Perfect Imperfections

Let us take a breather from the kabuki of this January, an intermission of sorts. Let me show you how Brandon and I have sharpened our own knives with our eyes wide open for four years since we were in high school before stabbing each other now.

"Echoes start as a cross in you,

Trembling noises that come too soon

Spatial movement which seems to you,

Resonating your mask or feud

Hollow talking and hollow girl,

Force it up from the root of pain"

My alarm rang, and I remained in bed, staring up at my ceiling as the song played. I reached over to my phone and silenced it. I had been awake since five in the morning, and I had slept at one, after finishing my calculus homework. Or rather, tried sleeping at one. As I got ready for school, I could not help but feel awake and tired at the same time, like an undead of sorts.

It has been a week since my Confirmation and the encounter with Brandon in the toilet.

"Charlotte Bronte wrote in the preface 'Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is not to assail the last. To pluck the mask from the face of the Pharisee, is not to lift an impious hand to the Crown of Thorns.' Contrast Jane and St. John's attitudes towards religion..." My literature teacher was droning on and on. I did not pay much attention but what she said intrigued me.

Even Darius realized that something was quite wrong.

Enter Darius. He is my best friend since we were 14. We were studying together at Starbucks. I was working on my Literature essay but I could not pen a word down. I twirled my pen incessantly and stared at the piece of paper with the question written on it. Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. I was constantly turning these two sentences over in my mind the entire day. Something in me was changing and the gears in my heart, mind and soul were turning and clicking into place. And my phone was silent. I miss the volleying of messages between me and Brandon.

I felt an eraser connect with my forehead.

"Owwww, what was that for?" I scowled at Darius.

"Eraser for your thoughts!" Darius smirked.

"Nothing?" I replied cautiously.

"Don't nothing me. You have been staring at the piece of paper for forty minutes. Normally, you will have finished your introductory paragraph by now at the very least." He said as he leaned back into her chair.

I sighed gently, knowing that there is no evasion with Darius. He never misses a thing.

I told him what happened. As I poured my guts out, I finally understood a few things:

1)I care a lot about Brandon.

2)I miss his stupid antics and intellectual comments.

3)The blowjob he gave me was fucking amazing and I loved it.

4)I am bi-curious at least

And the Final Question: What about my faith?

"What a sticky situation you have gotten yourself into," Darius purred.

"Fuck off." I growled back at him.

"Last I checked, you regretted saying and doing that," And he gave that smirk again, like the emoji.

He is right. Damn. I do regret it. Now, I feel like an ass.

"Speak of the devil..." Darius suddenly murmured and gestured in the direction of the door with his pen.

I turned around and I saw Brandon walking in alone. He was wearing a pair of somewhat tight-fitting board shorts. Our eyes met and he gave me a smile.

"Time to get a refill Alec dear," Darius smiled sweetly at me.

"No? I still have half..."I stared down at my "tumbler". Darius had swapped my half-filled one with his empty one while I was checking out my soccer player.

Wait, "my"? A little presumptuous perhaps.

I stood behind Brandon with Darius' tumbler in hand. I started noticing how this pair of beach shorts actually showed off his rather muscular thighs and ass. I shook my head at my wayward thoughts. I had to think straight, damn the irony.

"Hey" I said tentatively.

"Hi stranger" He replied with a lopsided smile. That felt like a punch to my gut as I recalled how I had ignored him previously. I tried to ignore the yawning chasm in my chest.

"How was lunch with Jason?" Fuck why did I say that? I just leapt into that valley blindly like a sheep running off a cliff. Instantly, all I could think of was whether he had invited Jason home? Did he have sex with Jason? Did Jason throw himself at Brandon?

"It was great. He came over after lunch ..." and Brandon trailed off.

I felt sick in the stomach. So he had submitted to Jason after all. All because I rejected him. And Jason was a lot better-looking than I am. Then again he compensated for his looks with the rather high buoyancy of his head. And Brandon hates me for rejecting him.

Amidst the dense fog that surrounded my mind, I vaguely heard Brandon saying something like "Two grande-sized lattes please."

Two?! Him and someone else, Jason?! Then I felt his warm hands prying open my fingers which were clutching Darius' tumbler tightly.

