Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ten.

The other boys in Simon’s cabin are all standing in a circle when the camp counselor brings him over, hand on Simon’s shoulder. Simon’s still clutching his pillow to his chest, and he smiles meekly at the three other boys when he comes to a stop. Two of them nod in acknowledgement as the counselor introduces Simon. One boy has his head down, staring at his shoes.

“Abraham, can you say hello to Simon?”

The boy looking at his shoes looks up, his face a little damp. There’s another counselor standing behind him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and Simon offers his best friendly smile.

“Hi,” Abraham croaks, his hands twisted together around his pillow.

“Hi,” Simon replies, looking up when the hand on his shoulder squeezes.

“You and Abraham will be bunk mates.”

The two counselors leave them for a moment, telling them to stay put as they head over to make sure their cabin is ready. Simon looks at the two other boys in his cabin: a short boy with jet black hair named Alex and a boy with no hair and glasses named Greg. They’re all shuffling where they stand, clutching their pillows and backpacks. Simon swallows thickly and looks over at Abraham, and frowns when he sees that he’s looking at his shoes again, his bottom lip wobbling.

---

“Have you guys seen Abraham?” Simon asks Greg and Alex after dinner, walking back towards the cabin. Simon hadn’t seen him at dinner, although it was hard to see anything in the crowded cafeteria hall. They’d all sat together at orientation with their counselors Zach and Tyler, but then Abraham had disappeared.

“No,” they both answer, and Simon frowns. They’re close to their cabin now, everyone walking slowly back to their bunks for the night. Some of the older boys are running around happily, throwing rocks and branches. Simon’s seen enough boys hug upon arrival to realize that they’ve been coming here together for years.

“I hope he’s okay,” Simon says quietly, and Greg hums. Alex bends down to pick a stick up off the ground, bending it within an inch of snapping.

“He’s quiet,” Alex says, holding up the stick and waving it. Greg pushes Alex when the stick gets too close and then they’re shoving each other, Simon stepping aside so he stays out of it. His eyes move along the crowd as they reach their cabin, looking for dark curly hair. He frowns when he doesn’t see Abraham.

“You coming, Simon?” Greg asks, and Simon looks up the steps at them. He shakes his head, pointing over his shoulder.

“I gotta use the bathroom,” he says, and Greg and Alex just shrug. They enter the cabin and the door closes with a bang, the coil a little too tight.

Simon blends in with the other kids still heading towards their cabins, his shoes scuffing in the grass as he walks quickly. It’s still light out, the sun beginning to set behind the trees that surround the camp. Simon tries to look around without making it obvious, and he does slip into the bathroom when he hears a few counselors coming his way.

He finally finds Abraham on one of the open fields near the main building, knees pulled up to his chest, leaning against the goal post. Simon doesn’t attempt to walk any quieter, and Abraham looks up quickly when he hears Simon’s feet on the grass.

Simon sits down next to him, stretching out his legs as he does. The view is spectacular, the sun filtering through the tall trees at the other end of the field, the sky changing colors as the day comes to an end. Abraham sniffles next to him and Simon looks over.

“Are you okay?” Simon asks, and Abraham shakes his head, blinking hard. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Abraham croaks, bringing a hand up to wipe at his wet cheeks. Simon shrugs.

“Camp is exciting,” Simon says, and Abraham coughs. Simon thinks it was supposed to be a laugh.

“Camp is scary,” Abraham whispers, and Simon frowns.

“A little,” Simon agrees, and Abraham looks at him, eyes squinted. “My dad says we get to do art, and play games, and go on hikes into the woods, and make new friends.”

Abraham nods slowly, sitting up a little straighter. He wipes at his cheeks again, his hands coming out of the sleeves of his shirt to rub at his eyes.

“My parents want me to stop being so shy,” he mumbles, looking down at his feet. He wraps his arms back around his knees, and Simon frowns a little.

“Are you shy?”

Abraham just stares at Simon for a moment before he laughs softly.

“Yeah,” Abraham replies, putting his chin back on his knees.

“I don’t think I’m too shy,” Simon says, and Abraham shakes his head.

“You aren’t,” he says, both smiling.

“Well then, Abraham,” Simon starts, and Abraham sits up.

“Bram,” he says, and Simon tilts his head. “I, uh - I go by Bram.”

“Okay, Bram,” Simon says, and Bram smiles a little wider. He lets go of his knees and lets his legs stretch out, the tips of his shoes touching Simon’s. “Bram is nice.”

“Thanks?” Bram says, and Simon laughs.

“My friends call me ‘Si,’” Simon says, and Bram tilts his head. He looks at Simon steadily, and Simon stares at the warm brown of his eyes, entranced.

“I like ‘Simon,’ though,” Bram says, and Simon shrugs.

“That’s fine,” Simon says, Bram smiling at him again. They’re quiet for a moment, and Simon hears Bram’s stomach gurgle.

“Did you skip dinner?” Simon asks, and Bram shrugs. He looks down at his lap, his hands twisting together.

“It was a lot of people,” Bram mumbles, and Simon frowns.

“You need food,” Simon says as he stands, holding out his hand. Bram stares up at him, his eyes wide and a little confused. Simon just shakes his hand, jerking his head towards the cafeteria hall.

“Dinner’s over,” Bram says as he takes Simons hand, standing up. They’re about the same height, Bram just a tad taller. Simon nods.

“We’ll ask Zach or Tyler then,” Simon says, grabbing Bram’s arm and pulling him off the field.

Zach and Tyler are waiting for them on the porch of their cabin, amused smiles on their faces as Simon walks up to them and explains that Bram skipped dinner, and that he goes by Bram, and his stomach’s making noises. Tyler goes off to find some food for Bram as Zach tells them they can’t sneak off like that again right before the nightly count. Bram stutters out an apology, eyes on his shoes, until Zach rubs his back reassuringly.

Later, sitting in the space between their beds, Simon holds up his pinky. Bram stares at it, a little tired now that he’s eaten and gone through an emotional day. But he holds up his pinky as well, and Simon links them in the air between them.

“What are we pinky promising?” Bram whispers, conscious of Greg and Alex sleeping in their beds on the other side of the room. Simon smiles.

“To be friends,” he whispers back, and Bram smiles wide, squeezing Simon’s pinky.

---

The cafeteria is always loud, no matter the time of day. Simon doesn’t mind it, choosing to keep his head down and ignore the older boys who spend their meal times yelling and throwing food. Bram hates it, and the first few times he sits between Simon and Alex and tries to eat, he ends up jumping every time someone slams their tray onto a table. Simon hears Zach and Tyler talking on the third day with another counselor, about how ‘anxious’ Bram is. Simon comes up with a plan and finds Bram on his bunk.

“I have an idea,” Simon says as he climbs up onto Bram’s bed, moving to sit next to Bram where he’s leaning against the wall. Bram stares at him with wide eyes.

“What?” Bram asks, and Simon smiles.

“For eating,” Simon begins, and Bram ducks his head a little. “Every time you feel anxious, you can grab my hand. It’s what my baby sister does when she’s scared.”

Bram stares at Simon for a long time, his mouth pinched. Simon’s a little worried he’s said something wrong, but then Bram reaches over and grabs Simon’s hand.

“Like this?” Bram asks, and Simon nods.

“Any time you feel scared,” Simon promises, and Bram finally smiles.

Zach and Tyler come to them before dinner with an offer to let Bram sit with them, so he can eat in a peaceful environment. Bram shakes his head, reaching over and grasping Simon’s hand.

“Thank you, but Simon’s going to let me hold his hand if I’m scared,” Bram whispers, and Simon’s too busy smiling at Bram to notice the soft smile shared between his counselors.

“That’s very nice of you, Simon,” Zach says, reaching over to ruffle Simon’s hair. Simon beams up at him.

“It’s what my sister does when she’s scared,” he says, the older boys nodding.

“And does it help her?” Tyler asks, his hand on Bram’s back. Simon nods.

“Always.”

Bram sits between Simon and Greg that night, at their little table in the corner. A few other boys they’ve met during group time sit with them as well, keeping up a steady flow of quiet conversation about the day’s activities. There’s a commotion on the other side of the room, and Bram’s hand reaches for Simon’s under the table. Simon falters for only a moment in his conversation with Jimmy, squeezing Bram’s hand once. If anyone at the table notices, they don’t say a word. Greg and Alex probably overheard the conversation earlier, but they (like Simon) want to make sure Bram feels okay.

Bram doesn’t let go of Simon’s hand until the counselors dismiss their table.

---

“What did you make?”

Simon looks up from the table to look at Bram, a distressed look on his face. Bram frowns, sitting down at the workbench next to Simon.

“It’s terrible,” Simon whines, staring at the misshapen bowl he had been working on. Bram shakes his head, reaching over to smooth out some of the bumps.

“It’s fine,” Bram says softly, and Simon glares at him.

“Your bowl looked amazing,” Simon mumbles as he works the last bit of clay and finally gives up. The teacher is watching him with an amused smile on her face, and she walks over when he drops his hands.

“Are you done there, Simon?” Marcy asks, and Simon nods. Marcy picks up the bowl and examines it, shooting Simon a wide smile.

“It’s perfect,” she says, ruffling his hair. Simon looks up at her with a frown on his face. Bram watches the exchange quietly.

“I guess,” Simon says, and Marcy leans down so they’re eye level.

“It’s perfect because you made it, okay? We can’t all be the best at everything we do, and sometimes we have to make a few lumpy bowls before we make some perfect ones, right?” Marcy asks, and Simon nods slowly. Bram reaches over and touches the back of Simon’s hand, pressing in with his fingers gently. Marcy stands up as Simon looks over at Bram, turning his hand over. Bram shakes his head, bringing his hand back into his lap.

“Do you not like when people touch your hair?” Bram asks as they stand, some of the last kids to leave the arts area. Simon shrugs as they walk outside, his arms crossed.

“I don’t know… everyone here does it a lot,” Simon says quietly, following Bram down the path towards the field, the same field Simon found Bram in that first night. It’s been two weeks and Simon likes to think of it as their field.

“And do you like that or not?”

“I guess not,” Simon sighs as they sit down, crossing his legs. “Zach’s nice about it but other people do it hard.”

Bram hums, stretching his legs out. The sun is high in the sky still, and they have a bit before the bell will ring for lunch. There’s a group of boys on the other end of the field kicking a ball around, and Simon watches them, his eyes hazy as his mind wanders.

“Simon?”

Shaking his head, Simon looks over at Bram. In the bright sunlight, Bram’s eyes are an even warmer brown than usual. Simon’s so busy trying to figure out what color it reminds him of that he almost misses when Bram speaks.

“Can I?” Bram’s holding up his hand towards Simon’s head, and it takes a beat for Simon to realize what Bram’s asking. His cheeks flushing, Simon ducks his head down.

“Go for it,” he says, his voice a lot softer than before. Bram scoots a little closer and then he’s running his fingers through Simon’s hair, pushing on it gently. It pulls a little, and Simon ends up bringing his head back up, his eyes landing on Bram’s face. Bram’s eyes are on his own hand running through Simon’s hair, his bottom lip bitten in concentration.

“It’s so soft,” Bram says, fluffing the hair slightly. Simon giggles, unbidden, and Bram’s eyes snap down to his face.

“It’s just hair,” Simon says, and Bram pulls his hand down, frowning.

“My hair doesn’t feel like that,” Bram says, and Simon’s eyes move to the tight curls at the top of Bram’s head. He reaches up slowly and places his hand flat on the top of Bram’s head.

“It doesn’t,” Simon says in fascination, running his fingers through the short length of Bram’s hair. It feels vastly different from his own, and he pulls on one of the curls, watching in awe as the hair moves back into a curl.

“It’s like my mom’s hair,” Bram says when Simon pulls his hand away.

“What’s your dad’s hair like?” Simon asks, and Bram gestures to Simon.

“Like yours, but brown.”

“My hair is like my dad’s. My mom has long brown hair,” Simon says, and Bram nods slowly.

“What does your sisters’ look like?” Bram asks.

“Like mine, but long. Alice’s hair is down her back. Nora’s is a little curlier because it’s short like mine, but not as short as mine because she’s growing it out,” Simon explains, miming the hair lengths. Bram nods slowly.

“Do they have eyes like yours, too?” Bram asks, and Simon’s chin tilts down towards his chest, his brow creased.

“Like mine?” he asks, and Bram nods.

“Yeah, like the moon,” Bram explains simply, and Simon feels his cheeks heat up again.

“Uh – both of their eyes are blue,” Simon says after a moment, having to think about his sisters’ faces to even remember what color eyes they have.

“I don’t have any siblings,” Bram confesses softly, and Simon sighs.

“That sounds awesome,” he says, Bram laughing.

“It’s lonely,” Bram replies, picking at the grass by his legs. Simon reaches over and picks at the grass with him until Bram stops and looks up.

“I’m sorry,” Simon says, Bram shrugging with one shoulder. He picks up all the shreds of grass he’s created and dumps them on Simon’s hair.

“Now you have green hair!” Bram exclaims, scrambling to stand up as Simon looks around for grass to retaliate with.

“I’m gonna get you, Bram!”

When they walk into the hall for lunch, Zach and Tyler pull them back outside to shake the grass out of their hair, matching amused smiles on their faces.

---

At the beginning of their third week, they each get a letter from home.

It’s brought to them first thing in the morning, and Zach and Tyler sit on the floor of the cabin as each boy rips into their envelopes. Simon smiles as Bram comes to sit on his bed, his eyes excited as he pulls out his letter.

They read in silence, Tyler moving to sit with Greg and Alex to help with any words they don’t know, Zach sitting on Simon’s bed to help Simon and Bram. Bram’s bottom lips starts to wobble as he reads, and he reaches over to grab Simon’s hand. Simon doesn’t stop reading his own letter, just squeezes Bram’s hand and keeps it in a tight hold. Zach watches them closely, looking over to catch Tyler’s eye. Bram finishes reading and looks up to smile at Zach.

“Can I write one back?” he asks, and Zach nods.

“Of course you can, buddy,” he replies, getting up to grab Bram a tissue. When he sits back down on the bed, Simon’s eyes are a little misty as well, and Bram’s sitting closer to him on the bed, their hands still clasped together between them.

---

Simon slips along the edge of the camp as the sun begins to set, walking a familiar path as he stays in the shadows to avoid any counselors walking around. He’s supposed to be getting ready for bed, but Bram had slipped off at the end of dinner without a word. Simon already knew where he was going, so he’d avoided Greg and Alex’s questions and snuck away when they weren’t looking.

Simon finds Bram sitting on the field, knees up to his chest. He looks up when Simon walks over, smiling as Simon settles into the grass next to him. They’re quiet for a moment, the birds in the trees making most of the noise that blankets the field. The camp’s quiet as everyone settles in for their last night.

Bram reaches over and holds out his hand, eyes still on the field as Simon grasps his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Simon asks, and Bram shrugs.

“Just… scared,” he says quietly, looking at Simon out of the corner of his eye. Simon scoots a little closer until their knees can knock together.

“Of what?” Simon asks, and Bram shrugs again.

“I don’t want to go home,” Bram whispers, and Simon leans against Bram for a moment.

“Remember when you didn’t want to be here?” Simon teases, and Bram rolls his eyes.

“Yeah,” Bram groans, straightening out his legs and leaning against Simon. They lean on each other, their hands still clasped together.

“Will we still be friends?” Bram asks, and Simon looks at him. Bram refuses to meet his eyes, face turned down as he stares at his own lap.

“Yeah,” Simon says, Bram’s head snapping up to look at him.

“Yeah?”

“I think so,” Simon replies, and Bram smiles. He looks back out across the field, squeezing Simon’s hand once.

Zach finds them there a little while later, shaking his head as they hurry to their feet, apologizing before Zach even opens his mouth.

---

The campground is a flurry of activity, parents meandering through the crowd to find their kids and counselors helping kids say goodbye. Simon stands with Greg, Alex, and Bram in a circle, their backpacks at their feet. Simon’s holding his pillow to his chest when Zach comes over and tells him his dad’s arrived.

Simon hugs Greg and Alex quickly, and then turns to Bram.

“You wanna meet my dad?” Simon asks, and Bram shrugs. Zach nods at Simon’s idea and leads them over to where Mr. Spier is standing. Simon’s face lights up when he sees his dad, and Mr. Spier crouches down to let Simon run into his open arms.

“Dad!” Simon yells happily, squealing as his dad lifts him up and spins them around in a circle.

“Hi buddy,” Mr. Spier says softly, pressing a kiss to the side of his son’s head. Zach places his hand on Bram’s back as they watch, Bram smiling carefully. When Mr. Spier places Simon back on the ground, he crouches down again so he’s eye level with Bram.

“Who’s this, Simon?”

Simon looks at Bram and smiles widely, pulling on his arm until he’s standing right next to Simon.

“This is my new friend, Bram!” Simon says excitedly, and Mr. Spier holds out his hand for Bram to shake. Bram takes it gingerly, his arm loose as they shake hands.

“Nice to meet you, Bram. Did Simon trick you into being his friend?” Mr. Spier says with a smile, but Bram frowns.

“No, he didn’t. He was the best friend,” Bram says, and Simon beams. Mr. Spier looks up and shares a look with Zach, who shakes his head fondly.

“I’m glad then. Are you coming back next year?”

Bram nods, though he’s not entirely sure. Simon lights up, looking at his dad.

“Am I coming back next year?” he asks, and Mr. Spier nods.

“If you had fun, of course you can, buddy.”

Simon beams, dropping his pillow into his father’s waiting hands to wrap his arms around Bram’s shoulders. Bram hugs him back, his cheeks squished up as he smiles.

“I’ll see you next year,” Simon says softly, and Bram blinks rapidly.

“I’ll see you next year,” he replies softly. Simon breaks the hug and they look at each other for a moment. With a soft smile, Simon’s hand closes around Bram’s and squeezes once. Bram smiles despite the wobbling of his bottom lip, Simon’s eyes prickling a little.

---

Simon doesn’t cry until they’re halfway home, and his dad reaches back to offer his hand in support as he drives. Simon falls asleep after he’s cried himself out, and Mr. Spier carries him inside once they’re home.

“Is he okay?” Mrs. Spier asks, smoothing back her son’s hair as he lies asleep in her husband’s arms. Mr. Spier just nods.

