Sugar, Butter, Flour, and Love - Chapter 21: Chapter 21

"I'm so glad I packed properly for this thing or I'd have nothing to wear for our date." Trace said in our hotel room as he unpacked his things. The hotel room was like a small apartment suite and Trace hung up some of his different outfits in a closet while debating on what to wear.
The awkwardness from the ride over was mostly gone even though I still had questions. Like, how long had Trace been bullied? Had it really been because he was half? Was he okay? The thoughts kept swirling around my mind as he stood there seemingly without a care in the world, just casually arranging his wardrobe. There seemed to be so much he had gone through that I didn't know anything about.
Silence fell across the room and Trace seemed comfortable with it even though I wasn't. I fidgeted, playing with a particularly curly strand where my head met my neck. I needed a haircut, but none of the hair people at the Baking Beasts facility knew what to do with black hair so I was reluctant to have them anywhere near me.
"Uh—" I started, looking at Trace and then looking away. "Can I ask about your childhood?"
Trace smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "Sure."
"You can say no," I stammered out.
Trace's face softened and he gestured to a love seat in the corner of the room. "Let's sit."
We sat on the couch and Trace curled contentedly against my side. "What do you want to know, Darius?"
"Are you okay?" I asked softly.
Trace closed his eyes, and I appreciated the length of his eyelashes. "Sometimes, I wanted to die." He opened his eyes to look at me. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"We don't have to talk about this," I said quietly.
Trace made a pained expression and splayed his hand over my chest. I was sure he felt how fast my heart was beating. "I'm sorry," he said genuinely, "I'm being an ass. Sometimes, I get prickly when things are hard to talk about but I know you mean well. The bullying didn't last that long. It was just a very difficult year."
"Did your sister know about it?"
Trace shook his head. "In Japan, middle school and high school are different than here. You have one class and the teachers come in to teach the different subjects. So, we were put in different classes and we didn't see each other all day. I come from a wealthy family, so that complicated things. My father is from a prominent Bangladeshi family and my mother is a well known celebrity in Japan so the bullies would coordinate to make things as secretive as possible since I was one of the more famous kids at the school. They knew I had too much pride to tell anyone the extent of things, Iwas small for my age, and it was a private school so the idea of keeping up appearances was another factor. It was just a clusterfuck of things that made it easy for them."
"But, what about teachers? Did no one notice?" I asked, wondering how something so awful could be hidden.
Trace shrugged. "Some teachers noticed but they didn't do anything. Halfway through the year, it became really obvious that people were fucking with me and they started blaming me for being difficult. It's a common tactic to call non-white hafus difficult, violent, or combative. And bullying victims especially are looked at as problematic even if they're full Japanese. Not fitting in is a you problem." He shook his head and his voice started to thicken with emotion, "don't get me wrong. I love my culture and where I come from, and it's not like that everywhere but it's definitely a problem. Everything would've been so much easier if I looked more like my sister. And it's stupid to complain to you about my skin being 'dark' since you're black. It's fucked up."
I filed my fingers through Trace's hair, and the tenseness in his shoulders eased somewhat. "I'm sorry," I said quietly, "that sounds so awful. And I know there's nothing I can say to change what happened but I'm really glad you're alive right now. Not just because I have feelings for you and you're my boyfriend but because you're a good person, who's interesting, and who has value. And it's okay that you're half, it's good, it makes you, you."
Trace had tears in his eyes, and his voice was the softest I'd ever heard it, "You're so sweet." He rubbed at his eyes quickly and sniffled. "Give me a hug." He leaned heavily into my side and wrapped his arms around my waist. Most of the time Trace consoled and comforted me so I was relieved and proud that he saw me as someone he could be vulnerable in front of.
For the next little while Trace answered all my questions and painted a really sad picture of himself as a child. No one had ever seriously bothered him about his Japaneseness until that year, in grade seven, and he'd been jaded ever since. After he physically confronted the worst bully and broke the boy's nose, everything shifted. It was the first time he'd seen either of his parents cry—in sympathy of his situation. It was the most distant he and his sister had ever been. Even though nothing happened to the bullies both he and his sister transferred to another prestigious school, though it was not private. At first Trace had been constantly ready for a fight but once he realized no one had it out for him he settled well into the new school. Him and Nalini were in the same class and life was good. Up until the accident.
