Faihan was nervous, and this actually was new, because he hadn’t ever been nervous around Alejandro before. But today, he was. It had been getting harder to ignore the intrusion of Badr's feelings—steadily increasing in every memory and dream—but he’d done a reasonably good job of doubling down and pushing those aside. The problem was that he now knew who Andrés Bravo’s heart really belonged to, and it was a loaded secret.

He was starting to sweat, and he hadn’t even started working out. After a moment, he picked up his water bottle, holding it against the side of his neck to try to cool down. It was fine. Probably whatever was going to happen next would happen soon, and he wouldn’t Know Things that he wasn’t sure he should be sharing (or hiding).

He would just have to keep things steered far away from the topic. He dabbed his face on his shirt, took a drink from his bottle, and steadied himself. “Are you coming over on Sunday?”

Alejo was pushing himself to the edge, sweating profusely and panting already. His chest was heaving as he finished his last repetition of squats, leaving the weights on the rack before padding closer to Faihan where his water bottle was resting. He took a long drink, letting some spill over his chest before grabbing a towel to wipe some of his sweat away.

“Helping at your place?” He took a deep and steadying breath before sighing heavily. “Sure, if you need more hands.”

Probably Faihan didn’t, but he wanted Alejo to be there. Selfishly, because he liked having Alejo around. He wasn’t sure how that would go, with Joaco and Eli also there, but all three were quickly joining the ranks of his people, and…he wanted to be with them, all in one place, for the festivities.

“And I don’t even have to bribe you with cookies,” he joked. Sweat was still beading on Alejo’s neck, and Faihan looked away, a tiny Faihan in his head neatly spritzing his brain and wiping it clean. “What flavors do you like?” he asked, sipping his drink.

He made a satisfied sound as he took another sip of water before putting the bottle away, and looking at Faihan. “Protein,” Alejo joked with a dumb laugh, letting his stress dispell for a moment. “Kidding--but flavor of what? Baked goods?” After a few more pats of the towel, he hung it with his other belongings.

“I like chocolate chips?” Alejo folded his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes and staring at nothing in particular. “I also like the taste of passion fruit, especially in cheesecakes.”

Faihan abruptly choked. He glanced at Alejo with a funny look. Now that he knew…he could see so many little ways in which Alejo and Joaco resembled each other. It wasn’t just the bone structure their dad had gifted them. It was in their eagerness to help others, their cheerfulness, their straightforward way of looking at the world… And, too, in a shared love of passion fruit it seemed, and because Joaco had had to point out the English word to him, he could no longer think about it without his brain doing a little whirr. The tiny Faihan scrubbed harder.

“Maracuya, okay. Easy to work with.” He hit his chest with his fist, clearing his throat, his voice coming out a little strained. Frankly, he was a little worried about what he wanted to get Alejo for Christmas, because Alejo had an in-home gym, a fancy car, a private server, all the latest phone and tablets, the very nicest athleisure clothes… and it felt stupid giving him anything material. But he still wanted to give him something special, and he wasn’t sure if that was Badr or him, but…he had decided not to worry about it too much—at least in this case. He liked getting people presents, and he hadn’t had a lot of people to gift in a while.

He wondered, briefly, what Alejo’s Christmas was going to look like this year.He contemplated inviting him over to the Helals, but he didn’t want his friends to experience him and his father occupying the same room. He thought it would be best if that side of him, probably the worst and ugliest of all, never was seen by anyone he wanted to like him.

He capped his bottle and prepared to take a little of the weight off the bar, for his set of squats. One day, he promised himself, he would be able to lift the same as Alejo. It was going to be his 2022 resolution.

“Do you have plans this month?” he finally asked. “Like, for holiday stuff or whatever?”

“Well, there’s always the boring family parties, but,” Alejo shrugged his shoulders, his lips pressing into a thin line. “They’re still happening this year, by the way, grandpa wouldn’t want to skip on hosting so he can show off a little.” It was, ultimately, what his abuelo enjoyed about the holidays. “But we aren’t trapped there all night or anything. And then there’s New Years, also very important, but I have free reign for that.”

