Chapter Text
My boyfriend is small, and clumsy, and one of the most adorable boys that I have ever seen. Especially when he's sleepy, and he forces his way onto my lap so he can nuzzle into my neck and pass the fuck out. Peak adorable-ness right there, and definitely the cutest way to end a movie night—even if he is surprisingly heavy and inevitably makes my legs go numb. I mean, it's ridiculous how soft and gentle he looks when he's only a few minutes from sleep—his eyelids slowly blinking as he struggles to stay awake, words mumbled and voice fading as I wrap my arms around him. Nights like that, it takes every bit of self-control for me not to pepper his face with kisses and promise I'll protect him from the world.
It is, by far, my favorite version of Cyrus.
Compare that to, say, the version of my boyfriend that cornered me Friday after school with some valid—potentially—questions about a certain girl's locker. The steely stare, the strained voice, the overly aggressive poking of my chest...
Still cute, but definitely not my favorite.
"TJ Kippen. What did you do?"
"You'll have to be more specific, Underdog. No idea what you’re talking about. Did you have a nice day, today?"
This is not the first time I've had this exact question leveled at me over the course of my life. This isn't even the first time it’s come from Cyrus. So I have plenty of experience at neutral responses. I know how to avoid letting too much slip. Of course, the problem with having a relationship last longer than four months is that, eventually, they stop being distracted by your bullshit.
"What did you do to Buffy, TJ? To Buffy!" The shorter boy poked my chest again, standing on his toes to get level with my height. He'd hit a notable growth spurt around Christmas, but I'm very happy to report that he still hadn't caught up to me—I can't even imagine a world where Cyrus was taller than me. Too weird. Would I be the one crawling into his lap?
"I don't know what you're talking about," I fibbed, focusing on keeping a straight face. Given the—honestly adorable—glare my boyfriend was giving me, I don't think I did a very convincing job.
"Then why is she currently on the warpath, trying to find you, with a big red stain all over her shirt?" Each part of his question was accentuated with a finger jabbing into my chest, as he backed me against the wall.
"Oh. That. Didn’t know you’d seen that. Well, to be fair, she started it," I shrugged. If denial wasn't a possibility, my next strategy was to play it all off with absolute nonchalance. Then, maybe my boyfriend would be convinced that it was no big deal. And really, it was no big deal.
So now I'm not even lying? Look at me being good.
"TJ... Please tell me you didn't—"
"Kippen!" Whatever Cyrus was about to whine was cut short as the angry voice of the girls' basketball captain echoed around the corner of the hall. I watched with amusement as the boy before me froze, life flashing before his widening eyes as his finger still pressed into my chest. Total deer in the headlights. No real surprises there. You see, I’ve learned that Cyrus is a boy of rules, and rule-following. And while that deferential nature had mostly saved him from the unpleasantness of punishments throughout his life, it had also denied him a very valuable life skill: the ability to respond quickly to bad situations.
Luckily, that’s where I come in.
I offered the other boy an apologetic smile and grabbed his hand with mine. Before Buffy could round the corner and seal both of our fates, I turned and yanked him down the hall. As fast as I could without literally dragging him, I forged our path away from our mutual threat. A couple heads swiveled in our direction as the enraged voice—now louder—yelled my name a second time, but I paid them no mind as I tugged Cyrus behind me and around the corner. Before any of the stragglers still milling around could question why two boys were holding hands and sprinting down the hallway with a pissed-off Buffy Driscoll in their wake, I threw open the door of the boys' bathroom and dragged the smaller boy inside.
A quick once-over confirmed that the room was empty except for me and my clearly freaked out boyfriend. I let myself relax.
"Don't worry, Muffin," I grinned, taking a few deeper breaths to calm myself down. "I’m pretty sure she legally can't come in here, so we're safe for a while." As I spoke, I eyed the lock on the door. That would probably be overkill.
"Oh no you don't," Cyrus snapped out of whatever surprise had overcome him much quicker than I expected, pushing himself away from the wall and getting back in my face. "Pet names aren't going to get you out of this one. You're gonna tell me what you did right now. I need to figure out what sort of damage control I have to run."
As he stared me down, the muffled yell of his best friend made its way under the heavy bathroom door. I paused. Would Cyrus sell out our hiding spot? Would Buffy defy international safe zone laws and kick in the door? Tense seconds passed in silence before we heard the stomping continue down the hallway.
We were safe.
"I plead the fourth?" I held my hands up, trying to look as innocent as possible.
"It's the fifth, TJ. You plead the fifth. And also, no you don't, because you're going to spill. Now."
Is it weird that I sort of find it hot when he gets all aggressive?