"What happened after that?" I asked quietly.
Trace was now leaning on my thighs and staring up at the ceiling. His eyes roved over to mine briefly. "More difficulties. But I was able to start walking again and get fitted for my prosthetic within six months. Within a year I was playing baseball, cricket and volleyball again. I was determined to be as normal as possible and I was happy I could still play sports. Maybe not as fast but just as good as before." He gave a tired smile. "So that's my childhood. What was yours like?"
I frowned. "Well, normal, I guess. I think I've always been anxious and worried about things. Both my parents are teachers but they're also West African immigrants. African parents don't really see mental health in the way they're supposed to. For a long time my mom thought I was just delicate. So she made little routines for me since I was a kid just to make me feel more stable. That helped a lot up until Cyrus starting travelling for basketball all the time. My grandparents are in Ghana and Togo, along with most of my relatives, so I slept over and stayed at Manny's place a lot, since our families were close. They were really kind in taking care of me. But I was always quiet, because I didn't want to intrude. But, I got to do the things I liked, like baking and basketball and I had Manny and my brother. Most of the time I was kind of anxious but happy."
Trace was quiet for a while. He blushed but maintained eye contact. "Have you ever had feelings for...Manny?"
I laughed. "Manny? No way. Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm attracted to just any guy," I chastised Trace kindly.
Trace seemed relieved. "Yeah, that's true. You guys just seem close. Do you have a type?"
I chewed my lip. "Uh— I don't think so. I just like who I like. I don't think that deeply about it. You?"
Trace hesitated. "I've always had a thing for big guys. I always thought it was hot to be with someone bigger than me but who lets me take lead. Does that bother you?"
"Why would it bother me?"
"I don't want you to think I'm just into you because you're big, tall, and muscular, even if I like all those things."
I laughed, surprising myself that Trace being attracted to my appearance didn't bother me the way it did with Jeremy. "This is how I look, I'm glad you like it."But, talking about myself was always awkward so I changed the topic quickly. "Despite your childhood, are you happy now?"
Trace grinned and his happiness seemed infectious. "Yes! I have my company, I live with my best friend, I get to be super out in a city that's nowhere near as conservative as my hometown and I have this amazing boyfriend. He's sweet and soft, and kind and perfect even if he doesn't realize it." Trace shifted on the couch to straddle my thighs. I thought he was going to kiss me but instead he threw his arms around me and gave me a bone crushing hug. "I'm so fucking happy," he murmured, rubbing circles into my back. "I love my life, I love us, I love..." Trace leaned away from the hug and stared at me for a long second before raising his hand to my face and smoothing my lower lip with the pad of his thumb.
I closed my eyes and shivered at the contact. I knew, deep in my heart, no one could ever make me feel like this.
"I love when you look at me like this," Trace murmured, still rubbing gently at my lip. It was a weird gesture, but I liked it anyways.
"Like what?" I said.
"Your eyes are a softer brown. You lick your lips a lot. You watch my mouth. You fidget more." Trace took his hands off of my face to lean his ear against my chest. I could smell his shampoo and feel the tickle of his hair against my chin. "Your heart beats faster. You make less eye contact. If you do all these things I can tell you want to be kissed. Is that what you want?" Wow, he was reading me like a book and I was loving it.
"Yes," I said quickly, almost desperately, "other stuff you can ask, but especially if it's just us, I like to be kissed."
Trace cupped my face and kissed me. It was chaste and lasted less than a heartbeat. But, I followed his retreating mouth for another kiss. His tongue darted between my lips and I just about melted, feeling incredibly pliant. I ran my fingers through Trace's hair, and enjoyed the soft intimacy of his mouth against mine. This kiss felt different. Maybe because I knew more about Trace and because I was starting to believe he liked me as much as he said he did.
After he stopped kissing me he went back to looking for something to wear. I watched him walk back to the closet and had to admire how nice his jeans made his ass look. It was like a dream.
