Jason’s never felt more like a dumbass hick than when he first arrives in New York. The buildings are all so goddamn tall, and the people are all rushing around looking pissed, and this is all shit he's seen in every movie and TV show ever set in New York but it still trips him out. Everyone seems like they know exactly what they’re meant to be doing, and he couldn’t be more obviously a tourist, wearing cargo shorts and lugging around a beat up duffel.

  He spends fifteen minutes wandering the station, trying to find the pce Eddie said they should meet. With everything that’s gone down in the two years since Eddie left Walterville, it’d be nice to make a good first impression. To feel like he’s got his shit together at least a little.

  Eventually he gives up and texts Eddie for directions. Eddie's waiting by a newsstand near the men's room, and Jason almost doesn't recognise him.

  Eddie doesn’t look how Jason remembered. He’s dressed too nice, fancy for no reason, like the rest of the New York crowd. Eddie never cared about clothes, not guy clothes, anyway, and it’s weird to see him looking so put together, in a ste-grey coat over a corded sweater.

  Eddie grins when he sees him, “Jason! Long time no see, man.”

  “Hey, buddy,” says Jason.

  “We can get a cab back to my pce,” says Eddie, already heading for the street. There’s no time to waste in New York, or maybe Eddie just wants privacy to reconnect. “You cool with sleeping on the couch?”

  There’s a part of Jason, a part that’s been lying in wait for the past two years, that thought maybe they’d be sharing a bed. It was a long shot, especially after the way things ended, that st conversation they had, before Eddie left and Jason got banned from Applebee’s for putting a hole in the drywall. But then again it had seemed like a long shot that they would ever talk again at all.

  People don’t come back into your life after you fuck things up. Or, alright, sometimes they do, but it’s never the same. Jason knows that real well, after a lifetime of fucking up. You can get with the same girl again but she’ll never trust you like she did the first time. You can hang out with a friend you screwed over but you’ll never be as close.

  Jason’s not even sure, honestly, what he was hoping for when he replied to Eddie’s message. If he wasn’t drinking that night maybe he would’ve known better. But he’s been drinking a lot tely, home alone, scrolling through MySpace, sending friend requests to girls he barely knows. He’d seen Eddie’s profile dozens of times, that bck-and-white dispy pic with his location set to New York City. He spent way too much time lingering on that page, waiting to see if Eddie was online, debating whether he should send him a friend request or just accept that their retionship was over for good.

  In the end it was Eddie who messaged him, asking if he wanted to come visit. It was so unexpected, so random that at first Jason thought maybe Eddie got hacked or something. People don’t come back into your life. But it was Eddie, even if it was a more confident, direct Eddie than Jason could remember.

  “I’m fine with the couch,” says Jason, “Although I might not be spending the night all that often.”

  Eddie ughs as he fgs down a cab, “Well, try not to fuck too many of my friends, man. I’d like to still have a social life by the time you go back to Walterville.”

  “No promises,” Jason smirks.

  A yellow taxi pulls up next to them, just like the movies. Eddie gestures to the driver and pops the trunk so Jason can toss his bag inside. He shrugs off that ste-grey coat and folds it over his arm, then reaches up to close the trunk. He stops, slender fingers tense against the metal.

  “You good?” Jason asks.

  “I’m good,” Eddie says slowly, “I’m, uh. I’m gd you came, man.”

  “Yeah. I mean,” Jason shrugs, “Lot of hot girls in New York. Be a shame if they missed out.”

  Eddie ughs, slips his fingers off the trunk and clutches Jason in a tight hug. Under the sweater, his body feels like a bunch of wire hangers all bound together. Jason wraps an arm around him, and Eddie softens, ever so slightly, then pulls back and sms the trunk closed.

  “C’mon,” Eddie grins, “I wanna show you the city.”

  ***

  Tension is already high at the start of the third inning, and then Perez whiffs a pitch directly into Cody Ross’s thigh, and now the Marlins are up by two. The crowd boos.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the New York Mets,” Eddie groans.

  That first night was all bars, a blur of drinks and music and greasy street food. The next day Eddie had work, and left Jason to drag himself to the Empire State Building, and Times Square, and all the other shit he felt obligated to see. Today’s a Mets game, with a bunch of Eddie’s work friends. They’ve barely had time to talk.

  “We need this motherfucker in Iraq sniping Al Qaeda,” says the guy on Eddie’s left, “Oliver fuckin’ DEADSHOT PEREZ!”

  Eddie guffaws and smacks the guy on the back. His name is Kyle or Chris or something, it’s hard to keep track. There are ten people in Eddie’s little baseball friend group, and Jason’s mostly been focused on the girls.

  They’re stunning, all of them, even Kelly, who’s a little mousey, and Erin, who could lose a few pounds. Something about New York girls is just different. Maybe it’s the clothes again, or the hair or something. Different makeup. Even here, in the cheap seats of Shea Stadium, sculling warm beer out of flimsy pstic cups, they look elevated in a way the girls back home usually don’t. More put together. Mature. Real grown ups, not high school kids in their twenties.

