by Li Hill
"We always forget that First Contact wasn't just a bunch of authorized skirmishes. Civilians died too." Caleb went silent, pressing his index fingers to his lips. He stared at the unlit fireplace. He looked to be traveling back in time, eyes out of focus. Memories of first baseball games, his first kiss, his dad teaching him how to tie a tie.
Tom knew what a man looked like when he thought of moments he never thought he needed to cherish. Mortality was often forgotten, slipping in and out of minds as people performed the same task day in and day out. Emily had gotten up, eaten breakfast, gone to school, and come home every day. Tom had thought it would be like that for eternity until it wasn't. He couldn't even remember the last thing he'd said to her. Now, like Caleb, Tom cherished all the inconsequential memories. Bickering at the dining table. Hiding in the bushes, prepared to toss water balloons at her and her new boyfriend. Brushing their teeth at night.
"I'm sorry," Tom said.
Caleb sat back, shrugging. Color filled his cheeks, despite the pain. He smiled and the mask was set in stone again. "You want a beer?"
"Sure." What better way to pass the time than nurse alcohol and think about misery? An American male pastime. Men didn't speak to each other; they didn't cry into shoulders or hold each other close. Tom wished they did. He wished he could've given Caleb a hug in that moment. He would have given the kind where he'd hold just tight enough where Caleb would feel encased in warmth. The kind that Tom's ma gave him when he was a child. He and his dad though, they'd never hugged.
Caleb returned with two bottles of beer, and the moment was long gone. They'd do what all American men did. Hide. Hide until they were so bogged down with fear and woes that it broke their bones and drove them mad.
"I've got a porch? We could watch the stars," Caleb said.
"Sure."
Nebraska had beautiful nights. Stars were bold out here. Nothing let them hide, and their luminosity burned into the darkness. Tom stared up into the sky, wondering how long he could stare at the moon before it'd burn a hole in his cornea.
"Thanks for hanging out with me," Caleb said.
"Sure. Anytime, man." It would be the closest they'd get to emotional. Tiny cracks showed through both of them, a melody only they could hear to tell the other how similar they were. Broken, battered humans that smiled and showed off in any way they could. Tom with his lawyering and Caleb with his money. They'd patch up those cracks, and silence would echo so loud it would be deafening.
Tom had forgotten what it felt like to be aware of masculinity and what damage it had done to him. For all his trying, he was still himself. Without Carlos to gently pry, Tom was frantic with his needle and thread, stitching himself up to hide.
"Do you sometimes wish you could just stop? I mean, I fly in planes about once a day. I'm in ten-thousand-dollar suits making grand speeches in front of generals, admirals, and politicians. I've got goals. But sometimes I just get this little tickle in the back of my head." Caleb took a long pull on his beer.
"What's it tell you?"
"To go home and just stop it. I've got enough money. I could be okay for a while. Maybe get some desk jockey job. Dunno."
"And if you did that?"
"I'd hate myself. I'm not gonna give up what I set out to do." Caleb turned to Tom, his eyes reflecting the glow from the cabin. "I've got a purpose. I don't want to give it up just because I'm homesick. I'm such a pussy."
"That's—don't say that." Tom had enough lectures from his sister about that word that it made the back of his throat sour.
"You're right. I'm not a pussy. I've done so much awesome shit in my life. Sometimes I can't believe it."
That wasn't exactly what Tom meant, but Caleb kept speaking.
"I've got a goal. And if I achieve it, real good'll happen. Man. Real good." Caleb tossed up his beer, tipping his head back and chugging it down. "Fuck, do you want more? I'm gonna get another."
"I—"
"Ha! Sure you do. Hold on. Gotta piss."
Tom squeezed his wooden chair, pushing his back into the rest so he could stop himself from being jerked around by Caleb's emotional whirlwind. He sighed, his beer still pretty much full. The thought of getting drunk was as appealing as shaving the rim of an elephant's ass. He missed Iilo.
"Oh my God." Tom laughed at himself. He went back inside, his hands grazing over the wooden furniture. It all had to be custom made, but not the kind that was fancy or expensive. The kind someone went out into the woods and found the perfect tree to make. The kind that roughened hands and made backs sore.
Caleb had his phone almost to his nose, a few strands of hair framing his perfect face. He looked up, eyes crinkling at the corners. He bounced over to Tom and put a beer in his hand. "We've got shit to celebrate!"
