My lips brush against his, light as a feather. It’s not even a kiss. It’s more like a question, an invitation for more. There’s no pressure, just a hopeful touch of soft lips. Please, kiss me back. But we’re frozen in this moment. There’s no response.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

What have I done?

---

It’s early August, and the air is thick and heavy with humidity. The nights are warm and sticky, with the city’s famous vampires (those of the tiny, winged variety) making their presence known. I decide it’s the perfect time to break in my new electric grill, a late additional birthday present from Big Mal and Josie. They left it to interpretation if this means my birthday or the twins’, who are thriving and looking bigger every time I visit them.

We’re on the Ghost Tour that Rashid suggested at Rosalie’s. It’s hilarious, and I constantly break out in giggling fits, much to the annoyance of the tour guide and the other guests. Rashid just quietly rolls his eyes. After the tour, we have Faux Sazeracs at a bar in the French Quarter, and I ask Rashid if he’d like to come to my apartment on Friday night for a BBQ/picnic on my terrace. He agrees and offers to bring dessert. It’ll be the first time we’re seeing each other in a private space. Just the two of us.

Our hands lie on the table next to the old-fashioned glasses, and Rashid’s fingers casually brush against mine, sneakily weaving between them. My eyes stay on the contact – almost but not quite entwined – before I glance up at him in a “I see what you’re doing” kind of way. He grins back, but neither of us pulls away.

I spend the next few days in a frantic exchange with my friend Mari, the vampires’ housekeeper, to find the best recipes for Friday. On the day, she surprises me early in the morning with a basket full of fresh fruit and vegetables from the farmers’ market and an arrangement of self-made dips and salsas. When she unpacks all her treats, she piles up a bunch of bananas, some figs, avocados, and tops it off with a bar of dark chocolate.

“Ay, mijo, don’t say I didn’t do you a solid tonight,” she says with a wink. “These little treats are not just for your tummy, okay? Dark chocolate and figs? Perfect for setting the mood. Trust me, they work wonders. You might need them later… for the real course of the night.”

She laughs, swatting me lightly on the arm. I roll my eyes but ignore her well-meant boost for my libido. I haven’t even told her that all the food is for a date. She must have been gossiping with my sister behind my back, again. I kiss her cheek, grateful for everything she’s done.

It’s 5 o’clock precisely when my doorbell rings. It’s a bit scary how someone can be always that punctual. I suspect he actually arrived 5 mins early and waited for the clock to chime. We hug, and when I invite him in with a gesture, I catch a whiff of his cologne. He smells like a million dollars.

“This looks nice. I like it. It’s very you.” He looks around my one-room apartment and nods appreciatively. It’s not much, I know, but it’s mine, and the best part is the terrace anyway. For a moment we just stand there, awkward silence between us. Why are we suddenly so shy?

After a moment he remembers the small container in his hands and gives it to me. It is filled with dates, neatly stacked, with what seems to be different fillings and toppings.

“What is this?” I ask, admiring the tiny, perfect pieces of art.

“I said I’ll bring dessert, didn’t I? This is something my nanu used to make for us. I couldn’t decide, so I made different variations. They’re all vegan, even the ones with cream cheese and brie.”

“You made these?” I’m absolutely awestruck. “In your hotel room?”

He shrugs. “Ah well, all you need is a little butter knife and too much time on your ha… oof!”

He can’t say more because I tackle him with a hug.

“Thank you. That is so thoughtful of you.”

He pats my back. “They may taste really awful, so don’t judge too soon.”

I put the container with the dates in the fridge, so we can give our verdict later. I look at Rashid. He’s standing in the middle of my room, relaxed, hands in his jeans pockets, with a small smile on his face. If anyone had told me on my birthday only a few weeks ago that this would happen, I would have laughed in their faces. My mystery man, in my room, smiling.

I take a step forward – it doesn’t need more to close the distance between us – and thread my fingers through his. Then I pull him outside to show him my little paradise.

It looks pretty magical. I strung up little fairy lights between the bushes and around the edges; the electric grill sits on a small table I borrowed from Doris – Gigi and Etie’s mom. It’s waiting for its load of vegan burgers. Since this is supposed to be a picnic, I just spread out a blanket in the centre of the terrace, with plates, glasses and cutlery already stocked for us. I have a small cooler that holds our drinks: diet coke, mango juice and still water.

