And then he saw him on the dance floor.
He nervously walked towards him and hello’s were exchanged.
He went in for the hug and the familiar scent brought back all the memories.
The first time he met him. The friendly flirting in between his psychology class and the student newspaper. The day he finally confessed his true feelings. Their first date. Their first kiss. The first trust against each other’s body. Their friends being so happy for finally getting together. Coming out to his father just so that he can bring his first love home. Crying into his arms during an anxiety attack triggered by a university staff member who’d scolded him for coming out as undocumented. Having Hot Cheetos and homemade sandwiches in his car. Drunken kisses. Small arguments. His new friend. The jealousy. The fights. The break up. The move. The years. The men that came and went. The surprise reunion in a new city. The updating on each other’s life. The new boyfriend. The plans to keep hanging out.
And now the dance floor again.
He flashed the smile that reminded him of the good times.
The good times that at one point in their younger lives hurt so much.
The good times that now represented a healing of the broken heart.