  Jason can’t meet them on that level, but he’s working the homespun charm as hard as he can, and he’s making inroads.

  “You girls can’t be accountants, right?” he says, “I’m thinking model, model, and Heather, you gotta be an actress or something.”

  Erin pantomimes throwing up and Heather flips him off, “Criminal. Lock him up.”

  Jason holds his wide-eyed, helpless look just long enough to worry them, then breaks it into a smirk. Kelly boos, louder than she did for Perez.

  “I’m just saying, Eddie didn’t tell me he works with a bunch of tens,” he says, “I woulda worn cologne.”

  “You do smell like shit,” Kelly agrees, and Jason groans like he’s been cut to the bone. The girls snicker, and Kelly shifts a little closer. People underestimate vulnerability as a pickup technique. He sips his beer and lets his other hand drift a little closer along the back of their seats. Kelly’s good. He’ll take Kelly.

  “What do you do for work, Jason?” Erin asks.

  He shrugs, “Sales.”

  “Bee-to-bee or consumer?” she asks.

  “Little of everything,” Jason says, like he knows what the fuck she means .The real answer is minivans, and maybe not for much longer. That’s not an answer for girls, though. There’s a point where vulnerable meets pathetic.

  Down on the field, Perez thwacks Mike Jacobs in the shoulder and Ugg trots dutifully over to home pte, bringing the score to 4-1. There’s a roar of disgust from the crowd, Eddie’s bitter ughter ringing out over it all.

  “Historical fucking colpse, oh my god,” Heather groans.

  Erin leans over and whispers something to Kelly, who ughs, but it’s the bad kinda ugh. The kinda ugh that means maybe it’s gonna have to be Heather instead. That’s cool, Heather’s the hottest of them anyway, besides Zara, but Zara’s been glued to her boyfriend and probably isn’t an option.

  “So,” Kelly says with a wicked smile, “What was Ed like in high school, Jason?”

  “Were you two just,” Erin juts out her chin, making her voice deep and bro-y, “Crushing puss together?”

  Jason ughs, but he sneaks a look at Eddie to see how he reacts. Before he can even get a sense for it though, Eddie’s leaning into the conversation, chiming in with a roguish grin.

  “Jason was,” Eddie says, slinging his arm casually around Jason’s shoulder, “Did he tell you about senior prom yet?”

  Jason stares at him for a second, but clearly Eddie’s not talking about that part of the senior prom thing. The girls are intrigued and Eddie powers on like it never crossed his mind.

  “Jason was a real dies' man back in high school,” he says, “Not the thoughtful and sensitive guy he is now, obviously. And in senior year, he got into some trouble with this cheerleader he was supposed to be taking to prom, and all the girls in our grade made a pact not to go out with him.”

  The girls erupt into scandalised ughter. Eddie grins, and Jason notices his teeth are yellowing, “Like fucking Lysistrata.”

  Erin shrieks at that, so apparently it’s funny. Jason shrugs sheepishly, “I learned a little something about feminism that day.”

  “He’s come a long way,” Eddie cps him on the shoulder, “He’s a good guy. Pain in the ass, sometimes. But a real good guy.”

  Jason genuinely isn’t sure what the fuck that was supposed to be. Eddie’s never been his wingman, but he’s never tried to cockblock him before either. Usually when Jason talked to girls, Eddie just stayed quiet. He certainly didn’t take the lead.

  “I’m gonna run to the dies,” says Heather, a wry smile dancing on her lips, “Ladies?”

  The three of them take off, giggling amongst themselves, and for a fsh there's a tint of high school over their big city maturity. Jason gives Eddie a look.

  “Pain in the ass sometimes?” he says.

  Eddie’s smile is tight, “I told you not to fuck my friends, man.”

  “I can’t have one?” Jason pouts.

  Eddie ughs, “Fuck, you haven’t changed.”

  He’s right, is the thing. It’s devastatingly fucking obvious how little Jason has changed, especially when Eddie’s changed so much.

  He doesn’t even look like the same guy. And it’s definitely not just the clothes, Jason’s noticed the other differences more and more over the past couple days. Eddie’s lost weight, which is nuts, cause Jason wouldn’t’ve thought he had any left to lose. But he can see Eddie’s colrbone jutting out even through a sweater, his wrists like twigs, his cheeks all hollow. His skin looks dry and weathered, and his hairline’s pulled way back at the temples and is clearly thinning out up top. Somehow he's aged a lot more than two years.

  Despite it all he's so goddamn confident. The confidence of knowing that he has nothing to prove, maybe. He's got a real job, a bunch of grown-up friends, and his own pce in the big city, even if it's a tiny studio apartment. And he did it all without Jason. As long as Jason can remember, it was always the two of them, Jason taking lead and Eddie following meekly behind. Not that Eddie wasn't great, wasn't smart and funny and cute, but they each had their own role. Eddie turns back to talk to Kyle-Chris, gesturing boldly down at the pitch, cracking jokes about the pitcher.

