standing on the horizon
chapter 1
april 2019
it's been 7 months and they still haven't said it.
i. from cil.
The baristas at Bean and Leaf have gotten to know Cil even better than they already did, because every Saturday from eight a.m. to nine a.m. he shows up to order tea for himself and a coffee for the scraggly boy who follows him in a few minutes later. They know his name is Cecil and that the scraggly boy likes exactly four creams and four sugars in his coffee. They also know they’re grateful to be dealing with Cil rather than the scraggly one; he seems a little volatile. They must also know they’re dating because Cil sits far too close to Yale to be his friend. Plus, friends tend not to kiss on the lips when they say goodbye.
Cil is more tortured this morning than others because he knows he has plans with a partnering firm at nine-thirty, but Yale comes in wearing ripped, black jeans that hug his legs impossibly tight and a red t-shirt that matches the spiked bracelet on his left hand. His hair is getting even longer - just barely missing the tops of his shoulder - and Cil knows now this is less a conscious stylistic choice and more that Yale has leftover habits from making no money, foregoing haircuts being one of them. Cil has offered to pay for him to go to a salon but Yale always looks at him flatly and says, “That’s a little too gay, even for me.”
So Yale sits down with his long hair and spiky bangles and looks up at Cil from beneath his bangs with a grin as he takes his coffee from him. It’s the smile that makes Cil lose it. It’s the smile that he’s in love with.
“You would be a cute barista.”
“You’ve said that before,” Yale says before taking a sip of his still very hot coffee. “Twice now.”
“It’s really true though.”
“Thank you.”
“Get an apron and bean grinder so we can roleplay it.”
“Sure,” Yale shrugs, eyes darting toward the cash register. “I’ll just steal them from here.”
“You sure steal a lot of things.”
Yale bristles at the accusation.
“Hey, I only stole one box of cold medicine and that’s because I hadn’t factored it into my budget since I wasn’t planning on getting sick and it was like, ten years ago, s-”
“Sorry,” Cil laughs. “I know. It’s okay. You don’t have to justify it to me.”
“The only other thing I’ve ever stolen is your heart.”
Cil wants desperately to say it. Every time Yale makes a sarcastic little comment like that. Every time Yale frowns or scowls or looks at Cil like he’s done something wrong. Every time Yale walks in wearing jeans that cling to him like they’re painted on. Cil desperately wants to say it.
But Yale has mentioned it before: he doesn’t say it easily. And he doesn’t want it said to him, either. It’s a major step for him. Cil doesn’t know his dating history that well; they’ve only been together for about seven months, so there’s still a lot about each other they’re learning. And the thing Cil has learned most recently about Yale is that he doesn’t like to say I love you until he knows the relationship is secure.
But Cil doesn’t know what else he could do to prove to Yale that it is.
Everything else is going well, if not surprisingly exceptional. Work is fine. The meeting later today is about finalizing a partnership between Cil’s firm and the one across the street - the one he reached out to one night seven months ago because he was so stressed about not receiving a call from a very cute guy that he made extra work for himself to stay distracted. Yale doesn’t know one of the most major accomplishments in Cil’s work life is indirectly because of him, because Cil doesn’t want him to know. Cil doesn’t think he’d handle it well. Or maybe he’d find it hilarious. Cil can’t always tell with Yale.
More importantly, he contacted his mother a few months ago and started the long, arduous process of reconnecting. He resents still that he had to make the first move, seeing as the ball was always in her court, but he couldn’t stand the idea that she was getting older and it had been ten years since they’d spoken. He’d left his hometown and come to the city just to get away from her, and here he is now, crawling back. But that’s okay. He’s standing his ground, even against her most brutal comments. She still doesn’t accept him as trans, but Cil refuses to back down. And sometimes it’s nice just to hear her voice again. It’s still comforting. She’s still his mother.
Yale never knows what to say about that situation. He listens when Cil rambles and rants, gives thoughtful responses, but they’re never advice and they’re never of much substance. He mostly says, “I’m sorry you have to go through that,” or, “No mom should be like that to their kid.” It’s helpful, though. Knowing that Yale’s mother is the opposite means it’s possible. Some mothers can support their kid, no matter what. Cil’s mother just has to get there.
Which brings up the point that he and Yale are so wild about each other that Cil has already met Yale’s mother - which isn’t that surprising, seeing as she’s the most important person in Yale’s life. They met over dinner at her house and she and Yale moved together so fluidly, in a way Cil never did with his mother, even on their best days together in his childhood. It might have been that night that Cil first realized he was in love. That was the night he first wanted to say it.
But he didn’t. He knew he couldn’t. Everything between them is fine - perfect, even - except for those three little words.
Yale is in front of the window, the horizon line sitting behind him and the sun beaming in around his head, giving him a halo-like effect. It’s fitting, since he really is like an angel to Cil.
