Lose Yourself

Steps

In Em's mind, the Instagram post would be three words: hi, I'm bi accompanied by a rainbow emoji. He had written it and deleted it a hundred times. He liked the rush of fear and adrenaline he felt when his finger hovered over post button. It wasn't his decision alone; he was a father, a brand, he was an icon and the head of a record label. Every single time he had thought about coming out, he thought about the ripple effects one small decision could have.

hi, I'm bi 🏳️‍🌈

How would everything be different right now if he had posted those words? How would he be feeling now as Sam was leading him by the hand, up the front steps? Would they be laughing and using terms of endearment instead of walking silently toward intimacy? Sam could be his boyfriend not his secret.

The motion sensor lights came on and he noticed every detail of the walk. The steps were cracked but not badly, the mailbox was painted the same muted celery green as the house, the welcome mat was an M for the University of Michigan. Snow was on the wind; small meaningless flakes.

Em's eyes were drawn to a stack of boxes on the front porch. "Are those your ex-wife's boxes?"

Sam smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "I put Josie's stuff out for her to pick up. It's not out on the curb like you said but it is out of the house. I couldn't look at it anymore."

As Sam fumbled for his keys, Em studied the boxes. He knew the boxes were labeled in Sam's carefully measured handwriting. The boxes were uniform; perfectly squares. It made him overwhelmingly sad to think that Sam had bought the boxes and packed them by himself. He'd had to edit his wife out of his life because she had simply gotten up and walked away. Someone had left this beautiful, kind man behind.

Em had never once, in his entire life, been so grateful for someone else's shitty judgement.

--

The house was warm, illuminated from a light in the kitchen. Em took off his puffer coat and hung it up by the door. He watched as Sam hung up his own Carhardt jacket and slowly unwound his scarf like a mummy. He inhaled the soft minty smell of Sam's cologne and then, without warning, he found himself being pushed backwards. His back was against something soft and he felt like he was falling. Sam pressed him up against the wall behind the coats, the impact lessened by soft jackets of different densities. After a split second, he recovered from the shock and looked up into Sam's face.

"Do you want this?" Sam asked in a low voice.

His thoughts raced. How could he explain how much he wanted Sam? He wanted him through space and time. Em wanted to replay every minute of Sam's life and catalogue it. He wanted Sam to love him and be able to love him in return. He wanted to fast forward through all his doubts and be able to openly shower Sam with affection. He wanted to run away with Sam to a remote island where they could hide away from the world and be together forever.

"Em? I need you to answer me. Do you want to-"

"Fuck yeah," he interrupted.

Sam's fingers ran along the side of his face, slowing to trace through his beard. It had been so long since he'd been touched romantically. He swallowed back feelings of panic. Intimacy usually freaked him out and he had to force himself to compartmentalize his feelings. His eyes shifted to meet Sam's and he realized that he wasn't scared. He wasn't panicking or shutting down parts of himself. He was safe with Sam.

It could have been a second or two minutes – he couldn't think when Sam looked at him with his clear green eyes hooded with desire – before he leaned down to brush their lips together.  A whisper of a kiss. Nothing more than a touch. A strangled sound escaped from deep inside of him.