"I ordered for you, or rather Darius. He loves lattes, doesn't he?" He droned as I handed the tumbler over wordlessly still staring at my feet. The patterns on the ground suddenly seemed really enticing.

He dragged me gently over to the other end of the counter. This is it, I thought.

I started babbling away because I felt this need to fill the awkward silence caused by my stupidity. It felt like my defenses were breached and a friendship was swept away by a tsunami ordained by God.

"I am sorry. I was not thinking. You did not have to apologise. I did. I was an asshole for running away and not replying to your messages. It was terribly rude. I know that Jason is way better than I am. He is much more handsome and he..." I stopped because I could not bring myself to say what was on the tip of my tongue.

"Jason came, you know". Brandon took advantage of my pause to add in that line. He probably saw the look of dismay on my face which I so desperately tried to hide but failed.

"To borrow a book on post-Communist Eastern Europe" He added dryly.

"Oh and, I think you left something behind in my room. Come collect it tonight, say around seven? Dinner and coffee on me." He smirked and collected his latte from the counter.

I was floored for a tenth of a second before I remembered to collect Darius' latte and wandered over to our table in a daze.

"You've got it bad, my dear Alec. But thank you for remembering that I only drink lattes when at Starbucks. A phenomenal amount of brainpower for you then, I imagine." Darius murmured as I set his tumbler on the table.

Four things clicked into place. He knew I was holding Darius' tumbler even though they were identical. I have only told him once that Darius loves lattes. Brandon avoids this Starbucks outlet like the plague because it is filled with giggly and noisy girls. Only Jasper knew that I am meeting Darius here this afternoon.

Our brief contact in the afternoon gave me some much-needed affirmation that I still have a friend.

Still, it was not without some concern and apprehension that I walked over to his house. I knocked on the door and waited for a few seconds. Those seconds felt like minutes. I wondered idly if he had set this up just to trick me into making a wasted trip and to get back his pound of flesh. The door opened and there he was, still in his beach shorts and tight-fitting t-shirt.

"Come in." Brandon gestured.

I followed him into the living room and into the kitchen which I know so well.

"Help yourself to drinks. Pasta for dinner. Beef bolognaise. Your favorite, right?" Brandon smiled so widely that I could not help but grin. I felt at ease. I felt as though the tensions of the past few days have ebbed away.

I leaned against the fridge as I watched Brandon cook. He looked really attractive there and then. A little out of place for a jock like him, but all the more sexier. His shorts really left nothing to the imagination. They hugged his muscular ass and thighs whereas his t-shirt showed off his pecs and biceps. My mouth was suddenly very dry despite the bottle of cider in my hand.

I am definitely not gay because I had girlfriends in the past. They were nice girls whom I went to church with and all. But there was always something lacking and discomforting about them. They were all very intelligent and not-bad looking, but it had to do with their outlook in life - something I could not lay a finger on. Years spent in an all-boys school has made me extremely comfortable around members of my own sex. While we have always admired the odd specimen of utter masculinity or lack thereof, no one else has really drawn me like Brandon, like a siren.

I helped to set the table for two. Dinner passed in a companionable silence. The occasional sounds came from us slurping down the pasta - which was poor mealtime etiquette, thinking back.

"It's delicious. Thank you."

"I know I am awesome Alec." And he gave me that megawatt smile again.

"We need to talk, y'know Brandon." I whispered softly, as though we would descend into enmity if I spoke any louder.

He walked around the table and sat next to me.

"What about?"

"Last week."

"Which day? You have to be more specific, y'know." Brandon whispered huskily, his voice low.

I shivered. It is ridiculous. It is not even winter and he is my best friend. Why the hell am I reacting like someone just gave a few hundred tiny electric shocks.

"We really have to talk about what happened last Friday." I whispered back, softly and slowly.

"Like this?" He leaned in a licked a bit of sauce at the corner of my lip - a corner I did not even know existed till then.

I still remember it today. I count it as the day we started. All these years, Brandon has always counted the afternoon he first gave me a blowjob the day our clandestine "supplementary" relationship started.