  Kelly called him Ed.

  Jason might fucking hate Ed.

  ***

  Lih Werner is just a short subway ride from Eddie’s pce, and unlike Eddie they've actually kept in touch. She was one of the first girls Jason friended when he got MySpace, and he was pretty psyched with what he saw. Every other day Lih posts a picture of herself looking hot as fuck in a slutty club outfit, somehow totally casual wearing something that would get her arrested if she tried it back home. New York girls, seriously.

  The downside is the music Lih has on her profile, which is some kind of insane, bass-heavy, brain-melting techno shit. Jason’s an open-minded guy, but he's pretty sure music isn't meant to sound like a dial-up modem being drowned.

  It turns out she makes it herself.

  “What do you think?” Lih raises a razor-thin eyebrow.

  Jason pulls off the headphones and nods thoughtfully, “Shit, Lih, that is… I mean, it's undescribable.”

  “Uh-huh,” Lih smirks, “Well, do your best, Jason.”

  “That was…” Jason pauses. The move here is to lie. A girl shows you her art, no matter how bad it is, and you tell her it's incredible, or else you might as well just call it there.

  Lih’s not like most girls, though.

  “I fucking hated it,” Jason admits.

  Lih cackles and spins away in her chair, “Perfect. If you got it at all, I would be devastated. I might as well switch to pop.”

  “Gd I can help,” Jason says.

  Lih busies herself at the computer, doing something complicated in a program Jason doesn't recognise. The studio is full of stuff he doesn't recognise, tangles of wire wrapped around equipment you probably need a four-year degree to understand. Lih is completely at home, buzzing from machine to machine with ease.

  Jason’s pretty good at reading women though, and although Lih’s movements are effortlessly casual, he can tell she's preening. She wants to show off how smart she is, to remind him that even though she responded to his hey, I’m in town this week message, she’s not just some empty-headed slut. Jason grins. Lih’s not that different to other girls.

  “You sure it’s okay that I’m in here?” he says, with a little awe in his voice, “This equipment looks pretty expensive.”

  “Oh, it is,” Lih says airily. She’s got one headphone on, adjusting the audio on some workpce safety video. She fshes a smirk at Jason, “But they let me do whatever I want in here, as long as I get my work done. Except smoke, fuckers.”

  “Shit, Lih,” Jason says, “I didn’t realise you were such a big deal.”

  Lih purses her lips, but he can see the pink in her cheeks. He oversold it a little, but it’s still working. Jason runs his finger along a soundboard and whistles, and Lih bursts out ughing.

  “You’re such a fucking whore,” she says, “Yes, Jason, I’m going to fuck you tonight. Please try not to jizz all over my studio in the next ten minutes.”

  Jason forgot just how straightforward Lih can be. He likes it, though, especially after whatever the fuck has been going on with Eddie all week.

  It’s been a weird trip. Not a total bust – he did end up going back to Heather’s pce after the game, and there was another girl in a club bathroom, and one more at the party st night, even if that was just third base. The party was a housewarming for a friend of a friend of Eddie’s, and Jesus, who woulda thought Eddie would ever be the one inviting him to parties? Everyone there was so old, too. Or at least they felt old, talking about politics and mortgages. Eddie had been chatting along like he was born for it, and if he noticed Jason had no idea what the fuck they were talking about, he didn’t seem to care. Eventually Jason retreated to the kitchen and met Annaleigh, wine drunk and pushing forty, and that at least he could keep up with. With his fingers, anyway, since his fucking cock bitched out on him again.

  Weird night. Weird hookup. Lih’s way more his speed. And fuck, she’s hot. He could swear her tits are bigger than st time, and from what Lih’s told him about hormones, they genuinely might be. She’s not slutted up for the club tonight, but she’s no less attractive in dark jeans and a tight band tee, and she’s still got that goth makeup that makes her look dark and severe and does stuff to Jason’s cock. She’s dyed some blue into her hair, too, and cut it short and jagged. She looks like a stereotype of a man-hating liberal feminazi, but it only makes her hotter. The idea that someone so clearly inclined to hate him actually wants him? It feels good. Really good.

  Cool it, cool it.

  “Hey, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, “I’m just here to catch up. I thought you might wanna know what was going on back in Walterville.”

  “Oh, I’m sure,” Lih smirks, still working away at her files, “How’s your mom?”

  That’s a low blow, even if Lih doesn’t know exactly how low. His mom’s come up a couple times in their MySpace conversations, and Lih knows they’re not close, but she doesn’t know the new stuff.

  “She’s great,” Jason says, “She’s been bugging me to settle down with a nice Jewish transsexual girl.”

  Lih snickers, “Too bad I’m not nice. Anything else I should know about?”

  Jason shrugs, “New pothole on Main Street. Bleachers at school fell down. Nick had a kid.” He sees the ck of recognition on Lih’s face and offers, “Nick Spencer. White guy on the b-ball team.”

  Lih tilts her head, scanning her memories, “Skinny guy? Kinda quiet?”