“He had a great time, wouldn’t stop talking about it on the drive home. But then he started talking about the friend he made, a kid named Bram, and after a few minutes he started crying,” Mr. Spier explains, his wife frowning as she bends down to kiss Simon’s head. “I thought Bram was going to cry when they said goodbye. I guess they really bonded.”

“Do you know if Bram’s going next year?”

“He said as much, but who knows. Simon’s counselor said they got really close, really fast. Apparently, Simon helped Bram come out of his shell, and Bram kept Simon in check. A dream team of sorts, or so Zach said.”

Mrs. Spier smiles, looking at her sons sleeping face.

“Well, here’s hoping Bram’s there next summer.”

Eleven.

Zach’s there to greet Simon when he arrives this year, and Simon smiles at the familiar face. His mom is dropping him off this year, and Simon pulls on her hand to show her around in the little time they have before she has to leave.

They’re standing outside the cabin Simon will be staying in when another pair of voices come close, and Simon looks over his shoulder, already knowing who it is. When their eyes meet, Simon smiles widely.

“Bram!” he calls, every nervous feeling in his chest that he wouldn’t be back this summer dissipating as Bram smiles back, already breaking away from the woman he’s with to run to Simon. They meet in the middle, arms locking around each other.

“Simon!” Bram yells, both bouncing on their toes. They break apart and smile at each other.

“I’m so excited you’re here-”

“I can’t believe we’re both here again-”

“Are we in the same cabin?”

“We’re in the same cabin!”

“This is going to be awesome!”

“Awesome!”

Their mothers walk over and introduce themselves as they continue to talk excitedly over each other, picking up right where their friendship left off last summer.

---

It’s late when they sneak out of their cabin, shushing each other so as to not wake Greg or their new bunkmate Jordan. Bram grabs Simon’s hand and pulls him along, both keeping their laughter quiet as they run down the path that leads them to their field.

“I’m so glad you came this summer,” Simon says as they collapse onto the grass, shoulders pressed together as they lay back. Bram keeps Simon’s hand in his.

“I kinda begged my mom,” Bram confesses, and Simon looks over at him. They share a smile before they break into another fit of giggles.

“How was your year?” Simon asks once they’ve stopped laughing, and Bram turns on his side a little so they can see each other.

“I made a new friend,” Bram says after thinking for a moment, and Simon’s face lights up.

“You did? Who?” he asks excitedly, Bram’s face warming slightly.

“His name’s Chris, and he just moved to my school.”

“You made friends with a new kid?”

“Well, I did what you did,” Bram says quietly, and Simon smiles.

“What did I do?”

“You were nice and offered to be my friend. Chris was sitting alone so I sat with him. Now, we’re best friends,” Bram says, and Simon’s smile falters a bit.

“Are we best friends, Bram?” Simon whispers hesitantly, but Bram just grins at him.

“Of course we are.”

---

Simon is at the edge of the court, watching the game of basketball. He knows he’s bad at most sports, so he’d offered to keep score while Zach referees. Bram keeps getting hit in the head, missing passes because he’s making funny faces at Simon.

Bram’s playing on a team with a couple other boys their age, while the other team is made up of a bunch of thirteen-year-olds. Simon recognizes some of them from last year, but there’s a couple kids he doesn’t. The boys he doesn’t recognize make him feel uncomfortable, if only for the way they push Bram on the court.

Zach calls a timeout after one of the older boys shoves Greg, and he gathers them to talk quietly. Greg and Bram walk over to collapse onto the bench Simon’s sitting on, both breathing heavily. There’s a cooler with water bottles in it by Simon’s feet, and everyone grabs a bottle as they wait for Zach to finish.

“Why are they being so mean?” Simon whispers to Bram, who shrugs. Greg pours a little water on his head, getting some on Jordan.

“I don’t think they’re being mean on purpose,” Bram says quietly, and Jordan shakes his head.

“No, they are.” Jordan downs the rest of his water, smashing the bottle in his hands.

“Okay, guys, back to the game. No more pushing, okay? We’re all friends here. Simon, what’s the score?” Zach calls, clapping his hands together. Simon looks down at the notebook he’s been doodling in, counting up the tally marks.

“Seven to five, Team Blue is winning,” he says, smiling at his bunkmates. One of the older boy scoffs, and Simon looks over at him.

“Are you sure he isn’t cheating?” the kid asks, and Zach turns on him. The boy is quiet under Zach’s glare, and Simon shrinks in on himself a little.

“Simon’s only making tally marks when I say so, and Team Blue is winning,” Zach says, dribbling the ball a few times.

The game starts up again, and Zach sits down next to Simon to watch. After a few moments, Zach taps one of the doodles Simon’s drawn on the page, and Simon looks up to see that Zach’s smiling at him.

“Have you signed up for any of the art classes?” he asks, and Simon shakes his head.

“Only the pottery one,” Simon says, and Zach nods.

“You should sign up for some of the art ones,” he says, sitting up straighter as someone makes a basket. “A point for Team Black! Good job guys.”

Simon marks the tally, looking up and finding Bram on the court. They’d decided to sign up for activities together, like last year. He doesn’t know if Bram would want to do any of the other art classes.

“Let’s play, Bram!” someone yells, and Bram breaks his eyes away from Simon to grasp the ball in both hands, looking for a teammate to pass it to. The game starts up again, and Simon watches them play. He’s never gotten the hang of dribbling, and that alone has made playing basketball out of the question. He thinks he’s a decent shot, having won a few rounds of Horse with his sisters.

The ball hits Bram in the side of the head again, and a few kids start laughing. Zach blows on his whistle, automatically reaching for an ice pack as he moves over to where Bram is standing, holding the side of his head, glaring at one of the older boys.

“Michael, it isn’t funny,” Zach starts, and Michael shrugs.

“Maybe if he wasn’t so busy staring at his boyfriend-”

Greg and Jordan react before Zach gets a chance, tensions apparently higher than Simon thought as they lunge at Michael. Another counselor runs over as they start to fight, pulling them apart. Zach abandons Bram to grab Greg around the middle and pull him away, the rest of the boys on the court stepping away from the tussle. Simon’s left staring at his shoes, Michael’s comment running through his head on a loop as the fight ends as soon as it began.

---

Greg, Jordan, and Michael are all put on dish duty for a week, which means Bram and Simon are alone after dinner while Greg and Jordan help in the kitchen. They walk back to their cabin silently that night, hands brushing against each other as they walk. Simon sits down on the front steps of their cabin, bringing his knees up to his chest as Bram sits down next to him.

“Is your head okay?” Simon asks, and Bram nods.

“It never really hurt,” Bram says, and Simon looks at him critically.

“He kept hitting you in the head with the ball,” Simon counters, but Bram’s shaking his head.

“I’m fine, Simon,” he says, reaching over and touching Simon’s hand. It alleviates the tension that’s been building in Simon’s chest, the nerves he’s been dealing with since the basketball game ended.

“What’s wrong?” Bram asks softly, his fingers wrapping around Simon’s to hold them. Simon sighs.

“Nothing,” Simon mumbles, but Bram’s not having it.

“Is it what Michael said?” he asks, and Simon shrugs. “Simon, what are you thinking?”

“It’s just… I didn’t like how… why’d he say that…” Simon trails off, his voice smaller now. Bram scoots over until their knees are touching.

“It doesn’t mean anything, Simon. Michael’s just an asshole.”

Simon looks up and stares at Bram, his eyes wide. After a moment, Simon starts to giggle, and Bram joins him, their heads knocking together as they laugh. In their own little world, they don’t notice when Zach walks over.

“You boys okay?” Zach asks, his eyes lingering on their clasped hands for only a moment. Both boys look up and nod, still smiling a little.

“Bram said a bad word,” Simon says, and Bram slaps his leg.

“Simon!” Bram gasps, but Zach’s smiling at them.

“It’s okay, we can say bad words when we’re upset. I just wanted to check on you boys, make sure you’re okay after today,” Zach says, sitting on the step below them. Simon looks at Bram, and they smile at each other.

“Yeah, we are,” Simon says, and Zach nods at them.

“Good. If Michael or anyone is mean to you like that again, be it throwing stuff at your head or saying mean things, you can come to me or any other counselor here. We’re all here to make sure you guys have a fun time, okay?” Zach asks them, pointing at them with his fingers. Simon and Bram nod.

“Thanks, Zach,” Bram says softly, and Zach reaches over to pat his back.

“I’m sorry about your head, Bram,” Zach says, and Bram just shrugs.

“It really isn’t that bad,” he protests, but Zach and Simon share a look, shaking their heads at Bram.

---

The windows of the art studio are wide open as the teacher lets them begin to paint, walking around to hand out brush kits and answer any last questions. Simon sinks into his chair as the speaker starts playing music, soft guitar sounds that float through the room and out the windows.

“What are you going to paint?” Simon whispers to Bram, who’s staring at his blank canvas in concentration. Bram shrugs, looking at the bucket of paints in the middle of their table. The two boys on the other side, Brian and Paul, are talking quietly to each other, both holding pencils to sketch their outlines.

“Can I just paint the sky?” Simon says, and Bram snorts.

“Simon, you picked this. I wanna see a masterpiece,” Bram teases, smiling at Simon for a moment before turning to his canvas and beginning to sketch. Simon picks up his pencil and stares at the expanse of white before he begins.

Everyone’s quiet as they work, and the teacher continues to walk around offering advice quietly. Simon finally figures out what he wants to paint and begins to draw the lines of the big open field, surrounded by trees. He tilts his easel away from Bram as he works, shifting in his chair a little.

The hour of sketching and beginning to paint flies by, and Simon startles when the teacher claps his hands together softly.

“Alright, kids. You’ll all be back in two days, and that’s when we’ll finish up your pieces. You can leave them right where they are, I’ll gather them.”

Everyone starts to move, and Bram leans over towards Simon’s easel, smiling slightly.

“What did you paint?” Bram asks, but Simon turns the canvas away. Bram frowns.

“It’s a surprise,” Simon says, his mouth turning up in a smirk as Bram tries to pout.

“You can’t see mine, then,” Bram says, turning his easel away. Simon shrugs.

“That’s fine, I don’t want to see it.”

They follow the other boys out of the studio down towards the cafeteria, blue and green paint smeared on their arms.

---

Bram stops where he’s standing on top of an exposed tree root, shaking his head at Greg as he waits for Simon to catch up. Zach’s up ahead, turned down to watch them as they continue their climb up the large hill that Zach refused to call a mountain when explaining the afternoon hike. Simon’s pretty sure it’s a mountain.

“I’m dying,” Simon whimpers as he reaches Bram, stopping to catch his breath. Bram knows he’s mostly being dramatic, having been wholly against the idea of hiking one of the hills surrounding the camp. But Zach had promised spectacular views and an extra treat after dinner, and then Bram had pulled on Simon’s hand and it had all been over.

“You’re fine,” Bram says through a laugh, handing Simon a water bottle. Simon dumps half of it on his head and Zach yells at him from up ahead.

“It’s hot!” Simon yells back, Jordan and Greg laughing quietly. Zach just shakes his head and continues on the path, calling for them to keep up.

They make it to the top and Simon promptly collapses onto the grass, lying flat on his back and ballooning his stomach as he pretends to pant. Zach opens the cooler he’d been carrying and picks up some ice, dropping it onto Simon’s belly.

“Hey!” Simon yells, picking the ice up and chucking it in Zach’s direction. Bram giggles as he sits down next to Simon.

“To help you cool down.” Zach smiles, handing out cold water bottles to everyone. The sun is still high in the sky, clear blue as far as the eye can see. Bram pulls his knees up and rests his elbows on them, the gentle breeze fluttering his shirt. Simon watches him from where he’s lying, everything going a bit quiet. Reaching out, Simon tugs on the bottom of Bram’s shirt. It takes a moment for Bram to tear his gaze away from the sky, but then he’s smiling at Simon.

“Yeah?” he says softly, and Simon smiles. He holds up his hand.

“Help me up, please?”

Bram grabs his hand and pulls Simon into an upright position, Simon leaning his weight on Bram as he shifts. Mimicking Bram’s position, Simon rests his arms on his knees, his chin on his arms. The breeze picks up his hair, causing it to fall in his eyes, and he shakes his head.

“It’s so blue,” Greg says, sitting cross-legged a few feet away. He’s holding his water bottle to his chest, mouth slightly open as he takes in the sight. Simon squints against the bright sunlight behind his glasses, holding a hand up on his forehead.

“It’s beautiful,” Jordan sighs, his body slumped as he takes in the view. Bram leans over and bumps into Simon, and they look at each other.

“This would be a view to paint,” Bram whispers, and Simon smiles at the sunlight reflecting in Bram’s warm eyes.

“Yeah, it would.”

---

“We get our paintings back tomorrow!” Simon says excitedly as he sits down for dinner, setting his tray on the table. Bram sits down next to him, humming softly. He’s still a little tired from playing soccer, one of the few activities Simon didn’t sign up for with him. Instead, Simon signed up for gardening.

“You’ll finally show me?” Bram asks, picking up his fork. He looks at Simon expectantly, a soft smile on his face, and Simon’s stomach feels weird.

“Of course, if you’ll show me yours,” Simon replies, turning to his food. He takes a bite and his stomach stops fluttering. Bram reaches down under the table and squeezes Simon’s hand.

---

Their paintings are on their easels at their tables when they walk in the next day, displayed in the bright light from the open windows. Simon walks over to his quickly, turning it so Bram doesn’t get an early peak. Bram hides his as well, and Simon sees Brian roll his eyes at them.

“You can’t say anything if it’s bad,” Bram says quietly, looking a little nervous. Simon shakes his head, stepping a bit closer as the class starts to get louder, all talking at once about their paintings.

“There’s no way your painting is bad,” Simon reassures him, brushing his hand against Bram’s. They smile at each other, and then Bram’s picking up his canvas. He holds it in front of him, keeping it tilted so Simon can’t see. Simon picks up his, biting his bottom lip.

They turn their paintings around together, and they both gasp when they’re revealed.

“You-”

“How did you-”

“I can’t believe this.”

“We did the same thing!”

Both pictures are of the field where they became friends, surrounded by an expanse of tall trees and the one goal post. Bram’s painted the sky in shades of blue, pink, and purple, a brilliant sunset. Simon’s sky is bright blue, a few wisps of white that the teacher helped him incorporate to look like barely there clouds.

Their teacher walks over and smiles at them.

“You boys did a wonderful job. Is that the field here?” he asks, and both boys nod. “Well, you did it justice. You should be proud.”

They’re back in their cabin, putting their paintings on the dresser at the end of Simon’s bed, when Bram turns to Simon.

“I want you to have it,” he says quietly, and Simon looks at him in shock.

“What do you mean?” Simon asks, looking at Bram’s painting. The more he stares at it, the more he loves it. The colors are beautiful, like something he’s seen before. Bram reaches over and picks it up.

“It’s… I want you to have it,” Bram says again, more insistent. Simon looks at him for a moment, something in his stomach fluttering again, before he picks up his painting and holds it out to Bram.

“Only if you’ll take mine.”

They stare at each other for a moment, both holding out their paintings. Finally, Bram gently grabs the edge of Simon’s canvas, and they easily swap. Simon stares down at the painting with a smile, his thumb swiping over the “BGreen118” in the bottom right corner.

“Thank you,” Simon whispers, looking up. Bram’s staring at him steadily, that soft smile on his face again.

“Thank you,” he replies before setting the painting back on the dresser.

---

Their moms pick them up that year, and when Mrs. Spier arrives, Simon and Bram are standing close together, solemn looks on their faces. Mrs. Greenfeld arrives a bit later, and she shares a look with Mrs. Spier at the looks on their kids’ faces.

“What’s this?” Mrs. Spier asks when Simon hands her the canvas, and he smiles widely, the first positive emotion he’s shown since she arrived.

“It’s a painting,” he says, and she nods. She looks at the signature in the corner.

“That’s not your name in the corner, honey,” she says, and Bram straightens up.

“We each painted the same thing, so we gave them to each other,” Bram says, ducking his head a little as he finishes. Mrs. Greenfeld touches the back of his neck.

“That’s so sweet, boys. Is this here somewhere?” Mrs. Greenfeld asks, and Bram nods.

“It’s the field we sit in,” he explains, and their mothers nod as if they understand.

“That’s wonderful,” Mrs. Spier says, watching as Simon looks over at Bram and they start frowning again.

“Mom?” Bram asks, looking up at Mrs. Greenfeld. She nods and he continues. “Can I give Simon our phone number so we can call each other?”

Their moms share a look before Mrs. Greenfeld nods, and both boys perk up instantly. They watch excitedly as their mothers exchange phone numbers, both smiling at each other knowingly.

“I’m glad they’ve met, Simon really seems to have brought Bram out of his shell,” Mrs. Greenfeld whispers as the boys start whispering to each other, and Mrs. Spier nods.

“Simon cried last year after telling my husband all about Bram. He was very upset, sulked around a bit before he saw his other friends. They’ve really bonded.”

“Bram will definitely be coming back next year. My husband and I had been really worried about Bram, he’s always been so painfully shy and his teachers always worried because he barely had any friends. He came home recently and told me he’d made friends with a new kid at his school and I think my husband about cried,” Mrs. Greenfeld says, her hand on her heart. Mrs. Spier smiles, her eyes shifting to Bram and Simon. Their heads still ducked together, their hands brushing as they talk.

“They’re good for each other,” Mrs. Spier mumbles, and Mrs. Greenfeld hums.

Twelve.

Simon’s still holding his dad’s hand when he finally spots Bram, standing with a man near the cafeteria. The campground is absolute chaos on the first day, people all over the place, but Simon still breaks away from his dad and runs over to greet Bram in a hug that nearly knocks them down.

“Whoa there, pal, let Bram breathe,” Mr. Spier calls when he walks over, chuckling softly. He holds out his hand to greet Bram’s dad as Simon and Bram sway on their feet.

“You got taller!” Simon says when they break apart, standing up to his full height, still a couple inches shorter than Bram. Bram just laughs, scratching the back of his neck.

“You didn’t,” he replies, and Simon gasps, their fathers laughing.

“Oh, Dad,” Bram says, turning to the man he’s with. Simon stares up at the man in confusion for a moment before shaking himself. “This is Simon.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Mr. Greenfeld says, shaking Simon’s hand. Simon’s cheeks pink slightly and Bram shoves his dad’s leg.

“It’s okay, Bram, my family has heard a lot about you, too.”