He rubbed his eyebrow for a second before grinning. “Why? Did you want to come to a Bravo party? I can get you inside easily.” He held his finger up, lips parted in an eureka-like motion. “Wait, did you want to go on one of our boats instead?” Boat was a funny word for it, but he always used it for some reason.

Faihan tried not to laugh, his brow wrinkling as he bent at the knee to begin his reps. “Uh, you might not have noticed, but I really don’t have the wardrobe for a fancy Bravo cocktail party.” He paused, focusing on breathing, feeling his thighs burn with each dip. At least now he was sweating for a reason.

Alejo waved his hand in dimission. “I’ll get you an outfit, that’s fine.”

Faihan squinted, not sure if that was a good idea or not. He did want to hang out with Alejo during the holidays, but he didn’t think Alejo realized how out of place he was going to be among his rich relatives. Well, at least on that account, he could understand why Joaco felt so nervous about being counted among them. It wasn’t like either of them could just walk into a Bravo mansion and fit in. But he didn’t say no. Maybe…it could be okay. He’d reserve judgement for now.

“Do you spend Christmas on the boat?” Faihan panted. “That feels like a… New Year’s thing…”

Alejo walked up behind Faihan, subtly correcting his posture with his hands, one on his lower back and the other on his shoulder. “True, but…” he sighed and bit his lip. “Best way not to deal with the rest of the world, right?” He should probably leave Faihan to his own devices and return to his routine…

“Oh…” Instant goosebumps. Instant. Faihan cursed his brain for the reaction. He tried to spawn a whole pack of cleaner Faihans, so that his brain would be squeaky-clean and pure. He liked it when Alejo touched him, even if it was always casual, practical little gestures like this. He supposed he had missed being touched over the past few years, just in general. “I’ve gotten rusty…since high school.” He was a little embarrassed that his posture was off. Though oddly flattered that Alejo was watching enough to have noticed. He didn’t think people looked at him very often, not for any reason, so it was nice.

“No worries, my buddy, happens to the best of us.” Alejo smiled, and once Faihan was on the right track, he stepped back to mind his own sets, staying close by and choosing to go with pushups for now--call it a break from weights and machines.

“Do you…know how to…pilot it?” he asked, and then he thought probably Alejo did know all kinds of rich guy things, like how to sail or drive those mini-yacht motorboat things (like in James Bond movies). “Christmas…is one time…I gotta deal with ‘rest of the world.’ That is…if you mean family.”

Alejo laughed with the barest hint of struggle as he did his pushups with trained expertise. “Yeah, I have a certificate and everything, well, it might not be too legal, who knows, but I did take classes?” After a few more pushups, he added. “Abuelo says it’s pointless when we have someone to do it for us, but you know… you never know when it can be useful,” he groaned, shifting to one armed pushups. “Like for escaping family meals you don’t want to attend to.”

Faihan liked that idea. Well, maybe if the Bravo gathering became pure cringe, they could run away on a boat. He thought he’d feel less ashamed about being judged by Alejo’s family once he was on a boat. He wondered what they would even think if Alejo randomly brought the ‘singing baker’ to their party. It’d probably be pretty unexpected...

“I can’t even…drive a car,” he said, finishing his reps and trying to lower the bar without letting it clatter. He crouched for a moment, catching his breath and rubbing his brow with the back of his wrist. Being exhausted was a good distraction from how pert Ale was looking in those workout bottoms, grunting through pushups— Where was his water bottle again? He poured a little on his hair, which (now sweaty) was already defying the morning’s iron job and starting to frizz and curl.

“Do you normally want to escape family gatherings, or is it just this year?” he asked, not looking and not listening (much).

Alejo finished, and rolled over, arms spread out, and chest heaving as he pondered the question. “Sometimes,” he admitted, and perhaps now that he was more grown up he could see the less favorable things about his family. “It was just too much sometimes, but this year--yeah.” He moved onto some crunches, resting his arms behind his head as he counted his repetitions in his head.

“Why did you--never?”

“I liked Christmas when I was a kid…in Canada. There was snow, and we could visit the rest of our family, so there was a lot of good food and presents for the kids. Lots of cousins to play with… When we moved here… We did go back to Canada for the holidays sometimes, but now if they go back, I’m here alone, so…” He shrugged. “The last couple of years, Jomana flew down from Canada, and so they stayed in IZML. I guess that’s what we’re doing this year, too.”

