"Gabriel, I heard the news," Kenji said from across the line as I laid in bed. "You and Gyan hooked up?"

"What?" I said while sitting up. "How do you know?"

"Darian," Kenji replied, and I sighed.

"I don't even want to think about it."

That was such an amazing night. Spending time together. Opening up. Finally giving into our desires. It was perfect. Then the next morning came, and Gyan took it all away. I couldn't believe I drank and said all those things. At the same time, I didn't regret the kiss. I didn't regret any of them. Gyan said they meant nothing, but they never felt like nothing.

"Are you okay?" Kenji asked.

"I don't know," I said. "The most he can give me is hooking up. He said so himself."

"That's a lie," Kenji said. "That shit isn't going to work. Casual sex doesn't work when you have history. Darian and I learned that the hard way."

"I don't want casual sex," I confessed.

I wanted Gyan.

"Then it's definitely not going to work," Kenji said. "Even if you want to hook up or he wants it, don't. For your sanity. I still feel awful that Darian and I had our casual fling when he had feelings for me. I can't even imagine how hard it must have been, so don't do it. Be strong, and don't give in."

I was attracted to Gyan. Sexually, romantically, intellectually, and so much more. I wanted more, but I didn't know how I was going to resist him physically when I wanted that, too.

I groaned. "Thanks for checking up on me, Kenji."

"No problem," Kenji said. "Take it easy."

"I will," I said, and we talked a little bit before hanging up.

Gyan told Darian. If it meant nothing, why would he tell Darian? That question ran through my mind as I got ready for the day.

I put on one of my favorite button-down shirts and my black dress pants. Lately, I made sure to always look my best. I didn't know if it was to impress Gyan or if my vanity had increased. Either way, I looked better. Kenji would have been proud. Looking good was very important to him. It wasn't the most important thing, but it held some relevance.

When the doorbell rang, I left the bathroom to answer it. When I opened the door, I was shocked to see Nila in front of me.

Her eyes broadened. "Gabriel?"

I let her in, and I grabbed her jacket for her. We moved to sit on the couch with me smiling and her staring at me. She was curvier and lighter now.

"Yeah, it's me," I said.

"So, you're back from Australia?"

"I am," I said. "For good."

Nila nodded. "That's good. I'm sure Gyan is happy." I didn't know about that. "Where is he? Are you visiting him?"

"You don't know?" I asked, and she looked lost. "We live together now."

"Oh," she said with a smile. "You guys were such great friends. It makes sense that you'll stay with him when you come back from Australia."

I resisted the urge to frown. When Gyan and I were together, his family thought I was a "close friend." They didn't even know I was gay because Gyan didn't think his father would appreciate him being friends with a gay man, and it may have even looked suspicious.

So, Gyan and I were both in the closet to his family.

"Gyan didn't tell you?" I asked her as I stood up. "Want some water? Wine?"

Nila grinned. "Wine would be amazing." I nodded and headed for the kitchen. "Anyway, Gyan and I don't really talk about each other's lives. The only reason I'm here is because Alisha's birthday is coming up, and I need him to sign the card. Where is he, by the way?"

"He's out." I opened the wine and grabbed two glasses. "How is Alisha?"

I loved Gyan's younger sister. She was always so quiet and sweet, but at the same time, I worried about her. Something always seemed off.

"She's..." Nila paused with her lips pursed to the side. "She's hanging in there."

I rose a brow but decided not to pry.

I returned to the living room with our glasses of wine, and I handed Nila hers. She thanked me. When I sat down, we smiled at each other before taking a sip.

"Moscato," Nila said while bringing the glass down from her lips. "Nice." I nodded as we got comfortable on the couch, looking at each other. "How've you been, Gabriel? I haven't heard about you in a while. It's like as soon as you left, Gyan stopped talking about you."

My face almost fell, but I kept it up. "A lot has happened. Going to Australia was intense."

"I bet." Nila drank more of her wine. "No friends. No family. You were literally starting over."

I didn't know how I did it. It was overwhelming at first because not only was I interning at this prestigious law firm, but I also had to manage my money, form new support systems, and adjust to the culture. It was one of the hardest things I had to do, but it made me grow. If I could endure that, I could endure a lot of things.

Even what was currently happening with Gyan.

"It wasn't easy," I told Nila. "But I survived."

Nila smiled. "That's the spirit."

"What about you, Nila?" I asked. "How've you been?"

"Well," she started, "Ishaan and I are still married, and during your time abroad, we had another daughter. Her name is Deepika."

I smiled. "So beautiful. Two daughters and a boy. Like you, Gyan and Alisha."

"Yup," Nila said. "What about you? Any dating in Sydney? Or are you still continuing the bachelor life?"

"Nothing significant," I said. "I've become sort of a workaholic. The way I am at work is completely different from the way I am in my regular life."

Work was important to me. It was a reminder of why I spent all those nights studying and all those days stressing over organizations and clubs. It reminded me of the end goal. If I didn't have a job or if I wasn't good at my job, it meant everything was for nothing. I couldn't have that.