There were a good deal of things that happened that night. Some of the more memorable moments included him kneeling in the shower, looking up at me with those puppy eyes asking for more as I fed him my cock. Or me lying on his abs, absently stroking his thighs while staring at the ceiling talking about how we should continue with this. Or the kiss that had me pressed into the sofa and breathless.

We agreed that this we would be best friends with benefits. And that the benefits would always come after our friendship. Perhaps we were just too naïve to think that we could make it work, that we could hide from the world forever. That we could hide from ourselves for our entire life.

Last summer when we turned twenty, we took a trip together to the Baltic countries and Helsinki, capital of Finland before returning via Bangkok. Ironically, we bought our tickets during a Valentines' Day promotion - two-to-go promotional tickets round the globe. Why not, we thought?

We were taking a stroll along the waterfront while snacking on blueberries.

"Eh, there's a bit of blueberry on your lip" I pointed out to Brandon as we walked to nowhere in particular.

"Where?"

"Fuck, let me do it." I reached over and flicked it off his lip as we paused for a while.

"You guys make a cute couple y'know," drawled an American tourist who just appeared next to us.

"Uhmm we-we aren't together!" Brandon spluttered back.

"Aren't you two traveling together? Besides, we understand..." The American tourist shrugged and his (presumably American) wife laughed good-naturedly as they walked away.

"Are we?" I turned to ask Brandon as we continued walking. "Anyway, let's go find that Café Ekberg, the map said that it should be within walking distance from the waterfront, perhaps just about half a mile away, only if we cut through the park and make a right at this junction here on the map and go straight..." I hurriedly added, in a bid to avoid hearing the answer to a question that I might not want to know. A glance at Brandon's face then suggested that he did not want to dwell too much about it too. That is what years of friendship and interaction does to you - you get so attuned to each other's facial expressions and thoughts that words do not do them justice.

The next bombshell came four days later in Latvia. We were in Sigulda, a small town about an hour away from the capital, Riga, by train. We visited the Turaida Museum Reserve, a picturesque medieval castle perched above the Gauja valley. They were ruins, of course, but the main tower has been preserved nicely and we climbed the stairs to its top floor at about 27m above ground. The entire tower was devoid of tourists when we arrived - heck, the entire castle was empty save for us and a few others who have dared venture into the heart of Eastern Europe.

I leaned out of one of the extremely narrow windows and gazed out at the scene that unfolded below us. The brick red tiles of what remained of the castle rose out of the ground as if in a futile attempt to greet us. Beyond the crumbling walls of the castle were steep slopes that slid away from us. We knew because we had hiked around the perimeter. But from the top, the differences in height were masked by a sea of green - birch and spruce that stretched all the way across the horizon, punctuated only by a lazy, meandering river. It was early summer and the sun was ridiculously bright, adding a dust of light to everything; but one could feel the last pulses of spring as a cool breeze blew its way into the room and ruffled my carefully styled hair. I pushed my DSLR out of the window as I snapped photos. As I stepped back, I realized that Brandon was leaning casually against the wall, looking at me with a strange look.

"What?"

"Alec, don't you think this reminds you of a song?"

"Song?"

"Such a feeling is coming over me

There is wonder in 'most everything I see

Not a cloud in the sky, got the sun in my eyes

And I won't be surprised if it's a dream

Everything I want the world to be

Is now coming true especially for me

And the reason is clear, it's because you are here

You're the nearest thing to heaven that I've seen

I'm on the top of the world looking down on creation

And the only explanation I can find

Is the love that I've found ever since you've been around

Your love's put me at the top of the world

Something in the wind has learned my name

And it's telling me that things are not the same

In the leaves on the trees and the touch of the breeze

There's a pleasing sense of happiness for me

There is only one wish on my mind

When this day is through I hope that I will find

That tomorrow will be just the same for you and me

All I need will be mine if you are here"

Brandon sang softly in that baritone of his. He did not have to be Karen Carpenter to sing this song.

We were looking at each other as he sang it to me softly next to the opening as sunlight streamed in and the breeze played with his hair. It felt like the entire world had frozen and we were the only moving components. We were in a bubble of our own, shielded from everything else. Time did not matter. We have left the realm where time marched on linearly. We were in our own parallel universe.