He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. “My old man and I don’t get along very well. We get to remind everyone of that when Christmas rolls around.” He glanced back at Ale, coming to stand over him, which seemed safe now. He would have crouched, but his thighs still ached from the squats. “There’s a lot of, ‘you could have been a scientist,’ talk without acknowledging why I did not end up a scientist,” he said and then laughed a little at the absurdity of it. “But the way Toronto looks in the winter…” He smiled to himself. “It felt magical.”

With a loud grunt, he sprawled out his body on the floor, staring up at Faihan when he was close to him. “Do you like snow that much?” Alejo chose not to address the other bits for Faihan’s sake. He didn’t want to sour the mood, but… “You’re amazing with baking. And singing, too. Scientists are boring so that’s on him, not you.” His lips curved into a warm smile before he pushed himself to sit up, panting softly. He knew his words were less important than his dad’s, but he hoped they helped even if just a little.

With a hop and a stretch, he stood up, rolling his shoulders.

“I love snow,” Faihan replied, turning to Alejo with a smile. “It’s so soft and quiet and clean. And when it’s falling, the sky gets brighter somehow. It’s peaceful. It makes you feel like you’re under some kind of blanket. Everything is very muffled and still and calm. And, well, snow days. They were the best. No school. No work. Just playing in the park. Hitting each other with snowballs, making snow angels, and building snowmen… Until people started driving through it, and then it was mostly grey slush, but the first snow…”

Alejo stared a little bit too hard, smiling fondly, but not saying a thing because he didn’t want to interrupt, not this time.

Faihan paused, turning a little red, and looked away. “Do you not like snow?” he asked and turned redder still at the compliments, shrugging and mumbling, barely audibly, “Well, since you’re coming over on Sunday, I’ll sing for you. If you want.”

He watched as Ale easily jumped back to his feet, watched him roll his shoulders, and felt bad. Ale had told him that he wasn’t Titus, just a Faihan had told Ale he wasn’t Badr. Still, sometimes when he looked at Ale, he had the feeling that he was making eyes at someone else’s boyfriend, and even though Ale was straight, even though Badr wasn’t here in this world… Faihan still felt ashamed. He decided to fire all his cleaning crew. They had been doing an awful job this afternoon.

“It’s fun, but I think I’ve only had a few white Christmases, so I don’t think I appreciate it as much as you do.” The mention of singing made him perk up, eyes wide for a second before Alejo smiled warmly at Faihan. “Will you?” Faihan smiled, rubbing the side of his neck, but nodded.

Alejo cleared his throat. “Anyway, do you want to call it early and take a shower?”

He looked up again at the question. “Oh, okay, sure.” He was a little surprised that Ale wanted to end early. He guessed that talking about the holidays had probably put a damper on things. He looked down at his old running shoes and wondered if it was wrong that he knew something Ale didn’t know about his own family, or if it was worse to spill the beans. Would that be betraying Joaco? He couldn’t decide.

After a moment, he grabbed his bottle. “Shower is good, yeah. Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” Alejo reached over, placing a hand on Faihan’s shoulder. “Just happily surprised you’re already cool with showering together.” His grin was more than a little bit devilish, watching Faihan for a reaction.

Well, Faihan had been okay with it up until Alejo pointed it out, and then his face got even hotter. He was going to take a very cold shower. It would be so cold that there would be no way for his brain to penetrate his frozen body to cause any embarrassing incidents. Yes, he would shower in ice…

“It’s-it’s fine!” he managed to splutter. His eyes darted to the place they did not belong, and he quickly chased them away again. Alejo’s lips were curled into a smirk, but he remained completely silent.

But how was that going to be when Alejo’s workout clothes were already a major source of tension between Faihan’s self-preservation and his eyes? There wouldn’t even be any cotton between them! He wanted to put his face in his hands. He wanted to say that communal showering was a normal thing in sports, except that usually it would involve a lot more guys than two…and in a public place, like a school locker room. Back in high school, he’d never thought of his teammates that way. Not once. But Badr thought of Titus that way, and Alejo looked like Titus, and before Faihan had actually met Alejo, well… Maybe he had thought of Titus that way once or twice to take the edge off. But it wasn’t like he had any clear idea at the time, just a vague impression of someone whose name he hadn’t even known…so did it even count? It didn’t! Because a vague idea of someone was not the same.

