Patrick stood next to Kevin, watching Owen and Bethany's retreating figures.

'That wasn't so bad, right?'

'He was actually pretty mellow.' Kevin laughed. 'I thought it was going to be non-stop snark with the two of you.'

'Bethany's a good influence on him. And I think he's also really quiet and nervous cos he's getting ready to propose.' Patrick smiled.

'Really? Well...that's...' Kevin hesitated.

'Fantastic?' Patrick suggested.

'Yeah. It is.' Kevin nodded. He turned to look outwards, over the Highline, towards New Jersey, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Patrick watched him closely. They'd had a very pleasant brunch, the four of them, and had been lazily walking along chatting until they'd got to a point on the Highline where Owen and Bethany could easily catch a train back to Brooklyn. All very nice. Amiable. Kevin had behaved so well these past two weeks, but this was the first time they'd met friends. As a very loose definition of a couple. Was he going to flip out?

'Hey, you ok?' Patrick prodded him. 'What are you thinking about?'

Kevin shrugged and shook his head.

'Nothing in particular. I'm really happy for him. For them. If she says yes, of course.'

'Why wouldn't she?'

'Would you? Want to spend the rest of your life with Owen?' Kevin grimaced.

'Oh god. That's...don't...' Patrick shook his head violently. Kevin laughed at him then looked back out to Jersey.

'Though...if you stay at this job...won't you actually end up spending more time with Owen than Bethany does?'

'That might actually be a good enough reason to leave.' Patrick said thoughtfully.

'At least he didn't persuade you to live in Brooklyn. I thought he had you for a moment. Saw you wavering.'

'You were right. Manhattan is pretty much unbeatable. If you can afford it.'

'I fucking love this city.' Kevin sighed.

'So you keep telling me.'

'The people...I mean, most of them are wankers of course, but they're honest wankers.'

Patrick rolled his eyes. He knew what was coming. Kevin's rant about the false cheerfulness of Americans. It was best not to try and derail him though. Arguing for positivity with Kevin only proved his point as far as he was concerned.

'They don't smile, and pretend to care if you're having a nice day, or say sorry when they push you out of the way cos you're walking too slowly, or give a shit about walk signals, or two fucks about double parking. I love it. Waiters are snobby and pissy, the guy at the 7 11 looks like he'd sooner stab me than sell me a bottle of water...'

'I get it Kevin.' Patrick interrupted him sweetly. 'You're right. Nice Americans are all just hiding a deep underbelly of seething hatred and bitterness and only here in New York can we be ourselves. Like our proud forefathers, the cunty English.'

'You owe your entire culture to us, not to mention the language that you...'

'Butcher. I know. We're lazy and ungrateful, and would have been much better off sticking with you guys rather than trying for that whole independence thing.' Patrick nodded agreeably.

'We wouldn't have kept you around for long. Much too unruly. Too much exuberance. Too much emotion. Well...we would have kept the New Yorkers, but the rest of you...anywhere West of the Hudson we'd have let go willingly as soon as the first one of you wished us to have a nice day.'

'You wouldn't even exclude San Francisco from your condemnation? Surely there were enough moody hipsters there to make you happy.'

Kevin scoffed.

'Hipsters are worse than the cheerful ones. The ones like you. All smiles and clean cut and midwestern, with your big bright eyes and your eager grin. Utterly appalling.'

Patrick smiled.

'You can pretend to be all cynical and tough, but I know you Kevin Matheson.' Patrick said as he started walking away from Kevin, continuing on the path. He knew Kevin would follow. Kevin was in a good mood today, and not fighting to keep his distance too hard. Brunch hadn't put him on edge, and for that, Patrick was fucking grateful. He wanted to enjoy relaxed, happy Kevin a bit longer. The Kevin without his guards up. The Kevin he liked to spend time with.

'I am tough. I'm from Essex, remember? You don't get much tougher than an Essex boy, I'll tell you that.' Kevin caught up with Patrick.

Patrick rolled his eyes.

