I wake up to a faint buzzing sound, one that I’m familiar with by now: Aiden’s razor. I yawn deeply, sitting up in the cool, early sunlight.

Aiden emerges from his bathroom a minute or two later. Swiping aftershave onto his face with both hands, still in his boxers. He sees me sitting up, and immediately joins me on the bed.

“Hi,” he murmurs, touching the pad of his thumb to my chin. The vetiver aftershave is still clinging to his fingers. The bright, woodsy smell is so soothing that I want to curl up and go directly back to sleep.

Maybe on another morning I would, but I’m anxious to see how Aiden is doing after last night.

“Hi.” I reach up to fix his hair. It’s all wet and messy from his shower. I part it for him with my fingers, gently smoothing out the tangles. “How are you feel-?”

“Are you feeling alri-?” he begins, at the same time. We both stop, laughing a little, but it’s quiet laughter, unsure. Aiden goes right back to serious.

“Are you upset with me?” he asks, more softly. “Because of last night?”

“No.” I tip forward, tracing my fingers along his jaw, intending to press my forehead to his. He pulls away before I can, then looks right into my eyes.

“Jamie, I'm really, really sorry for taking that tone with you. I know that I didn’t explain it well last night, while I was worked up. It’s just - I spent so long talking to everyone that way, pretty much all the time, I swear it’s like… I fall back into it without realizing. You asked if you did something, and I know I already said no, but. For the record, nothing you could ever do would warrant me talking to you like that.” He takes a strand of my hair and gives it a gentle tug. “Obviously I’m working on stopping altogether, but sometimes, it’s harder, and… The point is, don’t you ever blame yourself even a tiny bit, please. That’s my bullshit, and I promise that I’m working on it.”

I just look at him, my toes curling beneath the sheets. Something is welling up in my heart, warming me even better than the comforters.

“Did you plan out what you were gonna say?” I ask.

He rolls his eyes, but then gives me a quick, shy smile.

“Yeah, while I was in the shower. Is it weird if I did? I fucked it all up last night, I wanted to get it right this morning.”

“No,” I tell him, smiling back. “That’s not weird at all, and I accept your apology. But!” I push a finger over his lips. “Don’t apologize for anything else from last night. I’m really glad we had that conversation.”

Aiden draws back, blue eyes blinking. “You are?”

“Yes.” I hesitate, surprised by this reaction. “Are you not - do you regret telling me-?”

“No, not at all,” he quickly amends, “It was really helpful for me, but I assumed that it kind of sucked for you. You know, because I woke you up at an absurd hour, then got all snippy with you, then made you walk around in the cold, listening to me complain?”

“Well - yeah, it wasn’t great when you snapped at me, but I don’t care about all that other stuff. I’m still glad it happened. Don’t you feel like now we’re even more…?”

I don’t know how to explain, so I do a back-and-forth gesture between the two of us, then put my hand on his chest, right over his heart. He stares at me, then smiles again, folding his fingers over mine.

“Yes.” He lifts my hand to his mouth, kisses my knuckles. “Yes. But I didn’t realize you felt that way, too.”

“I do. I feel very much that way.”

Aiden releases my hand and traces a fingertip down the curve of my face. “So, we’re okay?”

“Yes. We’re more than okay.”

His broad shoulders droop, and he lets out a held breath. He tips forward into my arms, dropping his forehead onto my shoulder.

“Cool,” he says, his breath tickling my skin. “Okay, cool.”

“Hey, though, listen." I thread my fingers into his damp hair. "I meant what I said last night. You don’t have to hide it from me if you’re struggling, or angry, or upset."

"I just..." His voice is muffled against my shoulder. "Don’t want to give you any reminders of what I used to be like."

"But it's okay, dude. I don’t expect you to be a perfect person.”

“That’s good, because I’m the opposite of that.”

“Aiden. Seriously. I know that you’re a work in progress.” I press my nose into his hair. “We all are, but - it’s easier to work on it together, right? You can tell me when you’re angry, and we can talk about it. I’ll be there for you, or leave you alone, or whatever will help, but I am there to help.”

Aiden lifts his head, running a hand over his face.

“I understand. It's only - my parents aren’t easy for me to talk about. I’m not used to it, I haven’t done it before.” He rolls his lip between his teeth, embarrassed again. “Plus, it’s hard for me to say anything about it without feeling like I’m throwing myself a pity party.”

“Okay, but throwing yourself a pity party is not the same thing as working through something painful. Didn’t you just say that it helped? To talk about it?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah…”

“Right. So.” I poke his chest.

“I guess - yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine! Stop apologizing.” I nuzzle my nose into his. “I’m not good at these serious conversations, either, but we’ll get better together. I mean, we’ll have to. You’re supposed to talk about this stuff with your significant other, I think. Right?”