After a moment, in which his brain had gone into overdrive, and his only hope was that Alejo hadn’t realized that Gay Panic was actively happening, he let out a tense laugh and reached out to lightly punch Ale’s shoulder. “Ja ja, stop joking. Comedian.”

Alejo laughed, firmly squeezing Faihan’s shoulder. “Just kidding,” he said, his hand brushing down Faihan’s back to rest over one of his scapulae, thumbing there idly. “But you’re missing out on me washing your back.” With a laugh, he took a few steps ahead, turning to look at Faihan. “You’re cute when you get all flustered,” and that perhaps was not a thought he should have left to roam free past his lips, but it was out now.

Minding his belongings again, Alejo reached down to pack up every item after taking a quick sip of water. What was he doing? Horsing around like that alleviated his worries, but he had to respect Faihan’s space… right?

The thing was, Alejo didn’t want to. Instead, he wanted to do the same things as Titus, as himself, but…

Ah well. With a shake of his head, Alejo grabbed at his shirt, and pulled it over his head, freeing himself from the compression fabric. He was sweating too much for the work he just did, but maybe he should’ve turned up the AC.

And now Faihan had goosebumps again. The funny thing was, it felt so familiar. Some part of him had been living this for the last two months. Not as himself, of course, but he’d been there, experiencing Badr’s feelings, the whispers of his thoughts, watching his fumbling attempts to make friends and to be a part of things… It was like observing a fawn stumbling around and falling on its face, and a part of him couldn’t help but feel protective over Badr, even as he was continuously embarrassed by Badr’s lack of any kind of commonsense or wisdom.

So it felt wrong to have a response to Alejo, knowing how Badr had loved him— er, had loved Titus.

Titus, not Alejo.

Sometimes, it felt so blurry…and that blur terrified him. Joaco had been right. He didn’t want to dig into it, but he was at least superficially aware that he had some things in common with that little priest. Maybe Badr had been waiting inside him all along, hibernating, and he…he couldn’t allow that. He couldn’t let Badr wake up and take everything away, not when he had fought so hard for this life… Even as he wanted to see Badr’s story end well, even as he wanted to respect Badr’s feelings about Ale— about Titus. Titus.

He rubbed his temple with his knuckles and looked up in time to see Alejo peeling his layer off. He totally had the V, which Faihan had known before, but now he had internalized it. That perfect V of hip bones—why!

“I’m not flustered,” he mumbled, not even sounding defensive; more…confused. He had just realized it’d been a joke from the start. Why on earth would Alejo have a communal shower here? Home showers were always private, and he was stupid for mistaking that. He wondered if Badr had ever seen Titus without all that armor, or the fine tunics. He suspected Badr had not, because that seemed like something that would insert itself through the veil into Faihan’s mind. Boy, he thought to himself… Badr was definitely going to lose his mind when he did…

He busied himself with drinking water. His mouth had turned dry.

“You had a brother in the other life,” he said—something both of them were aware of, but his panic was making his decisions now, and he needed a change of topic, even if it was a bad one. “Gaius, right? Do you… I mean, I guess you wouldn’t miss him. You’re not Titus, after all.”

Alejo’s smile faded as he slung his bag over his shoulders. “Yeah… yeah.” Uncertainty dripped off his every word, and he couldn’t help but blow up his cheeks for a second before exhaling to liberate some of his stress. “I also don’t have a younger twin brother in this life, so it’s hard to… miss him.” He scratched behind his ear and licked his lips.

“I, uh, should probably shower. I’m sure I stink.”