"Before I admit to anything, I would like to remind you that this all started last week when Buffy put squid ink in my water bottle." I fell against the wall across from the surprisingly feisty brunet, who was steadfastly maintaining his glare. "My tongue was black for two days! Two days! Two days when you wouldn't even let me kiss you! So, like I said... she started this."
I stuck my tongue out, pointing for emphasis. Forcing me to go two days without kissing my boyfriend was more than enough to warrant payback.
"So... what?" Cyrus rubbed at his eyes before dragging his hand down his face. "You threw a cup of Kool-Aid at her?"
"Of course not," I raised my eyebrow, playing at being offended. I was a much better prankster than that. "I set a cup of Kool-Aid in her locker so that it would fall on her when she opened it. Much more sophisticated."
"You're right," the other boy rolled his eyes, walking over to lean against the wall next to me, "the level of sophistication is the important part here. Not the fact that my best friend is currently out for your blood."
"Hey, I could have done much worse," I pointed out, bumping my shoulder against my boyfriend. He just shook his head. "I specifically set it up after lunch so that she'd only get hit once school let out. Originally, I was gonna get here early so she'd be stuck with a big stain all day. I'm practically a saint, here."
"Remind me to call the Pope if we get out alive. I'm sure that had nothing to do with you not wanting to wake up twenty minutes earlier."
"I'll have you know that I am naturally an early riser." I grinned, pushing away from the wall to make my way to the sinks. This had all gone much smoother than I had predicted—Cyrus was starting to joke around, which meant he had almost accepted this whole thing as just a new chapter of stupid bickering between me and Buffy. And if Cyrus wasn't upset at me, and we were going to be stuck in an empty bathroom for a while, well...
I checked my reflection in the mirror, making sure I had nothing in my teeth.
"Please, Teej, I've seen you hit the snooze button 8 times in a single morning." I heard a gentle chuckle as the other boy wandered beside me and began examining his face.
"Fine. Whatever the reason, I'm just saying—I was relatively kind while evening the score," I turned, grabbing my boyfriend's arm as he finished fixing his hair. A quick tug and he was stumbling against my chest, right where I wanted him. I was greeted with rolling eyes yet again, but this time accompanied by a soft smile. "Just a little locker surprise. It'll come out in the wash. No harm, no foul."
"Yeah, yeah," Cyrus punched at my shoulder feebly. Chuckling, I bent down to press my nose to his, only to find myself hesitating. Technically, this was already risky for us—even if the halls were mostly empty, we were still at school. The bathroom door was unlocked. We would be in plain view if someone decided to walk in. It was a risk, but... I shook off my hesitation and pulled my boyfriend closer. I could always intimidate anyone who found us into silence. "How'd you even pull that off, a 'locker surprise?'"
"Oh, I just set the cup on the edge of the top shelf and attached it to the door with a string. The brilliance is in the simplicity. You see—"
"No, like, how did you get into her locker? I know you have my combination, but I seriously doubt Buffy gave you hers."
Ah, shit. Exactly the question I was hoping to avoid. Well... distraction time!
"Hmm?" I pushed forward and pressed my lips to the bridge of the other boy's nose, squeezing his sides lightly in an attempt to force a giggle. Once Cyrus gets giggling he’s pretty much a lost cause.
"I said," Cyrus forced out around his bubbling laughter as he pushed away gently, "how did you get into her locker. If my boyfriend's some sort of super spy, I deserve to know."
"Hm? Oh, yeah. Spy stuff. Top secret. Have I ever told you how much I love kissing your cheeks? So kissable." I swooped down, lips puckered, only to be met with a mouthful of hair as my boyfriend ducked out of the way.
"Not in school, Teej," he whispered, despite taking a half step closer. "Also, no Top Secrets. Not from me. C'mon, I wanna know. Do you have lock picks or something? Can I see them? Is it a bad sign if I want you to teach me how to use a lock pick? Does that mean I have criminal tendencies?"
"Gonna stop you there, Underdog, it's not lock picks," I cut in before I got stuck teaching my boyfriend a skill I didn't have—an illegal one at that. "But, y'know... a magician never reveals his secrets."
"Ah, yes. The great Kippini! Trick shot extraordinaire, master manipulator, and now—apparently—psychic! What wonders will he... wait." Cyrus's voice trailed off as he got a far off look in his eyes. Shifting from my grip, the brunet took a step back and looked up at me, suspicion plastered all over his face.
Oh shit.
"You know me," I forced a big smile, reaching out for my boyfriend again. "Practically David Blaine up in here."
"Why does this conversation feel familiar?” Cyrus gently pushed my hand away from his shoulder, eyes getting wider by the second. “We... we talked about lockers this weekend. No, Friday... I dropped the scarf off in Andi’s locker, and you... you asked—“ I felt myself wince as the smaller boy gasped and brought his hand up to his mouth. Fuck.