"Oh yeah?"
"So we're doin' some research at work and it's all positive results right now. If this keeps up, we've got an interested buyer. Dude, not only can I retire and do whatever the fuck I want, but this'll change the fuckin' world!" He laughed, smacking Tom on the chest. "Dude! Fuck I can't believe it!"
Tom massaged where Caleb hit, trying to smile but finding it harder and harder. He was tired, confused, and frankly, he just wanted to be held. The thought of wanting to hug someone else and not getting to made Tom realize that all he wanted was to be hugged, and by one person in particular. He watched Caleb dance around the cabin, shaking his hips and putting his phone atop a Stereopad. Of course he'd have a Stereopad. All one had to do was drop his phone atop it and boom, loud music.
Music pulsed out, fast enough to get Tom's heart pumping in his ear. Caleb pulled out shot glasses.
"Oh man—no, I can't. I've gotta see Iilo still." Lies. He just wanted to see him. Every hair in Tom's skin tingled, tugging away from this place.
"Ah c'mon, man! Just one?" Caleb held up one of the glasses, his eyes pleading. It was more for himself than Tom. So this was what the war took from him. He'd found alcohol and hated it when no one else did.
Tom pursed his lips, staring the shot glass down. Caleb took the moment to pour two shots of straight tequila. Tom's tongue tried to dip into the back of his throat, nearly choking him.
"I need to go," he said.
Caleb frowned, but he took both shots, hissing. "Sure. I get it. I'na're hot."
"Iilo's my boyfriend. It's more than just hot. Stop saying that!"
"He's a fucking alien, Tom." Caleb's perfect mask shattered, giving way to creased brows and a flash of teeth. "You hated them."
"I didn't hate them! I was—Jesus—I was just freaked!"
"God, you get one night of I'na tail and—"
"We haven't even taken our shirts off together! Caleb, you're drunk. Stop it." Tom reached for the tequila, prying it from Caleb's fingers. He held the bottle to the side, chest rising and falling. "I'm gonna call a RoboCab. You shouldn't drive me back."
"Fuck you, man. I can drive fine." Caleb moved to his keys, but Tom blocked him.
"Dude. Stop. Just got to bed."
Caleb stared at Tom's chest for a silent minute, his lips trembling. Tom could see the Caleb the war had left behind, clear as day. A broken man full of anger to the point where he knew nothing else. Behind the happiness was a man enraged and out for blood. "You're a fucking idiot, Tom Raddoc. Thinkin' I'na know what love is."
"Stop it." Gently, Tom took Caleb's shoulders and led him over to the couch.
"You'll see it, Tom. He'll leave you, just like—He'll leave you too." Caleb spoke with absolution. His face morose and sullen. A cold chill crept up Tom's spine. Iilo and Caleb were friends. But Caleb spoke as if he knew more to the story.
"He'll leave me too?"
Caleb nodded, chewing his lip. "Iilo and I have history, not all of it good. Please don't hate me."
"I don't hate you."
"I'm sorry."
Tom squeezed Caleb's shoulder. He thought of every night his father had done the same to him. Tom had only wanted a hug from his dad.
He pulled Caleb cl
ose, cupping his head. If anything reached Caleb, Tom wanted it to be this hug. Caleb wasn't alone. People had been there, just like he had. Wounds took time to heal and it was okay Caleb was still healing.
Caleb's breath puffed against Tom's neck. He brought his hands up, squeezing Tom right back.
"You can call me whenever," Tom said.
"You're a good friend."
Tom left, feeling more like he abandoned Caleb. A frenzy raged inside him. Caleb worked for BrightStart. He was on the settlement enough to develop good friendships with Iilo and so many more. For him to display this hatred, something had to have happened. Or maybe it had all just been one of the many masks Caleb Polanski wore.
Tom got into the RoboCab, his fingers and toes numb. "I'na Settlement, please," he instructed.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tom spent the night with Iilo, holding him close and thanking every star he could. When he woke up, sprawled on the mattress with Iilo tangled with him, he couldn't help but press a kiss right between Iilo's brows. He rolled off the bed, silently thanking whatever compelled Iilo to forgo a bed frame. His bones were still too heavy from the night before with Caleb.
Inaraa was already in the living room area, braids perfect and face stern.