Faihan bit his lip, drawing it deep between his teeth. Joaco didn’t seem keen on that relationship, but he thought that maybe Ale would. But if Joaco didn’t, then, well, that was that. No matter how good it could be for them to be united as brothers… And there, too, was the fact that Gaius was one of the names on the missing list. But there was no way to know if Joaco was also Gaius. Besides him and Jomana, Faihan wasn’t sure anyone else had a sibling here that was also a sibling there. Still, if he hid it…

Faihan had spent a lot of time in his life lying to himself. He’d told himself he didn’t need other people. He’d told himself he didn’t care what his parents thought. He’d told himself he was fine with hating them forever. He’d told himself that he didn’t want friends, and even told himself that no one could ever want him anyway. But he hated lying to other people. Joaco would be so mad if he told, but if he didn’t tell, and Ale found out he had known—both about Joaco and the potential that Gaius might be accounted for—Ale would be mad.

He didn’t want to lose either of them.

(Also, he did not think that Ale smelled bad at all. He thought he smelled so incredibly good that he hoped Ale would shower just because the smell of Ale’s sweat was doing things to his sad little brain.)

But mostly, he just looked small and very worried, because all the hard things in life came without guidelines or instructions, and he didn’t know that he could do the right thing.

“Ale…?” he mumbled, in a sort of halfhearted effort to see if Ale would stop, and then maybe he would have to reveal something, or if Ale would miss the sound of his name and go shower, and then they could ignore the subject and hope it never came up again until all or any of the parents involved said something. (It made him a little mad, in that moment, at both sets of parents, that no one would just come out and say all of this to either son.) He waited.

Alejo didn’t stop or rather he didn’t hear, stopping to look at Faihan again. “What’s the hold up? Hurry it up or I’m actually making you wash my back.” He turned off a few lights before making a motion with his hand. “You can get changed in the bathroom over there, I’ll jog up to my room while you do that, then?”

He should have taken more philosophy classes. Two brothers, two options, and the certainty that if he said anything, it would be a betrayal to one, and if he omitted anything, it was a betrayal to the other. But Ale didn’t hear him, and…that didn’t make him feel better, but it did offer a moment of reprieve.

Maybe Joaco was right. Maybe Andrés was going to make some kind of grand reveal in the near future. And then Ale would get to have the worst Christmas of his life. A new brother who was maybe an old brother who didn’t want anything to do with him—at least not yet. This was so bad, and he had no idea how to improve anything for anyone involved…including himself.

“I’m surprised…you can reach it all,” he mumbled a little louder than the previous mumbling. “I guess you did play American football…” He swallowed thickly and looked away. How did he get involved with these Bravos anyway? They were making the Helals’ relationships look simple.

“Are you actually offering to wash it?” Alejo had to ask again because he did hear Faihan’s voice this time around, arching his eyebrow.

Faihan shrugged. He thought he should have been much more against that option than he was. He did his best to recall his reservations, replying, “Um, no… I’m not. It’d feel like…I don’t know…betraying Badr somehow.”

Immediately, Alejo stared at him as if he were crazy. “Why would you--he care if you washed his friend’s back?”

Faihan stared back at Ale, looking now at him as though he might be crazy. “Wait…you don’t— But I thought…” His eyes widened, and he stood very straight, shaking his head. “Just nevermind. I think it’s better not to. That’s all.” (Of course Ale hadn’t realized; he wondered if Titus even had…) He cleared his throat, changed the subject. “Do you miss him? Gaius? I mean, you can’t right? Just like you said, you’re not Titus.”

Alejo looked away and sighed, casting his gaze towards the exit. “I do, I miss him.” How couldn’t he miss someone who was always there in his life, but not this one? After all, he did ask for all his loved ones to be there, didn’t he?

Where was Gaius?

“Anyway, last warning, Faihan.” He narrowed his eyes at him.

“Using my name? I guess I’m in trouble.” He tried his very best to laugh and be very casual. But Faihan being very casual was sort of like putting a pair of glasses on a wobbling kitten and calling it ‘cool.’

Well, now he had more things to worry about at least, like if Ale was going to think of him differently should he find out how exactly it was that Badr felt about Titus. That was great: more reasons for Ale to hate him later.

Maybe his situation could improve if he was honest, but on the other hand, he was not inclined to tell and give anyone an immediate reason to shun him, because unlike Badr, he was entirely aware of the reality that people he cared about could end up despising him, so he just pulled off his shirt and began taking off his shorts, too caught up in worrying about when and where the Bravo sons were going to realize that they detested him to worry about modesty.

