Have you ever seen a supernova? Not in person, obviously, but on TV maybe? A supernova is the very explosive death of a star. Like the big, massive kinds, not small ones like our Sun. At the end of its life cycle, a star runs out of fuel, and gravity just takes over. It implodes in a big contraction, everything just squeezing together, really tight, until it can’t get any denser. And then there’s this moment of stillness, like the universe is just holding its breath, waiting for the next step to happen, and then: BOOM! The tension is relieved in a big ball of light and energy. The star explodes into a supernova. It’s so bright it can outshine an entire galaxy. It’s terrifying and it’s beautiful because the star isn’t just destroyed but all its matter is spread out – all the elements that make new stars, new planets, and new life. It’s death and rebirth.

When Rashid told me he loved me, under a starry night sky and on the steps of my childhood home in Leonidas… well, it didn’t quite turn me into a supernova, but it almost felt like one.

I didn’t plan to tell him I loved him. The words just tumbled out of my mouth before I could think about it. My heart still contracted painfully when he asked me to repeat them, and then the world just stopped for a moment, my heart forgot how to beat and my lungs how to breathe… until he took my face into his hands and said, “I love you, too, Wendell,” and kissed me. And I just exploded, and my insides were full of light and warmth.

Maybe a bit much? Yeah, probably. But it was the happiest and most unexpected moment in my life. There I was, Wendell Dupree, sitting on the same steps my sister Josie had found me on after my dad had tried to punch the sissy out of me. There I was, Wendell Dupree, former hustling street kid, who by some miracle had scored the man of my dreams – and he loved me back.

Blows your mind, doesn’t it? It certainly blew mine. It shouldn’t have been possible. But it was.

There isn’t much light out here in the back backyard of our house – Josie’s house – but I can see my own feelings reflected in Rashid’s eyes, the love and the wonder of being loved in return. We kiss, soft, unhurried kisses, our fingers brushing over each other’s cheeks, getting lost in each other’s eyes again and again. Then Rashid wraps his arms around my neck and pulls me close. My head fitting right into the space between his neck and shoulder, the place that was made just for me.

He presses another kiss against my crown and whispers, “I love you, Wendell.”

I’m actually too choked up by now to say it back. I know I should, but instead I just bury my head deeper into him and nod. After a while, I can feel a chuckle rumble through Rashid’s chest.

“You’re a much braver man than I am, Wendell.”

I just snort in reply. “Yeah… right…”

“You are. I wanted to tell you a while ago, but I was too afraid.”

Amazed – and with some regret – I leave my favourite hiding place and look at his face.

“You? Afraid? You’re not afraid of anything!”

He laughs again. “Oh, I’m afraid of many things. Balloons. Sponges. Pufferfish. But mostly… I’m afraid of losing you.”

I can’t help but giggle at his weird phobias. Pufferfish? Really?

“I’m not planning on going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, for now at least, I’m afraid.” I grin but turn serious quickly. I take his face in my hands the way he did earlier and look deep into his gorgeous dark eyes.

“I love you too, Rashid.”

I kiss him again, the cold night air long forgotten.

This is how Josie finds us some time later, sharing the same step, entangled in each other’s arms. I can’t even remember when we changed positions, but we must have at some point. I also didn’t hear the door to our backyard creak open, just Josie pointedly clearing her throat. Presumably not for the first time.

“Didn’t mean to disturb the lovebirds,” she claims. “Just wanted to say good night. Mal and I are calling it a day. You two coming inside?”

“In a moment, sis,” I reply, trying to sound calm and composed and not like I’m floating ten feet above ground.

“Lock this door behind you, will you? And remember that Soso will most likely try to crawl into your bed at one point during the night.” Josie raises an eyebrow that clearly says “and you two better behave when she does” before she heads back inside.

Rashid giggles when the door closes behind her. “That warning was unnecessary. As if I could do it with Rockstar Lestat staring down at us.”

