His Tiny Sun

Chapter 21 - Intimacy

CHAPTER 21

Intimacy

“Sex.”

Jonah’s attention snapped back to the man sitting across from him, his brow furrowing in awkward confusion.

“You’ve been dancing around the subject for the past half hour,” Ian said flatly. “I thought I’d make it easier for you.”

Jonah shouldn’t have been surprised that the man who spent his weeks making people spit out what was on their mind had guessed what was on his mind, but it still freaked him out a little. It would take more than one and a half sessions for him to get used to his therapist’s psychic-like abilities and unconventional approach.

Jonah couldn’t say he disliked it, though; for one, it was efficient, which Jonah was grateful for, since every minute he spent sitting in this blue chair cost him two dollars and thirty-three cents. Additionally, it made him spit out what he felt too uncomfortable—or too stupid—to share.

“It was kind of decided that Alan and I would…” Jonah cleared his throat, his gaze wandering across the diploma-covered wall. “…have sex tomorrow night.”

“ It was kind of decided?”

Jonah grimaced. “ I decided…with his consent.” He tried to hold Ian’s gaze but failed, instead opting to survey the choices of coloring pencils on the table next to him. They were arranged by color, the red and blue ones much shorter than the rest. Jonah swallowed thickly as he willed for the intrusive police car lights to stop flashing in his head. “But it feels like another ‘big hairy spiders’ kind of situation.”

“Is this how sex normally feels to you?”

Jonah had promised himself he’d never be embarrassed about his sexuality ever again, but his anxiety soared nonetheless. It pissed him off. Ian had given him no reason to believe he was judgmental so far, and even if he turned out to be a homophobic jerk, Jonah could just tell him to go fuck himself and leave. What was the big deal?

Ian leaned forward, making Jonah look back at him. “There is nothing you can say that will shock me, Mr. Delamare.”

Jonah felt both relieved and intrigued by his statement. He wondered if it was due to Ian having a high tolerance in general, or because he’d had extremely fucked up clients before and doubted Jonah could top what he’d already heard.

Maybe a bit of both , Jonah figured. He was almost tempted to make up something outrageous just to test how true that was, but it would only serve to make him avoid the real issue, which he knew the cowardly part of himself sought to do.

Jonah had already lied to Alan…well, not exactly; he did have relatives visiting. Jonah didn’t care about them, though, and would have been happy to go on a date every single night of the week in order to avoid a family overdose. He’d actually been determined to do exactly that as he followed the clues to find Alan at the park, but when he kissed Alan’s neck and heard the arousing sounds that fell from his lips, Jonah panicked.

It was confusing—and exhausting—to constantly have to fight the conflicting emotions he felt, whether he was on the verge of telling Alan he loved him, or two seconds away from running away and never contacting him again. Jonah had those brief, occasional moments where he was completely relaxed and content with their relationship, but the pendulum inevitably swung one way or the other, filling him with doubts and anxiety all over again.

Jonah had been quick to convince himself he did the right thing by delaying the moment they’d be getting into each other’s pants, but then Eric called him four days later, making him worry about Alan’s safety—and when he worried about Alan’s safety, Jonah forgot that he wanted to take things slow.

“I’ve never made such a big deal out of it before,” Jonah said. “I’d just fuck—”

Ian’s facial expression didn’t change in the slightest.

“—whoever I wanted to fuck, and go on with my day.”

“How do you picture tomorrow night unfolding?”

Jonah took a moment to think about it, but nothing came up at all; it was like he’d suddenly stopped having an imagination, and forgot every single thing he knew about sex. “I don’t understand the question,” he said, to buy some time.

“Will you fuck him and go on with your day?”

Blazing fury exploded in Jonah’s chest. “ Of course not! He deserves so much better than—oh…” His anger came crashing down as he understood what Ian was hinting at.

“Intimacy is one hell of a scary box to open. ”

Intimacy…

The most intimate physical act he’d done with Elliot had been to kiss him. His premature death had prevented them from going any further…

No. Stop lying to yourself.

Jonah had gotten his first handjob when he’d just turned fifteen. His girlfriend at the time was a bit older than him, and had jerked him off behind a hedge at school for his birthday. From that day forward, he’d managed to get all his girlfriends to do it for him, before getting rid of them just as they’d started asking him to reciprocate. He’d been such a selfish jerk, but girls just kept kneeling at his feet, so he kept on taking. Jonah had used each one of them for a few minutes of fleeting, meaningless, ego boosting pleasure, then had discarded them.

Jonah had never let Elliot touch him there, and neither had he done it to him, but not because he hadn’t wanted to. For the very first time in his life, he’d been aching to give what he’d been taking freely from all those girls.

