songs yet to be sung
chapter 1
august 2019
cil's a nervous guy. yale will never stop comforting him.
i. from cil.
“This never gets old.”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
Yale frowns, seemingly hurt by Cil’s accusation and Cil wonders if he should backtrack or try to ride this one out.
“Why would I be sarcastic about that?”
“I don’t know, because we come to the same place on the same day and sit at the same table.”
“We don’t always get the same drink.”
“I do.”
“Well, I don’t,” Yale says, narrowing his eyes at Cil, who lets a smile break out on his face.
“Yeah, you started getting those flavored drinks that cost like, four times as much as regular coffee.”
“I’m worth it,” Yale says, looking away demurely and taking another sip of his iced cinnamon almondmilk macchiato or whatever it is. Cil isn’t making fun of it, he just genuinely doesn’t know what it’s called. He looked at Yale a little dumbly when he’d ordered it. He hadn’t expected it to keep going on as long as it did.
“I love that there’s no argument,” Cil says finally. “You just tell me you’re worth it.”
“Why would I need to argue, I already know I’m right.” That isn’t a question, either. His voice is deep and dismissive which makes Cil’s heart race. He really, really loves his boyfriend.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Their one year anniversary came and went. Cil took Yale to their favorite fancy place and they ordered a romantic pre-fixed menu for two under candlelight, their favorite waiter congratulating them and their least favorite waiter - the one who flirts with Yale right in front of Cil, like he isn’t there, like he’s just some sap who sits there and watches his boyfriend get hit on - looked on angrily from afar. Yale swears Cil is full of it but if Yale is jealous of Logan, Cil can be jealous of this guy. The point is, once they started saying, “I love you,” they never stopped. Cil still thinks he’s going to wear it out eventually - not that it’s going to get old, but that Yale is going to get sick of him saying it - but so far, so good. Yale swears he isn’t tired of hearing it and he isn’t tired of saying it, either.
But that’s about the last big step they took. There’s been very little talk of moving in together and though Cil has gotten quite close to Yale’s mother, he’s never introduced Yale to his own. He’s never even introduced him to his father, who he actually gets along with. His mother is going to be a real feat. Though they’ve been talking again, they still don’t quite cooperate well with each other. She still doesn’t accept Cil as a son even though no one else has mistaken him for a girl in years. She can’t quite wrap her head around him being gay either, not because she doesn’t accept homosexuality, but because she just wants a straight daughter. That’s the thing - she has no problem with gay people. It’s trans people she doesn’t like.
In any case, Yale hasn’t met her. And he’s not going to any time soon. But there’s no reason Cil hasn’t introduced him to his father, other than he’s nervous. He’s scared. He’s worried that once he does, it’ll end. There’s no good reasoning for that, other than it’s another big step and there’s always a chance that big steps will scare someone like Yale off.
He feels bad for thinking that way. He holds Yale in very high regard. Yale wouldn’t react that way. He wants to be serious with Cil. Cil has to remember that.
“I was thinking maybe sometime soon we could have dinner with my dad,” Cil says. “Is that something you’d be interested in?”
“Really?” Yale asks, genuinely peaked.
“Yeah. I worry that if you meet him, it’ll start to feel too serious and you’ll want out.”
Yale frowns, this time much softer and more seriously than the first time. They promised to communicate better. This is Cil communicating his worries, and that’s Yale being grateful but confused.
“Why would I want out?”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Cil says. “It isn’t logical. It’s just how I feel.”
“Yeah,” Yale nods. “I know. I get it. I’d like to meet him.”
“Maybe,” Cill says, sitting back in his seat anxiously. He doesn’t know why he brought it up. He wants to communicate better. Sometimes that means not communicating when he isn’t ready. He shouldn’t mention every little thought that pops into his head. “I don’t know. I only brought it up because I got scared.”
“Scared?”
“Scared you’d wanna leave. I was just making sure you wouldn’t want to leave me if I brought it up.”
“You panic too much,” Yale says with a smile, reaching out to grab his hand and squeeze it. It does calm Cil down. “I move slow but I don’t stop.”
