I open the door to the room at the top floor of the astronomy tower and there he is, sitting with his back against the wall under a window and bathed in moonlight. There's a strong orange glow from the joint in his hand. His got one knee straightened and one knee bent with the hand holding the joint propped straight on it. In this pale blue light, he looks almost surreal. It fits the situation we are in right now. We come to this place every night for this surreal experience that we will deny when we step out of the door.

I sit down next to his bent knee and take the joint from his hand for a puff. I too, bend one of my legs so that our knees are barely touching. He watches me take another puff and I blow the smoke into his face. One good thing about wizard weed is that it is virtually smokeless and odorless. This makes for easy smoking on school grounds. The joint has come to the end of its journey so I stub it out on the ground. I watch him watch me in the dim lighting. Our pupils dilated, whether from intoxication or poor lighting. Knees still barely touching. I raise one hand to the side of his face and I pretend to caress it while holding my palms just millimeters away from actual contact. His eyes close as he indulges in the heat my hand is radiating on his cheek, his sigh just barely audible amongst the hooting of the owls. I lean up to kiss the air just before his forehead, then the tip of his nose and finally hover in front of his lips as I close my eyes too. In that instant, nothing moves. Time stalls in that perfect moment. One memory frozen for all eternity.

We play this dangerous game every night, denying the obvious pleasure of actually touching our objects of desire. It is like holding two attracting magnets as close to each other without letting them touch. We want to see how long we can hold on to it before our resolves tire. We had sex once. A few months ago. But it happened only once and we attributed it to being hopped up on weed. Though neither of us took a puff that night. The deed was done before the joint even touched our lips. It was, however, lit. Fumes or whatever, it wasn't us, and that is the lie we are sticking with. Such one off incidents can be written off as a freak accident, so we are careful not to let it happen again. As I mention before, this is a surreal realm to us, so what happens here is not real. Be it the feelings it conjured up or the actual events that took place. It is not real. Thus when we are here, we will not deny said feelings but we are not going to make it real either. Before our resolves tire and we make contact, it is not real.

I pull away from the perfection first and sigh into the night.

"How long are we going to do this?" He asks.

"Until we cannot help ourselves," I answer.

"We long can't help ourselves," he replies.

"Then until the time when we are ready to throw caution into the wind and dive into insanity," I say.

"You have a girlfriend, don't you?" He questions.

"Don't ask things you already know."

"Are you gay?"

"Before this, I have never considered that."

"Me either."

"So are we gay?"

"I don't think so."

"What happened?"

"I don't know about you but sometimes I feel that having someone who is stronger than me makes me breathe easier. Like how I don't have to constantly put up a brave front."

"I know that feeling. To be able to put down all the responsibilities and call it a day."

"Something like that. Also knowing that you don't have to face it all alone. That you have someone who can take over when you can't handle it anymore and you don't have to feel guilty about it."


"Are you unhappy with your girlfriend?"

"Not really. Though there was never any fireworks. It was a simple progression from friend to girlfriend. As everyone expected of us. There is this 'ought to' feeling about it. As if I would be sullying her name if I didn't give her some status after all these time. You?"

"My wife has long been decided before I was born. Honestly, I could just quietly accept the whole thing. She isn't half bad. Good to look at, a tough woman with a strong maternal instinct. She would make a good mother. She even knows to let me have my space."

"So why are we here? Everything feels as it should."

"Maybe that is exactly the reason."

"So we are looking for excitement?"

"More like, life."


The single word hangs in the air and rings in our ears. Life. We are looking for life. Something less 'ought to be' and more proactive. Something that makes us feel that we are feeling our lives and not having it played out in front of our eyes. Is that why we play this dangerous game? To delude ourselves into thinking that we chose the life outside of this door? That we chose to walk away from this feeling and back into the life that we ought to be in?

We must have relaxed during the conversation because I am feeling our knees brushing each others' casually through the fabric of our pants. We ought to pull away but we didn't. Today might well be the night our resolves tire out but it is still too early to say. I prop my hand on my bent knee too and the back of our fingers touch. Slowly, my hand inch closer to his until our fingers interlock. Am I really doing this? There is something undeniable in the air tonight. I watch him look at our hands.

"My heart is pounding really hard right now," he whispers.

"Me too," I whisper back.

He moves our interlocking hands and places the back of mine on his left chest. I feel the 'life' that is coursing through his being. Ba-dam. Ba-dam. He raises his eyes to meet mine. Deeply, I look into them. He is searching my soul for the answer or simply a reasonable excuse to convince himself. I turn my body towards him and hover my other hand over his crotch. Slowly, I caress the air surrounding it. I have no idea how he can feel it but I swear his groin swelled up a little. He takes my hands to place them on either side of his face, as if to tell me that his presence is indeed, real and not a figment of my imagination. I lean in to kiss his lips lightly. In that moment, my whole being is convinced that this is real. All of the barely touching these past few months felt like real touches and all the feelings that I thought I didn't have became salient. I move in again to seal the deal. Under the witness of the moon, we validate each others' existence in our lives. Our tongues confirm what our hearts felt and our hands trace out the object that we so desire. It didn't take long before I have him under me on the floor.

I nudge his neck all over and suck him hard in places where I can feel his pulse on my tongue. His thumbs are busying themselves with fondling my nipples through my shirt.

"Cut!! Well done guys! That's a wrap!" calls the director.

I get off him and help him stand up but he brushes away my hand, gets up and walks past me without saying a word. The magic has already disappeared but I still wish to tell you, I love you Draco. For me, this is real.