If I hadn’t been such a coward…

“Past or present?” Ian asked.

Jonah took a deep breath. “Present.”

“What do you fear might happen tomorrow?”

I can’t get hard. I lose my erection halfway. I make him feel unwanted. I tell him I love him. I get overwhelmed. I hurt him. I panic and leave and ghost him and never contact him ever again.

“Those are legitimate concerns,” Ian said.

Jonah let out an awkward chuckle, once again freaked out by the therapist’s apparent ability to read his mind. “You don’t even know what I was thinking about.”

“I don’t need to.” Ian leaned back in his seat. “How many people do you think open up about their sex lives during their second therapy session?”

“I dunno—”

“—None.”

Jonah frowned. Where was he getting at? That he was a pervert or something?

“It’s simply not a comfortable topic to explore with a stranger,” Ian said, “no matter how many diplomas they have hanging on the wall. The fact that you walked in here today with the determination to do so means this is of great significance to you.”

“What does that say about me?” Jonah grumbled.

“It says that you’re resilient.”

Jonah gave him a skeptical look, then let his gaze fall to his knees as he tried to make sense of what his therapist had just said. Nothing in the current situation spelled resilience to him. He’d fucked strangers on more than one occasion, but he was scared of having sex with his own boyfriend. If anything, it made him feel like a loser. A shitty partner who was neglecting his boyfriend’s needs.

Still, Jonah was tempted to believe Ian’s words. In part due to the impressive number of diplomas proudly staring at him from the wall, but also because Jonah felt, deep in his heart, that he required those words to be true. He’d promised Elliot’s grave he’d be strong. Could this truly be a sign of resilience? If anyone knew, Jonah figured, it was the man currently sitting across from him, patiently waiting for him to say something.

“I’m worried I’ll be nervous and…” Jonah cringed. It truly wasn’t a comfortable topic to explore with a stranger—or rather, in Jonah’s case, with just anyone at all, including himself . “…it won’t work,” he continued, gesturing vaguely at his crotch, “and he’ll think it’s his fault. At the same time, I kinda hope everything goes wrong because if just kissing him makes me want to tell him I love him, what’ll it be during sex? I’ll ask him to marry me?” He huffed in exasperation.

“I see. Would you be willing to tell him you’re not ready?”

“I’m the one who decided—”

“—You’re allowed to change your mind.”

“He’s taking me out to dinner—”

“—Is your relationship transactional?”

“No, of course not! But I don’t want to change my mind. I want…” Jonah hated how small he felt in the blue chair. “…him.”

Ian nodded. “In that case, we’ll devise strategies for you to face whatever spiders might spring out of that box tomorrow, starting with the ugliest.”

———

Jonah never thought he’d try this restaurant; he couldn’t ever bring himself to justify such an expense for just one meal. The fact that Alan had insisted on paying for them both wasn’t making him any less uncomfortable .

“Would you like to try the tasting menu?”

Jonah looked up from the list of insane prices, his gaze meeting Alan’s, who gave him a stunning smile. He was wearing a simple, light gray sweater and black pants, and if not for the way Alan’s face lit up when he’d picked him up, Jonah would have barely recognized him. Everything about Alan was colorful, so his choice of outfit had been a surprise. It made sense, though, seeing as he’d made a reservation at a fine dining establishment.

“Sure,” Jonah answered. It was the most expensive option, but how could he say no to those eyes?

I’ll find a way to repay him someday , he told himself, in an attempt to relax.

Alan beamed and placed his menu back on the table.

Jonah did the same—there was no point in obsessing over it any longer. Alan extended his arm, placing his hand palm up next to the candle the hostess had lit when they were seated. It seemed like a waste, considering they were on the restaurant’s rooftop terrace and it was still bright out, but Jonah refrained from commenting. It would only serve to spoil the mood, which he wouldn’t allow himself to do. Especially with how starry-eyed Alan had been since they set foot into the building.

Jonah reached for Alan’s hand, causing warmth to travel from their joined skin all the way to his heart.

“Do you like it?” Alan asked with a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Jonah internally berated himself. His discomfort must have been written all over his face, and now Alan was convinced he wasn’t enjoying himself. “Yeah, the decor is incredible,” Jonah said with a genuine smile. It really was. If the food wasn’t so expensive, Jonah would be tempted to come here from time to time and sketch the interior for fun.

The owners had renovated an old building, but kept most architectural elements intact, marrying the vintage woodwork, high ceiling, and old hardwood beams with a massive white chandelier as tall as Jonah. Across the industrial concrete floors had been placed rows of simple wooden tables, on which were sitting white and pink flower bouquets—real ones—and crystal candleholders, flanked by elegant chairs upholstered with lime green fabric.