“That’s really a pity. I was looking forward to…” And I lean in to whisper in his ear what exactly I had planned for our late-night entertainment. Most of it I make up on the spot. I didn’t actually make elaborate plans for our sleepover at Josie’s after the family dinner. I can hear a startled gasp slip out of Rashid. My spontaneous idea seems to be met with his approval.

“Bloody hell, Wendell, you’re killing me…”

“With little deaths?” I smirk at him.

He laughs, “Cheeky bastard.” He pretends to ponder the offer for the moment, but I can see his resolve to stay celibate tonight under the watchful eyes of my teen idol just went up in a puff of smoke. He cups my face with one hand, making sure I won’t keel over again, before he kisses me fervently. He pulls back just enough to speak, his lips brushing mine with every word. “Okay, let’s take this upstairs. I just hope your door locks.”

We make our way to my former room – still my room according to Josie – and basically untouched since I ran away from home more than seven years ago.

Rashid looks around curiously. He’s only been in here once, earlier today, when he didn’t really have time to assess the environment. I suddenly wish Josie had at least changed the bedsheets into a more “adult” version, but I can see Rashid smile when he spots the Avengers staring back at him from my bed. He pulls a face at my large Rockstar Lestat poster and frowns slightly.

“How old were you when you put that up?”

“Thirteen, maybe?” I answer with a smirk.

He looks critically between me and the poster and then groans when he sees my grin.

“You totally did, didn’t you? 

“You really want an answer to that?” I laugh.

“No, thanks, pass.”

I swiftly strip out of my clothes and fling my t-shirt over the door of my wardrobe, so the poster is at least partially covered.

“Better?” I ask.

“Oh yes,” Rashid replies, but his eyes are firmly trained on me, drinking me in. I know he likes my body well enough, but his intense gaze still makes me feel self-conscious. I turn around to lock my doors and find him still staring at me when I turn back.

“What? Do I have a pimple on my ass?”

He shakes his head, laughing. “You’re perfect. I’ll never get tired of seeing you.”

I let him look for a while, then I pout. “You’re a cruel man, Chaudhury.”

“Why?” He looks at me surprised.

“You can look, but you deny me my favourite sight.”

He laughs and starts pulling his shirt off. I stop him, halting his arms mid-movement, so his shirt is still covering his eyes, basically blindfolding him, and kiss him.

“Don’t move,” I order him while my fingers graze his skin on their way down his chest and to the waistband of his jeans. I open his zipper just wide enough that I can put my hand in there and find him hard and ready for me. A soft moan escapes Rashid’s lips as my hand wraps around him.

“This is definitely something else I won’t ever get tired of. You’re so goo-…” He stops, and I can feel him tense. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

His concern for my feelings makes me smile. “It’s okay. You can say it. We both know where and how I picked up a trick or two. Unless you mind, I’m using them on you.”

“No, I don’t. Certainly not when it feels so goo-…” And his breath hitches again as I demonstrate one of said tricks. “Jesus, Wendell, I’m not going to last long if you keep doing this.”

“Then on the bed with you.”

I help him to wiggle out of his makeshift blindfold and other clothes. Once I have him completely naked, I gently push him onto my bed. I take a moment to admire my beautiful boyfriend outstretched on my Avengers bedsheets and waiting for me. I can’t help but think about my dad for a moment. How much he’d loathe to see this. His only son about to do the one thing he would’ve hated the most – and loving every second of it.

Rashid smiles up at me, so at ease and relaxed. His head rests on his crossed arms; his eyes are inviting me to join him. I can’t even remember the last time I saw my dad. Or the last time he hit me. Which probably occurred on the same day. At the time I had started to wear eyeliner regularly and paint my nails with Josie’s nail polish. Because I liked it and to spite my father. He despised it. He’d hate this even more.

There’s a slight frown forming on Rashid’s face, and before it can deepen, I lie down beside him. Rashid’s arms are around me in an instant to hold me close, and he brushes a strand of hair out of my forehead.

“I love your hair when it’s a bit longer like it is now.” His lips touch my cheek and forehead. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I assure him. “Just had a moment.” I allow myself to bask in his presence and warmth for a heartbeat. Cuddling with the man I love sounds great.

