Something Like Summer

Dueling with mad magicians, battling possessed beasts, and surviving endless hostile landscapes? Easy. Loving someone you weren't supposed to? That was hard.

He rubbed up against him affectionately before doing the same to Ben. He looked at the pair of them, purred, and hopped back on the couch to continue his nap.

Maybe it would be okay.

Ben turned to point out the painting, but it wasn’t there. Something new hung in its place. In a way, it was the very same piece of art that Tim had given him all those years ago, but realized in his new style. Instead of two hearts, there were now two hands clutching at each other. One was strong with thick fingers, the digits of the other thin and fair. Ben raised his own hand in amazement, recognizing the second as his own. Tim had captured its likeness perfectly.

The hands were bathed in radiant light, incorporating the exact colors of the old painting. This was a message perfected, an expression of what Tim felt for Ben, but this time unhindered by fear and free of uncertainty. Ben stared at it, feeling as though he had finally heard the words from Tim that he had so longed for.

Tim reached over and took Ben’s hand, positioning it in his own so that they matched the painting. “I love you, Benjamin Bentley,” he said. “I should have told you that twelve years ago. I’ve always loved you.”

All his doubts, every fear, even the smallest insecurity inside Ben gave way to the unstoppable, immutable, uncompromising force that is love.

“What now?” Ben asked.

“Now we start over.”

Tim leaned forward for a kiss, eyes dancing with hope and affection. Ben regarded him for a moment, seeing only the cocky teenager he had once dared to love, even though it had always been against the odds. Then Ben closed his eyes and leaned forward.

And so they began again.

“I thought it was really good,” Ben said, grinning when Tim turned bright red.

“I thought for a second that Allison had changed her mind.”

“Where is she anyway?” Ben asked.

“Running an errand for me,” Tim said enigmatically. “Hey, have you seen much of the paintings?”

“A little,” Ben replied, “but a tour from the artist himself would be very informative.”

Tim guided him around the gallery, usually zigzagging from room to room and moving in a counterintuitive fashion. One painting would remind him of another, causing him to drag Ben off in a completely different direction.

Seeing Tim so enthusiastic about his work was amazing. He wasn’t shy at all in front of the large number of people examining his art and listening in on his explanations. Occasionally a bystander would ask a question, which Tim would answer with gusto. This was a stark contrast to the self-depreciative artist who had once kept his paintings locked away in a garage.

“There’s one more piece I’d like to show you,” Tim said. “Something really special to me.”

Ben was led through the gallery to a room not intended for the public, and out a door to the parking lot. Spotting Tim’s car was easy enough. It was the newest, shiniest car there.