“You can leave now, Dad,” Simon says, glaring up at his father. Mr. Spier chuckles, his hand on his stomach.

After saying goodbye to their fathers, they join the rest of the campers down at the assembly point, an outdoor theater with benches and a pit for a fire. Simon and Bram find Zach in the crowd and sit near him, Greg and Jordan already there.

“Are you our counselor again?” Simon asks, and Zach nods. His hair’s gotten longer, and Simon eyes the small bun he has it in.

“Sure am, buddy,” Zach says, reaching over and fluffing Simon’s hair. Simon smiles, leaning away and into Bram. “It’s good to have you guys back. Did you have a good year?”

“Middle school is hard,” Simon laments, and Zach nods.

“You guys are what, in sixth grade?”

“Just finished,” Bram says, the rest of his cabin mates nodding. Zach winces.

“So, you’re starting seventh grade, that’s rough.”

“Is it?” Greg asks, and Zach frowns.

“I don’t remember, but you’re all full of hormones and energy, so it’s a fun time.”

They all glare at Zach as he laughs, the orientation starting before any of them can respond.

---

There’s a huge bonfire at the end of the second week, one that Bram and Simon have never gotten to go to before because it’s only for the twelve- and thirteen-year-olds. Bram grabs a blanket off his bed and Simon puts on a sweatshirt he’s pretty sure is Bram’s before they follow Greg and Jordan down to the riverbank.

The fire is bright and high when they arrive, and they spread out to find logs to sit on. There aren’t that many kids, all spread out along the shore in small groups. Bram leads Simon over to a log near the beginnings of the tree line, a fair distance away from anyone else. Instead of sitting on the log, they sit down in the grass in front of it, the blanket wrapped around both of their shoulders. Bram rests his legs on top of Simon’s and they curl together, the warmth of the fire barely reaching them.

A few of the counselors are holding guitars, and they’re working on finding a common chord. Some of the boys are sitting nearby, waiting for them to pick a song. Simon recognizes some of them, smiles when he catches someone looking his way. Greg and Jordan are nearby, sitting together on a log with a blanket over their legs.

“I’m really glad we’re here again,” Bram whispers as the counselors start playing a song, and Simon looks up at Bram. The fire is making shapes in the light over his face, and that flutter is back from last year as the warmth of the blaze reflects in Bram’s eyes.

“I am, too,” Simon says sincerely, smiling. Bram smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His shoulders slump a little, and Simon slides his hand into Bram’s.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a little worried. Bram just shrugs, biting his bottom lip before he replies.

“I didn’t… I couldn’t tell you over the phone,” Bram whispers, and Simon’s stomach is twisting uncomfortably. He squeezes Bram’s hand, because the warmth of the fire is dampening against something sad in Bram’s eyes.

“Bram,” Simon says softly.

“My parents… they’re fighting a lot,” Bram whispers, closing his eyes slightly. Simon leans a little more into him, the world narrowing down to the shaky breath Bram pulls in. “It’s like every day. I thought you heard them, a couple times, in the background when we talked on the phone. I’d always go hide in my room because they’d get so loud.”

Simon swallows against the uneasy feeling in his throat. His parents rarely fight, and when they do, they resolve it with a lot of talking over the kitchen table. He’s never actually heard his parents yell at each other in anger. He hadn’t heard Bram’s parents fighting in any of their calls over the year, the few that there were.

“I’m sorry,” Simon whispers, his throat tight. Bram nods, his chin wobbling as he takes in another breath. “I can’t imagine…”

“It’s just…” Bram trails off as he opens his eyes, looking right at Simon. “I don’t know what to do.”

Simon lets go of Bram’s hand to wrap his arms around his shoulders, pulling him into an awkward hug. Bram lets out a deep breath and shudders against Simon’s shoulder, hot tears hitting Simon’s neck.

“I’m so sorry,” Simon whispers, rubbing his hand over the part of Bram’s back that he can reach, mimicking a move he’s seen his mother do.

When Bram sits up straight again, his eyes are a little red and his face is wet. Simon offers up the sleeve of the sweatshirt he’s wearing, and Bram stares at it for a moment, smiling.

“That’s mine,” he says, and Simon blushes.

“Sorry, I just grabbed one.”

“It’s okay,” Bram says, using the sleeve to wipe off his face. He smiles at Simon a beat longer before looking back out across the riverbank.

They’re quiet for a couple minutes, listening to the song the counselors are singing. Some of the boys are singing along, and their voices echo up over the combined sound of the bonfire and low chatter. Simon shifts on the grass, one of his butt cheeks beginning to fall asleep. He clears his throat before he speaks.

“Uh,” he holds the vowel sound, and Bram looks down at him. “My, uh, my grandma passed away recently.”

Bram shifts, slipping his arm around Simon’s shoulders.

“You didn’t tell me,” he whispers, and Simon shrugs.

“I couldn’t… over the phone,” Simon mumbles, and Bram nods, understanding.

“Were you close?” he asks, and Simon nods, his bottom lip between his teeth. He blinks rapidly.

“She lived close enough that I could walk to her house. My sister and I would go there after school sometimes and she’d make us snacks and help us with our homework. She always gave us money for Christmas, but she’d tape it together so you’d pull on it and it would come out in this long chain of dollar bills,” Simon says, smiling at the memory. Bram squeezes Simon’s shoulders gently.

“That’s really cool,” Bram whispers, and Simon nods.

“It was… and this Christmas…” he stops talking as he chokes up, and Bram pulls Simon in for a hug. They sit like that for a moment, Bram rubbing Simon’s back just like Simon did for him.

“I don’t like goodbyes,” Simon mumbles against Bram’s shoulder, and Bram frowns.

“Did you get to say goodbye to your grandma?” he asks, and Simon pulls back as he nods.

“In the h-hospital,” he hiccups, wiping at his eyes with the sleeves of the sweatshirt. “Mom told us we should say goodbye and I didn’t want to, because that means it’s the end. But Alice dragged me in and I said goodbye and cried a lot.”

Bram nods, his free hand coming up to grasp Simon’s.

“I’m sorry, Simon.” He squeezes Simon’s hand, his voice soft. Simon takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“I hate goodbyes,” he mumbles again, looking at the bonfire. Bram watches him for a moment before he speaks.

“How about this,” he starts, and Simon turns back to look at him. “I promise that I’ll never say goodbye. Only  ‘see you later.’”

Simon stares up at Bram for a long moment, his mouth open slightly. Bram holds up his pinky, and just like the night they promised to be friends, Simon brings his pinky up and they lock, squeezing once.

“Promise,” Simon says with a smile.

---

Greg plants both feet on the blacktop, staring up at the hoop. He tilts his head to the side before taking another step back, Jordan sighing heavily from where he stands at the base of the court.

“Will you just pick a spot already?” Jordan groans, turning to look at Simon and Bram. They all share a look and Greg huffs at them.

“It’s about winning,” Greg says, bending his elbow and taking his shot. The ball swishes through the net, and he holds up his hands in victory.

Bram grumbles as he walks over, dribbling the basketball as he goes. Simon leans against the fence behind the hoop, crossing his arms on his chest. He and Greg are currently tied at only an ‘h,’ while Jordan’s losing with only an ‘e’ left to go. Bram weighs the ball in his hands and Simon crosses his eyes, sticking his tongue out.

“Stop cheating!” Bram calls, and Simon laughs. Jordan and Greg laugh as Bram pretends to not look at Simon.

“Solid strategy,” Greg calls, and Simon nods. He blows a raspberry with his tongue and Jordan cackles as Bram shakes his head.

He misses the shot, and Jordan holds his hands up to cheer.

Simon goes next, taking the ball with a sweet smile from Bram. Greg makes sure Simon’s on the correct spot, and they jostle each other before Simon pushes him away and squeezes the ball between his palms. He smiles at Bram, leaning in the same spot Simon had been in just moments before, attempting to pull a silly face to distract Simon.

“Give it up, Bram, you’re not nearly as distracting as you think you are!” Simon yells, ignoring the way Bram’s sticking out his tongue to line up the shoot.

The ball makes it in, nothing but net, and Bram pouts.

Jordan’s up next, and he groans dramatically as Greg insists he’s not in the correct spot, both of them starting to argue as Simon comes over to stand next to Bram.

“I was kinda distracting, though, right?” Bram says with a teasing smile, and Simon shakes his head.

“A little,” Simon concedes, Bram bringing his hand down to brush his knuckles along the back of Simon’s hand.

---

Zach’s arm is around Jordan when they enter the cabin that night, long after last count. Simon, Bram, and Greg are all sitting up, waiting for their friend to return. When his face illuminates in the overhead light, Greg gasps.

“What happened?” Greg asks, and Simon cringes at the spots of dried blood near Jordan’s nose, his swollen upper lip, and the bruising on his face. Zach leads Jordan over to sit with the other boys, and Simon immediately offers Jordan a hug.

Bram stares down at his hands quietly, Zach gently reaching over to rub a comforting circle on his back. Jordan doesn’t say anything from where his chin is hooked over Simon’s shoulders, arms locked around his friend’s torso. Greg has a hand on Jordan’s back, right between his shoulder blades.

“It was my fault,” Bram whispers, and Jordan sits up so fast he causes Simon to startle.

“No, it’s not.” Jordan’s eyes are hard, and he reaches over to touch Bram’s hand. Zach surveys the scene before he speaks.

“Things got a little out of hand at soccer today,” Zach says, and Simon looks over at Bram. Greg and Simon had signed up for gardening together, while Jordan and Bram did soccer. Bram had shown up for dinner after class, and Jordan hadn’t.

“What happened?” Greg asks again, face twisted in confusion. Zach sits down on the opposite bed, sighing. He looks at Bram, and Simon follows his gaze to the nervous way Bram’s twisting his hands together. Scooting closer, Simon gently pulls Bram’s hands apart and holds them in his own. Bram’s shoulders slump.

“One of the older boys called Bram a bad word,” Jordan says, and Simon feels Bram shudder next to him.

“A word no one should use,” Zach says softly, and this time when Bram shudders, Simon’s arms are already wrapping around him, pulling him into a hug. Simon has to lean back so Bram can tuck his head into Simon’s neck, and then Zach’s moving to sit next to them, resting a hand on Bram’s back.

“Which one?” Greg asks, and Zach looks at them carefully. Jordan looks about ready to tell the others himself, so Zach speaks quietly.

“The N-word.”

Simon’s entire body goes cold, and his understanding of why Bram’s upset deepens. Simon’s never looked at or felt any different about Bram being black, but he knows there are people who do, and think terrible things about him. He’s heard his parents talking about racists, and they’ve talked to him plenty about things he should never say or do. He’s only ever heard the N-word once in his life, and it had shocked him to his core.

“I’m so sorry, Bram,” Simon whispers, squeezing his best friend’s shoulders.

“You boys know never to say that word, right?” Zach says, and Simon and Greg nod quickly.

“My mom threatened to wash my brother’s mouth out with soap if he ever said it again, the one time she heard him,” Greg says, and Zach huffs out a silent laugh. He looks at Simon.

“My parents told me about racism, and how people treat others differently based on how they look and how it’s not nice,” Simon says, and Zach’s just smiling at him softly.

Bram brings his head out of Simon’s neck, letting out a deep sigh. He keeps his eyes on his hands, his shoulders moving as he breathes deeply.

“You’ve always treated me the same as you treat everyone else,” Bram whispers to Simon, Zach the only other person to hear the words. Simon smiles at him, pulling on his hands until Bram looks up. He smiles at Simon, that soft smile that’s been making Simon’s stomach flutter lately. Leaning over, Bram looks at Jordan and Greg.

“I’m sorry about your nose,” he says to Jordan, who shrugs.

“I’m sorry about Kaden’s,” Jordan jokes, and Zach coughs to cover up a laugh.

“Thank you, for being… for…” Bram nods his head, and Jordan smiles.

“No one should ever call you that,” Jordan replies, reaching around Simon to poke Bram’s side. Simon looks over to smile at Jordan. “But, you’re welcome. I’d do it again.”

“You will not be punching anyone else while you’re here,” Zach laughs, shaking his head at them. “It’s bad enough that you and Greg got into that fight last year with Michael, but going over and decking someone during soccer practice was quite the move. I had to argue with the other counselors to let you stay.”

Jordan ducks his head, Greg laughing quietly.

“Michael really deserved that last year,” he says, looking at Bram and Simon, their heads bent down together, hands tangled in their laps. Zach follows his line of sight and just smiles.

“Deserving or not,” Zach slices his hand through the air, “no more hitting.”

---

Greg and Jordan are across the room snoring when Simon slides under the covers of Bram’s bed, their arms and legs knocking together as they settle on their backs next to each other. It had started raining earlier, suspending all outdoor activities for the rest of the day. They’d spent the day inside playing board games and quiet games until dinner and now bedtime.

Camp’s over in a few days, and Simon had wanted to go sit in the field and just be for awhile, but the weather had other plans.

Bram’s hand slips into his, their fingers locking together. Simon closes his eyes, fighting at the lump in his throat.

“I don’t want to go home,” Bram whispers, the rain beating harder against the window above Bram’s bed for a moment. “I don’t want to see my parents fighting.”

Simon squeezes his hand.

“You can call me any time they’re fighting,” Simon says into the darkness, opening his eyes to look over at Bram. He has to squint, because he’s taken off his glasses for the night, but he’s positive Bram’s smiling.

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” Simon says, turning on his side a bit so he can be closer to Bram, his vision focusing as he does. He can make out the dampness gathering in Bram’s eyes and he reaches up with his free hand to touch Bram’s cheek.

“Don’t cry,” he whispers, and Bram shakes his head.

“I’m fine,” Bram promises, blinking a few times until the dampness disappears. Simon smiles at him.

“You can call me all the time,” Simon whispers, something fluttering in his stomach. Bram wraps his fingers around Simon’s bicep, squeezing gently.

“Next year’s our last year,” Bram whispers, staring down at Simon’s chest. Simon shakes his head, pushing Bram’s chin up with a finger.

“We aren’t thinking about that. Let’s think about all the movies we get to go home and see,” Simon says, and Bram smiles despite the tightness in his own chest.

“I’m going to my cousins’ house for 4th of July, and we always get to light all of the sparklers,” Bram whispers, his smile growing. Simon scoots even closer.

“My mom makes red, white, and blue cookies, and my dad’s started to let me help him grill the meats.”

They lay there, sharing holiday traditions, until they fall asleep with their fingers still tangled.

---

Simon waves at Nick’s mom as she pulls away, turning on his heel and running up the driveway to the porch. The family dog, Bieber, is waiting for him inside the door when he steps inside, and he crouches down to give the dog scratches.

“Hey buddy, did you miss me? I bet you did,” Simon says, laughing as the dog rolls over onto his back and pants.

“Simon?”

Simon looks up at the sound of his dad’s voice, and he hurries into the kitchen.

“What, Dad?” Simon asks, and Mr. Spier holds up the phone.

“You should call Bram,” he says, and Simon’s chest tightens.

“Why?” he asks, though he’s already taking the phone from his dad. He pulls the piece of paper off the fridge that has Bram’s number and holds it to his chest.

“He called while you were at Nick’s, and sounded very upset. I promised him you would call him as soon as you got home, and he said he’d be waiting,” Mr. Spier explains, and Simon’s already running out of the kitchen and up the stairs before he finishes.

Closing his door behind him, Simon kicks off his shoes and heads for his bed. He flops down onto it, his stomach swirling uncomfortably. He dials Bram’s number slowly, making sure it’s correct, before he presses call.

The phone rings three times, and then the line clicks.

“Hello?”

Simon’s chest hurts again.

“Bram?” he says, and he hears Bram sniffle loudly. “Bram, what’s wrong?”

There’s some sort of movement on the other end, and Bram mumbles something that Simon can barely make out before Simon hears what he thinks is a door clicking shut.

“My parents,” Bram whispers, his voice hoarse. Simon’s never heard him sound like this before. “My parents are getting a divorce.”

The wind leaves Simon’s lungs, and he sits back on his bed, his body suddenly too heavy. He hears Bram’s breath stutter, and Simon’s eyes prickle.

“Bram,” Simon says softly, and Bram lets out a sob.

“I don’t know what to do, Simon. I don’t… my dad’s already talking about moving. I don’t know where to, but I don’t want him to move. I don’t want them to get a divorce. I don’t…” Bram trails off as he sucks in a loud breath, and Simon takes a deep breath himself.

“Bram, just breathe for a minute,” Simon whispers, and he hears Bram suck in a few shaky breaths. Simon breathes right into the receiver, making sure it’s louder than normal, and he hears when Bram’s breathing doesn’t shake.

“Did your dad say where he was going?” Simon asks, and Bram makes a noise.

“Somewhere in Savannah,” Bram replies.

“He won’t be too far away,” Simon says hopefully, but Bram sighs.

“I don’t want him to move,” Bram whines, his breath stuttering again, and Simon takes in a loud deep breath. He thinks he can hear Bram trying to level his breathing.

“Did they tell you why?” Simon asks once Bram’s quiet.

“They said they fell out of love. I didn’t know you could do that,” Bram mumbles, sounding bitter. Simon doesn’t blame him.

“They still love you, though,” Simon says, shifting on his bed so he’s propped up against the pillows. He hears Bram hum.

“They told me they still both love me very much, and that they’re going to try to make this as easy as possible on me. I don’t even… what does that mean?”

“I think it means,” Simon starts, trying to piece something together as he goes. He doesn’t know what that means; hasn’t the slightest clue in the world. He knows he can only be a friend right now, because he’s never experienced anything like what Bram’s dealing with. “That even though they might not love each other, they love you a lot, and want what’s best for you.”

“They’d stay together if they wanted that,” Bram whispers bitterly, and Simon winces.

“What if they kept fighting? You hated that,” Simon rationalizes, and Bram groans.

“Why can’t they still be in love and stay together?”

Simon knows it’s going to keep going like this, the conversation. Bram’s hurting, and there’s only so much Simon can do from miles and miles away.

“Because life sucks,” Simon whispers, and that makes Bram laugh.

“It does. They promised me I’ll still get to go to camp next summer, though. So I have that to look forward to,” Bram says, his voice happy through the phone. Simon smiles.

“Good. I’ll give you a very big hug when I see you,” Simon promises, his cheeks warming. He can almost hear Bram smiling through the phone.

