The Other Noah

Other Noah: Peter’s Adam, his first. That first night freshman year: all the quiet, electric anticipation from a summer’s worth of Facebook messaging, culminating in a collision like a cacophonous wave. Losing his virginity had felt to Peter like his ribs were being wrenched apart, like a bird being cracked open down the center to be feasted upon—meat. He was submerged in the serene broth and gravy of the night. Other Noah buoyed him so he wouldn’t sink deeper, or else held his body under the surface. All at once he was exposed. He was a sex person: a person who had sex now. His virginity was somewhere among the shards of shattered bone and bits of torn flesh and plucked feathers. He felt free, yet it seemed a gate had closed. Neurons within his head died and interwove; he had learned a thing.

They fell in love in the inevitable and insufficient way in which two bodies that fold together perfectly often do. For nearly seven months, the Other Noah bubbled up in Peter’s blood, made him feel sick and pressurized, kept him up at night. Then Peter met Noah in the foam and flood, and the atoms in his world began to buzz a little brighter.

Quad Walk

Would Peter walk him to the Quad, Michael’s text inquired. The ArchAngels had been out in Boston the night before. He met Michael in his room. Peter talked to him casually as Michael glacially shuffled to gather his things, sat for a minute, and then shuffled some more. Peter only left to grab Michael some water. This was the first time they’d spoken since he started living in Noah’s room. The awkwardness was surreally comforting to them both. Peter dropped Michael off at the SOCH, made sure he felt alright, and rode the shuttle back.

Sweet Cupcakes

Other Noah licked the cream cheese frosting off the round, red head. “What d’you mean?”

“I don’t know. I just have a thing about birthdays,” Peter mumbled through a generous bite. “I feel like if you miss someone’s birthday, you’re just out of sync with them. They’ve grown without you. So now you two are on, like, separate roads.”

“It’s just a day.”

“I’m not saying it’s logical.”

Other Noah shook his head and stared at Peter. It was Michael’s day, but in the center of the fifth-floor Grays common room, it felt as if it were all theirs.

Candid