"I think," I said nervously, folding and unfolding my fingers on my lap, "I want us to try to...do stuff, today. After we get back. If you're okay with that? I don't want to be presumptuous or anything or make you feel like I'm deciding things for the both of us. And I'm totally not, of course. It's your choice if you want us to— Well, no, I mean, really it's our choice." I took a big breath. "What I mean to say if you want to, then I'd want to, too. Like, tonight. After dinner. If you're okay with that. So, yeah."
Trace turned to look at me to raise his brows in surprise. His lips looked full, wet and almost swollen from all the kissing. He quirked his head to the side. It exposed the long line of his throat and I got the sudden desire it to mark him with hickeys. "Do you know what my favourite part about kissing you is, Darius?"
I shook my head while Trace walked over to me. He gave me a slow, open mouthed kiss that set my heart on fire. "It's your mouth," he said when he eventually pulled back. "Your mouth is perfect. Your lips are nice and soft, like two cushions and you let me kiss you however I want. Even if it's slow, and sweet. Or rough, and hard."
Rough? Hard? "You've never kissed me hard bef—"
Before I could even finish, Trace was devouring me. That was the only way to describe his next kiss. He gave me long, wet kisses, between sucking on my lower lip and tangling our tongues together. It was the most forward he'd ever been and I moaned wantonly into his mouth as I grasped his hips and pulled him closer to me. But, then Trace abruptly eased off from kissing me.
"Are you sure?" He asked me while all I could feel was the brand of his kiss on my mouth.
"I have no idea what we were just talking about," I admitted, impossibly torn between wanting him to always kiss me like that and to never kiss me like that again. It was just too overwhelming. Too intoxicating.
"You said you find me incredibly hot, and you're fantasizing about spending all night appreciating how great my ass looks." Trace propped his hip out and gave me a small smile.
I laughed. "That's not what I said." God, I don't think I ever laughed this much with anyone.
"Well, I don't mind fooling around. We've never really gone that far but going all the way isn't something I prepped for for this weekend. Yesterday's marathon tired me out."
"Oh yeah," I said softly, realizing Trace must be exhausted, "I'm stupid."
"You're not stupid, Darius," he said quietly, "I can tell you're trying. It's flattering to hear you want to jump my bones but my bones are sore today." I nodded quickly but Trace still frowned before surprising me with a hug. His voice had gone from sympathetic to a quiet heat, "we've taken our time with lots of things so when we do sleep together I expect not be able to walk properly for at least a week and I'm looking forward to that."
I blushed hotly, extremely conscious of how close Trace and I were to one another. "Uh, ditto. I mean, wait, I want to be able to walk. And, I want you to be able to walk, too. What I mean is I definitely want to touch butts." Shit, everything was coming out all wrong. I moved out of Trace's embrace so I could think. " I mean—God, I don't even know what I mean anymore. Do you know what I mean?"
Trace laughed brightly, clearly flattered. "Yes, I want to sleep with you, too, Darius. And you can touch my butt whenever you want."
"I'm just...going to get ready for our date now." I stood up from the bed and got my toiletries out of my suitcase. I gestured to the bathroom. "I'll be in there."
Trace nodded. "Alright."
"I mean, it's not like an invitation. Did that sound like an invitation? It's just a shower. It's not an innuendo." I wasn't even sure if I was thinking out loud or talking to Trace anymore. Everything felt all jumbled.
"My shower prosthetic isn't stable enough for me to withstand touching butts in the shower," Trace said so matter of factly it was like we were talking about the weather. But, then he cracked a smile. "You're my boyfriend, Darius, it's not weird for us to talk about sex even if we haven't gotten there, yet."
"Right," I mumbled before going into the bathroom and promptly closing the door. Even if it wasn't supposed to be weird it was totally weird to talk so casually about something I considered a huge deal. But, I'd have to get over it soon. And I guessed that my stammering and mumbling was better than not saying anything at all. After all, I only had a few days with Trace and I had to make them worth it.
#
Baking Beasts has provided me and Trace with tickets to a broadway show, and a reservation at a fancy restaurant.
The musical we saw was enchanting and we sat in a little booth that was on the second floor. It only had two seats so I could relax without worrying about obstructing anyone's view. The musical was Cinderella, and Trace turned out to be something of a musical theatre buff. He even knew of some of the actors on stage. It was fun watching with him because of how excited he got. He looked over at me a lot throughout the production and I made sure to smile to show him I was having a good time.