  “Nah, that’s Eddie,” says Jason, “I’m crashing at his pce, actually. Unless you want company.”

  “God, so clingy,” Lih grins, “We’ll see. My friend has a set at midnight, and I don’t know if it’s gonna be your scene. So which one was Nick?”

  Jason gestures vaguely, “Big guy. Team captain.”

  “I thought you were team captain.”

  “JV. Then Nick took over.”

  “Hmm,” Lih muses, “Is this the kinda guy who would’ve called me a faggot?”

  Jason winces, “Probably, yeah.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be a great dad,” Lih says. She shuts down her computer, then frowns, “You okay? Seems like something’s bugging you.”

  “I'm good.”

  “Not a fan of small talk?” Lih teases.

  “Just not much to talk about, I guess,” says Jason.

  Lih bites her lip, dark-rimmed eyes stricken with concern. Jason’s stomach squirms a little. He's not in the mood to be babied, not after such a weird few days.

  “You don't have to act so cool, you know,” Lih says, “I already like you. If there's something you wanna talk about…”

  There's not, there's really not, at least nothing he can get into without totally ruining any chance of a fulfilling night. But fuck, he’s clearly let enough slip that he's gonna need to offer something.

  “Work's been kinda weird,” says Jason, “My uncle’s selling the dealership, so, y'know, big changes. Gonna be weird with the new management.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Lih nods, her bck lips twisting sympathetically, “I'm sorry, Jason. That's tough.”

  Jason sighs, casting his eyes down like a sad little kid, even though he’s secretly psyched Lih didn't ask why Pedro’s selling.

  “It's real tough,” he pouts, “I guess… man, I guess there's only one thing that would cheer me up.”

  “Oh my god,” Lih groans, “Okay, hint taken. Come on, big guy. My house is three blocks away, if you can walk that far with a hard-on.”

  “I dunno,” Jason gnces around the studio, “You said you can do whatever you want in here, right?”

  Lih ughs and shakes her head with a wicked grin, “Trust me, Jason. The things I’m gonna do to you, we’re gonna want some privacy.”

  ***

  It's Jason's st night in New York, and he still doesn't know what the fuck is going on.

  When Eddie invited Jason to visit, he said a lot of shit about wanting to hang out, catch up, reminisce about old times. He's been here a week now and it feels like they’ve barely spoken.

  Eddie spends most of the day at work, cause he’s got a real job, the type that won't give him a week off on short notice so he can hang out with his buddy from high school. He works te, too, and even when they did hang out it was always with other people around, Eddie’s friends or coworkers or just the constant crowds everywhere in this fucking city. There’s a million people in New York and the pce isn't big enough for half of them.

  The only time they're alone together is when they're here, in Eddie’s crappy little apartment. And shit, is it little. There's a tiny bathroom tucked off on the side, and besides that it's all just one room, kitchen and living room and bedroom all crammed together between the same four walls. Eddie’s making dinner, and Jason’s on the couch, and if he leaned over far enough he could touch him.

  Somehow he still feels distant.

  “I dunno if I mentioned it, Eddie,” Jason says, “But this pce is great. I always wanted to live somewhere where you could touch all the walls at the same time.”

  Eddie ughs drily, not looking up, “Yeah, that's New York for you. Most people share a pce like this with a roommate.”

  “Jesus,” Jason leans back on the couch, watching Eddie intently, “I thought our old pce was a shithole.”

  He can only see Eddie’s back from here, his narrow shoulders hunched over the stove. It's enough to read him, or it would've been two years ago. Back then Jason could tell exactly what Eddie was thinking just from his body, from the way his muscles tensed when he spoke. But his muscles don't tense like that now.

  Or maybe he's always tense.

  “Honestly, man, I was lucky to get this pce,” Eddie says casually. There's a sizzle as he flips the steaks in the pan, “You shoulda seen my st apartment. The whole building was full of roaches and crackheads.”

  “Okay, yeah,” Jason nods, “This is an upgrade.”

  “Uh-huh,” says Eddie.

  Jason drums his fingers impatiently on the arm of the couch. This has been every fucking conversation since he got here, shallow and stalling out. So the girl stuff is in the past, he gets that, even if it's a disappointment, a real fucking disappointment. But shit, they used to be best friends. This new version of Eddie feels like a stranger. Why did he make Jason come all this way if this is all it was gonna be?

  “Sorry I've been so busy,” Eddie says lightly, still working away at the stove, “I’m gunning for a promotion, so I gotta put extra hours in.”

  “Good for you, man,” says Jason.

  “My friends like you,” Eddie says, and his voice is still casual, light, disaffected, “And Annaleigh from work seems to like you a lot.”

  Jason feigns offence, “Eddie, come on. She’s old enough to be my mother.”

  “Sure, sure,” Eddie smirks, “Heather wants to see you again, but I know that's not how you do things.”

  “Maybe if I'm ever back in New York,” says Jason.

  “Yeah, that’d be good,” says Eddie, “It's been good to catch up.”

  Jason ughs out loud at that, before he can stop himself.

