I could feel my shirt begin to adhere to the perspiration on my skin. I regretted wearing silk. Wheeler was seated across from me. The table seemed much too small. The fish was skillfully prepared, although I hardly tasted it. I was too distracted by the sensation of his eyes on my face. Every few moments my curiosity would get the best of me and I'd look up only to realize that he was indeed staring at me, or I'd become fixated on the absolutely sinful movements of his mouth as he chewed. The pleasure that he took in eating was almost enviable. I continued to watch him covertly until he put down his knife and fork and swallowed deliberately.

"It's funny that we're really doing this." He said, sounding forcibly casual.

I thought about his statement. I was suspicious of what he wanted from me. Should I agree? Revel in the unexpectedness of our newfound amicability? Was it actually so bizarre that we should go out of our ways to share a meal together? I must have waited too long to respond because Wheeler spoke again. "I mean, it makes sense to me now but I think other people would get a kick out of it. "

"What do you mean it makes sense now? And who are 'other people?" I asked, slightly alarmed.

Wheeler shrugged. "Well we had some good times, didn't we? With all the fighting and arguing and insulting each other. It was kind of like a game." He took another bite of fish, as if to give himself more time to form his next thought. "I guess it's easy for me to say that now, at the time it didn't seem as funny."

I took a healthy sip of wine, feeling like I would need it soon. "I admit, I got a certain enjoyment out of riling you up. You were just so easy to provoke."

Wheeler smiled into his plate. "Yeah. I guess that's just how I grew up. You know, always having to act like the tough guy, showing everyone else that you won't take any shit. "

"There's other ways to be tough."

Wheeler looked intrigued by my words. "You know a lot about that?"

I didn't answer at first. I wasn't sure how to. I stared into my plate, trying to play it off like I was thinking when really I just felt blank.

"I mean I guess you've had a pretty tough life too, you know, having to be really independent and responsible since you were a kid."

When I finally looked at Wheeler his face was bright red. He aimlessly pushed the rest of his food around on his plate. I really wanted to answer, to talk to him, but I was so nervous about what I would say and what I would regret.

"I never really thought about it like that."

Wheeler looked at me curiously.

"My life has always been very fast. I don't take stock of it very often." It was mostly a true thing to say, although the past few months had been exceptionally melancholy and reflective.

"Maybe you should slow down."

"I don't think it's really up to me at this point."

Wheeler nodded solemnly. "Well, I'm not exactly a philosopher but a very wise man once told me that 'even in a moment there is great significance'." He was standing up now. I observed the wrinkles in his shirt, caused by sitting down. He was walking around the table. It seemed to happen very slowly. And when I turned in my chair to face him it was as if I were pushing against a current. It took me a moment to understand the internal thumping I was feeling was the beating of my own heart. I sucked in my breath. My eyes were inches from his stomach. I couldn't decide whether I wanted to look up into his face or just remain transfixed on the calming shapes of his shirt buttons. As with many other things in my life, it ultimately wasn't left up to me. I felt his rough hand on my jaw, tilting my face up. I don't know how, but I stood up from my chair. I was a little taller than him now, and calmer because of it.

His face was so warm. I wondered how, in all the years we had known each other, I never studied it as I was studying it now. He had freckles on the bridge of his nose and around the tops of his cheekbones. In my mind flashed images of constellations from an old book at the orphanage that I obsessively read. I wanted to trace them with my fingers. His hands were on my elbows now.

"Do I look as dazed as you do right now?" He asked me breathily, but with the same teasing tone that I had become accustomed to.

I sighed in relief. He sounded so familiar. I realized in an instant that I wasn't in Wheeler's territory as much as I had thought. We were both clueless, simultaneously compelled and paralyzed by the unknown.

He moved his hands to grip the sides of my face. My own arms hung like lead by my sides. "Kaiba," he said softly, "I think this might be important. I think I want to remember this." He brought my face very close to his. My nose brushed against his cheek, our mouths aligned but were not yet touching. I felt his hands slip down to my shoulders, grounding me with their steady weight. And then, in a moment of great significance, his lips were against mine.

His mouth was at first warm and dry and only slightly out of line with my own mouth so that part of his kiss fell on my chin. But we made incremental adjustments, opening and stretching the shapes of our mouths. I couldn't think of anything at all for the first few seconds. It became something more humid as we breathed into each other. His tongue brushed against my bottom lip.

