Glimpses of Paradise

When Joey had first met Alexander, he’d thought he was gay. It hadn’t bothered him exactly, it was just…weird. Like living with a girl who was attracted to him, except without the breasts and the hair and with something that decidedly got in the way of Joey’s version of ‘hot’. But the apartment was inexpensive, and the empty bedroom had a nice view, and he’d been living in a studio apartment with a guy that thought he was Batman since he’d moved out of his parents’ place, so Joey was borderline desperate. It didn’t matter that the guy downstairs who always wore a bathrobe was a little creepy, or that his potential roommate was a gay guy who thought his name was Jerry. He would just deal with it, and hope that Alex wouldn’t hog the TV when Baywatch was on.

He’d been surprised, and a little relieved, when Alex hadn’t had any idea what Joey was talking about when he'd subtly brought it up.

Joey wasn’t even sure why he’d thought his now-best friend was gay. Maybe it was the plaid vest he‘d been wearing at the time.

* * *

When Joey had been friends with Alex for three years, Lisa made a comment.

Lisa always made comments, and they didn’t usually make sense to anyone but Lisa. But this was different, because it concerned Joey and Alex, and everybody seemed to understand Joey and Alex more than Joey did.

She’d said, in her usual off-hand fashion, that they were soul mates.

After the phenomena of the last “soul mates” of their little group of friends, Joel and Grace, this was a little shocking to hear.

It was one thing for Lisa to comment that Alex was gay, because Joey figured that she still hadn’t realized what Joey and everybody else had- that Alex liked women just as much as Joey did.

But Lisa had never directed her comments at Joey before, and definitely not at the both of them.

Joey wasn’t homophobic, but he didn’t like the idea that people might think the same way Lisa did.

He followed that train of thought for a while, and his conclusion, brought on by the superintendent confusing the two of them, a “gig” that offered a lot of money, an offered apartment, and an argument over a shared toothbrush, was that he should move out.

“Of course it doesn’t bother me! We’re not Bert and Ernie- we’re not gay puppets!” Alex had shouted at him that day.

And Joey thought, ‘Exactly.’

* * *

Anyone could testify that Gary was about the worst new roommate Alex could have gotten. His hobbies included dehydrating fruit, kidnapping Alex and taking him to Vegas, renting graphic werewolf-based movies, and watching Alex sleep
But even before Joey was given reasons- good reasons- to hate Gary, he hated him. And he had no real, logical reason to: after all, Joey was the one who moved out. Why shouldn’t Alex get a new roommate? (Even if it was less than a week after--wasn’t that a little too soon to move on?)

It was just that… Joey and Alex were always just the two of them. He couldn't remember a time when it was just Joey, all alone, and Maurice, his imaginary best friend, though remembered fondly, just didn’t seem to matter anymore.

Joey had thought Alex couldn’t either. He should have remembered all those years Alex had with his dysfunctional family, and how they’d had an impact, however crappy. He should have remembered Kip, and Ross, his old roommates, but he didn’t, mostly because he tried not to remember. But Joey couldn’t forget Gary- not when he was right there, complete with moving boxes, and would probably be there for quite some time. And Joey wanted to hate Alex for that.

Joey couldn’t quite manage it (hating Alex); it was just that, for the two weeks that Gary lived with Alex, Joey really wanted to rip out someone’s hair, and it was a hard call if he’d rather rip out Alex‘s or Gary‘s.

* * *

And sometimes, Joey kinda saw Gary’s point of view. Because sometimes, Joey would catch Alex asleep on the couch, mouth slightly open, and there was something about the scene that made it impossible for Joey to shake him awake. He would never sneak into Alex’s room to watch him sleep or anything, because he never thought much of the way watching Alex sleep made him feel.

Because some things seemed so natural that Joey never questioned them. When Alex was asleep, Joey forgot that Alex didn’t think the same way that Joey did, no matter how close they were.

* * *

Joey didn’t like long relationships. He didn’t like the awkwardness that came with the morning after sex, and the hopeful way the girl looked at him when he said he’d call her. That one look was enough to make him toss her number in the trash and head over to Monica’s for pancakes and a hopeful blind date arrangement with one of Lisa’s hot friends.