“Thank you, Simon,” Bram says, rustling following his words. Simon realizes it’s late, and Bram’s probably been staying awake waiting for Simon to call him.

“I’m sorry life sucks.”

“Yeah… but you being my friend makes it better,” Bram says around a yawn, and now Simon’s sure his cheeks are pink.

“Good.”

“See you later, Simon,” Bram whispers, and Simon smiles.

“See you later, Bram.”

Thirteen.

Simon’s practically vibrating when he steps out of the car, his eyes already moving around the area, searching. He doesn’t see anyone he recognizes right away, and it isn’t until he’s near the outdoor theater that he spots Greg, standing with his mom. Zach waves when he spots Simon, jogging over to ruffle his hair.

“What’s up, buddy? You excited for your final year?” he asks, and Simon frowns.

“Don’t make this sad,” he says, Zach chuckling.

“Jordan and Greg are at the cabin with their moms, and I haven’t seen Bram yet,” Zach says, Simon nodding. His dad touches the back of his head, and Simon looks up.

“Over there,” Mr. Spier says, and Simon follows his line of sight to the far parking lot, where he can see Bram getting out of a car.

He takes off running, ignoring everyone staring at him as he nearly stumbles on the grass. Bram only gets a second to recognize what’s happening before Simon slams into him.

They don’t say anything, arms locked around each other tight. Simon closes his eyes and rubs the tips of his fingers in a small circle over Bram’s back. He hears someone walking up behind them, but he ignores it all until Bram pulls back. His eyes are a little damp.

“Hi,” Simon whispers, smiling.

“Hi, hi,” Bram replies, smiling at Simon in that soft way of his.

Bram’s mom putting her hand on Bram’s back pulls them from their little bubble, and Simon looks up at her.

“Are you boys excited?” she asks, and Simon nods.

“So excited,” Bram says, stealing the words right out of Simon’s mouth.

---

Orientation and dinner passes by in a blur, and time finally slows down when Bram tangles his fingers with Simon’s and they sneak out of their cabin to head for the field, their time-honored tradition. They follow the familiar path, staying quiet until their feet hit the grass, both of them sighing as they collapse next to the goal post. Simon leans over immediately and pulls Bram into a hug, leaning back so his back’s against the metal, letting Bram hide his face in Simon’s neck.

“I’m so sorry,” Simon whispers, rubbing Bram’s back. Bram just shakes his head, but his arms stay locked around Simon’s torso.

“It’s not your fault,” Bram whispers against Simon’s skin, tears soaking through the camp shirt Simon’s wearing.

“I know. It still sucks and I’m sorry about that.”

Bram leans back so they can look at each other, and Simon reaches up to wipe the tears off Bram’s face. His fingers stall on his cheeks, slowing down as they press in, their eyes locking. The air feels warm, warmer than it is, and Simon quickly pulls his hands away.

“Thank you, for always listening when I called to complain about them,” Bram starts, his hands coming to rest in his lap. “I know I complained a lot.”

“No, not that much. Besides, I told you to call. If you hadn’t, I would’ve called you instead.”

Bram smiles at that, and Simon can see some of the happy warmth returning to his eyes. They shift so they’re sitting side by side, and Bram loops his arm around Simon’s shoulders.

“How was your year? How’s Nick and Leah, Alice and Nora?” Bram asks, shifting the conversation off himself, and Simon files away the questions he still wants to ask for later.

“Alice wanted to cut off all her hair and dye it blue, but Mom wouldn’t let her. Nora’s been trying to convince my parents to get a cat, but my dad’s allergic to them apparently, so we can’t,” Simon says quietly, looking out across the field. Bram brings his arm down and slides their hands together, Simon smiling as they lock fingers.

“Leah’s… Leah. She’s getting really good at drawing, and her mom is offering to sign her up for an art class so she can get even better. Nick, uh, Nick has a girlfriend now and he’s all about that,” Simon says, wincing slightly. Bram notices, and he nudges Simon.

“What’s the face for?” he asks, and Simon sighs heavily.

“He’s… he’s been trying to get me to like, go out with her friend. Go on like, a double date? I think that’s what he said. And she’s nice, Camila is nice, but… I just -” Simon’s mouth is open but he doesn’t know what to say, his jaw moving a little as he tries to piece together the words. Bram hums next to him, and they look at each other. “I don’t… like her like that.”

“Do you like someone else?” Bram asks, his brow furrowed. Simon doesn’t know what’s clouding Bram’s gaze.

“Not… not really,” Simon mumbles, finally looking away from Bram to gaze out across the grass. He feels Bram squeeze his hand and that fluttering is back in his stomach. “At least – I mean, it’s not the way Nick says he feels about Julia. I’ve never felt anything like that about… girls…”

Simon’s breath catches in his throat, the confusing and scary thoughts back in his brain as he tries to gauge Bram’s reaction without looking at him. He’s spent all year trying to figure it out, staying up late at night and staring up at the ceiling, or waking up in a cold sweat because he’s had another dream.

“What does he say he feels for Julia?”

Simon sighs. “He says that, like, his stomach flutters and he wants to hold her hand and he feels happy around her. And he thought she was really pretty, and he wanted to make her laugh and smile. He says he dreamed about kissing her.”

Bram hums next to him, and when Simon chances a glance, Bram’s staring out at the field too.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt that about… about a girl either,” Bram whispers, and they look at each other slowly. Simon’s heart is pounding loudly in his ears. “I’ve definitely never dreamed about kissing a girl.”

Simon swallows thickly.

“Yeah,” he breathes, squeezing Bram’s hand. They stare at each other a moment longer until Bram looks back out at the grass.

When Zach finds them a short time later, he doesn’t even look surprised.

---

Greg plops down in the dirt next to Simon, holding a basket filled with seed packets. They’re some of the only returning kids to be in the gardening class, so their teacher has entrusted them with the task of planting a bunch of seeds while she goes over some basics with the younger boys.

“What do we want to plant? Suzy says we can do whatever we want,” Greg says, and Simon begins searching through the packets.

“Oh, sunflowers!” Simon exclaims, and Greg looks over his shoulder at the seedlings of sunflowers that Suzy started before camp began.

“We have some of them already,” Greg says, and Simon shakes his head.

“We can plant more,” he insists, and Greg laughs.

They pull out packets and align them among the starter trays, organizing them in the pattern Suzy showed them the year before. By the time Suzy’s done talking to the younger kids, Simon and Greg have a few trays ready for watering.

“Good job, boys! Do you want to transfer some of the larger sunflowers for me? I have the pots all ready to go,” Suzy says, and Simon nods eagerly. Greg smiles easily as he follows Simon.

“Hey, what’s up with Bram?” Greg asks as they get ready to pop the sunflower out of its current pot. Simon freezes, looking up.

“What do you mean?” Simon asks, feeling defensive. Greg must see this, because he holds up his hands.

“Nothing bad, he just seems sad,” Greg mumbles, and Simon slumps a little.

“Things were bad this year. Remember how last year his parents were fighting?” Simon asks, and Greg nods. “Well, they got a divorce.”

Greg grimaces, dropping the sunflower down into his palm. Simon holds the dirt aside as Greg drops the roots into the new pot.

“My parents are divorced. It’s probably for the best, all they do is argue when they’re together,” Greg mumbles as they begin patting the dirt down gently. Simon stares at Greg.

“You should – uh, you should talk to Bram. My parents aren’t, and… I don’t know,” Simon says, and Greg nods.

“We can complain together,” Greg says, and Simon smiles.

“Yeah, that.”

“Do you guys know each other outside of camp?” Greg asks, and Simon shakes his head.

“No, we just,” Simon pauses, looking at Greg. Greg looks back, his brow furrowed slightly at Simon’s sudden stop. Simon purses his lips before he responds. “We just talk on the phone a lot.”

“That’s cool, like a pen pal, but on the phone,” Greg says, and Simon breathes out a sigh.

“I guess so.”

---

The bonfire is roaring when they finally make it down to the shore, Greg and Jordan beckoning for Simon and Bram to follow down to where Zach is sitting near the water. He’s cleared some of the bigger rocks so it’s mostly sand, and they plop down around him. Strumming his ukulele softly, he smiles at them as they get settled.

“Was wondering when y’all would show up,” Zach says, placing his ukulele down to shift on his blanket, adjusting his sweatshirt. Greg and Jordan sit down on top of their blanket while Bram wraps the blanket he’s holding around his and Simon’s shoulders, both of them folding over each other easily.

Zach looks around before he reaches into his bag and pulls out some candy, smiling as the boys all light up.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he whispers conspiratorially, the boys looking between the bars before beginning to grab some. Bram and Jordan grab the only packages of M&M’s, and Simon falters before he grabs a Twix.

“Our secret,” Greg says, crossing an ‘x’ on his chest. Jordan, Bram, and Simon make the same gesture, and Zach smiles at them.

Picking up his ukulele, Zach leans over and starts talking quietly to Greg, the only one in their group with any sort of musical talent. Bram opens his bag of candy, leaning in closer to Simon to keep the blanket up over their shoulders.

Simon looks around as they settle, his shoulders relaxing as Zach begins to strum. There seems to be less kids this year, and it’s evident in how much room is between each group.

“Simon?”

Startling out of his trance, Simon looks down to see Bram holding out his bag of M&M’s. He’s smiling, and Simon takes a moment to think about how he never sees Bram smile this way at anyone else.

“What?” he whispers, and Bram shakes the bag.

“Have some,” he replies, and Simon holds out his hand. Bram pours some into his palm, probably half the bag, and Simon smiles.

“Want some of my Twix?” he asks, and Bram shakes his head.

“No, thank you,” Bram mumbles, tossing a few candies into his mouth.

“Are you sure?” Simon asks, opening the Twix and breaking off a piece. He holds it up to Bram’s face, shoving it closer and closer until it touches Bram’s bottom lip and he giggles.

“Okay, okay, I’ll have some,” he says, opening his mouth. Simon’s chest flutters at the action, and as soon as Bram closes his mouth around the candy, he ducks his head down. They chew in silence for a moment, the only sound coming from Zach playing and the quiet chatter coming from the rest of the campers.

Bram shifts slightly, bringing his hand down between them, finding Simon’s in the dark. Their fingers slot together, a familiar feeling that has Simon leaning a little heavier against Bram’s side. He doesn’t think about how there’s only two weeks left.

---

Simon and Greg race each other down to the soccer field, shoving and pushing as they run along the path until they burst through the trees, laughing excitedly. Soccer is still going on, while gardening ended early for the day.

“I win!” Simon yells, holding up his hands in victory. Greg reaches over and tickles his ribs, Simon shrieking in surprise and running away. He attracts the attention of the players on the field, and when he turns around, Bram’s already smiling at him.

“Eyes on the ball, Greenfeld!” the coach yells, and Bram tears his eyes away from Simon to get back into the game.

Greg and Simon sit down on the grass and kick their legs out, watching as the two teams play. There’s two counselors helping the coach, and Simon tries to keep up with what’s going on as the players run around the field. Jordan and Bram are wearing mesh blue vests over their shirts, along with a couple other boys, and Simon looks around for a scoreboard to see who’s winning.

One of the boys in a red mesh vest bursts out of the scuffle with the ball, running down the field towards the goalpost. Jordan’s right with him, and Simon watches as Jordan manages to steal the ball and kick it off towards Bram. The players shift their directions, everyone converging on Bram, who kicks the ball to one of his teammates.

“Nice teamwork, guys!” one of the counselor’s calls, clapping encouragingly.

The ball ends up back at Bram, and he hesitates a moment before he kicks the ball towards the net. Greg and Simon sit up straight, watching as the ball soars through the goalie’s hands and into the net. As his teammates run over to congratulate him, Bram looks over and smiles at Simon. Then he’s gone, hidden by all of his teammates.

“Nice goal, Greenfeld. That’s 4-2, Team Blue,” the coach calls, and Simon looks over at Greg. They hold up their hands and high five even though they didn’t do anything.

One of the boys in red kicks at the field, making an angry noise as he glares at Team Blue. Simon thinks he recognizes him from one of the groups of boys who’s always yelling and saying rude things during meals. He kicks at a few of the water bottles on the sideline, and the coach turns to him.

“Brandon,” he calls, a warning in his voice. Brandon turns around and crosses his arms. “Remember when we talked about good sportsmanship?”

“Yeah, well, that’s gay,” Brandon spits out, turning around again to sit down near the water bottles, grabbing one and squirting water onto his face. Simon feels his shoulders hike up to his ears unbidden, and the coach holds up a finger to the rest of the boys as he goes over to crouch in front of Brandon.

When Simon looks up, he meets Bram’s eyes across the field, something clouding the warm brown Simon’s used to seeing.

---

Bram’s laughing at something Greg’s said when the tray slams down onto the table, and as everyone looks over to find the source of the noise, Bram’s hand reaches over under the table to find Simon’s. Simon holds on immediately, even though Bram hasn’t had to hold Simon’s hand through lunch since they were eleven. When Bram turns around, his shoulders relax and he smiles, softly, at Simon. They squeeze each other’s hands at the same time, and they smile a little wider at each other.

---

“Okay, ready?”

“No.”

“Bram, come on.”

“Simon-”

“Bram, show me your effing painting.”

Bram snorts, grinning at Simon as he holds his painting to his chest. They’re standing in the back of the classroom, leaning against the back counter as everyone looks at their final pieces and talks happily. Bram had turned his canvas away the second they’d sat down during the first class, sticking out his tongue at Simon before he started sketching.

“A taste of your own medicine,” Bram had said, and Simon had laughed a little too loudly.

“You can’t laugh.” Bram peeks down at the painting, his bottom lip between his teeth. Simon frowns, reaching over to touch Bram’s arm.

“You know I wouldn’t,” Simon says softly, and Bram takes in a deep breath. He nods, his bottom lip popping out of his mouth. Simon holds out his painting, Bram holds out his, and they trade.

Simon’s mouth opens a little as he stares at the night sky, a gray full moon taking up the left side of the canvas. The rest is dedicated to a sky that’s not just black, but subtle blues and purples and colors Simon’s not sure he can name. There’s little white dots that Simon’s sure are meant to be stars, and Simon runs his fingers over them as he continues to stare at the painting.

“Bram,” he whispers, looking up. He’s a little jealous, because when they’d signed up for painting, it had been something Simon had wanted to do. But here’s Bram, handing Simon a painting that’s better than his own.  

“What?” Bram asks, eyes searching Simon’s face. Simon suddenly hates his painting of the sunflowers, and wants to take it back from Bram’s hands, tell him to forget it’s ever existed.

“It’s…. it’s beautiful,” Simon breathes, holding the painting out to look at it again. Bram looks down, shaking his head.

“It’s…” Bram waves his hand in front of his face, seemingly at a loss for words. Simon just nods, hoping it’ll help Bram figure out his words. But then Bram shakes his head, holding up Simon’s painting. “This is amazing, Simon.”

Simon shakes his head, and he knows that they can go on like this for a while, so he doesn’t say anything. It’s easier that way, Bram simply smiling at the silent understanding passing between them.

Bram runs his fingers over the sunflowers, and Simon feels himself warming. Bram’s face looks so happy, like he genuinely likes Simon’s painting. Simon stares at Bram’s face long enough that he convinces himself that Bram likes the painting.

“Have it,” Simon says, surprising himself. Bram looks up at him, eyes warmer than Simon’s ever seen them.

“Only if you’ll have mine,” Bram says, grinning slightly. Simon nods, the fluttering in his chest making it difficult to speak.

---

The moon’s bright in the sky as Simon lays on his back, the grass tickling his ears. Bram’s right next to him, their shoulders pressed together and fingers laced as they lay in silence. There’s a lump in Simon’s throat that’s making talking extremely difficult, and he thinks Bram must feel the same way, because neither of them has spoken since they laid down.

Simon shifts, bringing one foot up so it’s flat on the ground. He turns his head towards Bram, and the lump in his throat hurts a little more when he realizes Bram’s already looking at him.

“I can’t believe we go home tomorrow,” Bram whispers, his thumb moving in a reassuring motion over the back of Simon’s hand. Simon just nods. Bram’s eyes look a little sad, and he looks back up at the sky. Simon can see the dampness on his eyelashes, and words bubble up in his chest. He swallows thickly a few times before he’s able to speak.

“I…” he starts, his voice smaller than he meant it to be. Bram doesn’t turn his head but his eyes do shift towards Simon. “I think… I think I like… boys… like Nick likes girls.”

Bram turns his head slowly, his eyes cast down as he shifts. When he eventually looks at Simon’s face, Simon has his lip between his teeth and the longer it takes for Bram to respond, the closer Simon gets to crying.

“I… yeah,” Bram whispers into the space between them, and they stare at each other for a long moment. “How are you… like, how do you know?”

“I don’t know.” Simon closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, Bram’s chewing on his bottom lip. “Nick said he knew when he kissed Julia.”

Bram saws his bottom lip between his teeth, and he unclenches his jaw when Simon squeezes his hand.

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” Bram breathes out, almost too soft for Simon to hear, but Simon does. Even when Bram’s whispering, or across the room, Simon hears him.

“I haven’t, either,” Simon replies, just as breathy and soft. They’re still staring at each other, eyes wide in the moonlight. Simon pushes himself onto his side, Bram following suit, and their legs slide together as they come to rest, their hands still linked between them.

“Simon,” Bram whispers, his warm breath fanning over Simon’s face, and that fluttering Simon’s been feeling for a few years comes back in full force right before they lean in and press their lips together.

Simon has no frame of reference, nothing with which to compare the hesitant press of lips against his own, but there’s a new warmth in his chest and he feels inexplicably lighter. Bram’s lips are warm, every part of him is, and he presses against Simon softly before they break apart. Their breaths stutter, hitting each other in the face, and Simon’s senses are bombarded with the smell of Bram’s toothpaste. He keeps his eyes shut, their noses still touching, and Simon’s suddenly so sure.

“I… I’m gay,” Simon whispers, something in his chest breaking and the buoyancy increasing. Bram nudges his nose against Simon’s.

“Yeah. Me too.” Bram takes in a deep breath, a steadying breath. “I’m… gay.”

The words seep into Simon’s skin where Bram’s thumb sweeps across the back of his hand, at the spot the bare skin of their legs meets, in the warmth between their chests, the heat spreading on Simon’s cheeks. He finally opens his eyes, and Bram’s eyes are staring back at him.