“I don’t fucking know.” Aiden shrugs helplessly. “Too bad we’re both so new at relationships. Who knows the actual answer?”

There’s a pause as we think it over, and then, at the same time:

“Kasey.”

We both laugh, and Aiden’s mouth quirks into a little grin.

“So I’m your significant other?”

I groan deeply. “Stop.”

His grin gets bigger. “Significant, am I?”

“Did I say significant?” I tilt my head to the side, like I can’t recall.

“Oh, yes you did.”

“I meant - incompetent.”

Aiden lets out a huffing half-laugh through his nose. “I’m your incompetent other?”

“That’s the first word that popped into my head that sounded vaguely like significant, but now that I hear it out loud - yeah, that sounds about right.”

Aiden does his best to seem hurt. “You couldn’t have gone with magnificent?”

“I’m sorry? You’re my magnificent other?” I click my tongue, shoot him a judgy look. “Wow. Ego check.”

“Dumbass.” His attempt at a scowl dissolves into a laugh.

“Idiot.” I give his nose an affectionate tap. “Okay, cool. Now that we’ve got that sorted out, you should probably get dressed for work, right?”

He gets up off the bed with a heavy sigh. “Right.”

I roll over, snuggling back down into the comforters, which means I’m wholly unprepared when Aiden changes his mind and leaps back onto the mattress. I make a very undignified sound as his weight tips me right towards him. He catches me in his warm arms, drags me backwards up against his chest, and starts peppering my neck and shoulders with rapid-fire kisses.

“Babe, you’re gonna be late!”

“One more,” he says, against my throat.

It turns out that one more was underselling it. Underselling it a lot, in fact. Especially when I turn over so that he can actually kiss my mouth.

By the time we break apart, he has to rush to get into his work clothes. Dizzy, smiling, and sort of turned on, I watch from the bed while he gets dressed. Bursting into laughter as he tries to hop into his pants and run to grab his belt at the same time.

“Gotta go!” he says, darting back to the bed, halfway through pulling on his jacket. “My bus is gonna be here in - oh, shit. Two minutes ago. Fuck!”

“Take my car, dummy, it’s outside.”

Aiden snatches my keys from the night table, then bends down for one last, lingering kiss before he goes. I try to make it an especially good one.

He seems to forget all about his impending tardiness; he starts to climb up on the bed with me, deepening the kiss, slipping a hand into my hair.

“No, Aiden, you have to hurry!” I laugh, pushing him off of me.

“Oh - right, yeah, okay. I’m going. Bye!”

He races out of the bedroom.

“Bye!” I call, just in time to hear the sliding glass door close behind him. I wait a second, then add, very softly: “I love you.”

My theory is that maybe if I just start saying it out loud, I’ll get used to it, and it won’t seem so big and scary.

I climb out of bed, cross to Aiden’s bedroom window, and watch him rush to Kent’s kitchen door, his chestnut hair already coming uncombed. He drops the keys, bends to grab them, and turns to glance at the window, as if to make sure that I didn’t see that.

Noooo, he mouths, when he realizes that I definitely did. I laugh, pressing a hand to the glass. He blows me a kiss, then disappears into the house.

“Oh, my god,” I whisper. “Yeah, I love you. I love you so much.”

I stand there looking through the window for a long moment. I’ll see Aiden later today, when we meet up to start working on the exhibition. So why do I want to grab my clothes, run downstairs, and ride with him to work? It would only buy us about fifteen more minutes together, and yet.

That vetiver scent is still lingering on my face, from where he touched my chin.

“So much,” I say again, to an empty room.