It wasn’t just that, though. When you were single, you were free- simple as that. It wasn’t just that you could have sex with whoever you wanted, but that you could do whatever you wanted. There were no dates that got in the way of Knicks tickets; no meeting the parents that got in the way of pinball games. When he was single, he could have sex anytime he wanted- if he was dating someone, she’d be the one scheduling it, and she might want to have it when he was supposed to watch Baywatch with Alex! Gheesh, talk about priorities!

After all, if he’d agreed to go on a second date with- was it Betty? He was pretty sure it was Betty- he wouldn’t be watching a Star Trek marathon (it wasn’t as geeky as he’d thought- Baywatch could use the female star fleet whatsit) with Alex. Joel would have been there too, but he was going on his first official date with Grace, and anyway, there were only two inflatable sheep that they were using as pillows. Joey was a little relieved Joel hadn‘t come, because Joey knew how much Joel could whine when he felt left out, and he definitely would feel left out when he had to use a regular pillow instead of souvenirs from Rachel’s Halloween costume.

That was one of the reasons, anyway.

There was just something about camping (well, if making a tent out of sheets and sofa cushions in the living room could be considered camping) that was only meant for best friends.

And, Joey hated to admit it, but Joel wasn’t a best friend.

And now, it was just Joey and Alex and the Trekkies, while the rest of their lives stretched out before them, infinite as the sky. There was no need for any outside influences.

That was how things were meant to be, and Joey should have realized it sooner.

All he knew then was that the beer was good, and that their sleeping bags clashed in a strangely comforting way (Joey’s metallic blue that was the same color as Maurice’s space suit, and Alex’s red and green plaid that faded into the background as much as Alex had a tendency to do), and that Alex’s cologne smelled so good that he had to use some on his next date.

As it turned out, Alex didn’t wear cologne.

* * *

When they had been friends for five years, Alex had a semi-serious girlfriend.

She was smart (but not a show-off), and pretty (but not in the big-breasted, blonde way Joey usually associated himself with), and she liked the Knicks, which was always a plus. She was also funny, in a way he didn’t always understand, but that was okay, because he knew when to laugh, having had a lot of practice on cues with Alex‘s jokes. Her name was Cathy.

It took Joey around twenty-six hours to realize that Cathy acted like Alex. A lot. In fact, during their dates, Joey started making a list of how many jokes Cathy made that Alex easily could have made instead, and Joey wouldn‘t know the difference.

Twenty-four, he counted, and it probably would have been more if he hadn’t stuck his tongue down her throat during the cab ride back to her place. The way her eyes sparkled when she laughed was just so sexy, although Joey couldn’t help but think that Alex did the exact same thing, and it looked so much better with blue eyes than with brown.

* * *

Suddenly, with no warning, he stopped looking forward to having sex with Cathy. It made no sense, because she was as hot as ever, as smart as ever, as funny as ever. But he just wasn't attracted to her anymore. To fix this small problem, he went out with another girl at the same time, but she hadn’t been that appealing either. When the engine fell out of the car and he’d groped her in the backseat, it had just felt degrading.

So he called Alex and told him to apologize to Cathy for his lateness (he‘d scheduled a date with her for the same night), and Alex’s voice had sounded nice, if a little stilted, over the phone.

It was kind of endearing, the way he half-lisped (lisped wasn’t the right word- there wasn’t a word invented for the way Alex talked) his s’s, and emphasized strange words.

Joey had been in a surprisingly good mood, considering he was pretty sure something was severely wrong with him (not wanting sex? Had Lisa cursed him like she’d said she would when he never called her friend back?).

The good mood sky-rocketed when Alex bought him a lot of cool new furniture, but then…Alex kissed Cathy.

Technically, he’d kissed her before the new furniture, but that just made it worse. Because Alex was trying to bribe him. That wasn’t not what friends did to each other, Joey knew that.

