"Are you sure this isn't going to be awkward?" Roger asked, slightly bemused by how calm Mark seemed in light of the situation. It was the day of the Passover Seder and Mark and Roger were anticipating Nanette's arrival at any second.

"Actually it probably will be awkward. Just, not in the way you think."

"Oh really? And why is that?"

"Because…Nanette broke up with me."

"Seriously?"

"Yup."

"But…why? I mean, wasn't she like, completely in love with you?"

"Yeah, but remember what I told you about her father? Apparently he forbade her to see me and she refused to comply, so he told her what I've been up to in temple. And now she thinks I'm revolting and some huge sinner and I'm going to become a mass murderer or something. She…"

"…Thinks you're going to Hell?"

"No, actually. Jews don't believe in Hell."

"What! You are such a liar!"

"No, I'm serious. There's no Hell in the Jewish religion. None of that fire and brimstone crap."

"Uh…can I convert to Judaism?"

"Sure," Mark said, a smirk dancing on his lips, "but you have to get a bris."

"A what?"

Mark just smiled, slight amusement evident in his voice as he said, "Oh, a bris. That's the ceremony where they remove the foreskin from your penis."

"Where they do what! You had that?"

Mark was now in the throes of giggles. "Well yeah, when I was eight days old."

"…Oh. I think I'll stick with Christianity."

"Yeah, I thought so."

"Umm, Mark?" Roger asked, a deer-in-headlights expression on his face as he sat down at the Seder table and was handed a small booklet with an intimidating Hebrew cover.

"Yeah, Rog?"

"What exactly do we do at a Seder?"

Mark couldn't help but laugh at how frightened Roger looked. "Don't worry, it's not that bad. We sit around the table, like so, and there's a few prayers and stuff, but we mostly just go around the table taking turns reading from the Haggadah –" Mark paused, noticing the confused expression on Roger's face, "that's the book you're holding –" Roger's lips formed and "oh" and he nodded in recognition before the frightened look settled back in. "in English."

Roger sighed in relief. "Oh, okay."

"Yeah, and then there's of course matzah and food and all that jazz, but it's really not a big deal. Oh, and I'm the youngest here so I have to sing the Four Questions. And if you make fun of me, I will punch you."

"Of course not, Marky. Why would I ever make fun of your beautiful singing voice?" Roger teased. Mark simply glared in response.

"Roger, honey, would you like some wine, or would you prefer grape juice?" Mrs. Cohen asked. She was making the rounds, getting everything ready to begin.

"Oh, we get wine?" Roger asked, excitedly.

"Well, certainly. Everyone drinks four glasses of wine at the Passover Seder."

"Sure, I'll take some–" Roger suddenly noticed the death stare Mark was giving him that meant 'Don't you dare'. "I mean, grape juice would be fine, Mrs. Cohen, thanks."

"Oh, you're welcome, sweety." She said, pouring him a glass of grape juice.

As everyone settled in at the table, the attention seemed to be turned completely to Roger, the new guest. Roger, who was normally bright and outgoing, turned sheepish under the pressure of being the gentile at the Jewish function.

"So Roger, have you been looking into colleges?" Mark's grandma asked.

"Oh, um, I'm actually a year older than Mark. So, I'm pretty much in college. Well, not in college, but you know what I mean. Accepted."

"Oh that's lovely. And what college are you going to?"

"Well I'm currently undecided. It sort of depends on whether I decide to major in music or something more practical. Well, I mean, I want to go for music. My parents, on the other hand, have a different perspective on what I should be doing with my life."

"Oh, you like music?"

"Mm-hm. I'm in a band, Korean Mitochondria."

"Oh…that's an interesting name." Mrs. Cohen interjected. That's when Roger noticed Nanette sitting across the table, shooting him and Mark disapproving looks. Every so often she would emphasize these looks with a "humph" or an "ugh". Under normal circumstances it would amuse Roger, but at the moment it was just adding to his discomfort. Not to mention the fact that Cindy was sitting next to Nanette, directly across from Roger, and attempting to play footsy with him.

"Um, well, my old best friend came up with the name. Anna. She was kind of weird. Not weird in like the socially inept way, just very random and creative. She, uh, moved though. To Florida."