“That doesn’t really make any sense.”
“I - I know. I just meant… I might be hotheaded. And a little unpredictable. But I don’t just - I won’t just bail. And I’m only hotheaded and unpredictable because you say so.”
“No, you’re hotheaded and unpredictable,” Cil grins. “Because you are.”
“I’m not unpredictable,” he counters. “Do you get stressed out that I’m going to do something you aren’t expecting?”
“Sometimes.”
“Ugh,” Yale says, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. Cil is saddened by the loss of warmth when he takes his hand away. “Why?”
“Because I love you enough that I worry,” he says. “I haven’t ever really dated someone this long this seriously. What if I do something wrong?”
“Like what?”
Cil is worried and he does care, but Yale is right. Cil can’t really come up with anything he’d realistically mistake as acceptable when it isn’t. He’s not socially inept. He’s just a nervous guy. A nervous, love-stricken guy.
“What if I threw up on myself in public?”
“What?”
“And then I like, bent over to throw up more and my pants ripped?”
“Stop it,” Yale says, rolling his eyes and taking another sip of his coffee.
“What if I fart on a date?”
“You already fart on dates.”
“I’ve never farted on a date. Not loud enough for you to hear.”
“Well, I’ve heard you fart. I’ve never heard you talk like this, though. You hate putting unflattering images of you in my head.”
“Well now that I realize I want us to make it, I need to start preparing you for the inevitable.”
“Do you throw up on yourself a lot?”
“No, just once.”
“Once?”
“I had stomach flu.”
“That doesn’t count then,” Yale says. “I threw up on vacation last year. You had to hold my hair back.”
Cil remembers. He also looks at the small ponytail Yale’s hair is in right now and remembers how beautiful his boyfriend is. He remembers how he’s the only person he’s ever been able to sit with in complete silence and not feel uncomfortable. Yale comes so easy to him that he actually likes the silence.
“I’d do it again,” he says dreamily. “I’ll always hold your hair back.”
“Romantic,” Yale says. “And yes, that time it was sarcasm.”
“This never gets old.”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
Yale frowns, seemingly hurt by Cil’s accusation and Cil wonders if he should backtrack or try to ride this one out.
“Why would I be sarcastic about that?”
“I don’t know, because we come to the same place on the same day and sit at the same table.”
“We don’t always get the same drink.”
“I do.”
“Well, I don’t,” Yale says, narrowing his eyes at Cil, who lets a smile break out on his face.
“Yeah, you started getting those flavored drinks that cost like, four times as much as regular coffee.”
“I’m worth it,” Yale says, looking away demurely and taking another sip of his iced cinnamon almondmilk macchiato or whatever it is. Cil isn’t making fun of it, he just genuinely doesn’t know what it’s called. He looked at Yale a little dumbly when he’d ordered it. He hadn’t expected it to keep going on as long as it did.
“I love that there’s no argument,” Cil says finally. “You just tell me you’re worth it.”
“Why would I need to argue, I already know I’m right.” That isn’t a question, either. His voice is deep and dismissive which makes Cil’s heart race. He really, really loves his boyfriend.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Their one year anniversary came and went. Cil took Yale to their favorite fancy place and they ordered a romantic pre-fixed menu for two under candlelight, their favorite waiter congratulating them and their least favorite waiter - the one who flirts with Yale right in front of Cil, like he isn’t there, like he’s just some sap who sits there and watches his boyfriend get hit on - looked on angrily from afar. Yale swears Cil is full of it but if Yale is jealous of Logan, Cil can be jealous of this guy. The point is, once they started saying, “I love you,” they never stopped. Cil still thinks he’s going to wear it out eventually - not that it’s going to get old, but that Yale is going to get sick of him saying it - but so far, so good. Yale swears he isn’t tired of hearing it and he isn’t tired of saying it, either.