It’s all I can do to crawl back into his bed and pull the comforters over my head.

~~~~

The last time we were all at the exhibition space, it was an awkward disaster. I don’t know what to expect today, but I’m hoping it will go better, now that Melanie and Aiden have had their talk.

She beats us all there, and she’s the one who opens the door.

“Wow, look at this motley crew.” She steps aside to let us in, one by one. Raj is first: she gives him a quick kiss on the lips. Noah comes afterwards, and he gets a kiss on the cheek, one that sends him grinning all the way inside. Ripley is next, and Melanie messes up his already messy green curls.

Then it’s Aiden, who gets - a smile. A little one, yes, but genuine.

He returns it. His is wider, relieved.

I come in last, and get a hug.

“Hey, Jamie.”

“Hi, Melanie!” I smile brightly at her, delighted by the comfortable way she just behaved with Aiden. The others spread out through the space, but I stick by her side. “So, you and Aiden seem better. Good talk?”

“Honestly,” she says, watching him set down his bag, “I don’t understand how that’s the same person.”

“That’s the sweetheart you were convinced was buried in there,” I tell her.

“Weird to be proven right about that eight fucking years later.” Melanie shakes her head. “You weren’t kidding. He’s so different.”

I stand by the door for a moment, watching Aiden’s eyes move thoughtfully around the bare walls.

We’ve got the concept pinned down for the show. Gabby and Alix are working on the wording for the exhibition statement. It’ll be sent to Aiden for final decisions, as he’s the exhibition director.

Today, though, is for cleaning up the space. I thought that this building basically consisted of two empty rooms. It turns out there’s a small kitchen, two storage closets, and a tiny office. All of which are cluttered with random stuff, left behind by whoever used the place last. We’re here to clear it all out.

Melanie explains that we’ll make a pile for recycling, one for things we’ll donate, and one for potentially useful things that we’ll keep. Everyone goes to work, and I step out into the garden area behind the building.

The ground is more like dust than dirt, and the patchy grass is its only living inhabitant. I’ll have to get creative if I’m going to make this look nice. I snap pictures, jot down some notes, and take measurements.

I come back inside to find Melanie in the bigger room, seated on an old office chair. Raj, Noah, Ripley, and Aiden are standing in front of her, with the pile of stuff they’ve collected.

“Okay, boys.” Melanie leans back in the chair, uncapping her water bottle. “Show and tell.”

“So, we think this place was last used for theatrical purposes.” Raj bends over, sifting through the pile. He extracts a sparkly purple feather boa, which he slings around his neck. “We’re finding a lot of costume shit. Like this boa, which I’m keeping-”

“Obviously, it looks great on you,” Melanie agrees.

“-and that wig, which is perfect on Noah.”

Noah slaps it onto his head and strikes a pose. Melanie and I both burst into laughter.

It’s a Marie Antoinette looking thing, but the - male version, I guess? It’s a swirl of white hair with tight curls, and a tiny ponytail in the back. The show it was used for must have been a campy production, because someone has doused the wig with a whole lot of glitter spray.

It makes quite the effect against Noah’s pierced, tattooed self. Especially because he’s wearing a t-shirt that reads HELL YEAH FAM in massive block letters.

“Weirdly enough, this look works for you, bro.” Ripley is battling a laugh, his hand clasped over his mouth. “It’s like - broke, but baroque.”

“Laugh all you want, idiots.” Noah walks in a slow, dramatic circle, so that we can see him from all angles. “You lames don’t understand that this is what’s called a signature look, and it’s way ahead of its time. I’m gonna wear it to the club.”

“What club?” I ask. “Ketterbridge has a club? That’s news to me.”

“You’re thinking of Big Belly Deli,” Aiden tells Noah, with the air of someone patiently explaining something to a toddler. “That’s where you get a club sandwich, Noosh, it’s not an actual club.”

Noah straightens up from the pile, bracing his wig with one hand and extracting a prop knife with the other.

He points it at Aiden.

“Watch how you talk to me, dude,” he warns. “I’m the only one in this room who’s actually killed a man.”

“No, you absolutely have not, Noah,” Melanie says firmly.

“Well - no, I haven’t, but I insist that I be taken seriously!”

The wig slips from his head, toppling to the ground. He makes a wild grab for it, and misses completely.

“Oh, also!” Raj cuts back in, as Ripley presses a fist to his mouth, biting back another laugh, “We found a jar of something super old in the fridge. We have no idea what it was, but when we poured it out, it burned a hole in the counter, which was pretty sweet. Oh - we’ll fix it, obviously!” he adds hastily, when Melanie quirks an eyebrow. “We’ll fix the counter, no problem.”

“I told you guys that was a bad idea,” Ripley puts in.

“I could have identified it,” Noah complains, “But Aiden said I wasn’t allowed to taste it.”

“How could you want to taste it?” Aiden half-gags at the notion. “The smell alone, dude. I’m pretty sure it was cream of onion soup, at least twenty-five years past its expiration date.”

“And we found this!” Raj continues enthusiastically, digging around in his pockets. He holds up what looks like an abandoned dollhouse toy: a tiny wooden chair, no more than two inches tall.

“That’s cute,” I observe.

“Yes, but watch this. We can make it look even smaller, with one simple trick. Aiden, demonstrate?”

Aiden sighs deeply, then holds out his hand, palm up. Raj sets the chair down on top of it, and - he’s right. In Aiden’s huge hand, the chair suddenly looks about the size of an acorn.

“Oh, my god,” Melanie laughs.

“That’s big man magic, baby!” Raj says, grinning.

Aiden shoots me a this is so dumb face, but I can’t stop beaming at him.

There are so many different kinds of Aiden Callahan magic.

Somehow I’m in love with every single one.