"That's the girl I told you about, mom. The one me and Roger might stay with in the summer for two weeks." Mark added, smiling hopefully at his mother.

"We'll see about that, dear." She replied, smiling back but clearly not happy with the idea.

"Roger, what do you play in this band of yours?" Mark's grandma brought the conversation back to Roger. He was less than grateful.

"Oh, I play lead guitar."

"He's also the lead singer." Mark butted in. "And he writes all the songs." Roger just nodded, smiling shyly. He let Mark talk about him instead. "He also plays trumpet on the side. And he's in choir. Oh, and he just got the lead in the school play. He's going to be Radames in Aida."

"Wow, that's impressive. You're quite the talented young man." Grandma Cohen said. Mrs. Cohen was nodding her head in approval as well.

Roger shrugged. "I guess so."

Mr. Cohen suddenly stood at the head of the table, cleared his throat, and said, "I think we ought to begin the Seder. Now." Everybody stopped talking in compliance.

About an hour later, they had reached the eating portion of the Seder. "Everything is very delicious, Mrs. Cohen. Thanks for inviting me." Roger said, causing Mark to look at him oddly. He hadn't expected Roger to be so parent-friendly.

"Why thank you, dear. And it's no problem. We're happy to have you."

As the meal continued, Cindy began to attempt to play footsy with Roger again. He kicked at her feet, but she seemed to take it as some sort of invitation. Pulling her chair in and wriggling down a bit, she slid one of her feet up Roger's leg and right into his crotch. Abruptly, Roger pushed his chair out and stood up. The entire table fell into silence, and turned to Roger, staring in shock.

"I, um, I…I'm just gonna… go to the bathroom." He stammered out before walking upstairs as everyone continued to stare at the spot he'd been standing in. After a few seconds they all sort of shrugged it off and went back to what they were doing. Well, everyone except Cindy, who now concentrated on eating her dinner. Attempting to molest her brother's crotch with her foot might have proven to be slightly awkward.

Not actually having to go to the bathroom, and needing to kill some time, Roger went into Mark's room. As he walked in, he took in his surroundings. Roger realized he'd been in this room dozens of times, but he'd never really noticed what it looked like. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that he was normally paying a little too much attention to Mark.

Mark had two photomontages on his walls. The first one was full of random photos from all different places. There were older ones, some clearly from vacations and such, some in color, some black and white, some of friends, some of strangers, some of scenery. Roger recognized many of them as pictures Mark had developed in photography class. Roger may not have appreciated photography, but he had eyes. It was clear that Mark was an amazing photographer. Videographer, too, Roger noted with a laugh as his eyes found the piles upon piles of tapes clumped haphazardly in the corner of the room.

Roger also noticed that Mark's walls were lined with movie posters. There were a couple classics, but most of them were movies Roger had never heard of. That made sense. Mark liked a lot of indie movies. Weird movies, too. Sometimes Mark watched movies solely for their cinematography and ignored the storyline completely. Roger didn't understand this but let it be. After all, Mark would never understand why Roger loved musical theater.

The next thing Roger's eyes fell on made his heart pound in his chest. It was the other photomontage – pictures of him. Pictures of Mark and Roger, or just Roger, the places they'd gone together, the things they'd done. It didn't mean anything. They were best friends. It still made Roger's heart ache with the need to be more than just friends.

He laid down on Mark's bed, chest down, and took deep, calming breaths, burying his face in Mark's pillow and breathing in Mark's scent. His hands slid under the pillow, running over the smooth sheets, when his fingers brushed over and interruption. There was something hard, but flat. It was sort of plasticky. A photo?

Quickly Roger took the photo out and stared at it in awe. It was of him. It was of him – in swim trunks. In the photo, the swim trunks were falling down, riding impossibly low on his hips. Roger's heart began to speed up. He laid on his back and stared at the picture for a long time. What did this mean? Okay, he knew what this meant. But how could he be sure? He began to imagine what Mark might be doing with this picture stowed under his pillow. Fuck. Before Roger went back down to dinner, he went to the bathroom to jack off, images of Mark masturbating to his picture running through his mind. At least he had actually done what he'd said he was going up to do.

After dinner, Roger and Mark were sitting on Mark's bed. "So, that was it?" Roger asked.

"Of the Seder?"

