Never a Hero

from me, but not to obscure the fact that he was fully dressed.
    “Sneaking away in the night?” I meant it as a joke, but he didn’t laugh.
    “Owen, we need to talk.”
    The weight of his words and the solemn timbre of his voice scared me. My chest felt heavy with dread. “No.”
    “Yes.”
    I sat up, suddenly unable to bear being pinned in by the dogs. I pulled my legs free of the covers and stood up. I felt vulnerable being naked in front of him when he was dressed, so I pulled a pair of boxers out of my drawer and donned them before turning to face him across the dark room. “I don’t want to talk, because I know what you’re going to say.”
    “And what is that?”
    “That it shouldn’t have happened. That it can’t happen again.”
    He didn’t answer, but his silence was more damning than any words.
    “I’m right, aren’t I?”
    “It was a mistake.”
    “No! Goddammit, it was not a mistake!”
    He sighed. “You don’t understand.”
    “You’re right, I don’t. One minute you’re pulling me close, and the next you’re pushing me away. You tell me you want me, but as soon as I respond, you say I can’t have you. What am I supposed to think?”
    “You have every right to be mad, Owen. And confused. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I let things get out of hand.”
    “Well, I’m not!” I was embarrassingly close to tears and I fought them back. “I’m not sorry!”
    “Owen—”
    “Is it me?”
    “What?”
    “Is it me? Am I the problem?”
    “No.” No hesitation. He said the word with a quiet emphasis that made it difficult to doubt him, and yet I had no other explanation.
    “You say you’re attracted to me, but the truth is, you can’t stand the idea of being with a cripple.”
    “That’s not it.”
    “You want to touch me, but you hate it when I touch you.”
    His laugh was harsh and bitter. “Is that really what you think?”
    “What other explanation is there?”
    He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. “It’s not that I don’t want you to touch me, Owen. It’s that if I let you touch me, I’ll lose control, even more than I did tonight.”
    “Good!”
    “It’s not good—”
    “I want you to lose control like that more often.”
    “You have no idea what’s going on here. You have no idea how dangerous this is.”
    “Dangerous?”
    “I’m trying to protect you.”
    “From what?”
    “From me.”
    “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I asked, my anguish suddenly giving way to rage. “Jesus Christ, stop speaking in riddles and talk to me!”
    “Owen—”
    “You’re not making any sense at all!”
    “Listen to me—”
    “You’re making excuses!”
    “I have AIDS.”
    It was the last thing I’d expected to hear. All the air seemed to be sucked from my lungs. It was like being punched in the stomach.
    I backed up until I hit the wall. I was numb. Overwhelmed, and horrified. The room seemed to shrink, becoming too small to hold us both. I wished I was somewhere else. Anywhere else. I wanted put miles between us. To be far, far away rather than face the possibility of this disease.
    Nick sighed, seemingly unsurprised by my reaction. Now that I wasn’t yelling at him, he sat up and faced me. “I guess it’s not AIDS. Not technically. But I’m HIV-positive.”
    My legs could no longer hold me. I fell heavily to the ground. All I could think of was my cock in his mouth. The virus possibly moving through my body already, attacking my cells, destroying my ability to fight infections. My stomach roiled, the alcohol turning sour. My hands shook.
    Was Nick going to die?
    Was I?
    My head began to spin. My breathing took on a life of its own. I wondered wildly if this was what it felt like to hyperventilate. I leaned forward, bracing myself on the floor, trying not to be sick in front of him. “But tonight, we . . . Oh God.”
    “Nothing we did puts you at risk,” he said quietly. “I would never do that to you.”
    “But we had sex!”
    “Owen, I was careful about exactly what activities we engaged in. Saliva is a very poor carrier of the virus. You don’t have any open wounds. And my viral load is low right now. I was mindful of the possibilities. I promise you, what we did tonight is as close to zero-risk as it gets.”
    Was that true? I had no idea. I only knew the most publicized facts: it couldn’t be passed through casual contact or kissing. Even sharing a toothbrush would be safe. But beyond that, I was woefully