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There was something addictive about being held in Race’s arms, long after everyone else had fallen asleep. The sense of security and comfort blanketed him as he listened to the odd sound of his shared apartment, feeling the even rise and fall of his boyfriend’s chest against his back. Spot was never one for theatrics, but laying there, in the arms of his favourite person in the world, made him feel on top of the world.
Truthfully, Spot wasn’t all harsh edges and stone cold glares, despite him insisting that he was. No, Spot wasn’t the emotionless statue that was chiselled out of the hardest stone, that everyone made him out to be. He had his good days, those when he held his friends close, his laugh loud for the entire world to hear. However, like all things, there were also the bad days. Those in which he grew distant, physically being there, in the moment, but mentally, miles and miles away.
Spot’s world was full of polar opposites, take him and Race for example; the happy-go-lucky becoming partners in crime with the tough and stoic. Even their appearances were contrasting, with Race sporting a mop of blond hair, cool blue eyes, and a lanky figure, while Spot’s 5’4”-self had dark brown, almost black, hair, and warm brown eyes. And yet there the two laid, limbs tangled together, holding each other close. Yin and Yang – two halves that together complete wholeness.
During the day, Spot was the Brooklyn Bunch’s leader, keeping the peace in the small group of friends, sorting out arguments, and making sure that his friends (thought they were more like family at this point) always had a place to stay the night when family life got difficult. He put on a brave face through the harder times, his eyebrows furrowed, and mouth a tight line, allowing none of the fear that was brewing in his chest to spill. At night however, Spot wandered, more often than not with Racetrack, through the winding streets of Brooklyn, spilling his thoughts and emotions. He allowed himself to talk about his fears, knowing that even though Racetrack’s warm hand in his wouldn’t fix all his worries and anxieties, it would make them seem so very small.
Spot couldn’t remember the exact moment that he realised that he was in love with his best friend. His stomach had felt fluttery whenever he saw Race, the skin on the back of his neck tingled whenever he draped his arm over Spot’s shoulders casually, and his cheeks were often smudged with a ruddy blush around the boy. It was all so new to him that he didn’t know what to do, so after a sleepless night of analysing every small interaction between them, Spot went to the only person he could trust. Kathrine.
“So, do you – uhm – know what I should do?” He asked, uncharacteristically quietly, keeping his voice low. His face was painted red after having unloaded all his feelings and emotions out loud, and he was anxiously wringing his hands together, grounding himself on the pops and cracks of his knuckles.
“Talk to him?” Kathrine said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. As soon as the words left her mouth, Spot dropped his face into his hands dramatically, slouching even further down on the bench that they were sat on.
“Spot – Sean – I’m being serious, talk to him about this, you’ll be fine!” She crossed her arms in a very motherly fashion. Spot lifted his head just enough to glare at her at the use of his ‘real’ name, she glared back, raising one eyebrow at him.
“I can’t! He’s not – he’s probably not even into guys!” Spot exclaimed, standing up and pacing nervously in front of the bench. Kathrine sighed and stood up, holding onto his shoulders firmly.
“Spot. Calm the hell down or I swear to god-“ She took a deep breath, still holding onto his shoulders. “First of all; Tony is about as straight as a roundabout, you of all people should know that. And secondly, you have nothing to worry about,” She smiled sympathetically.
“But-“
“I’m not done,” She interjected. “You have nothing to worry about because he either feels the same way and you end up being a happy-lovey-dovey couple, or he doesn’t and you can finally have closure and get over your damn crush on him!” She said, finally letting go of Spot and standing up straight, as if she had just had a mic-drop moment.
“Kath, you don’t understand! If he doesn’t feel the same way, It’ll just make things awkward and I’ll lose the best friend I’ve ever had.” Spot slumped down onto the bench again and Kathrine followed suite, sitting on the edge.
“Spot. Race won’t leave. He may be an idiot, but he’s not an asshole.” Spot smiled slightly at that. He was glad he came to Kathrine for help, the others wouldn’t let him hear the end of his crush, let alone offer advice.
“Thanks, I’ll – uhm – I’ll talk to him.” He smiled gratefully at the redhead.
“Good, and message me afterwards; I want to know exactly what happens.” She said, standing up and dusting off her dress. Spot laughed.
“Oi, nosey much?” He joked, also standing up and straightening his sleeves out.
“It’s literally my job to be nosey,” She said finally, before saying a quick goodbye, stating that she was meant to meet Sarah in 10 minutes and didn’t want to be late.
It was around 7pm when Race came back from work, unlocking the door to their shared apartment and yelling out a ‘hello?’ whilst dropping his bag in the corner and toeing his shoes off at the door.
Spot froze where he was stood in the kitchen, mentally giving himself a pep talk before pivoting to look at Race.
“Oh – uh – hey Race,” Spot said, mentally cursing himself for the crack in his voice.
“Wanna watch The Lion King? It starts in 10 minutes?” Race asked, already skimming through the channel list absentmindedly. Spot gave quiet sigh of relief, he had approximately 2 hours to figure out what he was going to say.