Joey had thought that Alex hated Cathy, and he’d been slightly confused at that, because after all, Cathy was practically Alex’s long-lost twin sister. But Alex had always had a low self-esteem, and Grace had told him once that that meant you thought less of yourself, and didn’t you think less of people you hated? So, in a twisted Alex-way, it made sense.

But then, Alex kissed Cathy, and maybe Joey wasn’t as smart as everyone else, but wasn’t that incest?

This stuff was only supposed to happen on soap operas.

Besides, it was betrayal, simple as that. It didn’t matter that he’d been planning to break up with Cathy anyway (between her suddenly low sex appeal and Alex’s apparent hatred of her, he’d figured it was the best thing to do). What Alex did was wrong. Kissing someone just because you hadn’t had sex in a while!

But then Alex explained that he was in love with Cathy, and Joey had never wanted to punch his lights out more than he did right then.

* * *

When Cathy and Alex got back together (they had only been broken up for about five minutes, and it was all Joey’s fault anyway, but it still counted), Alex had asked Joey if he was really all right with it, later, after Cathy had gone home. Joey had said “Of course” because that was what he was expected to say, and it would be wrong to be honest in this case, and they debated over whether they should do a “lame cool guy handshake” or a hug.

Alex had went to hug him, and Joey had held out his hand for the handshake, and somehow Joey’s hand had ended up pressed into Alex’s crotch.

After they broke apart awkwardly, Joey went to put his plate in the sink. Because the plate was empty (he reasoned), not because of what had just happened.

* * *

Alex’s eyes were several different shades of blue.

Joey had actually made a list of the different shades- only because he was bored, he told himself, and he couldn’t go out to get pizza or prank call Joel at work because the phone line had to be free. His agent was supposed to call him with his audition results.

Sometimes they were blue-gray. They were blue-gray when he was making a sarcastic comment- and they were blue-gray a lot, though not as often as you’d think.

Sometimes they were hazel- green more than blue. They were that unique shade when he was making a joke he actually thought was funny- not one his defense-mechanism had flung out. They were that shade less often than you’d think.

And sometimes, they were bright blue- the kind of blue that could usually only be made on Alexr’s Photoshop (Joey wasn’t sure why he had that thing- he never used it) when he’d been cheated on. When he was talking about his dad. When he was about to kiss someone. They were that shade more often than you’d think, but almost never for the reason Joey would have liked.

* * *

“I hate salmon,” Joey muttered, glowering at the toothbrush poking out of the side of his mouth. “Stupid European food making me throw up.”

“I think that was the alcohol, Joe,” Alex slurred, sprawled on his hotel bed. “Salmon's not a British food. And, you know, you could have picked the chicken dish- Joel and Danielle gave us choices, remember?”

Joey rolled his eyes and the reflection of Alex in the bathroom mirror, before rinsing out his mouth. “It feels weird to think Joel and Danielle, y’know? I still think Joel and Grace.”

“Yeah,” Alex muttered, throwing an arm dramatically across his forehead. “Soul mates.”

Joey choked and promptly swallowed the mouthwash. After a moment of gasping for air while Alex managed to lift his head a couple of inches to cock an eyebrow at him, Joey strode to the bar to get a drink (or two, or seven) that he would make Alex pay for later.

* * *

The next morning, they both woke up naked and squeezed into the same single bed. Joey woke up before Alex, and listened in a detached sort of way to Alex’s slightly feminine squeal and then a dull thump as he fell out off of the bed.

Joey peered over the edge of the bed at him. “Are you all right?” he asked, and then, “Do you remember if we used a condom?”

Alex said, “…”

* * *

Joey wasn’t sure how to handle it; him, them, not remembering anything, and the unfairness of it all, but then Alex clambered awkwardly back onto the bed, sheet wrapped tightly around his torso, and couldn‘t he have retreated to his own bed or the bathroom? His eyes were that particular shade of blue, and he wasn’t talking about his dad. He wasn’t dating anyone, so there was no one to cheat on him. There was no one else in the room for Alex to kiss but Joey.

Just in case, Joey leaned in first. And yeah, that salmon didn’t taste so bad after all.