We didn't go anywhere during the intermission and Trace decided that was a good time to kiss me, hold my hand and tell me all the stuff he wanted us to do together. The pleasure Trace got from teasing me could be a lot to handle but I was smiling too much to seriously want him to stop.
"I didn't think I'd realize how much I would miss you," Trace said softly, while tracing out the lines on the palm of my hand.
"Really?" I said quietly.
"Yes! Every time I saw something that would be cool for us to do together I made a list. But once it got to a few dozen I had to stop."
"A few dozen?" I echoed, "what exactly is on this list?"
Trace grinned. "Basic stuff. Like pottery, ice skating, pumpkin carving, drive in movie theatres, camping, museums, going to the circus together, ballet shows, comic conventions. And most of all there's this Japanese tourist thing in the summer. Me and Nalini always go together and I want to go with you this year. It'll be fun and I look pretty hot in a yukata."
"...Those are a lot of things." If I remembered correctly a yukata was more of a summer kimono kind of thing. "Do you have a lot of traditional Japanese clothing?"
Trace nodded. "I do, but never anywhere interesting to wear it to. The festival is only once a year and I was thinking we could go on a double date with my sister and her boyfriend."
"That sounds like it would be fun."
Trace sounded relieved. "So it's a yes?"
I laughed hard enough at his enthusiasm that I farted. Humiliation swept through my body and I covered my face. "Oh my God." This was my worst nightmare. How had that even happened?
Trace laughed before patting me on the back. I could tell he was trying not to laugh but in his effort not to laugh he snorted and started laughing even louder. "I'm sorry," he said while wiping a few tears from his eye. "That was really unexpected."
"I am so embarrassed," I mumbled. Abruptly, I stood up, paced in the small balcony and then sat back down again. "I'm sorry for being so gross."
Trace's smile left his face. "It's just a fart! You're not gross, Darius."
I turned away, humiliated. "Can we not talk about this?"
Instead of listening to me, Trace used his index finger to gently shift my chin towards him and he gave me a mind melting kiss. "You're not gross."
"Okay," I said because it was getting hard to argue when he was looking at me like being self -deprecating was a crime.
The house lights went off and the theatre started to quiet down.
"You look cute when you pout, Darius. Should I fart to make things equal? I'm sure I could make it happen."
"You're crazy," I said with a smile, right before my voice was drowned out by the start of the second act.
#
After the musical, the camera guys and a producer, unfortunately Richard, caught up with us and the romantic mood cooled down a lot. We talked briefly about how great the musical was before they followed us to an all you can eat sushi place. Richard wanted us to hold hands while walking down the street and kiss on camera but I gave him a dark look and he stopped persisting. At the very least I was glad Trace hadn't butt in and told Richard off as much as I could tell he wanted to.
A lot of my adversity towards public displays of affection stemmed from my anxiety and all the homophobia in the world. I wasn't about to kiss my boyfriend in front of multiple cameras for a baking reality tv show.
Richard was quiet until we got to the sushi restaurant and told the camera guys to record for the rest of the evening and he would be heading back to the baking facilities.
Once we got to the restaurant, Trace's good mood was infectious. "Sushi, my dear friend," he said, "it's been too long. Remember that time we had sushi at my place? That was the last time I had it. I could die happy right now, honestly."
His enthusiasm was making me smile. "Yeah?"
Trace nodded eagerly. The camera guys had seated us in a more private corner of the restaurant and made us sit perpendicular to each other so that Trace was on my right instead of seated across from me at our square table. He was tapping through the iPad with me and selecting the dishes he wanted to eat as well as the ones he wanted to try.
"Is sushi better here or in Japan?" I asked after we put our order through.
Trace snorted. "Japan of course. I'll take you someday soon."  He said it so casually, as if it wasn't a big deal at all. No matter what he still thought of Japan as his home which was endearing.
I was so surprised by his response all I said was, "I don't speak Japanese. "
He shrugged one shoulder. "I'll take you to foreigner friendly places and translate for you. There are so many desserts I think you'd enjoy. We could do, like, a food tour thing. You could see my childhood home, we could have authentic sushi. It would be fun."
