- The Second Encounter -
I woke up on Saturday. About two in the afternoon,
but still, it was Saturday which I had meant to sleep
through. At least I wasn’t hung over, but then last
night came crashing down on my head like a ton of
I had been attracted to a guy. Granted, he was a
great looking guy, but still, the operative word was
guy. Man. External organs. Male.
I was speechless, both verbally and mentally for about
four hours after that initial thought upon awakening.
There was a mantra in my head, yes, but it was just
‘ohgodohgod’ repeated about nine thousand times. Not
productive nor conducive to anything remotely
resembling a thought.
Then as I anticipated the night before, there was a
knock on my door. It was Quatre and Trowa of course
since they knew that if they had called, I would not
have answered. I could just pretend I wasn’t home,
but I swear, those two would stand outside my
apartment door until I opened it. Resigning myself to
their questions and inevitable advice, I opened the
“Duo! You look.. like you’ve been run over by a bus!
Are you okay?”
Quatre changed from interrogator to mother hen in a
space of a nanosecond when he saw how tired and
traumatized I looked. I suppose I do look terrible.
After all, last night had been filled with revelations
that I had not been expecting.
Trowa followed Quatre in, both of them bustling me
back into my home and setting me down on my sofa.
They looked at me intently then Trowa went into my
kitchen to get me a glass of water. When he handed it
to me, I drained it in two gulps. In my shock and
non-thought phase, I had forgotten to drink or eat.
“What in the world happened? Did you go out last
night by yourself?”
There was a bit of admonition in Quatre’s voice and
more than that in Trowa’s eyes. They did not like me
going out by myself to bars because they knew I had a
terrible habit of drinking myself into senseless
oblivion without one of them to watch my back. I
could almost see the disappointment running through
them, so before they got even more depressed on my
behalf, I interceded.
“I did, but I didn’t get drunk. I actually got home
That raised some eyebrows. Yeah, my friends know me
too well. I would never, ever come home before four
in the morning if I went out alone because I would
have gone home with some hot girl and banged her for
all I was worth. That reminded me once again of my
interesting sexuality dilemma and I blanked out from
the shock of it.
“What happened then? You look really awful.”
I turned my slightly glazed eyes over to Quatre, but I
couldn’t get my voice to work. I had no idea what to
tell them, really. And I figure, if anyone would
understand male attraction to other males, it would be
these two. Still, I could not find a way to say I,
the ladies’ man, found a man attractive in a very
“I.. uh. Hmm..”
Normally, I’m chatty. So my three monosyllabic
utterances were completely out of character. They
knew this and if it was even possible, they became
even more concerned. I could see the scenarios
running through their heads, every one more horrible
than their last thought because I was notorious for
having a thick skin. What could traumatize me to the
point of speechless shock?
I know what it is, but I’m not going to enlighten
them. Hell, I’m having a hard time as is trying to
explain and justify it to myself right now.
Quatre must have noticed that I wasn’t about to
volunteer information and being the good guy that he
is, he decided not to push me. Instead, he offered me
support with soothing words and a promise that I could
talk to him about anything at all. Then my two best
friends left, still worried and puzzled, but willing
to let me muddle through this on my own before I
reached out for their help.
Saturday went by rather quickly after that since I
decided being spaced out was not a good way to spend
time. Instead, I buried myself in my work, putting in
extra effort and time into things I could have done in
my sleep. I was actually trying to avoid thinking
about the whole fiasco the night before, but I didn’t
admit that to myself until I was burning the midnight
oil well past midnight.
You would think a guy like me who has more than enough
words and arguments in his head most of the times
would be able to rationalize myself out of this
strange circumstance, but I couldn’t. That frustrated
me. I argue for a living, most of the time quite
successfully and I couldn’t argue to myself why I
should or even should not have been attracted to a
guy. I found myself unable to convince myself that I
was straight, gay or bi. That’s right, at the ripe
age of twenty something or other, I have come to the
crossroads of ‘what is my sexuality’ without finding
I wondered then if this new development would
complicate my mission to be special.