I was more passive than him. I moved only in order to better accommodate him, widening my mouth and tilting my head in accordance with the exploration of his tongue. I relaxed into against his hands, which were stroking the sides of my arms comfortingly.

It was only when he pulled away from me that I panicked. What happened next? What was Wheeler thinking? How did I recover from this, how did I regain control?

"You ok?" He asked me.

My panic must have been evident. The delicious slowness of the previous moment was gone now. It was too much, a thousand thoughts raced through my mind, all blurring together in one indecipherable smudge. I needed to know what to do next.

"Hey if you're not into this, we can just forget it ever happened. I mean, I'm sorry if I misread it I just-"

The absolute wrongness of his words finally prompted me to speak. "No Wheeler. It's ok."

It was ok. I had said it, I had made the judgment. I resolved not to panic anymore. The features of his face collapsed in relief. His eyes closed, his mouth fell into a sigh and his eyebrows, which had been raised in concern, flattened out.

"Maybe we should sit down. Somewhere else. The living room?" he asked.

We walked through the jarringly yellow kitchen to get to another, darker room. There was a beat up sectional against one of the walls. We both sunk into it, sitting close to each other but not touching.

"So," he began, unsteadily, "is this something that you want to do?"

"What do you mean by 'this?'"

"You know, this physical thing. " Wheeler had moved so that he sat cross-legged on the cushion, facing me. "Or did I get it wrong?"

I cringed. I didn't like to be in the vulnerable position of admitting to wanting anything. "You didn't get it wrong. I'm just. Overwhelmed."

Wheeler snorted. "I never thought I would hear you say that. So you're saying that I overwhelm you? Just to clarify, of course."

"Don't push it Wheeler." I snapped, but my words sounded limp even to my own ears. When I turned to look at him I could see his eyes glittering in the dim light. He looked every bit the rebellious teenager I had known him as. His curled mouth exuded the over-confident quality that women so often seemed to lust after. His entire expression was challenging me. "What do you want?"

"Right now?"

"Yes right now!" I said impatiently.

"Well right now, what I really want is to touch you."

He smirked in a way that suggested he knew exactly the kind of effect his slick words could produce.

"Would you even know how to, Wheeler?" It was easier to talk to him like we were still rivals.

"Not really." He stated unassumingly. "I've never done anything like this with a guy." He leaned into me, tracing the tip of his nose against my throat. "But I'm a fast learner."

A choked laugh escaped my lips. If I had thought I was sweating before, I was really sweating now. Wheeler's rumpled hair looked so inviting. I felt like I was losing my mind. Something hard was at my neck-his teeth, I realized. I shivered despite how hot I felt. I tried to think of something, anything, numbers, to distract me from the situation at hand. Yes, numbers. I frantically tried to recall my favorite algorithms. When that was too complicated I began enumerate various things in the room. There were 13 DVDs in the cabinet under the TV. Two magazines on the coffee table. Four throw pillows. It wasn't helping.

Mercifully, Wheeler stopped whatever he was doing to my neck to speak again. "What about you?"

"What about me what?"

"Do you know how to?"

"Do I know how to what?"

"Do you know how to touch me?"

He voice was uncharacteristically low and soft, like a restrained purr.

"I know everything."

"I almost forgot," He put his mouth back on my neck, kissing me. "About your big brain," another kiss.

I let my head fall against the back of the couch. I unlocked my knees, Wheeler moved so he sat between my legs. Somewhere in the back of my head I knew we were approaching it- the point at which I would freeze up and everything would be ruined.

"Wheeler," I begged quietly, "please."

"Anything you want," he murmured against my skin as he undid the buttons of my shirt.

"I think I need-" he bit my shoulder and I gasped.

"I know what you need."

"I need to go." I whispered, sounding utterly unconvincing.

But it was enough. Wheeler pulled away like he had been shocked by something.

"Okay…" he said, sounding out the two syllables in uncertainty.

"It's not you," I said quickly, regaining some semblance of composure in my voice. He had moved away from me and I stood up, hastily trying to close my shirt and straighten my clothes. I couldn't look him in the eye. "I'm going to go home."

My hands were shaking a little bit. Wheeler got up and stood next to me. He held my hands, which were trying, unsuccessfully, to fit the last button through the small hole. In one swift movement he closed the button for me. "Ok. But will you call me sometime?"

I would have agreed to anything just to get out of that room. "Yes. But I need to-"

"I know." He finished for me, "you need to go home."