“I’m scared,” Bram says, squeezing Simon’s hand. Simon doesn’t ask him to explain. He’s scared too.

---

Despite the chaos of the camp as everyone’s parents show up and kids say goodbye, Simon and Bram stand close together, fingers entwined. Zach’s saying goodbye to Jordan and Greg, speaking low against the loud chatter of the area. When he finishes, Zach pulls them each into a hug and sends them on their way towards their waiting parents.

Simon hasn’t seen his parents yet, nor has Bram, and they’re okay with that.

“Boys,” Zach says, smiling down at them as he walks over. He ruffles Simon’s hair and squeezes Bram’s shoulder. “I’m really proud of you two.”

Simon knew this was coming, knew he’d have to say goodbye over and over again today, but it doesn’t stop the wobbling of his chin as Zach places a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Tyler and I knew you two were something special when you came running to us on that first night, Simon insisting that we find Bram some food and telling us that it was ‘Bram’ and not ‘Abraham,’ looking absolutely determined. You two were like complete opposites that first year, but you somehow brought out the best in each other. The number of times I found you two on that field was actually pretty impressive, and I think it set a camp record,” Zach jokes, and Simon and Bram laugh softly. Zach takes a deep breath before he continues, smiling softly at them.

“I want you boys to always remember how special you are, and that no matter what anyone ever says to you, you’re wonderful just the way you are. Don’t let other people define you. Being a teenager is hard, but always remember that it gets better. Life doesn’t suck forever. Find the people who love you for who you are, and stick with them.”

Zach squeezes both of their shoulders, his eyes a little misty. Simon and Bram lean in, never letting go of each other’s hands, as Zach hugs them.

They’re still standing together holding hands when their parents arrive, not but ten minutes apart.  Bram’s mom looks tired but she still smiles at Simon and pinches his cheeks gently. Simon’s dad gives Bram a hug after he hugs Simon, and then they step back.

Simon doesn’t know what to say, so he turns and hides his face in Bram’s neck, willing himself not to cry. Bram lets go of his hand and wraps his arms around Simon tightly, both of their breathing choppy.

“I’ll see you later,” Bram whispers, and Simon laughs out a sob. When they break apart, there’s tears on Bram’s cheeks. Simon knows there’s tears on his as well.

“You promise?” Simon says, his stomach shaking. Bram nods, his hand squeezing Simon’s.

“I promise.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later,” Simon says as he crosses an ‘x’ on his chest, Bram doing the same.

---

“Mom, where’s Bram’s number?”

“I programmed it into my phone, honey,” Mrs. Spier calls in reply, and Simon comes bounding into her room. He knows his mom is looking at his face for signs that he’s been crying again, but he ignores her and politely waits for her to write down the number for him.

He grabs the house phone and goes into his room, shutting the door behind him gently. He lets out a deep breath when the latch clicks, thankful for the privacy of his room.

Walking over to his bed, he types in the numbers and waits to hit call until he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, legs bouncing in anticipation.

We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please hang up or try your call again.

Simon’s brow comes together as the message repeats, and he ends the call. Staring at the numbers, he types them in again, slowly this time.

We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed is-

“Mom!” Simon calls as he bursts from his room, something twisting in his gut. She looks up at him from her book, frowning at the volume of his voice.

“Did you write this down right?” he asks quietly, and she nods. He huffs.

“It keeps saying it’s wrong,” he says, and she frowns. She picks up her phone and unlocks it, scrolling for a moment.

“I took a picture of the paper it was written on,” she says, showing him. He compares them to the numbers she wrote down, and his stomach sinks.

“Can you try?” he asks, and she nods. She taps something on her phone and holds it up to her ear. Simon can already hear the message before her face falls.

Throat closing, Simon runs from her room before she says his name, shutting his door behind him and falling against it. He types in the numbers one more time.

We’re sorry-

Fourteen.

Someone picks up when he calls during the summer, and his heart flutters for only a moment before they inform him that he must have the wrong number.

He cries himself to sleep that night.

Fifteen.

Simon’s zoned out of the conversation his parents are having at the door of his room when he pulls the paintings off the wall. They’ve been up next to his window since coming home with him. Some nights, he stares up at them and hopes that the tugging at his navel will eventually fade when he looks at them.

It hasn’t yet.

He stacks them on top of each other gently, his stomach an aching mess as he weighs them in his hands. The night sky still takes his breath away, and Leah had stared at it in fascination when she’d seen it for the first time. He thinks she’s been trying to recreate it since.

“Simon?”

It’s his mom, and he turns around to look at her. He knows he has that look on his face again, the one Nora says gives away a lot. He schools his features and smiles at her. Her eyes are on the paintings, and she looks like she did that day when he was thirteen, sitting in her room watching him run out in tears.

“Yeah?” he says, croaks really. She inclines her head towards the paintings, and he shakes his head at her. His dad says nothing, his face blank. He never says much about it, just offers Simon quiet hugs that he really appreciates.

He holds up the painting of the sunset. “I’m going to, uh, put this one away.”

His parents nod. Later, when his dad helps him hang up the picture of the moon on the wall next to his new bed, the one they spent all day installing, Simon thanks whatever higher power that his parents never try to talk to him about it.

Sixteen.

“Okay, outfit aside,” Leah says, tilting her head and beginning to move. Simon looks away from his phone as she walks around her room, humming quietly to herself as she does. Simon doesn’t have a clue what he’s going to wear for the first day of junior year, nor does he think it really matters. It’s the same kids as last year.

“Has Nick told you about the new kid at soccer yet?” Leah asks, breaking Simon from his trance. He looks back at the phone and shakes his head.

“No, I haven’t talked to him today,” Simon says, and Leah smiles a little.

“He won’t stop going on about this guy, says he’s going to really help them win this year. Or… well, something. Isn’t that the same thing he said about Garrett in freshman year?”

“Nick thinks the best of people,” Simon reminds her, and she nods.

“That’s right, and that’s why we’re here, to balance out his eternal optimism with some good old cynicism,” Leah deadpans, and Simon chuckles.

“We’re not total cynics,” he mumbles, and she hums. He looks back towards the phone to see her staring at him intently, her face taking up the entire screen. He frowns, but she doesn’t break.

“You okay there, Spier?” she asks, sounding genuinely concerned. Simon gives her a half smile. He’s eternally grateful for their friendship, and the easy ability they have to talk about everything. Well, almost everything.

“I think I’m just hungry, Dad’s making dinner and I can smell it,” he says, pushing aside the other thoughts running through his brain. She pulls back from the phone with a laugh.

“Well, who am I to keep you from a famous Jack Spier dinner?”

“Only the best best friend in the world,” he replies, and she rolls her eyes.

“I’m hanging up now!” she yells before the call ends, and he shakes his head.

Sitting back in his desk chair, he turns and stares at the painting above his nightstand. He stares at it a lot when he thinks about finally telling his best friends. He’s gotten close a few times, during late night sleepovers and drives in Leah’s car. He almost told his mom once, back when he was holed up in his room at the age of thirteen, ignoring the glorious summer outside to deal with the emotions in his chest. But the moment has never felt right, and he’s always choked up before he can get them out.

Something clatters to the ground downstairs, and Mr. Spier swears, and Simon’s pulled out of his thoughts.

“Simon, buddy, you done talking to Leah?” Mr. Spier calls up the stairs, and Simon stands from his chair.

“Yeah, Dad, what did you drop?” he calls as he runs down the stairs, thankful for the distraction.

---

Nick’s waiting at their meeting spot in the student parking lot when Simon arrives at school. Leah’s on her way, telling them “you can’t rush the process, losers” in their group chat, and they’re pretty sure she’ll end up being late or right on time to her first class.

“You ready, man? Junior year, we’re officially upperclassmen!” Nick cheers, holding up his hands and waiting impatiently for Simon to reach up and high five him.

“That doesn’t terrify you a bit?” Simon asks, and Nick shakes his head, his hat moving a bit on his hair. He’d found the hat on one of the trips his family had taken over the summer, and Simon’s standing by his initial opinion.

“That hat’s fucking atrocious,” Simon says, and Nick pouts at him.

“Garrett thinks it’s bitchin’,” Nick says smugly, and Simon rolls his eyes.

“That’s because Garrett likes country music and camouflage clothing,” Simon says, smirking at Nick. Nick just shakes his head, and a second later, Simon jumps as two hands come down on his shoulders.

“Are you talking shit about me again, Spier?” Garrett asks, flicking the brim of his hat. Simon points to it, looking at Nick.

“See?” Simon says, and Garrett chuckles.

“Don’t be mean to me on the first day,” Garrett whines, digging his phone out of his pocket. He looks at the screen, his eyes lighting up. Nick tries to look over his shoulder, but Garrett shoves him away.

“I gotta go, I’m going to meet someone,” Garrett says, flashing the screen to Nick quickly. Nick grins.

“Go have fun being a tour guide!” Nick yells, clapping Garrett on the back. Garrett just grins, giving Simon one last stern look before running off towards the entrance.

“A tour guide?” Simon asks, and Nick nods.

“That new kid on our soccer team,” Nick offers, and Simon nods. He’s looking at the ground when Nick coughs, and Simon brings his face back up to see that Nick’s now looking a little more serious.

“You doing okay? Leah said you were looking a little glum,” Nick says, and Simon pushes away that little twinge of annoyance of the idea of them discussing him behind his back. He knows they do it because they care, even if it’s stuff he’s told them to leave alone.

“Yeah,” Simon replies, and Nick furrows his brow. Before Simon can process what’s happening, Nick’s wrapping his arms around Simon’s neck and squeezing him hard. “Oh, ow! Stop it!”

“No, you need a hug!” Nick replies, and Simon reaches up to take Nick’s hat off his head and toss it into the grass.

“Stop, your hat’s on the ground,” Simon says as he begins to laugh, Nick’s infectious energy finally getting to him.

“I know, you threw it there!”

Simon keeps laughing until Leah shows up, shrieking and running away when Nick tries to hug her too.

---

There’s a new girl in their class, and Simon spots her as he walks to his first period English class. She’s standing outside the door, matching up the numbers to the paper in her hands, and Simon takes pity on her right away. It’s a huge school. She’s lucky she made it on time.

“You in the right place?” he asks as she moves to stand next to her, and she looks up at him in surprise before smiling. Her eyes sparkle a little.

“Yeah, actually, I am! But, to be fair, when I came to have my ID picture taken, I walked around and found all my classes,” she confesses, lowering her voice a little. Simon chuckles, and she smiles happily.

“Smart. I’m Simon,” he says, offering her his hand to shake. She does, looking relieved.

“I’m Abby, I just moved here,” she replies, shifting to shove her schedule in her back pocket.

“Nice to meet you, Abby. Welcome to hell,” he jokes, and she laughs loudly, the sound echoing off the crowded halls.

Simon leads her into the classroom, and Abby quickly points out two seats near the windows. Simon shrugs, knowing it’ll be better than sitting with anyone else in the room already.  

“I didn’t know what to think when my mom told me we were moving to the South,” Abby whispers, leaning over to talk to Simon. There’s still a few minutes left before class, and other kids are just beginning to filter in. Mr. Wise is sitting up at his desk, shuffling papers around as he waits for class to start.

“Where’d you move from?” he asks, flipping open his notebook and placing his pen down on the first page.

“D.C., which I know is like, technically the South, but Georgia is truly in the South. It’s a culture shock,” she says, and Simon nods slowly.

“How so?” he asks, and right then two kids burst through the door, jostling each other as they race to find desks. Abby looks over for a moment before looking back at Simon to grimace.

“You don’t see this many Confederate symbols,” she whispers, and Simon nods. He’s about to say something when the bell rings, and that’s when the entire class settles into their seats. Simon turns away from Abby to look up to the front of the class, picking up his pen to twirl it between his fingers.

Mr. Wise starts droning on, welcoming them back for another year, and Simon zones out as he writes the date on his paper, only looking up when a stack of papers is passed back to him. He holds the papers over his shoulder and the person behind him grabs them easily.

“I’m going to take roll while you read over the syllabus, and if you have any questions, you can ask them when I’m done,” Mr. Wise says, and then he’s calling out names.

Simon’s drawing lines on his syllabus when it happens.

“Abraham Greenfeld?”

It’s like ice is in his veins, and Simon tries to not have any outward reaction besides a quick flick of his eyes over the kids he can see.

“Here,” says a vaguely familiar voice from the back of the classroom, and the hair on the back of Simon’s neck stands up. He doesn’t know if he can make himself turn around, and Mr. Wise is already moving on. Abby glances over at Simon for a moment, and he realizes he’s about to snap the pen that’s in his hands.

“Simon Spier?”

Simon looks up and raises his hand, forcing his mouth to work. “Here.”

Mr. Wise smiles at him, because like most other teachers at this school, they already know who he is thanks to Alice. He moves on, and Simon sinks into his seat, ignoring the feeling that someone’s staring at him.

---

Simon walks through the open door of his Algebra class a minute before the bell rings, having helped Abby find her second class. He spots an empty desk at the back of the classroom and slides into the seat, keeping his head down. He glances up when the person next to him shifts, nodding when they smile at him.

Mr. Harmon walks around and hands out the syllabus, droning on about tests and worksheets. Simon doodles in the margins, eyes glazed over as he stares at the board where Mr. Harmon has written down the grading percentage.

Simon snaps back to reality when Mr. Harmon starts taking roll.

“Abraham Greenfeld?”

Simon closes his eyes, tilting his head back against the nausea swirling in his stomach.

“I – uh, I go by Bram.”

“Noted,” Mr. Harmon says, sounding amused, before he moves on down the list again. Simon starts counting to ten in his head.

“Simon Spier?”

The rushing in his ears almost prevents him from hearing his own name, but he opens his eyes and looks towards the front, ignoring the head that’s turned in his direction.

“Here,” he calls, and Mr. Harmon smiles at him.

Simon doesn’t look back up for the rest of class.

---

“You are not going to believe what Mrs. Pendelton wore for the first day,” Leah says when Simon walks up to his locker, Abby right behind him. Leah’s face changes for a second when she sees Abby, and Simon levels her with look.

“I want to hear all about it after I introduce you to Abby,” he says, turning to look at Abby. “Abby, this is Leah, that childhood best friend I told you about. Leah, Abby’s new here.”

Leah smiles and holds out her hand, which Abby takes.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Abby says, and Leah just nods.

“Likewise. Where’d you move here from?”

While they start to talk, Simon turns around and opens his locker, putting away his new textbooks and grabbing a different notebook. When he turns back around, Abby and Leah are laughing about something, and Simon takes that as a win.

They head to the cafeteria, finding an empty table near the big windows to sit at after grabbing some food. Abby starts in about school lunches, comparing them to hers back in D.C., and Simon’s so focused on her ranting, he misses the moment Nick walks up to the table.

“Oh cool, there’s enough seats!” Nick says, and Simon snaps his eyes up. Nick sits down across from him, sliding up next to Leah, and that’s when Simon sees who’s standing there with Garrett.

“Who’s this?” Nick whispers loudly to Leah, and she elbows him.

“This-” she starts as Garrett sits down next to Simon, ruffling up his hair. Simon elbows him, grumbling to himself as Garrett chuckles. “This is Abby. She just moved here from D.C. Abby, this annoying one is Nick, and the one messing up Simon’s hair is Garrett.”

Leah’s eyes flick to where Bram’s sitting next to Nick, and that’s when Nick jumps in.

“Well, this,” he gestures to Bram, “is Bram, he just moved here from Athens, and he’s going to save our soccer season.”

“Yeah, he is!” Garrett says, and Bram ducks his head down.

“Bram, this annoyance is Leah, and I’ve just now learned that she in the corner is Abby, and the one grumbling angrily to himself is Simon,” Nick says, pointing to each person as he goes. Bram smiles at Leah, waves a little at Abby, and just glances over at Simon.

“Yeah, we, uh, we’ve met,” Bram says, gesturing to Simon, and for a moment Simon’s stomach untwists. “We have first period together, right?”

“Oh, right! Why didn’t you sit on the couch with us, Spier?” Garrett asks, and Simon just shrugs, staring at Bram as he turns to look down at his tray, picking up his fork. Something slams on the other side of the cafeteria, the sound reverberating throughout the room, and Simon watches as Bram jumps slightly in his seat.

A teensy tiny part of Simon feels bad. But the angry side, the side that’s still reeling from we have first period together doesn’t care at all.

---

Simon ignores him for the rest of the week.

He goes home on Monday and tells himself he has no reason to be angry, that it’s silly and he shouldn’t be that upset. But then Nick mentions Bram in the group chat, and Simon lets himself feel hurt. He doesn’t even know why it hurts this much, why he’s so mad, but he sits in it and lets himself feel bitter.

By Thursday at lunch, Simon’s one hundred percent sure that Leah suspects something. Simon’s kept himself as far away from Bram all week, sitting in the corner seat with Abby and Leah surrounding him and ignoring anything happening at the other end of the table.

He’s so focused on ignoring Bram that he doesn’t notice when Bram speaks directly to him. Abby elbows Simon, breaking his concentration from the conversation he was having with Leah.

“What?”

“Bram was asking if you could pass the ketchup you’re so rudely hogging,” she teases, grabbing the bottle and handing it to Bram. Simon follows the motion, and when his eyes meet Bram’s, he wills himself not to blush. He looks away, ignoring Bram as he says a quiet “thanks” to Abby.

When the first bell rings, Simon’s out of his seat immediately, and he registers that Leah’s following him when he reaches the trash cans. She doesn’t say anything until they’re standing at his locker, Simon’s hand gripping the metal.

“Are you okay?” she asks quietly, oddly serious. Simon tries to smile at her but he feels like it looks more like a grimace, and she frowns. “Simon, seriously. Is it Bram? Nick’s been complaining to me all week that it feels like you hate him, and Nick really likes him and doesn’t want his new friend and his oldest friend not getting along.”

Simon sighs, his eyes welling up a little. He sticks his head into his locker to collect himself.

“I don’t hate Bram,” Simon says, and Leah nods carefully.

“Okay,” she says, like she doesn’t believe him. “Then what is it?”

“Do you remember when I went to that summer camp?” he asks, because even though he’d been hoping his best friends would remember on their own, it’s beginning to gnaw at him.

“Yeah, every June for like four years. What about it?” she asks, and Simon sighs again. Her eyes move as she searches his face, and he sees the moment she remembers.