The baristas at Bean and Leaf have gotten to know Cil even better than they already did, because every Saturday from eight a.m. to nine a.m. he shows up to order tea for himself and a coffee for the scraggly boy who follows him in a few minutes later. They know his name is Cecil and that the scraggly boy likes exactly four creams and four sugars in his coffee. They also know they’re grateful to be dealing with Cil rather than the scraggly one; he seems a little volatile. They must also know they’re dating because Cil sits far too close to Yale to be his friend. Plus, friends tend not to kiss on the lips when they say goodbye.
Cil is more tortured this morning than others because he knows he has plans with a partnering firm at nine-thirty, but Yale comes in wearing ripped, black jeans that hug his legs impossibly tight and a red t-shirt that matches the spiked bracelet on his left hand. His hair is getting even longer - just barely missing the tops of his shoulder - and Cil knows now this is less a conscious stylistic choice and more that Yale has leftover habits from making no money, foregoing haircuts being one of them. Cil has offered to pay for him to go to a salon but Yale always looks at him flatly and says, “That’s a little too gay, even for me.”
So Yale sits down with his long hair and spiky bangles and looks up at Cil from beneath his bangs with a grin as he takes his coffee from him. It’s the smile that makes Cil lose it. It’s the smile that he’s in love with.
“You would be a cute barista.”
“You’ve said that before,” Yale says before taking a sip of his still very hot coffee. “Twice now.”
“It’s really true though.”
“Thank you.”
“Get an apron and bean grinder so we can roleplay it.”
“Sure,” Yale shrugs, eyes darting toward the cash register. “I’ll just steal them from here.”
“You sure steal a lot of things.”
Yale bristles at the accusation.
“Hey, I only stole one box of cold medicine and that’s because I hadn’t factored it into my budget since I wasn’t planning on getting sick and it was like, ten years ago, s-”
“Sorry,” Cil laughs. “I know. It’s okay. You don’t have to justify it to me.”
“The only other thing I’ve ever stolen is your heart.”
Cil wants desperately to say it. Every time Yale makes a sarcastic little comment like that. Every time Yale frowns or scowls or looks at Cil like he’s done something wrong. Every time Yale walks in wearing jeans that cling to him like they’re painted on. Cil desperately wants to say it.
But Yale has mentioned it before: he doesn’t say it easily. And he doesn’t want it said to him, either. It’s a major step for him. Cil doesn’t know his dating history that well; they’ve only been together for about seven months, so there’s still a lot about each other they’re learning. And the thing Cil has learned most recently about Yale is that he doesn’t like to say I love you until he knows the relationship is secure.
But Cil doesn’t know what else he could do to prove to Yale that it is.
Everything else is going well, if not surprisingly exceptional. Work is fine. The meeting later today is about finalizing a partnership between Cil’s firm and the one across the street - the one he reached out to one night seven months ago because he was so stressed about not receiving a call from a very cute guy that he made extra work for himself to stay distracted. Yale doesn’t know one of the most major accomplishments in Cil’s work life is indirectly because of him, because Cil doesn’t want him to know. Cil doesn’t think he’d handle it well. Or maybe he’d find it hilarious. Cil can’t always tell with Yale.
More importantly, he contacted his mother a few months ago and started the long, arduous process of reconnecting. He resents still that he had to make the first move, seeing as the ball was always in her court, but he couldn’t stand the idea that she was getting older and it had been ten years since they’d spoken. He’d left his hometown and come to the city just to get away from her, and here he is now, crawling back. But that’s okay. He’s standing his ground, even against her most brutal comments. She still doesn’t accept him as trans, but Cil refuses to back down. And sometimes it’s nice just to hear her voice again. It’s still comforting. She’s still his mother.
Yale never knows what to say about that situation. He listens when Cil rambles and rants, gives thoughtful responses, but they’re never advice and they’re never of much substance. He mostly says, “I’m sorry you have to go through that,” or, “No mom should be like that to their kid.” It’s helpful, though. Knowing that Yale’s mother is the opposite means it’s possible. Some mothers can support their kid, no matter what. Cil’s mother just has to get there.
Which brings up the point that he and Yale are so wild about each other that Cil has already met Yale’s mother - which isn’t that surprising, seeing as she’s the most important person in Yale’s life. They met over dinner at her house and she and Yale moved together so fluidly, in a way Cil never did with his mother, even on their best days together in his childhood. It might have been that night that Cil first realized he was in love. That was the night he first wanted to say it.
But he didn’t. He knew he couldn’t. Everything between them is fine - perfect, even - except for those three little words.
Yale is in front of the window, the horizon line sitting behind him and the sun beaming in around his head, giving him a halo-like effect. It’s fitting, since he really is like an angel to Cil.