'An Essex boy who likes to get his nails manicured, his hair trimmed obsessively every two weeks, his muscles just big enough to fill out his favorite button down but no bigger because then his neck would bulge too much for his cashmere sweaters...'

'I have a certain level of refinement. But I still know how to fight dirty.' Kevin grinned.

'Did you go back? To Romford? When you were in England.' Patrick asked.

Kevin didn't answer immediately, which didn't surprise Patrick. He knew he was weighing his answer carefully. Deciding on how open he wanted to be. They still hadn't spoken about the lost two years beyond the most casual, cautious of references.

'I did.' Kevin said eventually. 'I visited my dad a couple of times. It's a short train ride from London.'

'And your mom? Did you see her?' Patrick pushed a little more.

'No. She's actually moved to Australia. With a bloke. A new one.'

'Wow. Australia.'

'Yep. And she's really happy there, she says. This guy's different apparently.' Kevin said, air quoting the 'different'. Oh boy. He obviously wasn't impressed.

'Different?'

'Probably means he doesn't drink himself into a stupor every night and doesn't call her a stupid cunt when they run out of beers.'

Huh.

'She doesn't have very good taste in men, then?' Patrick ventured quietly.

'My dad was the first in a long line of losers.' Kevin affirmed.

'I'm sorry.'

Kevin shrugged.

'At least I have a reason to go to Australia, I suppose.'

'Do you need a reason? I mean...it's Australia! Doesn't everyone want to visit Australia?' Patrick laughed.

'Not me. Never really had any allure for me.'

'Where WOULD you like to go, then? If it could be anywhere.' Patrick asked.

'You mean somewhere I haven't been?'

'Yes. Somewhere totally new.'

'Well, that counts out all of Europe, then, which I of course travelled round hopping from gay mecca to gay mecca as a student...'

'Really? You did that?' Patrick was intrigued.

'Yeah. As soon as I pulled together the money I was off and running. Had to experience Amsterdam, didn't I? And Berlin of course. And Rome, Barcelona, Prague...'

'Jesus!' Patrick shook his head. 'Where the fuck haven't you been?'

'South America. I'd like to go to South America. I'd like to go to see the rain forest. That would be something pretty fucking spectacular, don't you think?'

'Since the most exciting place I've ever been to is Canada, I think anywhere they don't speak English would be exotic.'

Kevin laughed.

'I thought the Murrays were loaded!'

'My parents are. But they like upscale resort vacations. You know, where the fishing and the tennis and the pre-dinner drinks in the library are included. Boring as fuck when I was growing up. And lonely too. Not at all gay.'

'You poor thing. Missing out on all the gay hotspots of the world. Thankfully they're all still there you know. Just get on a plane and go and visit.' Kevin pushed Patrick's shoulder.

They walked in companionable silence for a little, Patrick wondering what had really stopped him all these years from being more adventurous. Would he have travelled if he'd had someone to go with? That was such a stupid reason for not going to all the places on his bucket list. Though...was it really his bucket list? He talked about traveling, but at the end of the day he'd always chosen people over places. Spending time with friends rather than flying somewhere alone just to say he'd been. But yeah...if he'd had someone to go with, it would have been amazing.

Patrick stepped aside as two men, holding hands, approached them on the path. The Highline was always crowded on a Sunday morning. Especially on such a clear, bright, mild day. The couple smiled at him in thanks as they walked past. Patrick turned to watch them walk away. He sighed.

'Did you ever go anywhere you were scared? You know...to be gay?' Patrick asked as he resumed walking.

'Scared?'

'Yeah...where you had to hide it. Because you could get hurt. Or in trouble.'

Kevin nodded his head in understanding.

'Oh yeah. There were places I was scared. I remember being in Morocco and wondering how all those gay British men used to spend months and months there sixty or seventy years ago, and how it just seemed to be where every queer went...but now...god help the poor bastards who are stuck there. I've never been so straight acting in my life. I didn't even masturbate for the week I was there, I was so sexually repressed. Beautiful place...but...fucking scary.' Kevin shuddered.