“Yeah sure,” Spot said, taking a glass off the shelf and filling it with water.
“Alright cool - I’ll go get changed into my PJs, I bloody stink of coffee,” Race pulled a face, taking off his shirt while walking into his bedroom. Spot choked on his water and muttered a quick ‘yeah me too’ despite Race probably not hearing. He felt his face heat up and shook his head, rushing off into his room to get changed.
Spot didn’t wear PJs like Race did. He was pretty sure Race had at least 5 different pairs of patterned PJ sets, ranging from Mickey Mouse to dinosaurs. Spot, on the other hand, preferred to sleep in an old shirt (most of which he didn’t even remember wearing as day clothes) and his boxers, though for the sake of the conversation he was planning on having with Race, he put on some joggers as well.
When he left his room, he looked around to see all the lights in the living room turned off, the television singlehandedly illuminating the room with an orange glow.
“Race?” He whispered incredulously, looking at the weirdly shaped lump of blankets in the middle of the room.
“Down here!” Race called out, poking his head out of the heap. A blanket fort.
“Aren’t we a bit old for blanket forts?” Spot asked, but nonetheless climbing into it, positioning himself on his stomach and grabbing one of the pillows to place under his head.
The film started and both the boys watched the screen intently, up until Mufasa’s death. Race was sniffling on his side of the fort. Spot turned to him.
“You alright Race?” He asked quietly, nudging the other boy.
“Yeah I’m – I’m fine. I just always tear up at this part.” He sniffed, wiping his eyes on his sleeve and smiling at Spot to prove that he was okay.
Spot jokingly patted his shoulder in a ‘there-there’ motion, but was surprised when Race shuffled a bit closer to Spot, their shoulders bumping. Spot could feel himself freeze up.
“there’ssomethingveryimportantthatineedtotellyou-“ Spot blurted out before he had a chance to filter his words.
Race sat up at this, putting the TV on pause.
“What’s up Spotty boy?” Race smiled, nudging his shoulder with Spots. When the brunet didn’t reply his smile dropped.
“Is everything okay Sean?” He asked quietly, “You don’t seem yourself anymore – did I do something?”
“No it’s not that, Tony, it’s just that I - uh – I- “ Spot stuttered.
“You what?” Racetrack urged him to carry on.
“God damnit Tony, I really fuckin like you and even though I’m pretty sure you don’t like me back Kathrine told me to-“ Spot was cut off as he was pulled into a hug by the boy sat opposite him.
“Oh thank god,” Race whispered as he held onto Spot tightly. He pulled away way too quickly for Spots liking.
“So, you like me too? Or am I completely misinterpreting this?” Spot asked, choosing his words carefully, fiddling with his hands. Race grabbed them and held them in his own, urging Spot to look back up at him.
“Of course I do you silly, silly boy,” Race squeezed his hands and Spot took a leap of faith and leaned in, pressing his lips against Race’s eager ones. Race kissed him back almost instantly, sighing against Spot’s mouth.
The kiss wasn’t long, or perfect for that matter. Their noses bumped a few times and they didn’t have the whole not breathing too heavily thing down, but nonetheless, it felt like fireworks. They parted slightly after a short 3 seconds, their faces still dangerously close. Spot couldn’t remember if they ended up finishing the film, or messaging Kathrine.
That was around 2 years ago at this point, and their relationship had only developed since then. They didn’t go through the whole ‘get to know each other’ phase, since they already lived together, but they still went quite slowly. It was only on the 3rd month, after a drunken night out, that they shared a bed for the first time. Sure they had top and tailed before, but the morning after that night was the first time Spot had woken up in Race’s arms, and decided that that was the way he wanted to wake up every morning.
And so they did.
They had announced their relationship to their group of friends around the 2nd month, and no one apart from Davey was shocked. Even Les had suspected it (and proceeded to make gagging faces every time Spot and Race did anything couple-y). Racetrack’s family welcomed him into their large family with open arms, after Race had brought him over for his Mom’s homemade lasagne (which was as legendary as Race had described it, might he add).
However, because of the essence of his life, the good reactions also meant that there would be bad ones. Spot’s father for one, was not happy when he saw Sean Conlon is in a relationship with Antonio Higgins on his Facebook profile. Spot didn’t even know why he still had his father on his Facebook, seeing as they hadn’t talked for over 7 years. He had somehow acquired Spot’s phone number, and caused Spot to break down on the sofa, with Race holding him close and stroking his hair. It was the dreaded phone call, that was mostly his father calling him unspeakable names, that led him to block the guy online and out of his life for good.
It was those irregularities, the good and the bad, the happy and the sad, and the dark and the bright, that led up to this moment. The essence of their Yin and Yang relationship, the both of them balancing each other out, bringing out the best in each other, was what led to Spot’s late night revelation. He couldn’t imagine a life without Race. And tomorrow was the day he would finally open the small velvet box that had been tucked under the (newly acquired) pyjama pants that sat folded up in his bedside drawer for the past few weeks.