Hers

The veins beneath her skin glowed blue beneath the MTA fluorescents, as if Time had frozen them in porcelain. He imagined pressing his lips to a Russian china doll or the Vatican floor. Peter grabbed her hand, wanting to tell her how he felt, that this trip to New York wasn’t just a platonic excursion, how he had never been so encapsulated by a woman. Delilah looked up and smiled like a child observing a strange painting. The subway doors opened, releasing the moment out into the March air.

His

Peter and Samson had kissed just once, drunk, on the shuttle back from the Quad one Saturday night freshman year. Both pulled away and laughed. But as the humor faded, the space between the two men fell away, replaced by a quiet heavy with meaning.

The Wrath of Angels

The ArchAngels had cast him out of Heaven, so Peter wandered in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Gabriel had cast the first stone. It hit the surface and rippled throughout the roommates. Peter returned from section and opened his door to a common room he barely recognized. The angels had stripped away every hint of habitation aside from his own. Their coats were gone from their hangers. They’d taken their mugs from the shelf. The calendar had been torn off the wall. Their bedroom doors were closed, locked. Peter had never known such a violent silence.

He could hear them on the other side of the wall. Delilah was crying. Samson kept saying, “Time.” Peter stopped listening when they started having sex.

First Night

Peter ran into Michael in the bathroom, running sink water over his righteous sword. Peter asked if they could talk. “I think that time’s passed,” Michael said, and nothing else. Peter watched his own blood stream off the blade and down the drain.

Noah: I can’t.

Peter: Please, just for tonight. We could cuddle?

Noah: I have a pset due tomorrow. Plus I have to work on this fucking arc.

Peter: Please, I can’t be in my room.

Noah: This is really unfair of you to ask me. You know I have a lot of work. Gnight.

Peter slept with the lights on, hoping the silence wouldn’t get to him.

Theirs

“But where are you going?” Peter demanded. Samson and Delilah had their hands in the other’s pockets.

“We built a shelter where the angels’ quiet can’t get at us,” one said.

“Yes, but there’s only room for you two.”

“It’s okay, Peter. We don’t need protection anymore. We built this ourselves,” the other assured.

“What about me?” But they’d already retreated into their shelter. Delilah was fussing over Samson’s new haircut.

Abnormal

Abnormal was every Tuesday and Thursday like clockwork. The prof was predictably 40 minutes late. Noah sent Peter doves across lecture over the Cloud—little electronic olive branches. He could come over tonight if he wanted.

Abnormal meant studying certain subjects from which Peter continuously distanced himself. The theory had been gently suggested, and he admitted to a slight suspicion but never allowed those thoughts to become fully formed in his mind. To permit them space within his brain meant partially admitting to their truth. Over all else, he was most terrified of being unoriginal. A right-brain bisexual with mild to severe depression: It’s been done. Truth was so easily twisted and tucked away, like history and statistics.

Ours

Peter had a drawer in Noah’s wardrobe. He couldn’t really remember how it had gotten there, like a strange bruise one finds on his arm one day. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d slept in his own bed. Time ticked by but lost all logic in Noah’s presence.

LamCaf

“I saw your roommate here yesterday!” Liz sang, handing Peter his chai.

“ArchAngel?”

“No, from last year! Other Noah!” Peter hadn’t thought of Other Noah in months. A storm flashed through his mind.

Another Sky

They’d gone to dinner and now they were seated side by side, waiting for the show to begin. This date, five months after their first, had been Noah’s idea. It was Peter’s idea to buy tickets for Saturday so he wouldn’t have to bump into the ArchAngels. Gabriel was the lead, so Peter supposed he’d congratulate him afterwards. He hadn’t spoken to them for nearly a month.

Sitting beside Noah in that renovated pool, the tension of their past settled into a drowsy custard between the two of them—silly and sticky and sweet. They were building something new, something far beyond the roles and limitations of Paradise. Heaven seemed like such a chore now. There is another sky, and there is another sunshine, though it be darkness there. Peter slipped his hand into Noah’s. The lights dimmed. Time was finally on their side.