It felt like my world had tilted on its axis and I was left grabbing my only pillar of support - him. It was such a difficult thing to do. To have such hopes and to learn how to rely on someone else. I have always been fiercely independent, jealously guarding whatever I have and always striving for something more. I tried not to ask too much of others. But learning to be part of a pair is a whole new ballgame altogether. One I was not entirely too comfortable with, yet.

A gaggle of noises from the stairs prised us from the maze we found ourselves cocooned inside. As we left the tower, Brandon's face was unreadable as though there was something bothering him. A quick visit to the washroom told me why - I too was hiding and unreadable. But I was smiling, gently. But I always do even when I am annoyed by someone. It is my little mask. My philosophy is simple: Why bother others with my negative emotions? Just smile! What it really means is: If you do not know how to react or even if you do not like something, just smile gently and pretend that all is fine. So yes, I was like a duck or swan sailing serenely on the surface on the pond; but no one sees the flailing of my feet below the surface that propels me forwards.

Looking back, it was strange. We pretended that nothing had happened and we were still the best buddies who had decided to backpack around the Baltic states together. It was only a few days later on the sand dunes of the Curonian spit in Lithuania did we revisit this prickly issue again.

We were cycling on the spit like madmen. We had five hours to cycle 40 miles in order to catch the last bus and ferry back to the mainland. It was crazy, but fun. It was a ridiculous plan. We whizzed down slopes at speeds approaching 40 to 50 miles per hour. We felt the wind sing through our tousled hair. We felt the cars that came too close for comfort and the music that blared out of the windows. We hauled our bikes up sand dunes more than a hundred feet in height. We drag them through sand so fine that they slipped right our fingers and remain trapped in our fingernails, shoes and socks. The top of the dunes were sparsely covered in grass that stuck out of the sand like prickly reeds. Below us were white, empty beaches that stretched for miles and miles with no one in sight. The only sounds were the seagulls and the crash of the waves as they broke on the beach. And the whistling wind. And us. We saw our shoeprints in the sand erased away by the wind and shifting sands, as if reminding us that our time is up, or will be sooner or later. We sat in companionable silence staring out at the azure sky with nary a cloud in sight and the cobalt blue Baltic Sea flecked with white, each lost in our own thoughts.

I found my fingers tracing patterns on the back of his hand unconsciously as I gazed out the Baltic Sea that stretched out as far as the eye could see with nothing on the horizon.

Even the sea must have its limits and end somewhere, I found myself thinking absent-mindedly.

"Brandon, are we together?" I asked, on impulse. I was dreading his answer. Inwardly, I cursed myself for even asking in the first place. I allowed myself to steal at a glance at his unfortunately handsome face as he considered my question, as though it was a proposal.

"To be or not to be, that is the question." He replied slowly, pensively, as though testing the water, all the while looking at me.

"Fucking Shakespeare." I mock growled back at him. It was a distraction tactic, and it worked. He gave me a non-answer, which, ironically, revealed to me his feelings.

And I was stupid enough to be happy with what I had.

Just like the rush I felt that night at the gay club in Bangkok. One simply cannot claim to have visited without indulging in its vices. It was packed as hell on a Saturday night with hot, sweaty male bodies of all stripes. Everyone was dancing their asses off on the dance floor and so were we. Brandon had left to get more drinks and I was hanging around the edge of the dance floor waiting for him to come back.

"Hi, I'm Emil, from Denmark." A rather cute-looking blonde dude who had been trying to get my eye for the past fifteen minutes finally approached me. Rather shyly, I might add.

"Hey, I'm Alec..." Before I could finish, Brandon slid his hand around my waist before reaching into the back pocket of my skinny jeans, squeezing my ass in the process. My breath hitched, and that was the response he wanted. And he kissed my neck softly before turning to stare at poor Emil.

"And this is Brandon. Brandon, Emil from Denmark." I finished rather lamely, but definitely aroused by Brandon's instincts.

"Nice to meet you, we're traveling together. You?" Brandon added rather politely, too politely while subtly stressing 'together', and his hand still fondling my ass.