  You know what? Fuck it.

  “Hey, did I tell you?” he says, “My mom’s in rehab.”

  Eddie freezes, his spatu scraping against the pan, “What?”

  “Yeah, and turns out that shit is expensive,” says Jason, “Too expensive for me to fucking cover it, so my uncle sold the dealership and I'm probably getting fired soon.”

  Eddie turns, his brow furrowed with concern, “Shit, man. I'm sorry.”

  Jason shrugs, “Probably wasn't gonna be around much longer anyway. He promoted this new guy to manager. Guy’s been there one year. I've been there since high school and I'm his fucking nephew.”

  He's not even doing anything with this. There's no purpose behind it, no response he’s looking for from Eddie. He's just letting the words fall out, letting all the gross dark oily shit that’s been gathering in his belly for the st two years flow out of his mouth like vomit. If shit’s over between him and Eddie, what does he have to lose?

  “Jason…” Eddie says softly.

  “Fuck, man, I mean I fucking get it,” Jason says, and his voice catches, for real, and his eyes feel hot, “I’m a fuck up, I get it. You were always the smart one, and shit, look at you now. I thought, fuck, I don't know, you brought me out here cause you needed help or something, but I get it. I get it. You're doing great, man, you're killing it. All I ever did was hold you back and I'm fucking sorry, man.”

  There's a ctter as Eddie drops the spatu and then he's there on the couch, by Jason's side, ying a slender hand on his shoulder.

  “You're not a fuck-up, Jason,” Eddie says gently.

  Jason squeezes his eyes tight and steadies his breath.

  “Jesus,” he ughs, “Sorry, I dunno where that came from.”

  Eddie doesn't let go of his shoulder, “It's okay, Jason. It's okay.”

  There's something in his voice, a softness, a subtle, breathy quality, and suddenly all the shit that Jason was freaking out about feels miles away. He opens his eyes and looks at Eddie. His face is gaunt and sunken, with thinning hair and pale, pitted skin. But his pale blue eyes are full of warmth.

  “Why'd you ask me to visit you, Eddie?” Jason says.

  He's expecting to have to push, but to his surprise Eddie's face falls immediately, and his shoulders colpse, and the cool, confident man Jason’s spent the st week resenting crumbles away in an instant.

  “I can't do this,” Eddie whimpers, “I'm not great. I feel awful, all the time. I thought if I got away from you I… I wouldn't need it anymore. But I can't fucking do this! I’m trying so hard to be a man but I can't, Jason, I can't, it hurts. I feel sick all the time, and I hate myself, and I… I want to be a woman.”

  Eddie buries his face in his hands and cries. Jason is stunned.

  “I want to be a woman,” Eddie chokes out, “And I can’t, I fucking can't, I know that. I'm not Chris Werner. I can't be pretty like him. Maybe I could, once, but I left it too te, and I'm going bald, and my shoulders are too wide, and I'm so fucking ugly now. At my old pce, there was this drag queen, this ugly old man with missing teeth, and he wore this awful wig and… and I can't be like that, Jason, I can't be a tranny, I can't be some faggot freak for people to ugh at, but it's that or just keep being a man and I can't do it, I can't. I'm not strong enough, it's going to kill me, and I don't know what to do.”

  His shoulders are shaking now, his fragile bony body wracked with sobs, and Jason doesn’t know what the fuck to do either. He wanted to crack the facade, and way to go, asshole, mission accomplished. But he wasn't expecting this.

  “Eddie,” he says, and Eddie cries harder, “Eddie, look at me.”

  Eddie looks up shakily, his face red and blotchy, streaked with tears. He’s right, honestly. Eddie was pretty, once, years ago, but there's no trace of that soft feminine beauty left in his withered face, just harsh angles and pimply skin and strands of thinning hair pstered to his forehead.

  But his eyes are still as soft and blue as ever, and Jason gazes into them and realises he does know what to do, actually. As fucked up as this is, deep down, Eddie’s just a girl who’s upset cause she doesn’t feel pretty. Jason knows how to handle that.

  “You're so beautiful,” he lies, and he cups Eddie's cheek in his hand and kisses him.

  Eddie whimpers and falls against him immediately, wrapping his arms around Jason's shoulders with needy desperation. He kisses Jason back frantically, like a drowning man gasping for air. It's artless, even pathetic, but Jason tries not to let the pity show. Eddie needs him. He can do this for him. Hell, he’s fucked ugly girls before. Jason runs a hand down Eddie’s back, stroking softly along the jagged protrusions of his spine. Fuck, man, Eddie was always skinny but this is like making out with a skeleton. Jason bites down his revulsion and lifts Eddie onto his p. Eddie sniffs and crushes himself tight against Jason’s chest.

  “I'm sorry,” Eddie whispers, “I know I'm not…”

  “It's okay,” Jason rubs his back again, “You got any girl stuff? Clothes, or makeup…”

  Eddie shakes his head, nuzzling closer to Jason's shoulder.