I noticed that Rashid is very fond of mango juice. Whenever he sees it on the menu, he just has to order some. When I saw they had some at the store, I just had to get a bottle for Rashid. Seeing his happy grin makes me think I made the right call. I can’t take my eyes off of Rashid’s face; it is so transformed. Especially tonight, when we’re alone, it is open and lively; nothing remains of the usual mask that hides all of his emotions. I’ve had glimpses of the real Rashid over the past few weeks, but I’ve never seen him as relaxed as he is tonight.

I show him the view down into our community backyard; our hands, still tangled together, lie on the railing. I could have stayed like this forever, but we would have starved eventually and all the good food would have been wasted. So with some regret, I let go of his hand and start cooking. He offers to help, but I tell him to make himself comfortable. As much as this is possible on a concrete floor with only a thin blanket. Maybe I didn’t think that part through. I go back inside to get some cushions, pillows and my duvet, and Rashid turns the corner of the terrace into a soft retreat for us.

It’s a beautiful evening. There’s a bit of a breeze easing the heat of the day, and even the mosquitoes seem to find other victims tonight. I make a mental note to thank Mari for her recipes. Everything tastes delicious. Rashid and I sit in the middle of our little nest of blankets and pillows and enjoy the different dishes I placed on plates all around us.

I’m just reaching past Rashid for some carrot sticks when it happens. I look up, and our faces are suddenly only an inch apart. I can feel his sweet breath on my skin, and I just react without thinking. I lean in, and my lips brush against his, light as a feather. It’s not even a kiss. It’s more like a question, an invitation for more. There’s no pressure, just a hopeful touch of soft lips. Please, kiss me back. But we’re frozen in this moment. There’s no response.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

What have I done?

I want to pull back and apologise, but before I can move, his mouth captures mine with such vigour and a push forward that catches me by surprise. I lose my balance and keel over backwards. My head hits the concrete in a gap in our blanket fort, and the world goes black.

“Wendell? Shit! Shit! Shit! Wendell! Can you hear me? Wendell! Oh shit, Wendell, please…!”

Rashid’s voice is the first thing I hear when I start to come back around.

“You kissed me back…”. My eyes are still closed, but somehow this realisation is most important. It stops Rashid’s ongoing mantra of shits interspersed with my name.

“You kissed me first…” His voice sounds confused. “Please, Wendell, can you open your eyes for me?” I can feel his fingers caressing my cheek.

I do as I am told. I must have hit my head really hard because the vision that I see is breathtaking. Rashid’s face looks radiant, like he has a halo around his head. I blink. The halo is gone, and I realise it was only the string of fairy lights I put up around my door. Rashid looks worried, but there’s relief in his voice to see my eyes open and focused.

“Can you sit up?” He asks gently. “Here, let me help you.”

He pulls me slowly into a sitting position. The world spins for a moment, and I’m grateful I can hold onto Rashid’s arms.

“I’m so sorry, Wendell, I didn’t mean to…”

“You didn’t mean to kiss me?” Still focused on the important aspects here.

I can hear Rashid’s laugh, deep and low. “No, I absolutely meant to do that. I didn’t mean to crack your skull in the process.”

I gingerly feel the back of my head. It feels sore and sticky and it will probably give me one hell of a headache, but it’s not cracked. That feels different. I should know. A shiver runs through me, which has nothing to do with the current temperatures.

“Shit, Wendell, you’re bleeding!” It’s the panic in Rashid’s voice that snaps me out of my memory. I look down on my hand to see some traces of blood where my fingers touched my skull.

“Just a scratch. It’s nothing…” I try to deflect.

“We should get you to a hospital!” Rashid suggests.

“No!” I hate it when people make a fuss about me. Taking me to a hospital because I’m too stupid to sit sounds like a lot of fuss to me.

“You could have a concussion!”

“I don’t have a concussion!” To prove my point, I try to stand up. The spinning gets worse, and I grab Rashid’s shoulder so I don’t lose balance again. I can feel bile rising in my throat and take a moment to steady myself. I can feel Rashid’s eyes on me, watching me.

