“And it’s hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound, it’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you.”

https://open.spotify.com/track/7kt9e9LFSpN1zQtYEl19o1?si=3bdfe792faa84c8a

cw // bxb relationship, suicidal thought.

New York; August 8, 2025.

It was supposed to be summer in New York, but rain-troubled sky had been decorating the city since Atlas arrived. The weatherman said it was going to rain the whole day, so Atlas packed his waterproof jacket; and as he stood outside Kai’s apartment, he wondered if he should’ve packed an umbrella instead. It would be nice to walk under the drizzly rain with Kai’s hand on mine while I’m holding the umbrella for him, he thought; unable in stopping his wandering mind from getting ahead of himself.

Kai’s apartment was located in Inwood—an affordable version of Manhattan, overlooking the Hudson river. Knowing Kai, it was quite predictable of him to pick a living space in the middle of a neighborhood that was being sandwiched by two big parks. Atlas could already imagine Kai during the weekends, sitting on the park bench after visiting some farmer’s market, reading a book or writing a journal. He used to call him performative, but it was a sight he dearly loved to watch.

Kai was such a sight for sore eyes. Atlas wondered again if New York had known that.

The building was more of a townhouse rather than an apartment, and it had no elevator. All these staircases would be a tough cardio for Kai who barely moved a muscle, and how did he bring all of his suitcases? Who helped him? I should’ve come with him back then.

Atlas then arrived in front of a door with the number 301 on it, and for the first time in life, he was nervous. There’s this part of him, part he never wanted to listen to, that said what if Kai had changed? You’ve drifted apart over the year, and while you did communicate from time to time, it felt like a wall had been built, some kind of distance that you couldn’t deny was there.

Yes, you thought that you would always find a way back to each other every time. But what if, what if this time it’s a one-way ticket instead?

His hand moved to press the bell, and for a few good seconds it just hovered in the air, not knowing what to do. Before he decided to change his mind, the door opened.

Kai, in the flesh.

He was wearing an oversized hoodie that looked a lot like it was taken from Atlas’ closet, and his nose was red from the cold. His eyes were as animated as how Atlas remembered them, golden brown and full of mischiefs. He still smelled of coastal air and mint. Atlas knew he had not combed his hair, but they fell perfectly like dominos. He grew up beautifully, and Atlas knew how much regret he would have felt had he given up on fighting this fight.

Atlas, also in the flesh. He was wearing a dark windproof jacket and a beanie; his nose was even redder than Kai’s, courtesy of wet summer’s wind and sunless sky. He stood tall, taller than Kai, and Atlas liked it everytime Kai told him how dependable Atlas appeared to him. He could feel a sting of coldness inside his pocket, courtesy of the ring he never took off. Atlas’ eyes drifted to Kai’s finger, and they were absent of any accessories.

Both looked at each other in silence. The sound of honking cars, children’s laughter, and Atlas’s wandering mind were muted; only imaginary static of restrained longing (Atlas’) and consuming guilt (Kai’s) collided above them—so strong that it planted both of them on their feet right where they stood.

And of course, longing always made the first move while guilt stayed behind. Kai closed his eyes when he felt Atlas’ calloused hand on the side of his neck, and his lips on his after.

“Happy birthday to me.”

—