“Wait, is that… he’s your camp best friend?” she whispers, leaning in until he can feel her breath on his neck. He nods, his throat tightening painfully. “You spent that entire last summer holed up in your room crying and never told us what happened. Did he… like, did he do something bad? Was he mean to you?”

Leah’s sudden protectiveness makes Simon feel infinitely loved, and he reaches out to touch her arm. Her face softens a little.

“No, he wasn’t mean and he didn’t… he didn’t really do anything bad. It’s – it’s…” he trails off, staring at her for a long moment. “I don’t know… how to explain.”

She tilts her head, the warning bell going off. They only have five minutes until class starts, and Simon can’t say all he needs to in that amount of time.

“Simon,” Leah starts, but he cuts her off with a shake of his head.

“Look, I promise I’ll explain everything. Not today, or tomorrow, or anytime in the immediate future. But I promise you, I’ll tell you everything and answer all of your questions. I just – I have some things to work out first,” he rushes to say, his voice low as the hallway fills with people heading for their lockers. Leah nods, holding up her pinky to him. He links his with hers easily, and they smile at each other.

“I’m holding you to this,” she says, and he smiles.

“I’d sure hope so.”

---

The piece of paper is sitting on top of his books when he opens his locker on Friday at lunch.

Simon’s hand stalls as he reaches for it, fingers trembling slightly as they touch the note. There’s something blooming in his chest as he unfolds it and sees the sketch of an expanse of field, bleachers in the foreground, a goal post on the right. In the bottom right corner is a familiar signature.

---

The field is quiet when Simon walks up to it, completely empty as everyone stays inside to eat lunch. No one’s sitting at the base of the goal posts, and the visitor bleachers are empty. Simon turns his head and looks up at the home bleachers. There, in the shade created by the booth, sits Bram, his head bent down as he stares at his phone.

And Simon… he feels angry again.

“So, what?” he says loudly, and Bram turns his head to look at him. Simon stops at the bottom of the bleachers, just enough space between them that he feels like he can talk. “I’m ‘someone you have first period with’ at the lunch table? But then you can go ahead put something like this in my locker?”

He holds up the note, waving it around above his head, and Bram stands, climbing down a few levels of stairs. Simon crosses his arms and Bram stops moving, now a quarter of the way down.

“Simon, I didn’t-”

“What? You know, I don’t know what I expected after all of this time but acting like we don’t know each other… that’s low, Bram,” Simon says, his hands clenching his biceps as he talks. He can see that Bram’s mouth is open slightly.

“Simon, I wasn’t going to say anything in front of everyone because I didn’t know what they knew. I didn’t want to say anything that like… outed anything,” Bram says, half whispering the word outed so it just carries in the space between them. Simon scoffs, shifting his feet.

“They forgot. Leah just put it together yesterday, because Nick thinks I hate you because he hasn’t yet pieced it together that his new buddy is the same person that made me cry my fucking eyes out all summer long when I was thirteen!”

“Simon.” Bram makes to move down the bleachers again, but Simon holds up his hand.

“No. No. I tried calling, over and over, until someone finally picked up and told me I had the wrong number. And you never, ever called me. I waited the whole summer. My mom wanted me to talk to one of her colleagues because I wouldn’t talk to her,” Simon takes in a deep breath, his shoulders slumping slightly.  “I haven’t told anyone what happened that summer, haven’t even thought about being out. I needed a friend that summer, and you were gone. So, no. Don’t.”

Bram doesn’t say a word when Simon finishes, and Simon thinks he can see tears welling up in Bram’s eyes. He knows there’s angry hot tears in his own eyes, so he turns on his heel and runs.

---

Simon’s lying face down on his bed when the door creaks open. He doesn’t move, because there’s only three guesses as to who it is, and he doesn’t know how to tell any of them to leave him alone without snapping.

“Simon,” Nora says, and Simon turns over at the sound of her voice. She’s staring at him with wide eyes, her mouth twisted down, and Simon moves to sit up.

“What’s up?” he asks, patting the bed next to him. With Alice away at college, it’s just been the two of them against the world. Nora sits down on the bed next to him carefully, her shoulders stiff.

“Nothing, it’s just… well, you’ve seemed upset all week,” she says, and he lets himself fall back onto the bed. She huffs at him as she does the same, her head resting right next to his shoulder.

“I know,” he says after a moment, and she shifts to look up at him. He can feel her eyes on him, staring at him intently, and he looks down at her to flash her a fake smile. She rolls her eyes.

“Si, it feels like that summer,” Nora whispers, and Simon’s entire body tenses. He knows Nora feels it because she sits up again, moving until she’s sitting on the bed near his head. He looks up to find her frowning at her.

“What happened?” she asks softly, and he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he tilts his head back enough to look at the painting of the moon, still up on his wall. Nora follows his gaze, and understanding crosses her face.

“Is this about your camp best friend?” she says softly, and he nods his head slightly.

“Bram,” he provides, and she nods.

“Yes, Bram,” she mumbles before, “Wait! Isn’t Nick’s new soccer buddy named Bram?”

Simon nods. “One and the same.”

Nora’s mouth opens, her jaw hanging down as she looks between the painting on the wall and her brother. Her shoulders slump and she moves her hand to touch Simon’s arm gently.

“What happened?” she asks again, and he feels the lump building in his throat. He lets his eyes fill with tears and then he blinks. Nora doesn’t say anything as he lets a few tears trail down his cheeks before he speaks.

“Nora, if I tell you something, do you promise to never tell anyone else? Even Alice?” he asks, turning his head to look her in the eyes. She nods, holding up her pinky without hesitation. They link pinkies and squeeze. Simon keeps his grip on her pinky as he starts to talk again.

“I’m gay,” he whispers, and for a second, he hopes she doesn’t hear him, but then she’s squeezing his pinky extra hard.

“Okay,” she whispers, her chin wobbling a little. His brow furrows, confused as to why she looks close to crying.

“Nora?” he asks, and she shakes her head, reaching up to wipe her eyes.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I just… I’m really honored you felt you could tell me, and I promise you I’ll never tell anyone and I’ll be there with you when and if you want to tell Mom and Dad, and I love you so much,” she whispers in a rush, and then she’s letting go of his pinky to curl back up next to him on the bed, hugging him tight. Simon lets her, because he’s feeling far too open and vulnerable and having his sister hugging him close alleviates that.

“I love you,” he whispers to the top of her head, and she rubs her nose on his shirt.

“What does this have to do with Bram and that summer?” she asks, not bringing her head up from his chest.

“I… well, Bram was my first kiss,” Simon mumbles, and Nora stills against him. She pushes herself up on an elbow and stares down at him, her face clouded.

“Like, as a joke or like… because…” she trails off, and he takes in a deep breath.

“Not as a joke. We – uh, the night before camp ended, we were in the grass and we, well, we were talking about stuff that we’d kinda started talking about at the beginning of the month and we just…” Simon waves his hand in the air, like it’s going to explain everything, and Nora’s eyes widen.

“We just, um… Simon, are you telling me that Bram’s…. gay too?”

“I… yeah. God, you can’t tell anyone, and please don’t tell him, I didn’t know how to tell anyone any of this without outing him as well which is why I never told anyone because it didn’t feel right, even if I never saw him or talked to him again,” Simon rambles, his hands coming up to cover his face. Nora touches his arm gently and he widens his fingers so he can see her.

“I promise, solemnly swear, that I’ll never ever tell anyone, Simon. And I understand now why you never told any of us about what happened. You came home so… happy, like the brother I grew up with. And that summer makes more sense now, as does how you’re feeling now,” Nora says easily, bringing Simon’s hands away from his face. He stares up at her, confused.

“What makes more sense?” he asks, and she sighs softly.

“Si… did you like, like Bram as something more than a friend?”

The questions stops Simon, his stomach twisting into knots. He hasn’t let himself think about this that deeply, hasn’t ever examined the butterflies he used to feel, or the warmth that would settle in his stomach when they held hands. He doesn’t think about the dreams he’d have that involved Bram and waking up to sticky sheets. He’s never told a single soul about what the sunflower painting meant to him, what Bram meant to him.

“Maybe,” he whispers, and Nora sighs.

“Simon… you’re dealing with heartbreak,” she says, and he shakes his head.

“No,” he replies, but she’s reaching up to tap his cheeks.

“Yes, you are. And I think you should talk to Bram. Even if just to make sure you’re both on the same page about not accidentally outing the other, or making Nick not think you two hate each other.”

“How do you know about that?” he asks, laughing a little as she continues to tap his cheeks.

“Nick tells me things,” she replies, and he sighs.

“I have talked to him,” he starts, her eyes lighting up, “and I might’ve been kinda mean.”

She pinches his right cheek.

“So, make it right.”

---

He doesn’t know how, is the thing.

If the tension had been bad before, it’s worse now, to the point where Bram sits at the far other end of the lunch table and doesn’t even try. Some days, he doesn’t even sit with them at all. Garrett keeps shooting Simon these looks he can’t decipher, and Simon thinks that maybe he knows.

But that’s what Bram had wanted to talk about. What their new intertwined group of friends knew, and Simon had snapped at him and walked away. Hadn’t even given Bram a chance to talk.

Simon catches Bram’s eyes one day during English, when they’re all working together in pairs on a worksheet. Bram’s across the room, sitting with Garrett, and when Simon looks up, their eyes lock. Simon’s chest aches because Bram’s eyes aren’t warm, there’s no honey in them at all. They’re the dullest brown Simon’s ever seen them, and when Bram blinks and looks away, Simon knows. He knows they have to talk, he just doesn’t know how.

---

He finds Garrett in the lunch line and slides up next to him.

“Hey,” Simon says, and Garrett spares him a fleeting glance.

“‘Sup, Spier?” Garrett replies, and Simon thinks he deserves the bored tone.

“Can I ask you a favor?” he asks, and Garrett turns to look at him, his eyes blank. “Can you give this to Bram?”

Simon holds out a piece of paper, folded over into a small square. Garrett looks at it for a long moment before he takes it.

“Sure,” he says, and then he’s gone.

---

Nora looks up when a knock sounds from the front door, reaching to gather up her books. Simon waits until she’s already halfway up the stairs before he walks over and takes a deep breath before opening the front door.

Bram looks nervous, his shoulders hunched over and his bottom lip between his teeth. Simon gets all of that, because he’s nervous too, so he steps aside and lets Bram inside.

“Hi,” Bram says once the door is closed.

“Hi, hi,” Simon replies, and that gets a fleeting smile out of Bram. “Do you want anything to drink?”

Bram follows Simon into the kitchen, shaking his head as they walk. Simon grabs the package of Oreos off the island and gestures towards the living room. Bram follows him slowly, his eyes taking in every inch of the room. Simon watches him stall as he looks at a few of the pictures on the wall, ones that include Alice, Nora, and his parents. When Bram realizes Simon’s sitting, he hurries to sit down on the sofa too.

“Garrett gave me your note,” Bram says, wincing because that’s obvious by the fact that Bram’s here, sitting in Simon’s living room. But Simon just nods.

“I almost thought he wouldn’t,” Simon confesses, and Bram purses his lips.

“Yeah… he’s, well, he’s definitely under the impression that you hate me.”

Simon sighs, offering Bram a cookie. “I don’t.”

“Oh?” Bram replies, one eyebrow raised. “It kinda feels like it.”

Simon shakes his head, bending forward to put the Oreos on the coffee table. He turns a bit so he’s facing Bram, his hands settling in his lap.

“I don’t hate you, and I’m sorry it feels that way,” Simon says, repeating the words he’s been working on for hours. Bram swallows, nodding.

“I’m glad you don’t,” he whispers, turning so he’s facing Simon. Their knees are almost touching between them, hands twitching in their laps.

“I just…” Simon trails off, and his brain forgets what he wants to say as Bram reaches over and links his index finger with Simon’s. Bram offers Simon a sheepish smile, and emboldened by the simple act, Simon slides their hands together until their fingers interlock and their palms are pressed together.

“Scared?” Simon whispers and Bram nods.

“There’s so much I need to say,” Bram whispers, and Simon nods.

“I didn’t exactly let you speak the other day,” he looks down at their hands, ignoring the flutter right near his heart. “I’m sorry for that, by the way. I was… hurt, I guess. Confused. I’m still trying to wrap my head around you being here. Which, I guess, is something you were probably going to explain to me before I snapped at you. Sorry, again.”

Bram shakes his head.

“You don’t have to apologize, Simon. I understand, really. If you had just showed up at my high school back in Athens, I would’ve been confused and a little… well, less mad, I think,” Bram rambles, chuckling softly. His voice has gotten deeper in the years apart, and the chuckle now comes more from his chest, less from his throat. Simon’s having a hard time not cataloguing all of the differences.

“You wouldn’t have snapped like that,” Simon mumbles, and Bram shrugs.

“It’s different, because I’d just be happy you were there so I could explain.”

Simon feels guilty then, tightness in his chest and heat on his cheeks. Bram shakes his head at him, squeezing his hand slightly. It’s a moment before Bram speaks again, both of them taking a second to just look at each other.

“Mom packed everything up and moved while I was at camp.”

Simon’s eyes snap up to Bram’s face, his mouth hanging open as he takes in this piece of information. Bram’s staring down at their hands, his chin wobbling a little. He takes a deep breath before he continues.

“She told me on the drive home. I… god, I was so upset. I cried the whole way home. And then when we got to the new house, I didn’t even care what it looked like or how big my room was because I just… I wanted to call you. And so I asked her where your number was, and she said it had to be in one of the random boxes she hadn’t unpacked yet.

“I searched for a week. It had been programmed into our old phone, but she’d gotten rid of it and switched to just a cell phone. And she hadn’t thought to transfer it over. So I searched for the piece of paper it had been written down on, and I just… never found it.”

Simon feels every angry emotion he’s held for years begin to crumble. He’d spent a whole summer thinking that Bram had purposely disappeared, left him hanging when Simon needed a friend the most.

“I tried to remember your number, but I always got a number wrong. God, Simon, I tried so many different numbers,” Bram whispers, and Simon squeezes his hand. Bram brings his free hand up to his face, pushing at his eyes. “It was the worst summer of my life.”

Bram’s whispered admission breaks whatever last remnants of animosity and awkwardness that’s between them. Simon leans forward and wraps his arms around Bram’s shoulders, pulling him into the tight kind of hug they’ve always shared. Bram takes in a deep breath, his body beginning to relax.

“I’m so so so so sorry, Simon. I really am. Mom didn’t let me make a Facebook, or even have a phone until like, last year, and I tried,” Bram cuts off as he takes in a deep breath. Simon just nods, rubbing his back as he calms down again.

“I’m sorry, too,” Simon whispers.

They eventually part, both of their faces wet. Simon grabs a box of tissues off the end table and they wipe their cheeks off quietly, both smiling at each other when they meet eyes.

“I haven’t – uh, I haven’t come out to anyone else,” Bram whispers after they’ve piled all of their tissues onto the table. Simon nods.

“I might’ve told Nora… everything,” Simon admits, and Bram stares at him. “I’m sorry, I know like, it’s really not fair of me to have outed you to her and you can be mad at me for that and I’ll accept that, but she asked me why I was so upset recently and I just… ended up telling her about that summer and the grass and please say something.”

Simon whispers the end of his ramble, pulling his hands into his lap. Bram grabs them both, holding them gently in his own.

“It’s okay,” Bram says, Simon’s mouth falling open. “I don’t know Nora, but if you trusted her enough to tell her… everything about that summer, then I trust her, too.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Bram smiles, and Simon’s breath catches in his throat at the return of the honey hued eyes, that warmth from summers ago returning. “I’ve actually been thinking more about telling my mom.”

“I haven’t told my parents yet,” Simon says, and Bram nods.

“You haven’t told Nick or Leah then, either?” he asks, and Simon shakes his head.

“Oh, no no no. I know they’d both be totally fine but it’s-”

“Hard,” Bram finishes for him, and Simon nods.

“So hard,” Simon sighs. “I’ve only ever said it out loud… twice.”

“That’s one more than me,” Bram says with a rueful smile. Simon shakes his head, squeezing Bram’s hands. Their eyes meet again and the world seems to slow down for a moment, just the two of them on the couch, hands clasped tight. Simon feels thirteen for a moment, giddy and excited and filled to the brim with flowers blooming anew.

“I can’t believe it’s been three years,” Bram whispers.

“A lot’s happened since we last talked,” Simon says. Bram shifts, moving so his back is against the couch, extending his legs so his feet are up on the coffee table. Simon sits back too, their shoulders pressed together.

“So, tell me,” Bram whispers.

And Simon does.

--- 

It’s a few hours later when there’s a lull in their conversation, Simon running out of things to tell Bram about, when he asks.

“How’d you end up here?” Simon asks from where his head is resting on Bram’s shoulder, both of them having curled around each other over time. Bram’s cheek is resting on the top of Simon’s hair, and their hands are still clasped in Simon’s lap.

“Mom got a job at a hospital in Atlanta. She didn’t want to move into Atlanta proper, so she found a house here. We actually had a long talk about this move, because I know she still feels badly about the first move,” Bram says, speaking to the living room. Simon hums.

“Have you guys talked about it?” Simon asks, and Bram shrugs.

“I’ve talked to my dad about it. I think he was against the idea of her just packing everything up, but there wasn’t anything he could do. He’s the one who agreed to have me live with my mom full-time, so…” Bram trails off, and Simon squeezes his hand.

“How often do you see him?”

“At least every other month, more in summer. I lived with him and my stepmom the entire summer when I was fourteen. It was nice to be back in Savannah for a bit, and I know mom still felt guilty, so she let me go.”

Simon nods, bringing his head off Bram’s shoulder. He can see, through the front windows, a car pulling into his driveway, and with a glance at the clock on the wall, he knows it’s his dad.

“Someone home?” Bram asks, and Simon nods.

“Nora’s been upstairs for hours, I feel bad,” Simon says, letting go of Bram’s hand and standing up. His back pops when he does and he shakes his head, walking over to the stairs. He smiles when he sees Nora already at the top.

“Sorry,” he says to her, and she shrugs. She bounds down the stairs, stopping at the first one, her eyes moving to look at where Bram’s standing.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me? I didn’t spend four years hearing about Bram nonstop to not be introduced,” Nora jokes, pushing past Simon as he blushes. He reaches up and scratches the back of his neck as Nora walks over to Bram.