“Cyrus—“
“Did you... did you trick me into telling you her locker combination?"
“What? Wha—no! No tricks! I promise!”
“You did! We were talking about how all my friends trust me with their combinations, and you asked me... to prove it! You did! What the hell, TJ!”
“Nonono,” I grabbed for my boyfriend’s hands but he pulled them away. The suspicion on his face replacing itself with anger as he continued to stare. “I didn’t trick you, Babe, I swear. It was just a... a coincidence!”
"How do you coincidentally get me to betray my best friend's trust? She'll figure out you learned her combo from me—it's pretty much the only explanation. Crap, she probably already knows. Buffy's gonna kill me! She's going to kill me, and I'm going to deserve it!"
"Cyrus, I swear, I didn't do it on purpose. I really was just messing around when I told you to prove that you knew everyone's combo! I didn't even have anything planned! Just, once you actually did it... I saw an opportunity."
This, honestly, was the truth. Honestly. I swear. I had been trying to figure out how to get my revenge as Cyrus and I were walking out of the school when the opportunity presented itself. Cyrus remembered that he had borrowed Andi's scarf, and instead of trying to find her, or forgetting it at my house, he'd just popped open Andi's locker and tossed it inside. According to him, the whole Good Hair Crew knew each other's combinations. Apparently, that's a thing that friends do. Who knew? It wasn't until after Cyrus had rattled off all the numbers for Andi, Buffy, and Jonah that my genius plan started forming in my head.
Maybe not so genius in retrospect.
I still put the wrong numbers in three times before I got it open that afternoon.
On the other side of the bathroom, my boyfriend—hopefully that hadn't just changed—was resting his head against the wall, nervously knocking against it with his knuckles.
Crap. I knew he'd be mad, but I figured it would be more of a... funny mad.
"I'm sorry, Cyrus. Here. I'll go apologize to Buffy right now, okay? I'll tell her you had nothing to do with it." Carefully, I reached out to grab his shoulder, worried that he might shake me off again. Worried that I had really fucked up that badly. Am I really that much of a dumbass? Thankfully, he didn't push me away—my heart stuttered as he turned to face me and let out a sigh.
"No. Let me go get her to cool down." He looked me in the eye, and I could hear how upset he was in his voice. "You can apologize to her tomorrow. Maybe."
Shit. I really did fuck up that bad.
"I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well... I'm gonna go find Buffy. But we're talking about this later, okay? I am... surprisingly mad at you." His voice was hard, which told me everything I needed to know about how screwed I was. It sounded so foreign. And the disappointment—it was all over his face.
"Do you still want me to come over tonight?" I squeezed shoulder, watched as he started to lean into it and then stopped himself before nodding and pulling back.
"Yeah, just... I'll text you when."
There was nothing I could do but turn and watch him leave.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
I don't get it. Sometimes it just doesnt make sense. I did the tough stuff, right? I helped Cyrus through his friend problems. I got the big kiss—even if it apparently required breaking my finger to get it. I even screwed up the courage to say ‘boyfriend’ first. I wooed Cyrus Goodman, I courted him, and I got him to go out with me. I thought it was supposed to be easy after that.
Despite what you may have heard, I'm not a complete idiot. Even when it comes to feelings. I knew I liked Cyrus as more than a friend a week after he came back from his trip to London. I was willing to put up with that horrible, grating 'accent' he insisted on using as long as it meant getting to talk to him, which should have been obvious enough to anyone watching. After weeks of nothing but the occasional text, just hearing his voice made me feel... happy. It only took a few days of pondering—why the hell does this dorky kid make me feel these things—for me to realize what it meant.
See? Not a complete idiot.
In retrospect, it wasn't a huge surprise. I knew I liked boys—my internet history is much too, uh... grandiose for me to deny that fact—and I'd known that since before I'd even met Cyrus. But, since I also knew I liked girls—again, internet—I had just planned on... not doing anything about it.
But Cyrus is cute. Very cute. Unfairly cute, sometimes. And he's nice. And fun to talk to. And he's weird in such an intriguing way. Making him smile made my heart race. He's the first person in forever that made me want to prove that I could be more than just an asshole. And did I mention he's cute?
So plan number one—do nothing about being bi—definitely wasn't gonna work. Threw that one out with abandon. Take two was just the logical next step: throw caution to the wind and get Cyrus Goodman to go out with me.
I didn't even know for sure if he liked boys, but... okay, it might be judgemental or stereotypical or whatever, but I had my suspicions. Sue me. So I tested my theory one day with some not-so-subtle flirting—compliments, jokes, quick touches—and the results were... an adorably flustered Cyrus. So I felt confident. And if Cyrus Goodman liked boys, well then... let's just say I liked my chances. And sure, I almost screwed things up about half a dozen times. I'm TJ Kippen, screwing things up is what I do. At one point I was about two texts from shoving Cyrus out of my life completely when my sister, Sally, stole my phone and literally lectured me on sabotaging myself.