A series of large abstract paintings had been hung on the walls, white lamps casting a light on the canvases, bringing out the green and pink hues that married perfectly with the rest of the decor. As soon as they’d walked in front of the wall-length glass wine storage filled with an impressive variety of bottles, Jonah had known he’d have a heart-attack just by looking at the prices on the menu.

Alan’s excitement had been palpable as they’d made their way through the restaurant. He’d squeezed Jonah’s hand, eagerly pointing out various architectural features and decor elements while the hostess had guided them across the first floor. His enthusiasm had only grown as they ascended to the rooftop terrace, where he’d continued to gesture at the surroundings, his grip on Jonah’s hand tightening with each new discovery.

It wasn’t as impressive as the first floor, but the strings of lights hanging from the massive hardwood pergola and the tall, intricately sculpted wooden lamps had almost made Jonah regret they’d be leaving before dark…until he’d remembered what they’d be doing for the rest of the night.

“Good evening,” a server said as he materialized next to their table, making Jonah realize he’d been staring at Alan’s lips. “I’ll be your server for tonight. Would you like something to drink?”

“Your most colorful cocktail, please!” Alan said.

The man nodded, then looked at Jonah.

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“They have mocktails,” Alan said, letting go of Jonah’s hand and passing him the drink menu. “Just give us a minute,” he addressed the server, who nodded and walked away.

How can you even afford this? Jonah wondered as he checked the list of sixteen dollar glasses of fancy juice. Alan didn’t have a job, and it didn’t seem as though he’d soon be getting one either. Perhaps he had rich parents? Then why would he share a shitty apartment with a roommate?

Will he be paying for this meal with his student loans?

“Jonah.”

“Hm?”

“I want you to order whatever you want.”

“It’s a lot of money.”

“I can afford it.” Alan gave him one of his rare serious looks. “Please. Let me do this.”

Jonah offered a tentative smile, then studied the menu carefully. If he ordered something he’d never had before, maybe he could fool himself into believing it had been worth the expense. The thing was, he could make all those drinks at home for a fraction of the price, so he just read the list over and over again, failing to make up his mind. When the server came back with Alan’s cocktail, Jonah still hadn’t made a choice.

“Is it good?” Jonah asked as he watched Alan take a sip of his rainbow layered drink.

“Yeah! Wanna try—sorry, never mind.”

“I’d like to.”

“Are you sure?” Alan asked, sliding his glass toward Jonah before he had the time to answer.

“Yep.” Jonah brought the straw to his lips and took a sip, his tongue getting assaulted by the ungodly amount of sugar, followed by the faint burn of alcohol. To his satisfaction and dismay, he felt his body relax at the taste. “It’s good,” he said, handing Alan his drink back.

“Right?” Alan said excitedly. “Next, I’ll try their second most colorful cocktail.”

Jonah eyed the wine menu. Just one glass wouldn’t hurt, and it might help him loosen up. The worst thing he could do was to be tense the whole time and make Alan believe he wasn’t enjoying their expensive date. Jonah would never forgive himself. “Do you mind if I order wine?”

Alan’s face lit up. “Why would I mind?” He looked over his shoulder and signaled to the server, summoning him to their table for the third time.

“I’ll have a glass of red wine,” Jonah said. “Your cheapest—”

“—Please bring him a glass of your most popular red wine,” Alan told the server. “Also, we’ll both have the tasting menu.”

The server thanked Alan with more flowery words than necessary, then made his way toward the terrace bar, which Jonah took a moment to admire—he really liked the decor. When Jonah looked back at Alan, his heart fluttered at the sight of his small, self-satisfied smile.

Jonah was conflicted about Alan’s sudden decisiveness. He would be lying if he said he didn’t find it attractive, but at the same time, he wasn’t used to relinquishing all control to someone else. It made him anxious to do so.

It was one of the topics they’d explored during his therapy session. Romantic intimacy was entirely foreign to him. For once, in his adult life, he was constrained to navigate a situation with no map or compass.

However, if he truly was Alan’s first boyfriend, there was a chance Alan didn’t really know what he was doing either. Perhaps Alan was just as nervous as he was.

Whether they would reach their destination or get lost along the way, they would be undertaking the journey together. The thought helped reduce Jonah’s anxiety.

The server came back with a wineglass and a bottle. He made Jonah taste it—it was phenomenal—then poured him a glass after getting his approval.

Jonah thanked him, then raised his glass for a toast, returning the beautiful smile Alan was giving him.

It would be a lovely date; he would see to it.