"I think whatever you want to do or wherever you want to go...I'd probably follow you there. It would take some time for me to get used to the idea, but if you were there, I'd be happy."
"Oh," Trace said with a slight flush. To my surprise he slipped into French. His accent sounded French Canadian and I remembered he did some university in Montreal. "When will those guys leave? I don't want to talk around them. Or, at the very least, it would be very inappropriate. I really want to kiss you, right now."
I looked over at the camera guys. "How long exactly do you guys have to be here?"
One of them sighed. "At least another half hour, Darius. We'll take some footage up until the food gets here and then when you guys are eating. And let's keep it to English. We didn't hire any translators."
I frowned. My precious time with Trace was being tainted by the presence of strangers.
Trace nudged my foot under the table and gave me a small smile. He opened his mouth to say something but before he could someone came up to our table. I thought it was a server but when I looked up it was a middle aged guy holding out his phone.
" Are you Cyrus Nkrumah? Can we take a picture together?" He was extremely polite and he was even wearing a New Jersey Lions shirt with Cyrus' name and number on it.
I laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. "I'm sorry, you're mistaken. We just— lookalike."
The man frowned and his shoulders slumped. "Really? All these cameras are here because you're just a regular guy?"
I waved my hand dismissively. "It's just a reality TV show thing. I mean, I am Cyrus' brother. A lot of people get confused between us since we look alike." I didn't add that a lot of people just thought all black people looked the fucking same for some reason.
"You're his brother?!" he said with a surprised laugh. "Well, can I just get a picture anyways? That's pretty cool, too."
Sweat started to prickle against my forehead. Quickly, I waved my hands in front of me while shaking my head. This was too much attention. I could already feel more eyes on me because this guy's voice was so loud. "Sorry, no. I wouldn't be comfortable with that."
His face screwed up in disappointment. "Oh." The man walked away but not before raising his phone and taking a picture of me and Trace anyways. I covered my face too late and I felt a sick feeling in my stomach.
Trace scowled, and for a second I thought he was going to make a big deal out of things but his voice was quiet, "What a fucking asshole. Do you ever tell your brother about all the people who bother you?"
"Sometimes, but, there's not much anyone can do. We aren't twins but even I can admit we look alike. But he outweighs me and he's a couple inches taller than me. I just feel like if they were true fans they'd be able to recognize him." Interestingly enough, there were a lot fewer black fans who came up to me and thought I was Cyrus. After a second or two they were more likely to realize.
My thoughts were interpreted by the arrival of our platters and we started talking about safe topics again, like zombies and how Trace wanted to take me camping and a bunch of outdoorsy stuff I wouldn't usually be into. Strangely enough, a few more people approached me thinking I was Cyrus. Well, it wasn't that strange, NYC was close to New Jersey.
It didn't exactly ruin our evening but it affected my mood every time our date was interrupted. After the fourth time it happened, I wish'd we'd stayed in. The camera guys ended up staying longer than they said they would to get footage of all the people comparing me to my brother.
Eventually, dinner was over and it was time to go. A taxi took us back to the hotel but I was distracted. The camera guys had a contraption that looked back into the back of the car and they expected me and Trace to make conversation or act lovey-dovey. Trace wasn't as uncomfortable on camera and I could tell he wanted to hold hands but as soon as his fingers twitched towards mine, I put my hands firmly in my lap. When we finally got back to the hotel room I wasn't really in the mood for much.
"Listen," I said softly, "I know what I said earlier about stuff but I don't think I want to—"
"It's okay," Trace said quietly. "This tv has some streaming services. I'm gonna take a shower and then we can watch something?"
"Okay," I said.
Trace stopped in front of me and took both my hands, squeezing them briefly. "You're enough just the way you are, Darius. You need to remind yourself of that more."
I didn't say anything and Trace squeezed my hands again before taking his shower leg and a toiletry bag to the washroom.
I sat down on the bed and wondered why it always made me feel so awful to be compared to my brother. We looked alike, but he had always been bigger and taller than me, we both had weird names because our parents thought naming us after Persian kings would make us prosper in life, but we were so different.