“Bram, this is my baby sister Nora. Nora, be nice,” he says, and she turns around to stick her tongue out at him. Bram holds out his hand, but Nora goes in for a full hug.

Simon can’t hear what Nora whispers in Bram’s ear, but it makes Bram smile and hug her tightly, so he doesn’t worry too much about it. He turns when he hears the back door open and his dad walks into the house, Bieber rushing over from where he’s been sleeping on his bed.

“Hey, Biebs, who’s a good boy?” Mr. Spier says as he crouches down, letting the dog lick his face. Simon looks over his shoulder to see that Bram and Nora are still talking, standing next to each other. Both of them smile at Simon when he looks at them, and he furrows his brow.

“Whose Honda Civic is that out front?” Mr. Spier says as he stands, and then he sees Bram. Simon watches as his dad’s face flashes in recognition, and then he’s smiling.

“Bram? Holy crap, you’re Bram, aren’t you?” Mr. Spier says, and Bram nods slowly. Mr. Spier smiles wider, and then he’s crossing the room to wrap Bram up in a tight hug. Simon and Nora share a panicked look.

“Holy crap, what are you doing here? In my house? It’s been years, how have you been?” Mr. Spier says all at once, and Nora kicks her dad’s shoes.

“Dad, if you let him go, he could tell you. Jeez, you never hug any of us like that,” Nora teases, and Simon laughs. Mr. Spier lets go of Bram and holds him at arm’s length, still smiling.

“I see you every day, I haven’t seen Bram in years,” Mr. Spier says, and Bram laughs.

“I was a lot shorter then,” he says, and Mr. Spier nods.

“You were, you’re about as tall as I am. How’d that happen? Simon over here stayed short, like his mom, but you,” Mr. Spier says, shaking his head as he holds his hand up to measure how tall Bram is, “you ate your greens."

“I ate my greens,” Simon mumbles, Nora and Bram laughing. Mr. Spier shakes his head.

“Caffeine stunts your growth,” he says matter-of-factly, making Nora laugh harder.

“Come on, tell me how you’ve been! Unless you need to go home, it is getting late,” Mr. Spier says, slipping back into being a dad for a moment.

“My mom’s working a double, so no one’s home anyway,” Bram says, and Mr. Spier beams.

“Nora, call Mom and tell her Dad asked her to bring home some pizza. We’re catching up with Bram,” Mr. Spier says, wrapping an arm around Nora’s shoulders and leading her into the kitchen, Bieber on their heels. Simon looks over at Bram and offers him a smile.

“I should’ve warned you that Dad would be excited,” Simon says as an apology, but Bram shakes his head.

“I didn’t realize he liked me so much,” Bram says, walking over to stand next to Simon. Tilting his head back, Simon looks up at Bram in mock annoyance.

“Are you kidding me, the only person as upset as me that summer was him,” Simon says, and then he winces. Bram brushes his fingers along the back of Simon’s hand. Simon shakes his head, and they both turn when Mr. Spier calls for them.

“If you boys want an input on the pizza, you better get in here!”

---

Simon walks into English the next day, and a feeling of anxiety doesn’t immediately wash over him. Garrett’s sitting on the couch already, Abby at one of the desks in front of it, and Simon walks over and sits down next to Garrett with a smile.

“What’s going on, Spier?” Garrett asks, his usual jovial self. Simon can’t tell if Bram’s talked to him about yesterday.

“I wanted to see if the rumors were true,” Simon starts, leaning over to sniff Garrett’s shoulder. “They are. You do reek.”

Abby laughs happily, holding up her hand to high five Simon. They’re all still giggling when Bram walks in, stalling for a moment before walking over to the couch and sitting down on the other side of Simon. Garrett and Abby both pause, watching as Simon turns and smiles at Bram.

“Morning,” Simon says easily, and Bram smiles. His eyes flick to where Simon knows Abby and Garrett are watching them.

“Good morning,” Bram replies before he’s leaning over to look at Garrett. “Dude, you smell.”

Simon and Abby start laughing again as Garrett flips them all off.

---

The lunch table is a little shook up when everyone arrives and Bram sits down right next to Simon, both of them engrossed in a conversation already. Garrett and Abby just shrug as Leah and Nick look to them for any sort of help, and it isn’t until Leah reaches over and pokes Simon that Bram and Simon stop their conversation.

“Excuse you,” Simon says, grabbing Leah’s finger. She rolls her eyes at him.

“You uh… you…” Leah says, turning to look at Nick. Nick just shrugs, and Simon’s forehead creases as he looks between his friends.

“What?” he asks and Garrett sighs 

“We’re just a little confused,” he says, pointing to Simon and Bram. “Yesterday, you two were at opposite ends of the table and ignoring each other. Then Simon hands me a note, which I did not read by the way, Bram can think otherwise all he wants but I didn’t, and now you’re like… buddy buddy. So, like, we’re confused.”

“Oh,” Simon says, laughing slightly. Bram ducks his head down and laughs softly. 

“It’s your own fault,” Simon says to Nick, who sits back, affronted 

“What?” he asks, leaning forward to glare at Simon.

“You’re the one who didn’t put together that Bram’s the same Bram I went to summer camp with for four years,” Simon says, and Nick’s face slackens as he puts the pieces together.

“Oh... oh my god,” Nick says, Leah nodding beside him. Garrett and Abby look on, slightly confused.

“That doesn’t help my confusion,” Garrett says and Bram looks at him.

“Even though I lived in Savannah, we went to the same sleepaway camp for four summers in a row. We were like, the dynamic duo, the dream team. We kept in contact during the year. And then after the last summer, my mom moved us suddenly and we ended up losing contact. We were, uh, both a little shocked to see each other, is all,” Bram says. Leah and Nick look at each other, something Simon catches. He narrows his eyes at them, silently begging them to be a lot cooler than his dad was.

“You’d think you’d be a little more excited about seeing a childhood friend again,” Abby teases, reaching over and ruffling Simon’s hair. When Simon looks up, Bram’s smiling softly at him. Something flutters in his stomach.

“Yeah, well, I’m dramatic like that,” Simon says, picking up his water bottle. Leah laughs so suddenly she snorts, and everyone digs into their lunch.

Under the table, Bram squeezes Simon’s hand.

---

“Simon, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Simon stops at the base of the stairs, looking over to where his mom is sitting at the kitchen island. She pushes her glasses up into her hair, and Simon knows that look. There’s no getting out of this.

“Sure,” he says, walking over to sit down across from her. She shakes her head, patting the stool to her right, and he slides around the table to sit next to her.

“Much better,” she says, bending up to kiss the side of his head. He smiles at her.

“What’s up?” he asks, and she sighs.

“I just wanted to check in with you. It was wonderful to see Bram again, but I just wanted to see how you’re feeling with all of it,” she says, placing her hands on the notepad she’d been writing on. Simon watches as she picks up her pen and plays with the cap.

“I’m… okay,” he says, and she frowns at him. He hates when she does that.

“Simon,” she intones, and he sighs heavily. He looks over towards the back door, where he knows his dad is outside playing with the dog.

“Can we get Dad in here?” he asks, and she blinks a couple times at him before she nods. He stands and goes to the back door, ignoring the sweat beginning to form on his neck.

“Hey, Dad?” he calls out the back door, smiling as Bieber runs to him, Mr. Spier following.

“What’s up?” Mr. Spier says, and Simon jerks his thumb over his shoulder.

“Can you come inside for a minute? I want to talk to you and Mom,” Simon says, and Mr. Spier nods. He follows Simon back into the house, and Simon knows his parents are communicating with their eyes when he sees his mom squint over his shoulder.

Nora’s hovering near the doorway and Simon nods at her. She slips into the room and comes to stand next to him at the island, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“What’s going on buddy? You look way too serious,” Mr. Spier says, smiling at his kids. Nora squeezes Simon’s side.

“I… I need to tell you guys something,” Simon says, and he sees his mom reach over and take his dad’s hand.

“Okay,” Mrs. Spier says, and Simon takes in a deep breath.

“I’m… uh, okay,” he starts, focusing on the pen on his mom’s notepad. “I’m gay.”

Nora hugs him with both arms now, and he focuses on her silent support before he looks at his parents. Both are staring at him quietly, varying degree of emotions Simon can’t read on their faces. His mom speaks first.

“Honey, come over here please.” She lets go of her husband’s hand, holding up her arms. Nora pulls Simon around the island, and then Simon’s in the middle of a group hug, staring at his dad’s blank face.

“Can you like, say something, please?” Simon says, and his dad seems to shake himself. He smiles.

“I love you, son,” Mr. Spier says, reaching over and cupping the side of Simon’s head. Simon’s suddenly aware that he’s beginning to cry, and he closes his eyes.

“We love you so much, honey. I’m so proud of you, and so happy you felt you could tell us,” Mrs. Spier says against his chest, and Simon looks down to see that she’s tearing up too.

“You’re still the same Simon to us,” Mr. Spier says softly, grinning. Simon swallows thickly.

“I… thank you,” he whispers, and both of his parents shake their heads.

“No, thank you honey. It takes a lot of courage to tell others,” Mrs. Spier says, pulling back so she can cup Simon’s face in her hands. She smiles at him, her eyes watery.

“Did you guys like… did you guys know? Or suspect?” he asks, because neither of them look as shocked as he thought they would be. They look at each other for a moment.

“I don’t know if either of us knew in the conscious sense. But you know us, honey, we’re very nonjudgmental and accepting people. We both knew that each of you kids was going to grow up to be unique individuals, and that it would be our job as parents to support and love you no matter what. So, no I don’t think either of us knew, but we… there might have been an inkling of a thought that, maybe,” Mrs. Spier explains, and Simon takes in a deep breath.

“I always thought you had a bit of a crush on Bram,” Mr. Spier says and Simon’s entire face flushes pink. Nora looks like she’s about to say something, but Simon speaks.

“A little,” he confesses softly, the fluttering that’s been occupying his stomach blooming into something warm.

“I always thought you two had little crushes on each other, to be honest,” Mrs. Spier says, and Simon shakes his head, his cheeks too warm.

“We’re done now,” he says, and Nora holds him in place.

“No we’re not. We’re hugging,” she says, and his parents agree as they stand up, wrapping Simon up in their arms as well. Simon laughs, the anxiety he’s felt for years about this moment melting away at the feeling of his parents kissing the sides of his head.

---

Simon: so, i might have come out to my parents

Bram: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bram: you did??????????!!!!!!!

Bram: i’m so proud of you, that’s so incredibly brave

Simon: not really, they’re the most accepting people in the world

Bram: even if they were gay themselves, it’d still be an incredibly brave act and i’m proud of you

Bram: you can’t stop me from being proud of you

Bram: i won’t let you

Simon: okay, i won’t even try. and thank you, truly, for… helping me be brave

Bram: i don’t know how i helped, but you’re welcome

Simon: just by being you, and being my friend

Bram: then you’re definitely welcome.

---

“How do I tell Leah and Nick? I’ve been friends with them since I started school, it’s going to be weird,” Simon says, leaning against the side of Bram’s car. They’re standing in the student parking lot, waiting for Nick and Leah after school.

“I say you just do it,” Bram says, and Simon glares at him.

“You can’t live your life by the Nike slogan,” Simon mumbles, and Bram grins.

“Oh, but I can,” he says, and Simon rolls his eyes.

“Okay then, just do it and you come out to them,  Simon challenges, and Bram sucks in a breath. He puffs out his cheeks, letting the air leave his mouth slowly before he responds.

“If you do it, I’ll do it with you,” Bram says, and Simon tilts his head.

“What if I don’t do it when you’re around?”

“Then you’re doing it alone.”

“Doing what alone?” Nick says as he and Leah walk up to them, Simon and Bram both jumping. Simon looks at his best friends, trying to see if they heard any of the conversation. They both look a little confused.

“Uh,” Simon says, drawing out the vowel. Bram widens his eyes at him, shrugging slightly.

“You okay, Si?” Leah asks, and Simon nods.

“Let’s go, it’s hot here in the sun,” he says, and when he looks at Bram, he doesn’t expect the soft smile that’s on his face. Simon smiles back. He has time.

---

Bram: come to the library when you get to school pls

Simon smiles at the librarian as he walks into the school library, twenty minutes before class starts. He’d had to shake off Leah and Nick, claiming he had to go to the bathroom for them to let him disappear.

He spots Bram between the stacks, in one of the far corners that’s far away from where anyone else is sitting, and heads through the maze of rows to reach Bram.

“What’s up?” Simon asks quietly when he’s standing in front of Bram, who’s smiling widely.

“I came out to my parents last night,” Bram whispers, and Simon’s feels his entire face light up. He doesn’t think as he wraps his arms around Bram’s shoulders and pulls him into an excited hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispers in Bram’s ear, both keeping their voices as quiet as possible. Bram hums softly, pressing his nose against the side of Simon’s head.

“You inspired me,” Bram breathes out, and Simon fights against the shiver that wants to run up his spine. He pulls back, letting go of Bram’s shoulders to look up at him.

“To come out?”

“To be brave,” Bram whispers, staring right at Simon. Blushing, Simon shakes his head as he looks at the ground.

“I did not,” Simon argues, his chest light. Bram brushes his fingers over the back of Simon’s hand.

“You always have,” Bram replies, and Simon shakes his head again.

“Shut up, we have to get to class,” Simon says, looking up to offer Bram a smile. Bram shakes his head, shifting his backpack on his shoulders.

“Fine, fine, let’s go,” Bram says easily, already moving down the aisle. Simon stops him right before they walk out into the main area with a hand on his bicep.

“But seriously, Bram. I’m really proud of you,” Simon whispers against Bram’s shoulder, and he feels the muscles there twitch.

“Thank you,” Bram whispers before they continue to class.

---

Simon’s having an in-depth conversation with Leah about a fanfiction they both read when the conversation at the table breaks through his concentration.

“There’s gotta be some girl here you like, Bram! It’s a whole new world of girls, someone has to tickle your fancy,” Garrett’s saying, pointing across the table with his fork at Bram. Simon’s shoulders stiffen and he forgets that Leah’s talking to him as he turns his body to watch the scene before him unfold.

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m fine, Garrett? Stop trying to set me up with people who have rejected you,” Bram teases, and beside him, Simon hears Leah snort. Abby’s watching them from Leah’s other side, her brow furrowed.

“Don’t tell me, you’re going to wait until college to date?” Nick asks, and Bram shakes his head.

“Why are you two so incessant about this? If you put this much effort into your own personal lives,” Bram starts, and Leah picks up where he leaves off.

“You might actually have one!”

Bram leans over to high five Leah, and Abby giggles softly. It’s a perfect distraction, pulling Garrett and Nick’s attention away from Bram. They turn to each other and start whispering, and Simon smiles when Bram’s hand finds his under the table, squeezing gently.

---

Simon’s standing in the kitchen, helping Nora put away the leftovers, when his mom walks up next to him. Mr. Spier is talking animatedly in the living room, keeping Bram company while everyone else is in the kitchen.

“Honey, can we talk quickly about something?” Mrs. Spier says softly, speaking solely to Simon. Simon nods, because he has a feeling he already knows what she’s going to say to him.

“Is it about where Bram’s sleeping tonight?” he asks, and she levels him with a look. Bram spending the night had been a last-minute thing that his parents had offered, after they’d heard Simon telling Nora that Bram’s mom was out of town for the weekend to help her sister.

“It is,” Mrs. Spier says, leaning against the counter. She smiles at him softly.

“Are you guys going to be weird?” he asks, and she rolls her eyes.

“Do you expect anything less?”

“Touché,” he replies, laughing softly.

“Your dad and I were talking,” she takes a deep breath, “and we trust you enough to have Bram sleep in your room, on the spare mattress. If the door stays open a crack.”

Simon purses his lips, watching his mother’s face for a moment longer to gauge her seriousness.

“Are you going to be like this when Nick stays over, or I go to Nick’s?” he asks softly, and she scrunches her nose.

“Do you have a crush on Nick?” she asks, and Simon sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes. She laughs softly, reaching out to touch his sides.

“No, and I don’t – I…” he trails off, and she nods.

“No, we won’t be like this with Nick. We aren’t trying to be… weird about Bram, but you had to expect the open-door policy, right?” she asks, and he nods. “Good. But we trust you enough to let you keep it closed most of the way.”

“Can I ask one question?” he asks when she stops, and she smiles as she nods. “Would you be implementing these rules if I had a girl over?”

“Absolutely. If Nora ever brings someone home, she’ll get the same rules, too.”

Simon smiles at his mom, something happy fluttering in his chest. He leans forward a bit, and she opens her arms easily to hug him tight.

“Thank you,” he whispers against her hair, and she rubs his back in one circular motion.

---

It’s almost midnight when Simon puts away the Sorry box, tucking it away with the other board games that sit under the television. Bram’s picking up the remnants of the late-night snacks Nora had made, piling them onto an empty plate to carry into the kitchen.

“Where’s Biebs?” Bram asks, and Simon points to the dog bed in the corner, where Bieber has been sleeping for hours.

“He’ll stay there all night,” Simon whispers, shutting off the living room light. The first-floor plunges into darkness, and Simon pulls on the sleeve of Bram’s shirt to lead him to the stairs. He hears Bram trip a few times, and then Bram’s fingers wrap around Simon’s wrist.

Simon smiles when he turns the lights on in his room, the spare mattress already pushed up against the base of his bed. Bram’s gym bag is sitting on top of the blankets, along with his pillow, and Simon makes a mental note to thank his parents for moving the mattress for them.

Bram grabs his toothbrush and heads to the bathroom, and while he’s gone, Simon changes into pajamas. He turns off the overhead light and leaves the string of Christmas lights Nora had helped him hang around the ceiling on. He’s scrolling through the playlists on his phone when Bram returns, wearing an oversized shirt and shorts.

“Did your mom make the bed?” Bram asks as he sits down on the mattress, bouncing slightly. Simon nods as he presses shuffle on one of his favorite nighttime playlists, the music playing through the speaker near the top of his bed.

“Her or my dad, they moved the mattress in here for you,” Simon says as he leaves to brush his teeth.

When he walks back into the room, Bram’s lying flat on his back on the bed, phone held up above his face. Simon pushes the door mostly closed, leaving it slightly ajar. Bram doesn’t flinch as Simon steps over him onto his bed, collapsing face first into the pillows with a dull thud. He hears Bram laugh from the floor and he turns his head, looking over to see Bram looking at him from over the edge of the bed.