"Yeah. You were right. It was no big deal." Roger kept inadvertently glancing at Mark's pillow, the knowledge of what was underneath making him ponder. Also, once again, making him hard.

"I told you. Well, actually there's a lot more after the meal, but we just don't do it. My father and Nanette usually do it while the rest of us lounge around." Noticing Roger's odd serious expression, Mark added, "Don't worry, though. They'll call us down for dessert," laughing lightly at his own comment.

Roger simply blinked at him, not taking in what he was saying. "What? Oh, yeah, dessert. Dessert is good…"

"You okay, Rog?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"Well, you were kind of shy before at dinner. And after you went to the bathroom you were acting sort of strange. Still are. You seem… distracted."

Roger looked at Mark long and hard. After what seemed like an eternity, he gently placed his hand on Mark's chin and leaned forward, pressing their lips together. His entire body was on fire, his lips and fingers tingling, and – Fuck. Why wasn't Mark responding? Maybe the photo wasn't what he thought. It could be there for any number of reasons. Of course, Roger couldn't think of any, but that's because he didn't want there to be any other reason.

He broke apart from Mark, who was now staring at him in awe. Not moving, not speaking. "I, uh… I'm sorry. I… don't know why I did that." Roger sputtered, suddenly scared out of his wits.

Mark finally moved, looking at Roger incredulously. "I…you…you don't get to do that, Roger." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "You can't just say you don't know why. I need to know why. It's not going to change anything between us, I just… need to be able to understand what just happened. I need to be able to work things out in my head. I don't care what the reason is, just tell me or it'll be eating away at me for who knows how long."

Once again, Roger took a long time looking at Mark, making sure Mark was being sincere, and wondering if this would change things or not. How would Mark respond to learning that his best friend had a crush on him? "I think I'm gay. Well, not gay, no. I like girls. Really, I do. I've always liked girls. Except for you, that is. You seem to be the exception. You drive me crazy, Mark. And I'm sorry that I kissed you but I've liked you for so long and I… I found my picture under your pillow and I thought maybe, just maybe – but I guess not. I'm sorry if you're freaked out. I hope we can still be – "

Roger was cut off by Marks lips crashing into his passionately. "I'm gay." Mark said, breathless from the kiss. "And as you can probably tell from the picture under my pillow, I like you too. I can't believe you found that." Mark was blushing profusely.

"Where did you even get it? We weren't friends yet in the summer."

"Just a random photo I took at the swim club. You were a beautiful boy and your bathing suit was falling down. After I started liking you I found it while sifting through my photos. It was just coincidence. Really good coincidence." They kissed again, hot and searing and wonderful. Mark shifted himself so he was lying down and pulled Roger on top of him, as Roger began to plant kisses down his jaw line until he reached his neck and began to suck and nibble. Mark shifted once more to grind their hips together, sending sparks through both of them.

"Ah, fuck. Mark." Roger took Mark's mouth once more with his own, exploring it with his tongue, trying to memorize every bump and contour. "God, I can't believe this is really happening."

Panting as they childishly rubbed against each other through their clothing, Mark breathed out, "Me either. I feel like I'm dreaming."

"You're not. I'm really here, I swear."

Mark smiled. "Me too."

They continued kissing and grinding and panting until they both came, and they laid down on the bed, relaxing into one another. "I can't believe you're gay." Roger said, highly amused.

Mark laughed. "That reminds me, I have to tell you something. Those weren't girls in the temple bathroom."

"Wait. You were fooling around with boys in the temple bathroom!"

"Not boys. Boy. One. Geez, you make me sound like such a slut."

"Oh, was he like, your boyfriend?"

"Yeah. The rabbi knew. That's why Nanette thinks I'm such a big sinner. It's really not the fooling around thing. It's the gay thing. I mean…it's not like he caught us or anything, but he's up on the bema the whole time. A guy sees two boys leave at the same time on several occasions and come back in various states of disarray, and if he has at least half a brain he can piece it together pretty easily. He confronted me about it a while back, but thankfully hasn't told my parents. I'm afraid he will one day, though. He's such a prick."

"Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you wanna be my boyfriend?"

Mark grinned and blushed. "Yeah." Roger kissed him on the cheek, and they lay there chatting in each other's arms until dessert.