Alejo stared, his hand resting on the door frame as he watched. “Oh, me too.” He decided, putting his bag on the floor and then reaching for the elastic of his gray pants and tugging them down, stripping to just his boxer briefs.

He bit his lip and frowned, looking at Faihan, then the bag that was in his hand then over at Faihan again. His heart was beating fast, rushing, feeling the heavy thump in his chest as he dropped down his bag on the floor, again, and took long strides to reach Faihan.

There, unceremoniously, he swept him off the floor and into his arms just like Titus used to.

Just like he used to.

There was a moment of total confusion. He was not on the ground, so that was a shock. But it was very minor compared to the rest.

There was everything that Faihan knew: being with Ale was easy, not just because of Badr’s memories, but because he never really struggled to say the right thing when he was hanging out with Ale (well, aside from today, but this Bravo situation was way out of the ordinary…); though he had done his very best to not look, he was very aware of the fact that Alejandro Bravo was extremely handsome (and also had that post-gym smell that Faihan secretly really liked); and Ale would never do anything to hurt him. He had known that from early on, a strange and surprising realization for a man who trusted no one.

There was everything that Badr knew: Titus was beautiful and kind, noble and idealistic, funny and refreshing; he cared about both his people and his fellow students, no matter where they were from; he tried to better himself every day—to live up to an incredible expectation, but also to protect everyone around him; and also he had a chin that longed to be kissed and kissed again. He was every bit the hero Badr had dreamed of.

Lifted suddenly off his feet, his thoughts and Badr’s colliding… The air vanished from his lungs. He might have yelped, he wasn’t sure; his brain could only focus on the reality that Ale was holding him, their bare skin pressed together, and he did not know what was going on.

There was a floodgate in his mind, constructed to contain Badr’s feelings. It had been overtaxed lately, but now leaks erupted everywhere, Badr’s thoughts pouring over his own feelings—and this was so bad. A new bad! A new…very hard to concentrate on…bad.

He couldn’t tell who was who for a second, but he thought it was Faihan who spoke, who—gazing into Ale’s face—suddenly muttered, “Ya omri…”

Later, he would be grateful that he’d not said anything in English or Spanish. Now, though, he watched Ale quietly; half-Faihan, dark eyes trusting; half-Badr, hair half-curly and wild. Both ready for something yet unknown.

For a second, Alejandro thought he saw gold in Faihan’s eyes, the shine so familiar and new. He leaned in closer, almost until their foreheads touched and their breaths whispered to each other. This, this touch, this warmth, this was what he longed for since the moment he first set his eyes on Faihan and recognized who he was.

There was an unmistakable quality, a signature, perhaps, but whatever it was, it made both Alejo and Titus feel at home. “You stripped outside of the bathroom,” he said, as if that explained his actions or as if he even cared about their previous conversation anymore.

The understanding Titus lacked, Alejo did not, and so, he knew the depth and the meaning of why Titus acted as he did around Badr. He could label his behavior; it was just a label that wasn’t for him. Maybe it wasn’t a binary. Maybe his abuelo was wrong. Maybe…

Maybe if he just leaned in a bit closer, eyes closed, and their lips touched, brushed together, first lightly, then firmly; Maybe then Faihan’s words and the flood of emotions that were barely contained beyond excuses would make sense.

Maybe that’s why he did it, and maybe he wouldn’t regret it later, but for now; For now, Alejandro basked in the soft and warm skin for however long that moment lasted.

How was it that his heart was beating so very fast, yet he felt so very calm. The rational, persnickety voice in his head was whispering about danger, but he couldn’t look at Ale and think, ‘This is dangerous.’ He wanted Ale to kiss him and then continue kissing him and possibly just never stop. Part of him very loudly insisted that time had been stolen from them, and they had to use it now, before it was gone again. But…Ale had never shown any interest in men, and he was not inclined to imagine himself the exception. Yet if he wasn’t, then he wasn’t sure what exactly was going on between them. Maybe it was Titus reaching for Badr. There was something astonishingly romantic about the idea that Titus could reach through space and time, find Badr through him. It was a lovely conceit… (But he wasn’t Badr.)