“Shut up,” Simon says, only making Bram laugh more.

“This reminds me of camp,” Bram says as he sits up enough to put his forearm on the bed and rest his chin there. Simon turns until he’s laying the wrong way, his feet where his head should be, so they can talk quietly.

“Yeah, except now we won’t have to listen to Greg sleep talk,” Simon says, and Bram widens his eyes.

“That was, quite literally, the worst,” Bram whispers, shuddering slightly. Simon laughs quietly, using his feet to toss a pillow to the end of the bed, sticking it under his head.

“And yet, we somehow survived,” Simon says as he settles on his side, close enough to Bram that he doesn’t have to squint too badly to see his face. Bram tilts his head until his ear is on his arm, smiling softly.

“Well, we had each other.”

Simon feels his cheeks warm a little, and he smiles at Bram, afraid that if he speaks, the fluttering in his chest will somehow make its presence known. Bram smiles back, and even though the room is lit only by soft twinkly lights, and he’s not wearing his glasses, Simon knows it’s soft and wonderful.

“I, uh,” Bram says quietly, and Simon’s eyebrows twitch. “You have the painting on the wall.”

Simon turns his head to look at where the painting of the moon is still hung above his nightstand, and as the song that’s playing finishes and the new one begins, the moment of complete silence seems to drag on longer than Simon can handle. He coughs to give himself a moment, and then a new song begins.

“Yeah, I’ve had it up… since I brought it home,” Simon replies, turning back to look Bram’s way. He can’t read the emotions on Bram’s face.

“But not the sunset…” Bram trails off, and Simon jerks his head towards his closet.

“I put it away… a few years ago. When we rearranged my room, and installed this bed.”

Bram nods, kicking his legs a few times, and Simon watches as he gazes up at the painting.

“I still have the sunset and the sunflowers up in my room,” Bram whispers after a moment, turning his head slightly to look back at Simon. “They’ve survived every move.”

“That’s impressive,” Simon says, and Bram chuckles.

“Considering we somehow lost a box of kitchen supplies in the last move, it really is,” Bram says, laughing a little harder.

“A whole box?” Simon asks, and Bram nods.

“Some of my mom’s favorite pans, just gone. We think they got left behind, but we don’t know,” Bram explains, flopping back onto the mattress and out of Simon’s line of vision.

They’re quiet for a moment, and it gives Simon a chance to listen to the rain hitting his window. It’s been raining most of the week, a cold rain that keeps everyone inside, and he personally loves it. He’d left the window open most of the day to cool down his room, which means it’s the perfect temperature to curl up under his many blankets and fall asleep.

Shifting on the bed, Simon puts his pillow back where it goes and rights himself so his head is at the top of the bed. He pulls back the multiple blankets he’s layered on the bed and slides under them, smiling as he thinks of how great he’ll sleep.

“You know,” Bram says from the floor, and Simon props himself up against the wall, squinting down at where Bram’s hidden from his view. “You inspired that painting.”

Simon frowns, picking his glasses up and sliding them back on his face. Bram’s still laying out of view, so Simon sighs.

“Which one?” he asks, pulling his knees up towards his chest. Bram’s arm comes into view, and he points at the moon.

“That one,” he says quietly, his hand dropping back onto the bed with a thump. Simon swallows.

“Oh,” he says, the only thing he can think to say. He hears Bram shift, and then he’s resting his chin on the end of Simon’s bed again. His face is calm, but he’s chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

“Yeah,” Bram whispers, closing his eyes for a moment.

“How, um… how did I inspire that?” Simon asks softly, pointing at the painting with his thumb. Bram opens his eyes and stares right at Simon, their eyes locked, and Simon blushes at the way Bram’s gazing at him.

“Like the moon,” Bram whispers, and Simon blinks in confusion. He’s about to ask when he remembers a conversation, had on the grass, years ago. He pushes the blankets up so they’re partially covering his face.

Simon’s mind goes, unbidden, to a memory from his days at camp, in the grass of the open field they’d spent countless moments in. It’s hazy, like most of those memories are, but he remembers a conversation about hair, the soft feeling of Bram’s fingers on his scalp, the way the afternoon sun warmed Bram’s hair when Simon reached up to touch it. When he blinks, he’s back in his bedroom, and Bram’s disappeared from view again.

“Like my eyes?” Simon whispers, and he knows Bram hears by the sharp intake of breath he hears. It takes a minute for Bram to reply, long enough for Simon to think they’re going to stop talking about it.

“Yeah, like your eyes,” Bram whispers, the blankets rustling as he moves. He doesn’t pop back up over the mattress again, but he brings his feet up so they’re flat on the bed, knees knocking together under the comforter.

“That’s… Bram, I…” Simon starts, but Bram speaks again before Simon can formulate his sentence.

“I had a bit of a crush on you, back then.”

Simon’s eyes widen behind his glasses, and he feels like he might throw up from the feelings erupting in his stomach. His hands twitch and he brings his arms out from under the covers, letting them fall to the bed.

“Can you come up here, please?” he says, and Bram flattens his legs onto the bed. He doesn’t move up onto the bed though.

“Why?”

“Because,” Simon takes in a deep breath, “I need to hold your hand.”

One of Bram’s hands comes up to grip the end of the bed, and then Bram sits up, dragging his pillow with him as he crawls up to the top of the bed where Simon’s sitting. He puts his pillow behind his back as he leans against the wall, and then he’s reaching out to link their fingers together on top of the blankets. Simon feels the slight tremble in Bram’s hand.

“I had a bit of a crush on you, too,” Simon confesses softly, and Bram squeezes his hand, the only reassurance Simon has that Bram’s heard him. “I think that’s why what happened hurt so much.”

“Yeah,” Bram breathes out, crossing his legs on top of the blankets. “It hurt, not having my friend to talk to about this big revelation, or the fact that I’d just moved across the state, or my parents. But… it hurt even more because like… you were gone.”

“It hurt because I’d finally kissed my crush and now I was never going to see him again,” Simon whispers in response, and he feels Bram’s hand tremble again. When he looks up, Bram’s bottom lip is between his teeth and he’s gazing at Simon steadily.

“I’m still so sorry Simon,” Bram says softly, eyes shining a bit in the low light, but Simon shakes his head.

“It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault, really,” Simon says, and Bram shrugs.

“We could’ve not kissed,” he says, laughing a little. “I could’ve not initiated that.”

“Whoa, if anyone initiated anything, I’m pretty sure it was me. So, like, you know,” Simon says, laughing with Bram now as a little of the tension in the room dissipates. Simon takes in a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh that doesn’t go unnoticed by Bram.

“Are you still scared?” Bram asks as he squeezes Simon’s hand, and Simon thinks for a moment before he nods. “Why?”

“Because,” Simon takes another deep breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Bram replies instantly, and Simon takes a steadying breath.

“When you said you had a crush on me, does that mean you don’t anymore?” Simon asks, staring down at his knees as he does. He feels infinitely vulnerable, like he’s going to burst apart and cover the room with his anxieties. Bram doesn’t respond for a moment, and every second that he’s quiet is one second closer to Simon crying. When Bram squeezes Simon’s hand, he sucks in a ragged breath.

“No,” Bram starts, and Simon whips his head up to look at him. Bram’s eyes are beautifully warm, his mouth turned up in that soft smile Simon’s now absolutely sure is just for him. “But now what I’m feeling is… a bit more than a crush.”

Simon’s lips tug up until he’s full on smiling at Bram, his eyes squinting behind his glasses. He coughs out a laugh, his chest aching at the sensation, and Bram just keeps smiling at him.

“Yeah, me too,” Simon says after a moment, and if possible, the look in Bram’s eyes goes even warmer, softer, every color Simon’s missed.

“Can I kiss you?” Bram whispers, still smiling, and Simon nods.

“I’d be very upset if you didn’t,” Simon says before Bram bends forward.

This time, Simon’s only reference is the scared and hesitant kiss they shared when they were thirteen, lying awkwardly on the grass with their hands clasped between them. That kiss was nothing more than a warm peck, lips meeting in a fleeting moment. Now, Bram slides his hand up to cup Simon’s face, pulling him closer as their lips move together in a slow glide. Simon reaches out and grips Bram’s side, their other hands still clasped in between their thighs. Bram pushes Simon’s glasses up his face until they’re sitting atop his head, and that’s when Bram pulls back, gasping slightly. Simon takes in a deep breath too, his lungs heaving as their foreheads rest against each other. They laugh softly, nothing more than a few puffs of air before Simon tilts his head to kiss Bram again.

---

Simon wakes up to the sound of his bedroom door opening. Bram’s asleep next to him, his hand still loosely clasped in Simon’s in sleep. Simon squints towards the door, and vaguely registers the shape of his mother’s head before she’s backing out of the room again. He waits, anxiously, for her to come back and make some sort of scene, wake them both up and force them into the most uncomfortable talk of his life, but the door stays mostly closed and no one comes back in.

Simon breathes a sigh of relief.

He turns his head when Bram shifts, rubbing his face against his pillow. Simon watches as Bram opens his eyes slowly, his lips clicking as he opens his mouth to yawn, eyes blinking against the dim morning light. When he sees that Simon is already awake, Bram smiles and scoots closer to him on the bed.

“Good morning,” Bram whispers, his nose coming to rest against Simon’s shoulder.

“Good, good morning,” Simon replies, and they share a smile. “My mom definitely knows we slept in the same bed.”

“How?” Bram asks, his eyes squinting a little. His mouth turns down at the edges, and Simon resists the urge to lean in and kiss the frown away.

“She just walked in here to check on us before she leaves to run errands,” Simon replies, and Bram widens his eyes as he shakes his head.

“Do you think she’s going to yell?”

“My mom doesn’t yell. She has civilized discussions with you at the dinner table, and she uses her psychologist voice,” Simon explains, and Bram winces.

“Ouch.”

“You’re telling me,” Simon laughs, tilting his head down so his nose touches Bram’s forehead. Bram sighs happily, wrapping his free arm around Simon’s torso. Everything about the past twenty-four hours have been the best moments of Simon’s life so far, even if he’s going to get his ass handed to him later.

“I missed you,” Bram says into the silence, hiding his face in Simon’s shirt, and Simon’s chest flutters happily.

“I missed you, too.” Simon jostles his shoulder and Bram scoots up until their faces are next to each other on the pillows. The sun is still hidden behind the clouds, so the light coming in from the window is dim and a little gray, but even so, it gives Simon just enough light to see the happiness in Bram’s eyes.

“Wait,” Bram says when Simon leans in a bit, and Simon’s eyebrows come together in confusion as Bram takes in a deep breath.

“What?” Simon asks impatiently, and Bram smiles at him.

“I just – Simon,” Bram starts, sliding their hands together until they’re clasped tight under the blankets. He takes another deep breath. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Simon’s entire face lifts as he smiles, nodding slowly. Bram smiles back at him.

“That means I can take you out on a date, like, tonight? Since I know you’re not busy,” Simon teases, and Bram rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I wanted to take you out on a date,” Bram mumbles, blinking owlishly at Simon. They both laugh softly.

“Well,” Simon says with a smile, “I guess that means we’re going on more than one date.”

“Brilliant,” Bram says before he leans in and kisses Simon softly.

Seventeen.

They’re laying under the large oak tree in Simon’s front yard when the rain starts, so wrapped up in each other that they don’t notice the sky darkening. Simon reacts first, pulling on where his fingers are tangled with Bram’s, both of them running across the yard until they’re under the awning of the front porch.The lightning flashes across the sky right before the thunder sounds, and Simon jumps slightly at it all.

“Are you okay?” Bram asks as he looks Simon over, smiling as Simon points to his glasses and pouts.

“They’re splotched,” Simon whines, pulling them off his face and cleaning them off with his shirt. Bram gently pulls Simon to the porch swing, and they both plop down as the rain continues in an outright downpour.

“Did you know it was going to rain?” Bram asks, and Simon looks up, squinting to make out the lines of Bram’s face.

“Do I look like someone who checks the weather?”

Simon grins as Bram laughs, slipping his glasses onto his face in time to see the laugh lines by Bram’s eyes, and the way his cheeks almost dimple as he smiles. He laughs with his head tilted back, hands lax against his stomach. Simon takes a mental picture of the twinkle in Bram’s eyes for a rainy day.

“No, I suppose not,” Bram says when he’s breathing normally again, though he’s still smiling. Simon leans back, the swing tipping slightly, and with a firm kick from Simon, they’re swaying slowly.

“This is Mother Nature raining on our ‘it’s summer vacation’ parade.” Bram turns to look at Simon, their hands sliding together almost automatically. It’s such a simple thing, the slide of their palms and the feeling of their fingers interlocked, but even after seven years, it still makes Simon feel warm.

“Were we throwing a parade? I’m hardly dressed for the occasion,” Simon jokes, earning another laugh from Bram.

“You take that promise you made very seriously,” Bram mumbles, leaning into Simon’s side and resting his chin on Simon’s shoulders. The rain is thick enough that they can hardly see past the edge of the grass, let alone anyone looking out their windows. In the subtle privacy of the weather, they get a little closer.

“I pinky swore that I would always make you laugh as much as possible, and I’m not a welsher, Abraham,” Simon declares, ignoring the little furrow of Bram’s brow at the use of his full name.

“We didn’t make a bet,” Bram argues, but Simon shakes his head. He kisses the little crease in Bram’s brow, and it disappears as Bram sits up and smiles at him.

“I still refuse to break a pinky promise,” Simon says firmly, and Bram looks at him critically.

“We broke our first one for awhile there,” Bram whispers, and now it’s Simon who looks confused.

“Our first pinky promise? Wasn’t that… to be friends? We’ve always been friends,” Simon says, and Bram frowns.

“I didn’t feel like we were when I first moved here.” Bram shrugs, like it’s not that big of a deal, but they both know it is. Simon sighs softly, leaning in so their foreheads are resting against each other, eyes closing.

“I was a bit dramatic. I blame the heartbreak,” Simon whispers right before another clap of thunder, and they both jump slightly at the sound. Simon grips Bram’s hand tightly.

“And now we’re friends again.”

“Best friends, I’d say,” Simon clarifies.

“And boyfriends,” Bram intones, making both of them smile.

“And there’s no heartbreak to be found,” Simon whispers before leaning in to kiss Bram. There’s a flash of light against Simon’s eyelids, lightning streaking across the sky and the inside of his body as Bram reaches up and cups Simon’s jaw with one hand.

When they break apart, Bram looks down at where their hands are tangled together. He lets go of Simon’s hand, and before Simon can pout, he’s linked their pinkies together. Simon feels something tug in his chest.

“What are we promising now? To always make out in the rain?” Simon jokes, but Bram shakes his head.

“I can promise that, if you want, but I have something more important.”

Simon swallows, staring at Bram as he takes a deep breath, his mouth beginning to tilt up in a smile.

“Simon, I promise to never break your heart again.”

Simon blinks rapidly, his mouth hanging open slightly as he feels Bram squeeze his finger. Gathering his wits, Simon brings their linked pinkies to his mouth and kisses where they’re locked together.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Simon whispers, ignoring the way Bram opens his mouth to speak to keep going. “So, I promise to never break your heart again, either.”

Bram closes his mouth and smiles, leaning in to also kiss where their pinkies are locked.

“I love you,” Bram whispers against their hands, and Simon’s stomach erupts in a thousand butterflies, like it always does when Bram says that to him.

“I love you, too,” Simon replies, and they smile at each other, the rain still pouring down no more than five feet from them. Bram looks out at it, bringing their joined hands to rest against his chest, and Simon leans into him. Bram wraps his free arm around Simon’s shoulders and holds him tight.

“It’s going to be a fun summer,” Bram says as the sky flashes with lightning again, thunder following soon after. Simon smiles.

“More or less fun than the summer when we were eleven?”

“Was that the best year?” Bram asks, and Simon nods.

“We were anxious at ten, that kid called you the N-word when we were twelve, plus it was right before your parents got divorced, and then thirteen was after your parents got divorced and when we came out to each other,” Simon explains, sitting up straight to look at Bram.

“I don’t know, I really liked our last year of camp. I had this huge crush on you and you were always holding my hand for no reason,” Bram says softly, and Simon’s cheeks flush.

“I was scared,” Simon mumbles, but Bram tutts.

“We held hands a lot.”

“We still do,” Simon says, lifting their joined hands out of Bram’s lap, and they grin at each other.

“Yeah, but we’re like, actually dating now. In love. We go to movies specifically to make out.”

“That’s just common sense,” Simon says, and Bram laughs happily.

“It’s free real estate.”

“I regret ever showing you that video,” Simon says, smacking Bram’s bicep as he laughs maniacally. When he calms down again, he smiles at Simon.

“I really do love you,” Bram whispers, reaching up to rest his thumb on Simon’s chin. Simon’s breath catches in his throat at the look in Bram’s eye, the deep warmth that he catches sometimes when Bram lets it through. He’s known what it meant even before Bram said the words out loud.

“I know. And I really do love you,” Simon replies softly, tilting his head enough to kiss the pad of Bram’s thumb.

The thunder sounds again, the rain beginning to let up slightly, and that’s when the front door opens and Mrs. Spier sticks her head out, catching them right before a kiss to tell them that dinner is ready. As they stand up, hands still clasped between them, Simon looks over at Bram and for a moment, he feels ten years old again, leading his new friend back through the camp to get him some food. But then he blinks, and he’s seventeen, leading his boyfriend who he loves inside to eat dinner with his family, and he smiles.

---

Bram hangs the picture up on Simon’s wall in August, claiming he spent all of July working on it. Simon smiles the whole time, watching as Bram uses the hammer and concentrates on making sure he doesn’t smash his thumb. Once the painting is hung, Bram stands back and wraps his arm around Simon’s shoulders.

Simon feels that all too familiar tug in his chest as he stares at the expanse of green, broken up by a large tree trunk. The colors are darker, more muted, and even though Bram hasn’t said so, Simon knows the painting is supposed to be of a rainy day. There’s initials on the tree, to match the ones engraved in the oak tree in his front yard, and Simon can’t help but smile at the little “S.S + A.G” written there. The painting looks perfect next to the one of the moon and the sunset.

“Are you just going to keep giving me paintings?” Simon asks, and Bram hums.

“As long as you keep your promises,” Bram says, and Simon grins.

He can definitely do that.