  “I had some, but I threw it out,” he says miserably, “And then I bought more, and I threw it out again. Over and over and over.”

  “It's okay,” Jason says again, and he squeezes Eddie, delicately, in case his frail body caves in from the pressure, “It's okay, baby. You don't need it.”

  Eddie chokes out a bitter ugh and Jason grins. He can work with that. He pnts a kiss on Eddie's head, through his thinning hair, and murmurs into his ear.

  “I'm serious, Eddie,” he says, “Fuck makeup. You don't need it. You're beautiful enough already.”

  “I'm not,” Eddie whispers.

  “You are, baby,” says Jason, “Fuck, you've been driving me crazy since I got to New York. Since I saw you at the station. I just wanted to rip your clothes off you.”

  “No you didn't,” Eddie hisses, and Jason can feel his little hands clenched into fists, balled-up tangles of bones pressed against his chest. Jason hooks a finger under Eddie's chin and tilts his head up, gazes intently into those tearful blue eyes.

  Eddie doesn't believe him, and yeah, why should he? He's not an idiot. He knows what he looks like. But if Jason pushes this far enough he can make himself believe it, and then it might as well be true.

  “Eddie, the only reason I came out here is because I want to fuck you so bad,” he says.

  Eddie stares at him, his face creased with worry, and Jason looks right back, willing his eyes to be open and innocent and wanting. Eddie searches him, and his mouth opens, a question forming on his lips, and then he stops and says, “Do you smell that?”

  Jason frowns, then Eddie turns his head and groans. Jason follows his gaze to the whisp of smoke rising from the stove.

  “Woops,” he ughs.

  “Oh, fucking hell,” Eddie whines, “I'm sorry, Jason, fuck…”

  “Hey, it's okay,” Jason catches his arm as he goes to stand, and pulls him back to the couch, “I got this, pretty dy. You wait here for me.”

  Eddie huffs, but wriggles off Jason’s p and balls up on the couch, hugging his knees to his chest. He eyes Jason warily, and Jason smiles back as coolly as he can manage as he walks the yard and a half to the kitchen. He turns off the stove and brings the pan to the window, waving the smoke out as best as he can. The whole time, his mind is racing.

  He’s not gonna be able to get hard for this.

  Eddie needs this, he can see that as clear as day. He doesn't know why, exactly – although he has theories, half-buried ideas he got from talking to Lih – but Eddie’s in crisis, and he needs someone to fuck him out of it. That’s a service Jason is usually more than happy to provide. He's done it a dozen times, with cougars in mid-life crisis, and married women feeling trapped, and church girls questioning the whole saving it for marriage thing. Jason’s no therapist but there's at least one thing he’s good for.

  But he's never fucked a dude.

  Okay, yeah, that's obviously not true. Or maybe it is, kinda? Lih says she was always a woman, even when she was Chris, so if Eddie’s like her… but either way, it was different before, when Eddie was soft and cute and had at least some amount of ass. It was easy to see him as a girl, easy to see the beauty in him. The way he looks now, it's gonna be more of a challenge, which means Jason might not be able to perform, which, fuck, that's the st thing Eddie needs.

  He's gonna have to do his best. He tries to summon memories of their other times together, which is easy enough, cause it's not like he hasn't done it before. Hot Eddies swirl through his mind – kneeling in front of him in lingerie, her eyes heavy with mascara and lust. Bending over a table in a short skirt, showing off her small, peachy butt. All dressed up for prom, swaying gracefully to music in the dim light of her parents’ basement.

  Yeah. He can do this.

  The smoke’s cleared up, and now Jason's mostly waving away air. The steaks are burnt and grey, so he tips the pan and lets them tumble fourteen stories to the alleyway below.

  “Jason!” Eddie yelps.

  “Baby, those were inedible,” Jason says as he tosses the pan in the sink.

  Eddie pouts up at him, “You can't just toss them out the window, you psycho.”

  “It’s okay, I saw two dogs having a date down there,” says Jason, “They’ll eat em up. Probably have a little smooch.”

  Eddie snorts, then covers his face, embarrassed, “So stupid.”

  “Yeah,” Jason flops on the couch next to Eddie with a grin, “But how am I meant to think straight when I got the most beautiful girl in the world right in front of me?”

  Eddie hunches himself away but Jason can see his cheeks glowing red. He peels away Eddie’s hands and kisses him on the cheek, again and again, until Eddie gives in and offers him his lips, unravels the tight knot of his body, and lets Jason y him back along the couch.

  There's something feminine there, in the way Eddie lies helplessly underneath him, gazing up at Jason with anxious desire in his eyes. If he was dressed different, maybe, if he wasn't in the same button-up and scks he wore to the office, the illusion would be easier to complete. Jason strokes Eddie's cheek and kisses him some more, trying and failing to get hard.

  It isn't working. That's okay. He can figure something out. He could jerk Eddie off, maybe, or… maybe he could even suck his dick. He's pretty sure neither of them want that, though. He stalls some more, pnting soft kisses on Eddie’s neck.

  “God, Jason,” Eddie breathes, “I missed you so much.”

