The French Have a Word for It by Josh Lanyon

  *****

  They were still undressing as they fell on the bed…

  “Colin. Col. Wake up. You're having a nightmare.”

  He jolted back to awareness. He was in a dark room–a strange room–and a strange bed, and he was not alone, but the voice was reassuring and familiar. And for once it had survived the end of the dream. The joy of that brought unexpected tears to his eyes, chasing away the last shadows of the nightmare.

  “God,” he jerked out. “Thomas?”

  “Right here.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No need. You okay now?” Thomas's voice was soft and intimate.

  “Yes. It's been years since I've…”

  “It's probably me,” Thomas said grimly, sliding his arm beneath Colin's shoulders, pulling him close. “Stirring up a lot of subconscious memories, waking up things better left sleeping.”

  That was probably true, but not what Colin wanted to think. “Nah. It was probably the lobster ravioli.” He settled his head on Thomas's shoulder, getting comfortable again. He smiled faintly. “I can't believe you're really here. You can't know…”

  How often I dreamed this. He wasn't dumb enough to say that, though. Talk about scaring a guy off.

  Thomas's breath was warm against Colin's face. He smelled warm and sleepy and of a vaguely familiar woodsy scent from Colin's boyhood. Thomas must still wear the same aftershave. His fingers absently threaded Colin's sweat damp hair.

  “Do you remember much about it?”

  Colin had no doubt as to what Thomas was referring to.

  He swallowed hard and said, “I remember everything about it. When I let myself. But it's better not to think about it.”

  Or he'd be too terrified to leave the house–as he had been for three years.

  He could feel Thomas thinking, considering and discarding comments. In the end he just kissed Colin's forehead, warm lips nuzzling. Colin wriggled around and found Thomas's mouth with his own.

  When their lips parted, he whispered, “I wish you were staying longer.”

  Thomas said quietly, “I wish I were too.”

  Colin rested his head on Thomas's shoulder, breathing quietly. “Thomas?”

  “Mm?”

  “What did you mean yesterday afternoon when you said there was no way we were ever going to have that discussion?”

  He could feel Thomas trying to focus. “What discussion?”

  “About you being gay?”

  “Oh.”

  Silence.

  Colin thought Thomas would not answer, but then he said, “Because at seventeen you were an engaging, attractive young guy and it might have been difficult to preserve a safe distance if you'd known…”

  Colin smiled. “I'd have certainly done my best to bridge that distance.”

  Thomas laughed sleepily. “And I'm not sure I wouldn't have let you.”

  Colin woke to the sound of rain against the window and a raging thirst. Quietly, carefully, he slipped out of Thomas's warm embrace, edged out of the bed and padded into the bathroom.