He was in bed when Nick returned from Mrs. Donohue’s apartment. He came unsmiling into the bedroom and disappeared into the bathroom where Bill heard him piss and brush his teeth. He returned to the bedroom, undressed and slipped into bed, keeping to his side.

Bill said, “I’m sorry.”

“If you didn’t want me to go to the movie, why didn’t you say so? You didn’t have to say that thing about money.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want you to go to the movie,” Bill replied, unconvincingly.

Nick turned his head and glared at him. “Yes, it was. Is it because Jeff is gay? Are you jealous? He’s just a friend, Bill.”

Bill looked away, took a deep breath and said, “All this is new for me too.”

“What is?”

“Living with someone,” he said. “And you’re so much younger.”

“I wish you would shut up about that,” Nick said, irritably.

“I’m your first, Nick, you’ve said so yourself. Just your first. Maybe you’ll want other guys someday.”

Nick closed the distance between them so that their bodies touched beneath the sheets. “You’re wrong. I love you. I don’t want anyone but you.”

Bill pulled him into his arms. They nestled, not speaking, breathing in each other’s breath, the hairs of their bodies grazing each other’s flesh, conscious of the beating of each other’s heart. Bill’s thoughts took a strange but consoling turn. He imagined that primeval humans must have similarly huddled together in their dark, cold caves seeking the same animal warmth and comfort. When he and Nick were together like this, he felt a certitude beyond words, beyond thought, even beyond ordinary emotions, that they were meant for each other, now and forever. He silently resolved to stop being possessive and jealous. He swore to himself he would vanquish his fears and insecurities and be the kind of understanding boyfriend to Nick that Nick needed.

His resolution lasted a month. One night, Nick didn’t return home from school until after dark because he had gone out to dinner with friends without telling Bill and Bill picked another fight. His “You should have called me,” was countered by “You don’t call me when you’re working late,” which was met with “That’s different. I have to make a living.” That led to another slammed front door and Bill sitting alone in the dark drinking and wondering if Nick was going to come home. When he did, he slept in the guest room. The next morning, Bill apologized profusely.

“You have to trust me,” Nick said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I trust you,” Bill said. “But sometimes I worry anyway.”

Nick got up from the table, came up behind Bill and put his arms around him. “I’ll never give you a reason to worry.”