But that’s about the last big step they took. There’s been very little talk of moving in together and though Cil has gotten quite close to Yale’s mother, he’s never introduced Yale to his own. He’s never even introduced him to his father, who he actually gets along with. His mother is going to be a real feat. Though they’ve been talking again, they still don’t quite cooperate well with each other. She still doesn’t accept Cil as a son even though no one else has mistaken him for a girl in years. She can’t quite wrap her head around him being gay either, not because she doesn’t accept homosexuality, but because she just wants a straight daughter. That’s the thing - she has no problem with gay people. It’s trans people she doesn’t like.
In any case, Yale hasn’t met her. And he’s not going to any time soon. But there’s no reason Cil hasn’t introduced him to his father, other than he’s nervous. He’s scared. He’s worried that once he does, it’ll end. There’s no good reasoning for that, other than it’s another big step and there’s always a chance that big steps will scare someone like Yale off.
He feels bad for thinking that way. He holds Yale in very high regard. Yale wouldn’t react that way. He wants to be serious with Cil. Cil has to remember that.
“I was thinking maybe sometime soon we could have dinner with my dad,” Cil says. “Is that something you’d be interested in?”
“Really?” Yale asks, genuinely peaked.
“Yeah. I worry that if you meet him, it’ll start to feel too serious and you’ll want out.”
Yale frowns, this time much softer and more seriously than the first time. They promised to communicate better. This is Cil communicating his worries, and that’s Yale being grateful but confused.
“Why would I want out?”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Cil says. “It isn’t logical. It’s just how I feel.”
“Yeah,” Yale nods. “I know. I get it. I’d like to meet him.”
“Maybe,” Cill says, sitting back in his seat anxiously. He doesn’t know why he brought it up. He wants to communicate better. Sometimes that means not communicating when he isn’t ready. He shouldn’t mention every little thought that pops into his head. “I don’t know. I only brought it up because I got scared.”
“Scared?”
“Scared you’d wanna leave. I was just making sure you wouldn’t want to leave me if I brought it up.”
“You panic too much,” Yale says with a smile, reaching out to grab his hand and squeeze it. It does calm Cil down. “I move slow but I don’t stop.”
“That doesn’t really make any sense.”
“I - I know. I just meant… I might be hotheaded. And a little unpredictable. But I don’t just - I won’t just bail. And I’m only hotheaded and unpredictable because you say so.”
“No, you’re hotheaded and unpredictable,” Cil grins. “Because you are.”
“I’m not unpredictable,” he counters. “Do you get stressed out that I’m going to do something you aren’t expecting?”
“Sometimes.”
“Ugh,” Yale says, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. Cil is saddened by the loss of warmth when he takes his hand away. “Why?”
“Because I love you enough that I worry,” he says. “I haven’t ever really dated someone this long this seriously. What if I do something wrong?”
“Like what?”
Cil is worried and he does care, but Yale is right. Cil can’t really come up with anything he’d realistically mistake as acceptable when it isn’t. He’s not socially inept. He’s just a nervous guy. A nervous, love-stricken guy.
“What if I threw up on myself in public?”
“What?”
“And then I like, bent over to throw up more and my pants ripped?”
“Stop it,” Yale says, rolling his eyes and taking another sip of his coffee.
“What if I fart on a date?”
“You already fart on dates.”
“I’ve never farted on a date. Not loud enough for you to hear.”
“Well, I’ve heard you fart. I’ve never heard you talk like this, though. You hate putting unflattering images of you in my head.”
“Well now that I realize I want us to make it, I need to start preparing you for the inevitable.”
“Do you throw up on yourself a lot?”
“No, just once.”
“Once?”
“I had stomach flu.”
“That doesn’t count then,” Yale says. “I threw up on vacation last year. You had to hold my hair back.”
Cil remembers. He also looks at the small ponytail Yale’s hair is in right now and remembers how beautiful his boyfriend is. He remembers how he’s the only person he’s ever been able to sit with in complete silence and not feel uncomfortable. Yale comes so easy to him that he actually likes the silence.
“I’d do it again,” he says dreamily. “I’ll always hold your hair back.”
“Romantic,” Yale says. “And yes, that time it was sarcasm.”