  Jason pauses, his lips hovering a breath from Eddie’s skin, “Yeah?”

  Eddie opens her eyes, gssy with tears, “So much. I thought about you every day.”

  Jason kisses her, hot and passionate and deep, pressing himself hard between her legs. His cock surges, nearly bursting through his fly, trying to bury itself in the beautiful woman underneath him.

  Fuck, what was he thinking? This is Eddie, beautiful perfect Eddie. Who gives a shit if she lost some weight, or her hair looks a little shitty? She’s still his girl.

  Eddie moans softly and pushes her hips up against his cock. Jason grabs her by the waist, so tiny and fragile, and grinds against her, coaxing little gasps from Eddie’s lips, swallowing them up as he kisses her again and again. Fuck, she's been waiting for him, wasting away in this shitty apartment until she couldn't help but beg for him to come back. Two years and she never moved on.

  “I gotta fuck you,” he growls, his voice ragged with desire, “Get your fucking clothes off now, baby.”

  Eddie obeys eagerly, wriggling off the couch and unwrapping her tight little body for him. Jesus, she's even thinner than he thought. He can make out every bone in her body, bulging grotesquely against translucent papery skin. He ignores it, focusing on her face, on the desperate needy lust in her eyes. He sits back on the couch and watches her strip for him.

  “Jason…” Eddie blushes.

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “You're looking at me,” she says mely.

  Jason just grins at her, and Eddie smiles shyly and slips out of her pants. Her hands hover at the waistband of her shorts, conflicted, until Jason gets up and joins her. He finds her hand with his own and helps her pull her boxers down, freeing herself.

  “I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers again.

  “You should be,” says Jason, “Making me wait so long to see your beautiful body. You’re such a fucking tease, Eddie.”

  Eddie tries to protest but gives up quickly when Jason kisses her again. He lowers her to the bed and she gazes up at him adoringly as he strips off his clothes. Jason runs his eyes over Eddie’s willing naked body and pauses.

  It's not the first time he's seen Eddie's cock, of course. It's kinda cute, honestly, that little pink head bobbing so eagerly as Eddie gazes up at him. Not all girls get wet right away but Eddie always does, little dewdrops leaking down her pale shaft. It's cute. But that's not what makes him pause.

  “Huh,” he says.

  Eddie looks anxious, “What's wrong?”

  “You, uh,” Jason points vaguely at Eddie’s curly blonde bush, “You didn't wax.”

  Eddie frowns, “Why would I wax?”

  “Cause you're a girl,” Jason says.

  Eddie huffs, but she can't hold back the little pleased smile at being called a girl.

  “Not all girls wax, Jason,” she says primly.

  “Excuse me,” Jason ughs, “I didn't realise you were such a feminist. You gonna burn your bras next?”

  “Fuck you,” Eddie giggles.

  “Yeah, you're right,” Jason leans over her, running a finger up Eddie's body, brushing through that little bush and tracing a path up to her chest, “Burn em. I'm being sexist. And besides…” His finger catches on Eddie's nipple, and he circles it teasingly, “That way I can py with your sweet little titties whenever I want.”

  Eddie's breath catches in her throat, “Jason…”

  Jason pinches her nipple gently, rubbing it between his finger and thumb, “I swear these used to be bigger, baby. You haven't been eating enough.”

  Eddie grimaces and looks away. Jason shakes his head, “You punishing me, baby? You know I love your sexy little body, so you’re starving it away?”

  “I'm not…” Eddie starts, but Jason cuts her off with another kiss. She melts into his arms again, her body as soft as it can be.

  “You gotta start eating properly, Eddie,” Jason says softly, “For me? I can't see you like this. It hurts.”

  Eddie tenses up, but she eventually whispers, “I’ll try.”

  “Thank you, baby,” Jason kisses her again, sweetly, softly, and then pulls back and gazes at her with puppy dog eyes, “And you'll get rid of your bush, right? That hurts too.”

  Eddie ughs out loud, “You're such an asshole.”

  “And you missed me every day,” Jason grins.

  “I did,” Eddie admits with a sad smile, "I must be crazy.”

  “They should lock us up,” Jason says, and then he kisses her again, and that's all there is. So simple. Just kissing, just two warm bodies rubbing together, all of Jason's fuck ups left in the past where they belong.

  Eddie clings tight, with all her arms and legs, like she's terrified she’ll lose him if she lets go. Her own little cock is nothing, pulsing weakly against Jason’s hot iron. It takes a few whispered questions and some brief preparation and then Jason's fingers are inside her, soaking in the familiar heat. Fuck she's tight though, tense and tender from ck of practice, basically a virgin again. Jason takes things slow, easing Eddie into it with gentle words and soft touches and long, luxurious breaks to kiss and stroke and rest his forehead against hers. And eye contact, man, the eye contact. That's not always part of sex but Eddie’s eyes are so bright, so adoring, so inviting, and he happily loses himself in them while he looses his fingers in her asshole.