'Wow. I feel...I've been so lucky. I mean, Colorado was tough when I was growing up but I wasn't so much scared as...embarrassed. Ashamed. You know what I mean?'

'Of course I do. I was the only gay person I knew till I went to college. It's not something I shouted out from the rooftops back in Romford.'

'I wish I'd been a bit bolder though. I bet I could have met people if I made the effort. Maybe even been a little more open about it with my family.' Patrick sighed.

'Hindsight. And it's not even necessarily true. Ten years, no fifteen, sixteen years ago, when we were teens, it wasn't like this. You know that. It was hard enough trying to understand what the fuck was going on with your body and coming to terms with it in your own head, let alone facing all the ignorant fuckers who wanted nothing more than to fix you or save you or explain you away.' Kevin shot back. 'And as for your family, why do we have to do all the smoothing over and the making it easy for them. What about us as people? What about you? What about your mom? Megan? They should be the ones wondering why they didn't make it easier for YOU. Why we had to live half lives with half truths for years. At the end of the day, what the fuck difference does it make in THEIR lives? It's us who have to live with thinking about what we can and can't do in public, how gay we can be when we meet new people. We have to live with the fact that people look at us and still wonder who fucks who and who takes it up the arse. Fucking homophobic pricks.'

Patrick kept silent as he listened to Kevin's bitter words. How easy it was to look at him and see this supremely confident, self-assured man and to forget that he had his own coming out saga. His own quiet realizations and silent confessions in the dark of his bedroom that he was different and it wasn't changing. His own loneliness and confusion and eventual acceptance that ultimately brought him to this point in his life where he was openly out and, if not proud, then sure as fuck not bothered about anyone's opinion any more.

'I think I faced more homophobia in my head than in real life.' Patrick said quietly when Kevin finally fell silent. 'I mean..not from my head...but more that I expected people to be a lot worse than they really ever were. To me.'

'Yeah well living in big cities helps.' Kevin pointed out.

'That's true. And I was lucky I had the choice to do that. And things really have changed so much. But I don't know if I always take advantage of that. I sometimes wonder if I'm maybe stuck in fifteen years ago.'

'Patrick, you go to clubs where you can suck men's dicks in public if you so wanted to. You've openly lived with at least two men that i know of...how are you not fully out?' Kevin rolled his eyes.

'Well...look at us now.'

'What?'

'Everyone else is walking along, holding hands, arms around shoulders...I've even seen people kissing on the benches.' Patrick said as nonchalantly as he could.

'Patrick...'

'This is New York, right? and we're in the heart of...or at least above the heart of, Chelsea, which is OUR neighborhood. The gays own Chelsea. If you're in Chelsea, then you have to expect to see gay stuff.'

'Patrick...'

'So why aren't we doing that too?' Patrick persisted, not letting Kevin stop him.

'Doing what?' Kevin asked warily.

'Holding hands. Why aren't you holding my hand?'

'I did. In San Francisco.'

'I know. But San Francisco is Chelsea on steroids. Owen is the outlier in San Fransisco.'

'There's families here, Patrick. Kids.'

Patrick raised one eyebrow at Kevin.

'Yes. It makes a difference, ok?' Kevin muttered.

'I wonder if we care more about that then they do.'

'I'm not interested in finding out.'

'Are you ashamed?' Patrick asked, finding it hard to equate that emotion with Kevin.

'I don't like to be looked at as some sort of curiosity. I don't want to be pointed at and made into a teachable moment. It's not that difficult of a concept surely. Those other people you see holding hands and kissing, no one gives a fuck. No one's going to tell their friends that they were walking on the highline and saw two heteros making out on a bench. I don't want to be the subject of someones titillation. I'm not a fucking freak show, Patrick.'

'I know, I know. It's ok.' Patrick soothed him as they continued to walk, a little faster, with a little more purpose. Kevin was obviously no longer strolling.

'But...' Patrick ventured.

'Patrick...'

'Just hear me out. Ok?'