Rashid’s arms tighten around me, and his hands rub patterns into the skin of my back. “He can’t hurt you anymore. He’s gone. You’re safe.”

“How do you know this is about… him?” I can’t even get myself to say his name out loud or call him “my dad”. I should probably refer to him as “my maker”, the word I used for Soso’s “sperm donor”. But since I’m friends with Louis and his maker, Lestat (not his father, but his husband), the term seems wrong.

I can feel Rashid shrug against my shoulders. “Just a hunch. This house – this room – holds a lot of memories, I’m sure. Good ones and bad ones.”

I don’t even know why it’s hitting me so hard right now. It’s been a long day, full of emotions. I only realise now how nervous I was about introducing my boyfriend to my family and how much Josie’s initial rejection hurt me. I think she’s starting to warm up to Rashid, but it’s still making me feel uneasy. Josie, Soso and Rashid are the most important people in my life. I just need them to get along. I can’t lose either of them.

Rashid loves me, and I love him. Why is this room suddenly bringing back memories of my dad and what he would have thought about finding another man in my bed? What do I care what he thought? Rashid is right. He’s gone. Dead. Probably rotting in some unmarked grave somewhere. He should mean nothing to me. I can feel tears stinging my eyes, and I hate myself for it. My time with Rashid is so limited, and tonight promised to be so perfect. Why do I allow my old man to ruin it for us?

I don’t know what gave me away, maybe a shudder that ran through my body, trying to suppress my tears, but I can feel Rashid’s thumb brushing against my cheek.

“Don’t cry, Wendell.” He starts kissing my eyelids – right first, then left – my face, and then finds my lips. An almost desperate-sounding moan escapes me as I claim his mouth, trying to shut out any unwanted memory.

“We don’t have to… but if there’s anything I can do to cheer you up…” Rashid murmurs against my lips between kisses. My body aches to be close to him, my skin against his, yearning to feel this connection between us.

“Only, to be honest, I don’t think there’s more than a handjob on the menu tonight, because I still feel like a stuffed turkey, and I don’t fancy the idea of throwing up on you.” Rashid laughs.

“You wouldn’t be the first.” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. I flop onto my back with a groan of frustration and bury my face under one arm. Why did I say that? I’m such a fucking idiot who apparently doesn’t know when to shut up and just be wanted.

“I’m sorry…”

My room is quiet, and so is Rashid. There really isn’t anything to say. I killed the mood.

I hear the rustling of the sheets on my bed and feel Rashid’s hand on my hip, pulling me close to him. He gently tugs at the arm draped over my face and cups my cheek, forcing me to look at him. It’s dark, but there’s a little bit of light coming through the curtains from the streetlamp outside that illuminates Rashid’s face. His eyes search mine and he looks concerned.

“I know you went through hell and back, and I…” I try to avoid looking at him, but he won’t let me turn away. “And I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like for you.” He takes my chin and makes me face him again. “We both have history, and I know it doesn’t even come close to comparing, but I’ve done things I’m not exactly proud of. There’s no point pretending neither of us has a past.” His thumb brushes along my jawline. “I know it still affects you. I can see that. But I went into this – us, our relationship – knowing, and I’m not running. I’m here.”

He gives my chin a little tug, encouraging me to look into his eyes, his dark, sincere, loving eyes. “I’m here for you. If you need a moment, I’ll wait. If you need me to hold you, my arms are here for you. If you need to talk, I’ll listen.” He pauses for a moment.

“Today was… a lot. The last week was a lot.” He halts again, clearing his throat. “I wish I hadn’t ruined tonight by reminding you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like…” He trails off.

I frown at him. “What do you mean? Remind me?” I play our conversation back in my mind, trying to figure out what he’s referring to. I look at his remorseful face, and then it dawns on me. “Ohh… when you said what I was doing felt good? You think that’s what this is about?”

He nods slowly.

