my face?”

I swallow. “No. You don't understand. Yes, the text was meant for someone else. But I didn't mean to call you that at all.”

“Yet somehow you managed to do it,” he replies, his eyes narrowing.

“Yeah but... Okay, listen, I know that it sounds really bad but it’s not what you think—”

“I'm struggling to see a context where it wouldn't sound really bad.”

“Yes. I know.” I reply as I shake my head. “But I was talking to Alex. And he was asking me about you. And the thing is, when we were kids I talked to my brother about you a lot.”

“Do you mean that you used to call me a faggot a lot? Because honestly, I’d gathered that.”

“No. I mean yes. Oh fuck,” I shake my head because I have started to confuse myself. I swallow and look down. “I mean. Like, I guess I did use to call you that. But it was because I was confused okay?”

“Oh, all right. So, because you were confused, you got to call me a faggot, and you get to call me a faggot now that we’re grown up.”

“No. I didn't mean it like that.”

“Whatever. I don't care how you meant it,” he says as he shakes his head. He looks down at the floor and sighs. The sigh shakes his entire body, and I feel bad for him for a minute. He swallows, so hard that I can hear it. I want to reach out and touch him, tell him how sorry I am through my touch, but I don’t think that he’s going to want me on him.

He barely seems to tolerate me right now.

In fact, he seems to be on the verge of tears.

I mean, I already feel like crying, but it's because I was a dick to him and I feel guilty, not because someone has hurt me. I think that I’ve genuinely hurt him. I think I hurt him a lot.

“Look. I can explain, I can show you my text conversation with my brother if you need to see it, okay?” I say quickly. “I'm not going to be able to do it in the space of two minutes.”

He shakes his head and rubs his temples. “Honestly. I already gave you more of a chance than I should have. You're a dick.”

“Look, I know I'm a dick, okay? I know I've always been a dick, but you bring out the best in me,” I reply, my voice quiet and shaky.

He scoffs at that. “I bring out the best in you? Jesus fucking Christ, Max, if this is the best that you get then you’re truly fucking terrible.”

“I know. I know that.”

I expect him to leave, but he doesn’t. I guess this is my chance to explain, if I’m ever going to explain.

“Look,” I start. “When we were kids, I had a lot of feelings about you, okay? I had a lot of feelings about you coming out, I had a lot of feelings about who I was. I had a lot of feelings about my own sexual orientation.”

He seems to consider this, then shakes his head.

“Great. Thank you for the primer, Max, but newsflash: I don't care.”

He turns away so that he’s facing the door, and now he does take his key card out of his lanyard and put it up against the magnetic lock. The door makes a noise as it clicks once Jason pulls it, when it starts flashing blue.

That means it's giving him permission to go in. That means he’s going to get away from me.

I can't follow him inside, not without his permission, not without being tackled by security and dragged away into a little room to wait out my sentence. If he blows the whistle on me and if he tells someone that I’m harassing him, it’s going to be the police who deal with it. I’m pretty sure that if Jason wants it to happen, I’m going to get arrested.

Part of me can't help it. If I have to get in trouble to be able to speak to him then that's what it's going to have to be.

“Listen to me, please, Jason. I know you have no reason to care about me.” I reply as I look down at the tile floor under my feet. I shake my head and my voice wavers a little as I try my best not to cry. I know that it’s foolish and ridiculous, but part of me can’t help myself. “I know that you have no reason to care what I'm saying. But I mean it. I didn't mean to hurt you, and I didn't mean to send that message to you.”

“I don't care what you meant to do,” he replies as he shakes his head. Then he sets his gaze on me, his brown eyes burning. “Honestly. I have no idea why I thought you changed. I think I just let how tired I was get the better of me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Max, please,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“I really don't.” I reply, my eyes widening. I'm taking a step toward him so that we are facing each other, so that we are very close to one another. I can see the lines on his face and the ridges of his lips.

He's so attractive, even though he's so mad at me. I like that he's mad at me now, though, instead of acting like he’s hurt.

I don't want him to be hurt. I want him to be happy. I don't think I've done anything to make him happy. I'm pretty sure I haven't done anything to make me happy. I can see that because of the way that he’s looking at me, because of the way his lips are twisted.

But at least he’s acting like he's mad instead of acting like he’s hurt. And if he's mad instead of hurting, I can deal with that. I can't deal with the idea that I was the one to hurt him.

He shakes his head once again and pushes the door in. I don’t want him to go, so I grab his wrist and stop him by holding on to him. He looks at me, clearly not very impressed, and he cocks his head as he does. He raises his eyebrows and then glances at his wrist, the one I’m holding.

I loosen my grip. He tuts. “Max, let go of me.”

“Please,” I reply, shocking back tears. “Please. Listen to me, Jason, okay?”

“I am listening to you. You are just not saying anything worth hearing.”

“I get it. I get that I hurt you, and I'm sorry.” I start. “I was confused, okay? I was confused by you back then and I'm confused now. Because things between us have always been confusing for me.”

He shakes his head again and this time he exhales from his nose heavily, audibly.

“Please,” I say, dropping my hand to my side. “I know that I’m making a fool out of myself, but I don’t care.”

I need him to listen to me.

Really listen to me.

If I let him go like this, I’m never going to forgive myself.

He sighs then he rubs his temple once more, closing his eyes when he does tightly.

Then he opens his eyes and sets his gaze right on me.

“Okay. You want to hash this out, let’s hash it out. Right now, Diaz, let’s go.”

He pushes the door open, loudly, and he gestures for me to go through it. I don’t want to go through it, partly because I'm sure that the moment we are somewhere more private this is going to descend into madness.

I don't think he's going to punch me though I know I deserve it. I just think he's going to give me the tongue-lashing he has been waiting to give me for a long time. Honestly, part of me is looking forward to it.

Because I think that once he gets it off his mind, then we’ll be able to have a relationship.

Well, maybe not a relationship, that ship has probably sailed.

But at least we can be cordial with each other. If we see each other on the street, maybe we can wave at each other instead of ignoring each other like we've been doing for so long. Not that we’ll ever do that outside of being in Jackson, but our families’ homes really are right next to each other.

I think so, anyway. I’m trying to think about anything other than Jason tearing me a new one.

He raises his eyebrows once again, waiting for me to do something.

“Max,” he says, his voice quiet. “I’m being polite.”

“I know, I know,” I swallow as I step through the door.

He waits for me to go into the employee-only/VIP-lounge area—I’m sure it has another name and I will ask, later, when we’re not dealing with this. Then he steps in behind me, softly closing the door after himself once he does. Once I hear the door click, I try to swallow down the knot in my throat.