However, one thing was for certain. I do not do well
when I don’t have all the facts – call it a side
effect of my job. Facts lead to presumptions,
presumptions lead to reasonable doubt, so forth and so
on. I need the facts.
I needed to see that guy again and reassess what
happened without turning into a staring, gaping
I grabbed my coat and ran out the door. Tornado
Fodder was calling me.
It was a perfect plan too. I would get there,
casually talk to the bartenders about the guy, find
out who he was, et cetera, et cetera. I would put to
use all my resources I have at disposal to my
advantage. I would treat it like work – I’m
interviewing clients or witnesses to get to the bottom
of my core argument. In case you were wondering, my
occupation is nothing more than to argue someone’s
innocence even if I don’t believe it. Yes, a hated
criminal defense attorney.
But as all perfect plans go, mine fell apart. The
first problem was that as soon as I got there, I ran
into Quatre and Trowa. Second problem arose when I
found myself unable to conduct my questioning with
those two around. Perhaps the final straw was when I
actually saw that guy again, across the bar, staring
To define staring. It is not a gaze filled with
friendly intentions, nor is it a smoldering heated
look designed to seduce. It does not fill one with
the feelings of being wanted, loved or needed.
Staring is uncomfortable, rude and quite frankly,
nerve wracking on the party who is on the receiving
end of it. He stared. I received it. I resented it.
After a moment of uncomfortable reception, I abruptly
turned away. I was feeling a bit.. undefined. There
were many things running through my head, such as
‘he’s as hot as I remember’ to ‘gah, will he stop
staring at me it’s creepy.’ Yet in the center of my
thought maelstrom was the one need for me to actually
talk to him at some point so that I could finally put
my strange attraction to rest.
Or set it on fire, who knows. I just needed all the
facts to go forward or this would hinder my special
mission to be special.
When I’m in deep thought, I’ve been told that I get a
slight crease between my eyebrows and that I chew on
my knuckles lightly. That must have been what I was
doing as I contemplated my fallen apart plan because
Quatre shook be by my shoulders and asked me if I
needed to go home to rest.
Rest. Ha. It was nearly two in the morning and I had
been working all day after I got over my emotional
trauma. I didn’t need to rest, I needed answers.
“Quat, Tro, you guys go home. I have some business to
take care of.”
“Business?” Surprisingly, it was Trowa who responded.
“What kind of business can you have at two in the
morning on a Saturday, I mean, Sunday night?”
I tried not to get irritated, but I couldn’t help the
irrational surge of annoyance. Out of the corner of
my eyes, I could see the guy moving towards me at a
leisurely but a measured pace and I didn’t want my
friends around when he came. Some things had to be
handled by myself without their supporting
interference. Like this.
Quatre caught on to my rising ire so he quickly said
good bye and dragged Trowa off with him. I foresaw
another day of questioning the next day, but
thankfully, Monday would be just around the corner and
I could duck them tomorrow until next weekend. Work,
as much as I hate it sometimes, would save me from
explaining my bizarre behavior for a whole week. I
hope to have it figured out by then.
As soon as Quatre and Trowa were gone, I felt a light
tap on my shoulder. I knew who it was, but I was
still reluctant to turn around to face him. If
anything, however, I am not a coward. Whatever
confuses me, I must face straight on without
faltering. Otherwise, the confusion would walk all
over me and my pride would never let me live it down.
I turned my head slightly and caught a glimpse of the
guy’s face once again. Prussian blue eyes. Or were
they cobalt? The colors are similar enough and in
this dim bar light accompanied by my severe lack of
knowledge on color schemes, I couldn’t really say.
Whatever the color they were though, I admitted that
they were beautiful.
My body followed my head in turning and then I was
facing him. I realized belatedly that he was standing
rather close to me, a little too close since the bar
was not as crowded as to warrant that type of close
personal invasion. However, I let it slide in favor
of dragging information out of this guy.
Deep voice. I like that.
Succinct. I also like that.
“How about some coffee?”
Straight forward. Needless to say, I like.
Too many things I liked about this guy and he has
spoken three sets of sentences at me. And I haven’t
said a thing yet. Heero who wanted to have some
coffee, I could tell that he would cause me trouble.
Then again, I like trouble too, don’t I.