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"Cam, look, cupcakes and cookies for breakfast!" Ace chirped as I went downstairs to our kitchen.
"Ace, you can't have cupcakes for breakfast," I said, eyeing the table setup. "I'd rather lick you anyway."
"Nooo, Cam, please don't lick me!" he squealed as I grabbed him and stuck my tongue out.
But yes, a normal morning in our household. I met Ace in high school; he was the new kid, didn't speak a huge amount of English. He stayed to himself because he was bullied relentlessly for many things: being in foster care for having a dead mother and an addicted father... wearing dresses... his orientation. It took a lot to get him to open up to me; he didn't trust me at first. But I always thought he was cute, and he was also funny and smart. Sarcastic, by nature, too. Everything anyone said to him had some sort of sarcastic rebuttal.
Now, we've been together ten years. He is still very much himself, but a lot happier. And I'm happy to see him happy, even if his idea of breakfast means me putting on weight and him staying as stick thin as ever.
We joke around a lot. But I'm not without my problems either, and telling him about when I was a baby, and my mother, also addicted, burned me purposely (it's particularly bad on my right arm,) he came around and we traded stories. Neither of us have parents, basically. He was raised in the foster system and I was raised by my aunt. Even still I go through surgeries to fix the burn damage, and whenever I wake up, there's Ace, smiling at me....
