“He just cleaned the bathroom.”“So?”“I’ve been sending samples into the lab when I got bored. They are as of yet unidentified. It never occurred to me to clean the damned thing."Whiskey sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know, I know, I know—you don’t want to get blood all over it now that it’s clean.”

“God. No wonder it was so easy. He’s been bleeding since he was a baby. He just never told anyone. How do you even know it hurts after all that time?” Because you loved me, and I knew what it meant to feel.”

“Whiskey was still looking some place past Patrick’s shoulder, and suddenly his brown eyes metPatrick’s with a sort of inscrutable intensity. “Patrick, this isn’t over, okay? You and me? You want tostay here, you want to keep sleeping in my bed, that’s fine. I like you there. You’re warm and you’re kind,and it’s comfortable, having you there. But I’m going to want you, and you’re going to want me, and if youdon’t want to follow through on that, that’s fine too. But you’ll need to decide which way you want it, andyou need to make it clear when you make your decision. I’m, like, twelve years older than you, and I don’tsleep around. I’m not going to hit on you just because you’re cute and you’re here. I need to know it’ssomething you want, and it’s something you need, and you’re not just doing it because you think you needto put out because I’m being human to you. You don’t. All you need to do is be human back.”

“You nervous about doing this on camera?”Chance tilted his head a little, considering. “Well, yeah, of course. You don’t know what you look like when you come—for all I know, I’m hella ugly or something. But at the same time....” He trailed off and shuddered, and his eyes got half-lidded. One hand went unconsciously to his stomach, then slid up to his nipples, which were still pointy and puckered. “It’s sort of cool. It’s making my stomach all jumpy, and....” His other hand slid down under the waistband of his shorts, as he made obvious kneading motions on his groin.“It’s turning you on?”“Mmmm....”“Take the shorts off, Chance, and show us.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway!” Patrick couldn’t sit down. He couldn’t. “It’s not like sex is anything to shout about! It’s icky, and the guy never wants to wear a condom, and I have to give a frickin’ health and safety lesson every time I give a blow job because they think I’m stupid, and I know you can get shit from giving head, and I’m not putting that thing in my mouth unless I get a written fucking guarantee that it’s not going to drop off or explode or give me some life-threatening disease or mutant antibiotic-resistant gonorrhea!”

“I love you. I want to shout it sometimes. I know you worry about our letters and texts getting read--shades of WWII, haunting us still, I guess, and I'm well aware that nothing's safe on the internet. I worry too. You need to know that when I say it, when I ask you to say it, it's because my lungs feel full of dark water, and seeing it or writing it lets me breathe.”

“But see? Then you got all human on me the other night, and it's official. I'm there, Henry. I'm...I'm ready for the Henry lifestyle. And I know you've only gotten your toes wet in Lake Justin right now, but I want you to come in, take a swim, and build your house out here, okay?”