"I am, too," Nila said. "Being a woman working in the corporate world is tough."

"I can only imagine."

"Men can do things and get away with it, but if I do it, it's a big deal," she said. "Sometimes, it feels like they're all waiting for me to mess up. I have to work ten times as hard for them to think I'm as good as a mediocre man."

"I'm sorry, Nila."

I felt for her. Having to constantly prove yourself was exhausting. That was exactly what I had to do at Harley Falls University. I had to prove that I deserved to be there, and that I wasn't some charity case who only got in because of affirmative action.

"I'm fine," Nila said. "I'm a grown woman. These men aren't going to push me out. The one thing that pisses me off the most is Gyan being the heir to the company." I cleared my throat. "I get it, it's not Gyan's fault, but it's unfair. I've been working at this company while Gyan ran the gas station, and I'm the eldest child. But our father skips me to give Appeto to Gyan just because he's a man? What century are we in?"

"That's messed up," I said. I would always be biased in favor of Gyan, but this wasn't right. "You know Gyan doesn't want this company, right?"

"I know," she said while placing her glass down. "That's what infuriates me the most. I know it's not fair to put my anger out on Gyan, but I don't know what else to do. I'm not trying to be a bitch, but I'm tired. This has been going on since Gyan was born—our father's favoritism towards him."

"Damn," I said.

Sometimes, I wondered what my father would have been like if he stayed. Would he have treated Angelica and I equally? Or would he have had a favorite? Would he have been kind and gentle? Or disciplinary and ruthless? I wondered, but I knew I would never know.

Angelica liked to whine that our mother preferred me over her, but that was ridiculous. Ma and I talked more because I actually took the time to speak to my mother, unlike Angelica.

"How's your father, by the way?" I asked. "Is he still the same?"

I remembered who he was, but I was hoping for some growth.

Nila sent me a look. "Will he ever change?"

There was my answer. "How open-minded is he? Is he better at accepting other people?"

Nila chuckled. "'Open-minded' is not the word I'll use to describe my father. He's still the same sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, prejudiced man that I know."

I swallowed. "He's still homophobic?"

"When will he not be?" Nila said. "Alisha's best friend is this gay boy, and my father hates him. And he has no reason to. The boy is a good student, he's a good friend to Alisha, he's kind, but it doesn't matter. His only crime is being gay."

I guessed Gyan and I were staying in the closet.

"Get this," Nila said while smacking my arm to get my attention. "He's even a republican."

"Still?"

I thought he would have been brought to his senses by now.

Nila nodded. "You'll be surprised how many brown men are republicans."

"That's crazy," I said, shaking my head.

I didn't understand people of color or marginalized groups who were republicans. Why would they be something that targeted their very existence?

"Do you think it's better to not have a father present at all or to have a father who's present but who disappoints you?" I asked.

Nila thought about it for a second. "I think it's better to have a father who disappoints you because if you don't have a father present, then you'll keep wondering. You may even start idolizing a person who doesn't deserve it."

That made sense. I did admit that I used to either idolize or demonize my father while I was growing up. It depended on my mood.

Before I could open my mouth, the doorknob rattled, and Gyan stepped through. He stopped when he spotted me and Nila on the couch.

"Gabriel?" His eyes were wide. "Nila?"

Nila drank the last of her wine before standing up. "Hello, Gyan," she said as I stood up, too. She dug through her bag to take out a birthday card. "Can you sign this?"

I grabbed the glasses while Gyan sat down to sign the card. As I washed the glasses in the sink, I watched the two siblings. There was this new tension in Nila's facial features, and her movements stiffened around Gyan. I wished she could have been as carefree and jovial around her brother like she was around me.

"Thank you," Nila said while putting the card away. She glanced over at me. "Nice chatting with you, Gabriel."

We smiled at each other before Nila turned around and walked out the door.

She never said "bye" to Gyan.

Gyan chuckled nervously. "I think my sister likes you more than she likes me." I couldn't even rebut that, so I said nothing. As I walked around the island to leave, Gyan stood up. "I brought a snack." He showed me a plastic bag. "Well, what I consider a snack." I stared at him, not saying anything, so he moved closer. "Have some with me."

He moved to the table and placed the plastic bag down, and I stood beside him. "What is it?" I asked.

"Sit." He pulled a chair out for me, and I sat down. To my surprise, he sat beside me instead of opposite me. "Here." He took out a container and something wrapped in aluminum foil. When he opened them, it was naan and chicken tikka. "I stopped by this Indian restaurant and grabbed something quick to eat since I'm not too hungry."

"Why do you want me here?"

He looked over at me. "Why not?"

I tried to fight it, but a smile fought through. "Okay."

We got up and washed our hands before sitting back down and starting to eat. I tore some of the naan and wrapped some chicken in it before popping it into my mouth. Gyan kept sneaking peeks at me with a smile on his face.

"What?" I asked with my mouth slightly full.

"You remember how to eat it properly," he said. "When we first started dating, you always ate the naan by itself."