"Good morning," she said.
"You petitioning the Elect?" Tom asked.
"Somewhat. I'm basically going to manhandle it until they listen to us. Wish me luck?"
"All the best of it." Tom smiled. "Sam and Carlos gonna come up?"
"If I win. If not, I guess we'll just go back to the bug-out theory." She turned around, shrugging. "Stay here with Iilo and Letic. I'll keep you guys posted."
Tom nodded. He padded into the kitchen, found a box of cereal, and brought it back into Iilo's room. Iilo was awake, stretching in a delicate arch atop the bed. The gems in the wall glowed with lazy rhythms. They cast purple shadows along the dips and curves of Iilo's body. Tom was transfixed.
He fell onto his knees on the mattress and then rested his head on Iilo's lap.
"Did I tell you my sister died?" Tom was in a sharing mood. Either because of Caleb last night or because this was one of those secrets he felt Iilo needed to hear if they were to progress as a couple. As a couple.
Iilo shook his head.
"She got shot by a man she'd rejected at a bar. Followed her home. She was—God—she was five feet away from the porch. And I wasn't there to do anything about it."
Iilo pursed his lips. Long lashes blanketed his cheeks. He was an ethereal painting, shaped by stars, glowing comets, and the mysteries of the universe. His freckles glowed soft, casting muted blobs of light on Tom's skin. No words transpired, but Tom felt them seep into his body. Iilo's heart was communicating with Tom's and whether it was all in Tom's head, that didn't much matter. Iilo was holding him.
"I joined the army thinking it was a good way to get out of Gary. My dad was so proud of me. Mom was too, but she never liked violence."
"Sometimes violence is necessary. But that doesn't mean it should be the first choice."
"I didn't expect to go to war. I thought I was gonna be stationed in Japan or something, but then they sent me to Iraq first. I saw children explode—dogs. I hate saying it, but it hurt the most with the dogs. We could've saved them. But—we never knew what kind of bomb it was and getting close was stupid. I watched so many dogs—blow up."
Iilo kept silent, stroking his cool fingers down Tom's neck.
"Then before First Contact, I came home and my sister was dead. Dad lost his job. Mom died of cancer. I was supposed to change their lives. Get out of Gary, maybe onto a farm instead. But Dad left Gary to live with my grandma 'cause he had nowhere else to go. But once again, I couldn't save a single fucking person. Dogs, children, my own fucking family!" Tom's sharp breath hit his lungs like ice, squeezing through him until it cut into his lungs. He brought an arm around Iilo, holding him tighter.
"And you became a lawyer. What did you do next?"
Tom barked out a bitter laugh. It was laced in all the ironies of Tom's life. Become a lawyer. Fight for the world. Do good. Become a lawyer, pay the bills, just take one more divorce to get by. He told himself every time the next divorce would be the last. He'd told himself this so many times he'd started saying it as a joke.
"I've failed in everything I've ever tried to do. Caleb's gonna change the world or something and me? I'm just—a fucking fraud."
"That's not true." Iilo flicked Tom's nose. He laughed at Tom's shocked expression and bent down for a kiss. "You've changed me. I was desperate and I thought I'd never see my friends again. Or I'd—fail my mother. But we've come so far. I've met good people like Sam and Carlos. Inaraa—Letic—even trust you."
"And what if all we find are dead bodies?" Tom didn't mean to make it so harsh, but he'd be lying if he said he'd never thought about it.
"I—I'm prepared to face that. I just need answers, Tom."
Tom shivered. He wanted Iilo to whisper his name to him, over and over. Tom used to scoff at movies where the characters were in love by the end. Was it possible to love someone you still didn't know entirely?
Iilo kissed Tom slow, pulling him up with a strength that startled him.
They kissed, Tom spreading his legs out to wrap around Iilo. Iilo wasn't dainty. He was powerful, a well-kept secret hiding in plain sight. Tom wanted to know more of the secrets Iilo kept.
Iilo's fingers cupped Tom's head, his other hand slipping up and down Tom's chest. He slipped his hand under the hem of Tom's shirt, waiting.
"Yeah," Tom whispered against Iilo's lips.
Shirt removed, Iilo scanned Tom's body, his orange eyes glowing in the darkness. The sight used to frighten Tom. It would allow memories of panic in his veins like acid and the constant tingle at his shoulders like memories of being chased. Iilo wasn't chasing him. He'd already caught him.