“Fine,” I growl.

He insists on helping me inside, despite my protests that I can walk on my own. Feeling his arm around me is actually not too bad. While I sit on my couch like the personified pile of misery, I’m silently cursing myself. Leave it to me to turn a kiss into a medical emergency. Not just any kiss. Our first kiss. I try to remember the moment his lips found mine, but it’s a bit of a blur. I watch Rashid as he’s pacing up and down my terrace, talking on the phone. My happy, relaxed Rashid is gone, replaced by his business twin.

I frown. How long can it take to call a taxi? What is he doing? Can I ask him for another kiss? Just in case something goes wrong, I don’t want to die without a happy memory. Rashid comes back in and helps me up from the couch. I still feel slightly nauseous, so let’s postpone a second kiss (if there is one) to a time when I’m not in danger of throwing up on him.

In the short taxi ride, I suddenly feel tired, and I lean my head against Rashid’s shoulder. He resolutely but tenderly pushes me into an upright position.

“As much as I appreciate the gesture, please keep your eyes open and don’t fall asleep.”

He gives my hand the faintest squeeze, and I answer with one in return. We arrive at University Medical shortly after and enter the waiting area of the ER. It’s not too full, but I expect we’ll still be here for hours. I sit down in one of the plastic chairs while Rashid goes to reception. I’m actually happy to let him handle the paperwork because my head is starting to hurt and I feel groggy. World champion klutz, that’s me. Accepting my trophy in the ER.

There’s a screen next to the reception window with a series of announcements, one of them stating “Designated Level I Trauma Center – Providing 24/7 Comprehensive Emergency Care”. I wonder if they can fix some other issues with my head while I’m here. Before I know it, a nurse – early 30s with sandy blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail – comes over to me with a small tablet.

“Mr Dupree? I’m Abby. Would you follow me, please?”

I’m baffled. We’ve barely got here. She guides me to a small room down the corridor. Rashid joins us and I see her slip him a small black card with a suspicious-looking T on it.

“What have you done?” I hiss at Rashid. “I don’t work for them!”

“But I do. Shut up and enjoy the treatment.” He offers me a lopsided grin.

“If any of this ends up in my file, I swear, I’m gonna…”

“It won’t. I promise.” He kisses my cheek lightly, which promptly serves its purpose of mellowing my anger considerably. I still glower at him from the exam table. Nurse Abby checks my vital signs and gives me an encouraging smile before she leaves the room. Apparently I’m still alive. Rashid is in a corner, typing something on his phone. Probably the full report for my file. My glower intensifies.

The door opens, and the doctor comes in. He’s black and around Rashid’s age with kind eyes and a cool attitude. He introduces himself as Dr Charles Pratt – but call me Chaz – and proceeds with further tests. He flashes a light in my eyes, and asks me a couple of questions, like “What’s your name?”, “Do you know where you are?”, “What day is it?”, “What happened?”, etc.

The last one is the most difficult one to answer, as I try to avoid the exact circumstances. As an ER doctor, Chaz has probably seen it all, but my inner dignity refuses to admit that I’ve been kissing above my weight class. Chaz listens and nods, then consults his tablet with a small frown. He makes me bend down my head so he can look at my scalp.

“You’ve got a little cut up there. Superficial, it won’t need stitches. I’ll clean it, slap on some antibiotic, and you’re good to go.”

He looks between me and Rashid, then says with another look at his tablet, “I see my colleague still needs some information. Rashid… is it? Why don’t you go outside to clear this up while I patch up our patient here?”

With a glance at me to make sure I’m okay to be left alone with the meanie doctor, Rashid leaves the room to find Nurse Abby. Once the door clicks shut, Chaz pulls up one of those wheely doctor stools and sits down opposite me.

“Wendell, I need to ask – was this really an accident? Did anyone push you? Hurt you?” His eyes observe me, but his voice is gentle.

“He pushed me a little, but he didn’t mean to hurt…” I blink as I realise what he’s alluding to. Then I let out a short, startled laugh. “No – God, no. He was just a bit… too enthusiastic. He kissed me; I lost my balance.”