"Then you told me that only white people did that," I said, "so I stopped. It tastes better this way, anyway. You know what else I remember?"

"What?"

"Naan bread isn't a thing because naan is bread, and chai tea isn't a thing because chai is tea."

"Damn straight."

"What do you think about the Indian restaurants?" I asked. "Do you think they're authentic?"

Gyan shrugged. "They're okay. I shouldn't complain though since my culture is over-represented."

I tilted my head. "What do you mean?"

He finished chewing. "When people think of India, they think of north India, where I come from. Most Indian restaurants have north Indian food. That makes sense because north Indian food is less spicy as compared to south Indian food. If you have an Indian restaurant, you also want to sell to non-Indians who can't handle spices. Also, most of the actors and actresses in Bollywood films are north Indians because they have lighter skin and straighter hair."

"I didn't know that," I said. "We dated for almost four years. How did I not know this?"

"I don't know," Gyan said with an amused expression. "I'm sure there're things I don't know, too."

"Someone once told me that I wasn't Hispanic enough," I said, and Gyan arched a brow. We were done with the naan and chicken by now. "She was listening to this song that was in Spanish, and she wanted me to tell her what they were saying. What she didn't realize was that this song had a strong dialect and accent. I didn't know what country this Spanish came from, but it was so strong that I couldn't understand it too well. I told her this, and she got mad. She told me that I was a fake Hispanic."

"Since when does speaking Spanish correlate with being Hispanic?" Gyan said.

"Exactly!"

"I don't speak Hindi fluently," Gyan said. "That doesn't make me any less Indian."

"When you're a person of color, it's like people expect you to be the spokesperson for your race or community," I said. "It's even worse when you're the only person of color. To that girl, me speaking Spanish meant I knew all the different dialects and accents of Spanish, but I don't."

Gyan rested his cheek on his fist as he watched me. "This really bothers you."

"It does," I said. "My whole life, it's always been about proving myself—proving my worth. Overcoming what was given to me and becoming someone. In our class at Harley Falls, there weren't a lot of Latinx people."

"I noticed," Gyan said.

"But people expected me to tell stories that weren't mine," I said. "In one of my classes, we were talking about Argentina, and the professor asked a question about the country, and everyone started turning to me. I'm not Argentinian. How the hell would I know?"

Gyan laughed. "That is so fucked up." He shook his head. "Once, in one of Alisha's creative writing classes at her university, she wrote this short story that had Indian characters. The professor told her that it was stereotypical for her characters to eat curry."

"What?"

This was a joke, right?

Gyan smiled at me. "But that's what we eat." We laughed. "Yes, we eat other things, but we also eat curry."

"Who the hell is he to try to educate her on her culture?" I said, feeling the anger boiling within me.

"Ask him that," Gyan said.

We smiled at each other, staying silent for a bit. "We haven't talked like this in a while," I said as both our arms rested on the table.

Our conversations thus far had mostly consisted of small talk, fights and surface level topics. We hadn't talked like this enough.

"You can always talk to me," Gyan said. "I don't want you to forget that."

"I know," I said. "I can always talk to you. I don't have to be embarrassed around you. You'll always take care of me, and I feel safe with you."

I inched my hand towards his, and he followed my hand with his eyes. Before he could speak, I threaded my fingers through his and locked our hands.

"Gabriel." He looked up at me, but his eyes searched mine, not knowing what to say.

"You used to tell me that holding my hand always made you feel—"

"Safe," he finished, still holding my gaze.

Before every swim meet, after finishing the soup I would bring him, Gyan would always grab my hand, just holding it for a couple seconds, so he would calm down.

"You can feel safe around me," I said, never letting go. "Things have been rocky with us, but I want you to remember that. I hurt you, and we both know that, but I'll make it up to you. I won't cause you anymore pain, only joy and pleasure. I'm not going anywhere this time, and I'll always be here for you." His expression softened, and I tightened my grip. "Gyan, you're safe."

He grabbed the back of my neck, making our foreheads touch. His eyes were closed as he took in a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, they met mine. "I know," he said. "I just needed a reminder."

We smiled at each other. I hadn't felt this at peace and happy in weeks. All I wanted to do was hold him and never let him go.

Even if I couldn't be with Gyan the way I wanted to, moments like this reminded me that any part of him was worth it.

When we pulled away, we trashed the containers, but I kept the plastic bag. It could come in handy one day, and Gyan chuckled at me. When we were done, we sat on the couch watching some paranormal show. I didn't know which one, and I didn't understand what was happening, but Gyan's presence made it worthwhile.

Halfway through the show, Gyan's fingers inched towards my hand, and I opened it palms up. He slid his fingers towards mine, stopping at the spaces between my fingers, and he closed his grip, interlocking our hands. I kept my breathing under control as his hand stayed in mine while we stared ahead.

I couldn't have felt safer.

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* What do you guys think is going to happen next? A step forward or a step back?

* Of you live near Atlanta, I hope you attended something during pride weekend. I had a blast. Then again, I always have a blast in queer spaces with other queer people. Hope you enjoyed the update.