Ilan was supposed to cook with him soon, but he hadn’t brought it up, and Fredric didn’t want to bother him about it. It was enough he’d agreed to help Fredric at all, and the more he pushed, the more pathetic he felt. It was bad enough that his Sunday morning was being spent scrubbing his bathroom and making plans to grocery shop.
He half considered texting Hudson back and telling him never mind. Maybe he should agree to something simple. Dinner and a movie had been a staple thirty-two years ago when he was trying to impress Jacqueline, so why should he expect more now?
Then Ilan’s voice was in his head. It took me five minutes to find this. If Ilan could—a man who didn’t and would never think of Fredric as a lover, why not hand those expectations over to someone who would. He wasn’t quite sure he deserved all the fuss, but he was trying to believe in his own worth a little bit more.
Those pieces of himself his ex had methodically stripped away from him over the long years were coming back. Battered, bruised, and full of holes, but still very much his.
A knock interrupted his musings, then the door creaked open, and he knew immediately who it was, mostly by the fact that Sebastian hadn’t bothered to get up from his nap. “You home?”
“In the kitchen,” he called out, and he waited for the sound of Agatha’s light feet to join him. “I thought you and Ted had plans this weekend.”
“Crisis at the gallery,” she said. “I’m feeling a little irritated by the change, so I wanted to see if you could keep me company.”
“I can,” Fredric said, offering her a smile. “Do you want to shop with me?”
He heard the jingle of her car keys and felt a light touch on his arm. “Come on, we can take my car.”
He let her choose the destination, which meant a little boutique grocery store an hour outside of town, but Fredric didn’t mind the drive. Sebastian dozed in the back seat, and Fredric let his head rest in the flickering sunlight as they drove past the line of trees that led the way north.
“I think I might need some help,” Fredric said once they were on the freeway. He fiddled with the edge of his phone, his fingers feeling out the dings in the case from dropping it so many times. “I think I might be…considering dating someone.”
Agatha made a startled noise. “Really? Who?”
“Hudson,” Fredric said, but even the name sounded wrong on his tongue, and he didn’t let himself think about why. “The one I had Greek food with.”
“I thought you called it quits after that dinner…”
“Yes,” Fredric interrupted. “It wasn’t the best date, but he was nice, and he asked for another chance. And,” then he hesitated, curling his weaker hand into a fist, “and I want to do something right. I want to be able to have him over and cook him a meal that isn’t some boxed casserole dish. I want to be able to suggest dates without second guessing myself a thousand times until I can’t make a decision at all.”
Agatha laughed softly. “You sound like me.”
“Yeah?” Fredric asked, and she let out a small sigh in response.
“When I was a kid, everyone just thought I was a weirdo. My parents thought I was picky. It took me a hundred years to make decisions, because it had to feel right first, and I didn’t know how to explain what I needed. I got diagnosed with autism when I was in college. My mom was pretty pissed off about it. It was easier to tell people that her kid was just fussy.”
“I’m sorry,” he offered, and he heard her laugh.
“I’m not. And I know it’s not the same thing as you, but it kind of is.” He heard her drum her fingers on the steering wheel. “I needed someone to understand me, but there were days I wanted to just say fuck it and do things their way because it was easier. I was tired of getting dumped because I wasn’t like them. I spent so much time stuck trying to decide what to do that nothing ever happened with anyone. For so long. I just didn’t want to give up my belief that someone existed who would make all that shit seem worth it, you know?”
And that he understood—more than anything. There were people like John, who were worse when they realized his blindness was total, but then there were people like Ilan, who simply rearranged the way he considered Fredric’s needs. And he’d take a thousand Johns if it meant one Ilan, and that thought made his stomach swoop.
“Teddy wasn’t the first good boyfriend I’ve ever had. But he was the one who got it right more times than everyone else.” She stopped, and he heard the blinker click, then the car slowed as she made the turn. “It feels like it took forever, but now that we’ve been together for six years, it feels like it took no time at all.”
“Are you saying I just need to be patient?”
She laughed again. “Now why would I say something that ridiculous?”
They made it to the supermarket not long after that, and Fredric let her take the lead, filling up the basket with all the basics he’d neglected the first time he’d ordered his groceries to be delivered. It would take forever to sort through them, and he’d probably have to beg Ilan’s help, but as the afternoon crept toward evening, he knew he was going to ask him for it anyway.
Hudson was going to find something for them to do, and Fredric wanted to be prepared. He wanted more than a cooking lesson—he wanted a guide into the world of casual conversation and easy flirting and all the things that seemed to come natural to Ilan. He wanted to lean in and touch him and absorb bits and pieces of what made it possible for Ilan to love—so casually, so kindly, so thoroughly.
He waited until Agatha helped him put all the bags in his kitchen, then she took Bas for a walk, and Fredric stood in front of his items—half of them abstract and unfamiliar to the touch. And maybe it was foolish to ask Ilan over to help, maybe he was playing with fire, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. Pressing his finger to Ilan’s contact, he held his breath and waited.
“Everything okay?” came his soft voice. He was speaking in deliberately low tones, so Fredric had the feeling he was interrupting something.
“It’s not an emergency. I just wanted to see if you were free tonight.”
“Well, I…” Ilan hesitated for a long moment. “Yes. Of course, I am.”
“You’re lying,” Fredric accused, because he knew the younger man’s tone better than his own. “What are you doing?”
“I was just grabbing food,” Ilan protested. “Seriously, it’s fine. What do you need?”
“Help,” Fredric said, resigned to the answer. “I went shopping with Agatha, and I don’t even know half the stuff I bought. I need to get it all recorded, and I need to know how to cook most of it without burning my house down before I go on this date.”
“Okay,” Ilan said, his voice a little tight. “I can be there in twenty. Just shove anything cold in the fridge or freezer, then we can get it all sorted. Is Agatha still there?”
“She took Bas for a walk, but she’s not staying.”
Ilan was quiet again. “Is this a first date or a second?”
“Second,” he admitted, and again, the words felt wrong on his tongue. “Hudson.”