Kevin stopped and faced Patrick. In his warrior pose. Eyebrows furrowed, hands on hips, chin jutting out. Patrick might have been intimidated once. God...that felt like years ago.

'I could either see myself as providing salacious entertainment for some of these people, and feel humiliated by the fact that I'll be looked at and whispered about, or I can see myself as free to express how I feel to the person I'm with, in any way I want.'

Kevin was shaking his head well before Patrick had finished his statement.

'You know it's not simply a matter of choosing how to feel...'

'Hold on.' Patrick put up a hand to stop Kevin. 'Isn't it in your favorite movie that they say 'build it and they will come'?'

'No. What he says is 'build it and HE will come.'' Kevin said grumpily.

'You know what I mean. Sometimes you have to act like you don't care and eventually you won't.'

'I know what it means, Professor Murray. Thank you for the lecture. And by the way, I don't care that I'm gay. I fucking LOVE that I'm gay. I'm happy to tell each one of these fuckers that I'm gay and that I love to fuck gay men. What I do care about is letting them have an opinion when they don't have the right to one.' Kevin retorted.

'Kiss me.' Patrick said.

'Fuck off.' Kevin replied, pointedly. But not too harshly. Patrick was relieved about that.

'I dare you to kiss me. Right here, in broad daylight, on the Highline, with heterosexuals all around.'

'I don't want to kiss you. You had friend onions for brunch.'

'So did you. We'll match.' Patrick reminded him.

'This is stupid, Patrick.'

'Kiss me because I feel like being kissed, or if you prefer, I'll kiss you cos I love doing that.'

'I'll pass thank you very much.'

'Kiss me because you don't give a fuck what any of these people think and because you love kissing.' Patrick pressed on.

Kevin simply shook his head.

'Kiss me because it's a beautiful day and I want to share this feeling with you. And because even though you hate schmaltzy Americans you actually secretly yearn to be one and you know that it would be the most romantic thing to kiss me here, right now.'

Kevin was looking at him now, chewing his lip.

'Kevin, kiss me because you want to.'

Patrick never really doubted that Kevin would kiss him. He'd really never not given Patrick anything he'd asked for. It might take him a little time, but he was pretty reliable. Patrick stepped up to Kevin, and put his hands on Kevin's shoulders. He leaned forward slowly, giving Kevin the chance to pull back, even though he knew he wouldn't.

Patrick had wanted to keep his eyes open while he pressed his lips agains't Kevin's closed mouth, but he couldn't help himself. They fluttered closed as he got close enough to feel Kevin's breath on his face. In the end he kissed Kevin with smiling lips, as he felt Kevin's hands grip his hips and pull him close.

They were chaste. Small butterfly kisses. Seconds of contact before parting, but then always coming back together again. Patrick couldn't help himself and his mouth opened, letting his tongue peak out and lick Kevin's delicious lips with the smallest of dabs. Kevin opened his own mouth to let Patrick's tongue inside, and Patrick stole a quick swipe of Kevin's tongue before he pulled back and stared at Kevin through his suddenly heavy lids. Kevin was breathing a little heavier, and...unless Patrick was mistaken, Kevin was deliberately sniffing him. He made no bones about the fact that he loved the smell of Patrick's skin. He swore the freckles made his scent different than other people's. Patrick smiled.

'Thank you.' He said looking into Kevin's eyes.

Kevin cleared his throat.

'Don't think it's going to be a habit.'

'I won't. I promise.' Patrick assured him, smiling sweetly.

'Let's go. I want to fuck you.' Kevin said gruffly.

Patrick nodded. What...He looked down at his suddenly occupied hand.

Kevin raised an eyebrow.

'Well if they fucking saw you stick your tongue down my throat, holding hands is hardly going to be a big deal, is it?' He challenged Patrick.

'Nope. Not at all.'

They walked together in silence, their fingers entwined.

'Can we swing our...'

'Don't push your luck, Patrick.' Kevin growled.

Patrick demurred. It was a beautiful day to be alive, and walking on the Highline, with his non-defined-boyfriend, holding hands. It was a lovely beginning.