  “Jason,” Eddie whimpers, “I think I'm ready.”

  “You sure, baby?” Jason says gently, “I don't wanna hurt you."

  For a moment Eddie’s expression darkens at that, but then it clears and she says, “Just fuck me already, come on.”

  Jason ughs and obeys, pressing his cock inside her tight little hole with firm, careful pressure. Eddie is squeezing tight – her eyes shut fast as she lets out little huffs, her legs locked around Jason's waist so he can't pull out, and her pussy gripping him like a vice. It feels different. She seriously has no ass now, and it seems like it's more of a strain for her, like her sickly little body is struggling to keep up. But she’s still Eddie, and she keeps kissing him, keeps making her sweet little noises until his cock is seated deep inside her, right where he belongs.

  Eddie feels Jason’s body press against her and sighs with satisfaction, “Yessss.”

  “Good girl,” Jason murmurs, “Fuck, that feels good.”

  “Mmm,” Eddie purrs in agreement, “Missed this…”

  “You shouldn't have left.”

  Eddie bites her lip. Jason tries to withdraw his cock, but she's gripping him too fiercely, so instead he just pulses it into her, thumping her into the mattress, forcing little grunts from her as her eyes go wide and spacey.

  “You shouldn't have left," Jason says again, and now Eddie’s loosening up, now he can move his hips, can really thrust into her the way she likes. “You know you need this.”

  “Ahhh,” Eddie gasps, “Uh-huh…”

  Jason palms her ft chest, fucking her harder and harder. Eddie's breath is a mess of high-pitched moans, like sweet music in his ears.

  “You're gonna come back,” Jason grunts, “You’re gonna come back home, and you're gonna let me fuck you whenever I want. You're made for this.”

  “Mhm,” Eddie nods up at him desperately, or maybe that's just her head shaking from the force of Jason pounding her.

  “Say it, Eddie," he hisses, angling his hips to hammer her prostate, drinking in the squeaks and groans that pour helplessly from her lips as he pushes her to the edge, “Say you'll come home."

  “I, I, I…” Eddie gasps. Her brittle nails dig into Jason's shoulders so hard they might snap. There's something in her face, beneath the pain and pleasure, and her eyes are gssy with tears again.

  “Say it,” Jason growls.

  “I can't,” Eddie whimpers, and her hips buck desperately. Jason feels a spray of heat against his belly, and Eddie’s poor little ass spasms around his cock. He lets go and floods her with his cum.

  He kisses Eddie on the forehead and murmurs more sweet talk into her ear, but there's a bitter taste in his mouth. Fuck, he's stupid. Even as he fucked her blind she wouldn't say it, couldn't pretend for a moment that there's a world where she would leave her grown-up big-city life behind to be with a loser who's only good for one thing. He rolls off her with a sigh and ys on his back, his useless cock wet and sticky between his legs. It takes Eddie a few minutes to catch her breath and he whispers to her on autopilot the whole time, she's so pretty, she's so perfect, he's so gd they did this, and it's all true, but all he's really hoping is that she forgets the stupid embarrassing shit he said to her at the end.

  After a while Eddie cuddles up to him. It's nice. He missed this, too. He holds her close and tries not to think about it. Her arm feels too light across his chest, like hollow bird bones, like she might drift away on the breeze.

  He feels something wet against his shoulder and realises she's crying again.

  “I don't know what to do,” says Eddie, “I’m… I'm not a man, Jason. I can't be. I don't want it.”

  Jason’s stomach twists.

  He spent st night with Lih, at the gay club where her friend was performing, and she introduced him to her friends, the dolls, and shit, man, there were a lot of them. All shapes and sizes. Some you would never know weren't born that way, and some were super hot even though you could tell, and yeah, there were some real ugly ones, too. Lih showed him off like he was some rare creature she had found, an actual real straight guy, and it hit him that in that club he was the weird one, and the t-girls got to be normal.

  That could be Eddie. Jason can see that future so clearly, can see the way hormones would fill her out like they did for Lih, would give her the soft cheeks and gentle curves and real tits she was meant to have, and he can feel himself getting hard all over again at the thought. And Eddie could be happy, could have friends, could dance at a club full of other t-girls, and not be caged up and twisted and desperate to be seen.

  And then what would she need Jason for?

  “You can do it, baby,” he murmurs, and he holds Eddie close to his chest, “You're doing so good as a man. You’re so strong. So smart. No one can tell. You're doing so good, baby. Just keep it up.”

  Eddie exhales shakily against him and he strokes her hair, thinning and short, and bites back the guilt.

  “And if it gets too much, you call me, alright?” he says, “Or you come home. Come back to Walterville, and you can be my girl for a while. Until you're ready to keep going. Okay?”

  Eddie shivers, but after a moment she looks up, a hesitant smile on her lips.

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  Jason knows he's a piece of shit, knows he doesn't deserve this, doesn't deserve the kiss Eddie gives him. But besides all the stuff about t-girls and awful music and deviant kinky sex, he remembers something else Lih taught him years ago.

  It's okay to want things.