Chaz looks satisfied with my reaction, and a small smile curls the corner of his lips. “Must’ve been one helluva kiss.”

“Our first.” I admit meekly.

Chaz chuckles to himself: “My first kiss with my husband was… well, it wasn’t exactly graceful. I was so nervous and almost broke his nose.”

“Ouch! Sounds painful… and awkward.” I cringe at the thought alone.

“Yeah, but we both started laughing, and it kind of broke the tension. I think that’s when I knew we’d be okay.” He holds up his left hand, which is adorned by a simple, silver wedding band. “Happily married for five years now.” Leaning in a little, he adds in a conspiratorial voice, “The possibilities are still endless for you and Rashid.”

I smile, grateful for the reassurance and gay success story. “Thank you,” I say. “And thank you for asking. I wish someone had shown my mom the same consideration and kindness.”

His face turns sombre. “You’re welcome. You’d be surprised how many people wish someone had.”

Rashid returns just as Chaz finishes cleaning my wound.

“It doesn’t seem to be a concussion, more a case of bruised ego and tender pride.” He winks at me. “Rest, plenty of fluids, Tylenol if needed. No physical activity for at least 48 hours – and I mean no physical activity…” He gives us both a stern look. “… and come back immediately if symptoms worsen.”

“One more thing,” Chaz adds. “I’d feel better if you didn’t stay alone tonight, Wendell. Just to be on the safe side.”

I’m contemplating my options. It’s a bit crowded at Josie’s right now, especially with her in-laws staying over for the weekend. But Rashid interrupts my train of thought.

“I can stay.”

Chaz inhales, but Rashid stops him with a wry smile. “No sex. Got it, doc.”

We leave the hospital a few minutes later and wait near the entrance for a taxi. In the distance we can see the lights of the city sparkling in the dark. My hand finds Rashid’s, and our fingers slip together like they’ve done it a hundred times before.

“I should have asked you first. Is it okay if I stay over? I can sleep on the floor…”

“I think my bed is big enough for the two of us. I just have to warn you. At one point, Bruno will want to join us.”

He laughs and leans in to kiss my cheek.

“Mhmm about that… ” I pull him closer and wrap my arms around his waist. “When I hurt myself as a kid, my mom always gave me a kiss to make it better…”

He grins and kisses my other cheek. “Like that?”

“Mhmm, yes… But I think you could do better.”

He kisses the tip of my nose.

I pout. “Come on, Chaudhury, don’t leave me hanging.”

“After recent events, I’m a little afraid what the next, proper kiss would do to you.” He ponders.

“Well, we’re still in front of a hospital. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“I don’t know…” His hands are on my back, steadying me. Keeping me safe.

“Just be very gentle with me; I’m a very delicate flower…” I warn him.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

And then he pulls me close; his lips find mine in a soft but firm touch. One of his hands settles on my neck, carefully avoiding my wound, just grounding me, like he’s anchoring me to the moment. His mouth opens, inviting me for more, and I accept, deepening the kiss. There’s a warmth spreading through my body; it’s no spark in the dark and no wildfire either. It just says I’m home, I’m safe, I’m whole. This is right.

I guess up until that point I hadn’t even realised myself how broken I was on the inside. It would be really poetic to say it took only one kiss from Rashid and all the fractured pieces of my soul magically healed. That’s not what it was. I could feel the fissures, and I could feel them shifting closer together just a little. Not quite there yet but moving in the right direction.

---

Author’s Note:

In case you’re wondering: yes, Abby and Dr Pratt are references to – imho – one of the best, most ground-breaking TV series of all time, ER.

Nurse Abby is not directly Abby Lockhart from ER, just a name I picked amongst many I could have chosen.

Chaz in the TV series was Dr Greg Pratt‘s younger, half-brother. He was a bit of a milestone representing a gay character of colour. His story arc in ER ended a little abruptly and the audience was left wondering what happened to him in the end. So maybe he ended up happily married in New Orleans. Or maybe it’s just someone with the same name. Your pick. 😉

I just love a bit of a geek reference and honoring such a character, that we discussed in one of our classes at university for its significance, just felt right.