“No, Rashid, Jay-zuhs, no!” I’m quick to assure him. At the same time, a little voice in the back of my mind wonders if he isn’t actually right.

At this point in our relationship, we’ve only been intimate for less than two weeks, but he knows my “moments” very well. Before we had our first time, I’d been freaking out that he wouldn’t want me, that he’d see me as “damaged goods”, and I wouldn’t have blamed him, given my past. In all honesty, that hadn’t been my only concern. Deep down, I’d been afraid that something else would happen. Or rather not happen.

I’d been afraid, without even admitting it to myself, that I actually was “damaged goods”. That I wouldn’t be able to enjoy sex with Rashid. Or anyone else for that matter. Sex with myself had never been a problem. I never disassociated from my body when I was in control. It was when others took my body that I “zoned out”. Of course, I also learnt to not let my clients know about it. They always got what they asked for. So I was pretty sure I could fake it with a real partner. But is this really what you want in a relationship? Is this what I wanted for us, for Rashid? Faking it every time (and if) he wanted to have sex with me?

It turned out that neither of my fears was true. Rashid wanted me, and he wanted me to enjoy it, too. And he did everything to make sure I did. He honestly has the patience of a saint. He never pressures me or urges me on. He’s happy to go with whatever I want to do, whatever I’m comfortable with in that moment. No matter how far we are, he’s always ready to stop, immediately, if he feels me freeze or show discomfort. I doubt I could have let myself fall, enjoy sex, with anyone else. I just wish he wouldn’t feel the need to hold back so much. It can’t be all about me all the time.

So when I see his guilty expression, I can’t allow him take the blame. Yes, it reminded me of what my clients used to tell me. “Oh, Remy, this feels so good, you feel so good, your ass is so tight…” But he’s not one of them. And I know that, and it never feels that way. I guess we both still have a way to go until we can be free of the demons of my past.

I reach up to his face, fingers curling around his neck, and gently pull him in for a kiss. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I can’t hold it against you if you enjoy what I do to give you pleasure, can I?” I smile, and I’m rewarded with a tiny smile back before Rashid turns serious again.

“No one will ever do this to you, Wendell. No one will ever harm you again or do anything to you against your will. Not on my watch. Not while I’m alive. I promise you. I swear it on my life.” Every one of his words is full of determination, a solemn vow to protect me.

His face swims before my eyes as they fill with tears. It takes me a while to find my voice again.

“Don’t swear on your life, Oxford. I very much prefer you alive.”

A hint of a smile forms on his lips, and he leans in to kiss me. “As you wish, Buttercup.”

I giggle despite the tears still streaming down my face. “Does that make you farmhand Westley or the Dread Pirate Roberts?”

Rashid shrugs, but there’s a grin on his face. “I think the answer is still ‘as you wish’. Who’s sexier?”

I pretend to ponder the question. “Who was the guy with six fingers on his right hand?”

“Count Rugen? No way! He was a creeper!” Rashid protests. I giggle again at his reaction, and I can feel the tension easing in my body. It’s not yet evaporated, but I feel a little better. Which I suspect was Rashid’s intention. I can’t believe I’m dating such a geek. I had no idea.

“Have you never thought about what he could do with his six fingers?” I suggest. “I mean… sweet baby Jay-zuhs on a beignet…”

Rashid laughs, and I can feel him relax in my arms as well. I know he loves when I thicken my accent. He leans his forehead against mine, and for a moment, we just breathe each other in. He starts trailing his hand along my jawline, down my throat and chest – very slowly, very lightly – until it rests on my stomach, and he’s threading his fingers into my happy trail. My breathing is speeding up in anticipation.

“Might I still be interest you in a demonstration of what I can do with five fingers?”

My hips arch against his touch, answering his question more succinctly than words could ever do. Before my brain completely short-circuits, I manage to form a word.

“Rashid?”

He hums against my neck in response.

“Will you let me return the favour?”

“I would be very much obliged.” He replies, dead serious, shifting his hips a little to give me better access.

Wherever my dad is now, I hope he’s watching…