His skin hummed where it met Ale’s, and it felt natural, like he’d been waiting for this reunion his whole life. Faihan had laid off the apps since that talk with Joaco, but he now knew enough to know he’d never felt like this before; this was something entirely new…something special, maybe even magical. (But did Ale want Badr, or did he want Faihan?)

He closed his eyes, he softened his mouth. His arms circled Ale’s shoulder’s, and he tried to answer Titus’s touch, but he paused, his lips brushing against Titus’s. “Don’t let me love you, if you can’t love me.”

“I thought it was pretty obvious how I felt, my dear friend,” Titus replied, smiling, both of his hands very low on Badr’s back as he looked at him in the eye. “I wanted to kiss you since always, but you are a man, so I thought…” He shrugged his shoulders, biting his bottom lip as he finally grew bold enough to rest the palms of his hands on Badr’s behind. “And yet you continue to taunt me, even here, far away from the land I called home.”

Titus and Alejandro were one, in sync, melding together as one being with shared memories. He never had issues accepting himself for who and what he was and continues to be.

“But whatever I have to label myself, I still want to kiss you, and I can no longer give a care, not when you are finally here, in my arms.”

Faihan smiled, and then his brow furrowed. The way Ale was talking didn’t sound like his usual self. The “bro” part seemed suddenly missing, and Faihan felt like he really had gone to some other place and time, because this was Titus, and he didn’t really know where Ale was.

Had Ale always been Titus? He’d said he wasn’t when they first met, and if he hadn’t been until now…did Faihan just break him? Did he just do to Ale what he’d been so scared might happen to himself? And still there was something old inside him, surging forward, buffeting his walls and demanding that he hold fast to this moment. He was afraid it would end, and…something would happen; there’d be no second chance. Time would be lost again. Certainly, Faihan was anxious about a great number of things, but the shape of this urgency was someone else’s alarm. Most likely: Badr’s.

This felt like something he hadn’t known he’d been missing, but was it something that he had been missing, or was it something Badr had lost? How was he supposed to know who he was, or who he wanted to be? Because “Faihan” was the life he had lived, and he had—he suspected—lived that life longer than Badr had lived his. He couldn’t say—the “story” hadn’t gotten far enough to know whether Badr had grown to be an old man or not, and certainly the anxiety that the little priest from the dragon country hadn’t was one of Faihan’s fears.

But he had just discovered a newer, more pressing one: that the person Ale was looking for wasn’t actually in the room; that his expression, those words, this softness…it didn’t belong to Faihan. All of this was for Badr, and it was never going to be for him.

He searched Ale’s face, looking for some indication that he recognized it was Faihan in his arms. The lines around his eyes shifted, uncertain. “I’m Faihan, remember? I’m…Faihan. Faihan and Ale…that’s what this is, right?”

Alejandro laughed, shaking his head a few times. “You’re always asking the weirdest questions. We’re both. I am both. How can I not be when I remember it as if I lived it myself.” One of his hands moved up to brush through Faihan’s frizzy curls. “I know you’re scared, I understand that, but I can see him in your eyes, just like I can see you.”

Faihan thought he had perhaps limited the threshold on his ability to be confused, because he didn’t feel upset exactly. Stunned, maybe. Once, during practice, he’d been clipped in the temple by a ball, and it hadn’t really hurt him, but for a few minutes, he had felt disconnected and fuzzy. It was kind of like that, where he didn’t quite know if he had been hurt or not.

“I don’t understand…did you always…?” he managed, swallowing. Their faces were still very close, so at least he had a sense that the opportunity for honesty hadn’t closed yet either. “At the beach, that day…when we met…you said you weren’t…” Did he break Ale? Was Ale always this way? Was he supposed to have always been this way?

Alejo cast his gaze away, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything.

The memories were always intense. Badr’s emotions were intense, so much so that even if they hadn’t looked alike, he would have been more surprised to hear that it wasn’t another version of him. They were intense, and he would have thought, before it all began, he’d have more of a bird’s eye view of things, that if he was going to see someone else’s life…that he would not feel it. He’d only observe. That was what Eli seemed to be experiencing. That seemed somehow more like it was supposed to be, but he was saturated in Badr’s feelings. And it was not so different from looking back at his own childhood memories.