I had always been quieter, more sensitive, and thoughtful in a way that Cyrus wasn't. But my older brother adored me and still thought of me as someone he needed to look after. He never saw our differences as my own personal failings and I never understood why. Sometimes, I wondered if I was worthy of his love. I didn't have a lot of friends because of my anxiety and after a certain age it got too hard to make more. I was tall, and dark, and gay, and anxious, and every time someone confused me for Cyrus I almost felt like those were bad things to be. Because yeah Cyrus was tall and dark, but also confident and a sports star.
Trace came out of the bathroom eventually. His cheeks were slightly flushed from the steam and his hair was damp, and looking surprisingly curly. The towel clung to his waist and his chest was nicely exposed. I couldn't stop staring at the flat ridges of his abs or his piercings. The fact Trace had gotten his nipples pierced surprised me on many levels but I think now I just found it insanely hot that he always had a secret under his shirt.
I gestured at my own chest while still staring at his. "Doesn't it— chafe when you run?"
Trace gave me an incomprehensible look for a moment before sitting beside me on the bed. A drop of water trailed down his neck and meandered down the valley between his pecs. I watched it with a lot more fascination than it warranted. Trace's skin looked so smooth and I wanted to touch him, or kiss him, or both. Following the water droplet down his chest with my tongue crossed my mind before I got my thoughts firmly out of the gutter.
"They have these pasties for men which a lot of runners actually wear. But I've always been kind of sensitive in that spot so even before my piercings when I went for long jogs I still wore them."
"Are they still...sensitive after you got them pierced?"
Trace gave me a sultry look. "Even more than before."
"Oh," I murmured softly, thinking about all the things I wanted to do and how I was too nervous to do them.
Trace leaned over to me and he smelled like body wash and that scent of almost honey I'd long associated with him. He squeezed my thigh and it felt like I was buzzing. "You always clam up right before you say something, Darius. If there's something you want to say, I'm all ears."
I looked down at Trace and he still had hand on my thigh, squeezing. But I wanted him to move his hand somewhere...else. And maybe squeeze even harder. But, Trace was nearly naked with his towel pooled artfully around his waist, hiding all the best bits while proudly displaying his muscular thighs and upper body. I was getting sort of lost.
I leaned down even lower and kissed Trace, softly and slowly. He responded delightfully, using both his hands to pull my face even closer to his in a commanding, dominant kiss. I loved how Trace just took control, and especially how that control came so easily to him. It was thrilling and wonderful.
Trace's towel soon fell and that was distracting enough I had to stop kissing him. "I think I'll take a shower, too." I said.
He didn't do anything to cover himself and instead spread his legs wider. It was amazingly hot how confident Trace was, and the smoulder in his gaze was as eloquent as his widely splayed thighs. He knew that I knew that he was gorgeous, and not only did he love the attention he knew he deserved it. "Okay," he said in a low voice, "I'll just be here. Chilling."
I got up from the bed and got my bathroom stuff together before disappearing into the bathroom.
My shower was quick and clinical because I wanted to get back out there and kiss Trace a lot more. I spent a good amount of time brushing my teeth, flossing and rinsing with mouth wash. Whatever happened next, I wanted to be ready.
I wasn't sure what I expected when I got out of the shower but it definitely wasn't Trace laying in the middle of the bed with a bottle of lube and a box of condoms on his left and a pair of pyjamas on his right.
He was wearing boxers but that was all and I could tell he was still affected by our earlier kiss. "So, we can do one of two things. We can have sex because I think we're both kind of heading in that direction at this point. Or, we can just hang out in our PJs and watch something on Netflix. I'm sure there's a zombie movie we haven't seen. Whatever you want to do I'm down for, no pressure."
Being given two options like this was nice. But the first thing I did was sit on the bed facing away from Trace and lotion my body while I thought. After I got through moisturizing I was pretty sure I knew what I wanted to do.
It felt like my face was on fire, but I moved closer to Trace on the bed after taking off my towel. His brown eyes got wide as he took in my nude body. This was the first time he'd seen me naked and it felt like a weighted moment. For a few seconds, I couldn't bear to look at him, but when I finally looked at him I saw that Trace was looking at me like I was a rare delicacy.
Wow, that felt good.
"I think," I said quietly, "we won't need the PJs."