i don't even know who i was last night.
- from Spencer to Cory (during the college years)
“oh? want me to refresh your memory?”
he thought— he truly thought— that when he woke up this morning he would feel guilty, that he would feel the weight of the world crash down on his shoulders when he remembered what he had done with spencer, with the guy who’d held shawn’s hand through the horrors of growing up when cory was too distracted or too uptight or too ashamed to do it himself. there was some of that, rolled in a tight ball in the pit of his chest. it was buried, though. buried under smugness at spencer’s expense when cory thought of the things he’d done to him, how he’d pulled the thread clean out of his seams, satisfaction, lightness as he looked at the curtainless window and wondered what city shawn was in by now.
he looked back at spencer, both of them still naked as the day they were born and obscured from one another only by thin sheets— and he was smiling. it was easy and painless, that smile, the first of its kind in months. for today— just for today, everything might be a little easier, somehow.
“come on,” he said, purposefully keeping his hands away from spencer, lest he start something that spirals out of control, that ceases to be catharsis and starts to become dangerous, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to grab underwear, to put it on, “i’ll make you breakfast. i’ve got a couple things in the kitchen. don’t think about it too hard.”