"I can't believe my sister thinks you're too bulky." Iilo pulled Tom to him again, teeth clashing more than lips.
They rocked into each other, Tom's body burning. His cock swelled, pressing obnoxiously against the seam of his sweats. He fidgeted atop Iilo, lips slipping and wetting Iilo's chin.
Iilo laughed, bringing his hands down to Tom's hips.
"Are we—is this happening now?" Tom asked, voice husky. Too fast, too slow. It didn't matter. What mattered was that it felt right. Tom had spent so much time stuck in the past, it was time he started living for the present.
Iilo's lips curled up into a smile, his eyes flickering in the darkness like an amber fire. "It's a little different. What I have."
"Dual-gender thing?"
Iilo nodded.
"I—I wanna see?"
Iilo flushed pink, hiding his face. He squirmed out from under Tom and rested his hands on his pajama pants. "I'm scared," Iilo said.
"What if we both get naked?" Tom looked behind Iilo to the Christmas lights he'd strung over an uneven metal frame in the wall. Tom absolutely wanted to see Iilo sprawled out and naked beneath those.
Iilo pulled Tom's face to his, slipping his tongue inside Tom's mouth. It tingled. He pressed their bodies together, rubbing up along Tom's dick.
Shoved back onto the unmade bed, Tom watched as Iilo pulled his shirt off and shimmied out of his sleep pants. He stood, biting his lip and glowing brighter—pinker than Tom had ever seen him. The room had a hazy red hue.
"You're like a little light show." Tom pulled Iilo onto the bed. He kissed Iilo's shoulder, his button nose, his soft lips. "Why do you glow?"
"Why do you not?" Iilo asked. He lay among the disheveled bed, grabbing a pillow and tossing it beneath his head. His ID glowed blue and steady against it, almost like a perfect reflection.
"I dunno."
"I don't know much about me either. We were in the dark a lot. Like the fish you all have down in the deeper parts of the ocean."
"Huh." Tom sleuthed between Iilo's legs. He trailed his fingers along Iilo's inner thigh, feeling him shiver. "Is this okay?"
&
nbsp; "I think so. Y-yeah." Iilo winced.
Tom was nervous too, it wasn't Iilo's body, it was this. He hadn't been intimate in such a long time he was terrified he'd forgotten how. With shaky hands, he looked down, focused more like a student than a man about to make love to his boyfriend for the first time. Iilo's dick looked similar enough to Tom's; there were less veins and the same sparkling freckles that were on his cheeks. He grabbed it softly, thumb pressing tiny circles under the tip.
"Oh." Tom watched, amazed as Iilo's dick—bloomed. Striated grooves etched into it, lines rising as Iilo got more and more aroused. "Uh—is this?"
"It's normal." Iilo dropped his head back, chest heaving. "It's like you getting hard. Slipping out of foreskin or whatever."
"I don't—have that. They removed it when I was a baby."
"Could we not talk? I mean—please don't kill this."
Tom laughed. He let his fingers trace along the grooves, pressing his fingers into them, watching Iilo squirm.
"L-lift it up," Iilo said.
Tom did. At the base of Iilo's dick, hidden away was a little hole. It glistened, reflecting the glow from Iilo's freckles. "Oh." He traced his fingers around it, feeling the swollen flesh that curtained it. "Dual gendered."
"Y-yeah."
"Can we—"
"You can be inside me—yeah."
Tom listened when Iilo said to stop or change what he was doing. He let Iilo sit atop him because it was easier for Tom to enter him that way. Iilo's skin pulsed light out in a frenzy, a sunset just for them. Heat flourished inside Tom, pushing down against his cock.
"It tingles there too," Tom whispered.
Iilo's only response was a breathy kiss and a nod.
Iilo dipped his neck back, sweaty hair spindling out, a whisper of wind hitting Tom's lips. His nails dug into Tom's shoulders, pressing more and more with each thrust.
Tom could feel sweat trickling down his spine. His breath mixed with Iilo's when their lips parted.
Pressure built deep in his stomach until he couldn't take it anymore. He bit down on Iilo's neck, muffling out a cry as he came.
Iilo kissed Tom's ear, his cheek, his wet lashes. They worked each other up over and over again, exploring each other, mapping out nerves, trembling skin and sweat.