Watching his mother making dinner, sitting on a chair at the edge of the kitchen and singing theme songs from his favorite tv shows to entertain her. He couldn’t remember what she had cooked, couldn’t remember the smell (except that it had been good), but he could remember the way she would laugh and hum, and he remember especially how warm and buoyant those moments made him feel. And so likewise, he remembered Titus’s puppet show happening, but more than that, he remembered the jolt that had run through Badr’s fingers, up his arm—straight into his heart—when he took Titus’s hand. He remembered the warm, rose-colored cloud that settled around him anytime they stood close. He could not count the birds in the scene, but he could remember the density of Badr’s love, filling every room.

It had filled this one, too, and that was no less a source of confusion. Joaco had said he had a soft spot for Ale, but wasn’t that all it was? He’d been so careful about not thinking of him that way, afraid to lose their friendship—the easiest, most comfortable friendship he had had in many years. He hated that this had felt so good and right. If it wasn’t supposed to be, if Ale was not in love with him, Faihan, then… If in the end, all of this was meant for someone who didn’t exist anymore… It was too unfair. It just…it wasn’t right. But still, he felt stunned, his emotions too far away to express anything.

Alejo drew in a deep breath, not wanting to let go, but knowing he shouldn’t… not when his abuelo could show up, so he reluctantly released the other man and took a step back. “I probably shouldn’t have--sorry.” The pit of his stomach twisted, feeling a bit guilty over what he did, and it was both Alejo’s and Titus’ guilt.

“No, it’s…” he finally managed. “It’s…” It had been so perfect for a moment. But he moved to try to get back onto his own feet, because the moment was ending, and he at least wanted to save some face and not just cling to Alejo like a koala until he pried away.

“I don’t know…if he really is here, Ale,” he said after a moment, touching his chest. “I know that…how he felt, I can still feel it, but I don’t know…”

Alejo pressed his lips together in a thin line, and he nodded his head. “Right, you said it yourself before. Sorry for assuming it was the same for you.” He sighed, running a hand over his hair as he pointedly avoided the other man’s gaze. “You don’t feel that way about me, only Badr did. You like someone else, I remember that.”

It was too late, but Alejo couldn’t give himself the clarity he had now back when he was Titus. He just needed to learn to live with the hindsight that honestly only made him feel like a bigger idiot. “I should shower.”

Faihan lowered his eyes. It was true. The feelings he knew he felt, he still held for Joaco… It didn’t matter that they weren’t reciprocated, or that they never would be, it was still the feeling in his heart, and he couldn’t just make it disappear. If he could have, he would have—that was for certain. It would have spared him a lot of pain.

He wished that Badr could have known. If Alejo’s expression wasn’t devastating enough, the realization that Badr had never had this which should have been his was. And the part of him most saturated with Badr’s feelings was screaming that he was a complete fool, that he was letting go the best thing that could ever happen to him…

It was probably right, but what could he do? Of course, he’d be in love with a guy who had no interest in him; while his alter ego was madly in love with someone who actually loved him back. But if Faihan was Badr, or if he had been Badr—if Badr was gone for good, or if Badr was just waiting to merge with him and absorb him like some kind of evil twin in embryo—he didn’t know, and it felt wrong to lie and say he was ready for this when he hadn’t even known it was possible, and when he wasn’t sure if it was safe for him or Ale.

“I need time,” he finally said, picking up his clothes and pulling them back on. “I’m going to go, but…” But what? He didn’t know. He hadn’t even known this was a possibility until five minutes ago. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that Titus had subsumed Ale. Even if he said that it had always been this way, a switch had been flipped. Was that going to happen to him? Could he co-exist with Badr? Or even worse—was he already Badr, but so misshapen that no one, not even he himself, could see it?

“I can’t ask you to hold that door open,” he finally said, his clothes back on, ready to leave. He couldn’t shake the feeling he’d just misplaced something important, and he was not going to be able to find it again. “But if you—” He stopped himself. “Never mind. I’m just being selfish.” He cringed and looked away. “Text me when you can. If you want to.”