Like, a thirty minute lecture.
So, I guess one good thing came from her finding out I liked guys. Not that it happened by choice. My sister is just the biggest fucking snoop in the world, and, well... I've really got to learn to delete my internet history.
Anyway, the point is, I didn't fuck it up. For once in my life, I—TJ Kippen—didn't fuck something up. I got real close, especially after Cyrus came out to me, but I pulled out a win. I got the kiss. I got the boyfriend. I got someone who cared about me. I got someone I cared about.
So why is not screwing it up so hard?
That was the question I asked myself as I knocked on the door to Cyrus's mom's house, wracked with guilt, and absolutely drenched in sticky sweet soda.
"TJ? You got here... what in the...?" Brown eyes, widened with concern, met my gaze as Cyrus stood in the door. He looked absolutely baffled by what he was seeing, and I couldn't help but smile a little.
"I went to Buffy's to apologize on the way here. Apparently, it's pizza night at the Driscoll house, and she had a two-liter Pepsi with my name on it."
"No... Did she..." Cyrus's voice was quiet, but I could hear just the smallest trace of laughter behind his words.
"The whole two liters. Yeah. This shirt used to be white." I slowly spun around, showing off just how covered I was. My entire shirt was a sad shade of brown, cold and already starting to feel sticky against my skin. Luckily, Spring had come early this year, or I probably would have frozen on my way over.
"Teej... I told you to wait until she cooled down." A soft half-smile grew on his lips and I felt my heart settle for the first time all afternoon. Nothing calms me down like Cyrus being happy. And, conversely, Cyrus being upset is the most anxiety-inducing thing I know. Usually, because it's caused by my screwups. "Am I a bad, um..." his voice dropped to a whisper as he quickly looked over his shoulder, "boyfriend, for thinking you sorta deserved it?"
Hearing his voice calling himself my boyfriend again was almost euphorically stress-relieving.
"No, Underdog. I know I deserved it. If I thought there was a chance you mom had soda in the house, I'd tell you to pour one out too. But, um... do you mind if I come in and clean up? This is... really disgusting."
"Crap, yeah—okay, wait here, I'll grab you a towel. My mom will kill me if you drip soda on the rug. Let's just... I'll be right back." Leaving the door open, Cyrus frantically scurried into the kitchen, returning a few seconds later with some kitchen towels. "I think a shower will be necessary."
"Please, yeah."
"Alright," still halfway between frantic and finding my situation hilarious, he shoved the bundle of towels into my arms. "Upstairs. I'll grab some spare clothes for you. But if you get a single drop on the floor, so help us both..."
+++++++++++++++++++++++
"Do you know why I'm mad at you?"
The sun was almost entirely set as Cyrus and I sat on his porch swing, the sky a mosaic of pinks and purples and oranges in the last flourish of day. It was a beautiful scene to have our ‘serious conversation’ finally un-pause during. Showering had quickly transitioned to sitting down for an early dinner with Cyrus's parents, and that meant putting on our best 'we're just strangely good friends and nothing more' act. Sitting on opposite sides of the table, talking about weekend plans, definitely not allowed to play footsie. It wasn't until the adults left for a housewarming party that we got the chance to actually talk. The whole 'not being out to our families' thing sometimes made it difficult to do the whole... boyfriend thing.
Secrets can be annoyingly inconvenient to keep. But Cyrus and I had both agreed that it was best to keep the knowledge of our relationship to the small group of friends who essentially already knew. And that did not include our families—outside of Sally.
At first, it was especially tough because I don't think Cyrus's mom trusted me very much. She was always watching. It was almost impossible to have alone time. A lot of movies were wasted on the couch with three feet of space between us. Sleepovers were put on hold after the second one until she was able to meet my mom—who luckily didn't screw anything up. It took weeks of being nothing but charming, polite, and respectful—hey, I can pull it off when I need to—every time I was in her presence before she finally started feeling comfortable letting Cyrus and I have unsupervised time. It wasn't until very recently that she actually felt comfortable with me being in the house while she wasn't there, but what can I say? I'm slowly worming my way in. Either that or—after months of seeing me attached at her son's hip—she was beginning to realize that resistance was futile.
Though, according to Cyrus, his mom was not the type of person who could be worn down slowly. It was either charm her over time, and prove that I was a 'safe' friend, or be prepared for a lot of date nights spent three feet apart on a couch under the watchful eye of a forty-seven-year-old Jewish therapist.
It's crazy to me, just how protective all of Cyrus's parents are. It's like they think every new person is gonna pull him into a world of drugs, violence, and motorcycles. Not that there's anything wrong with motorcycles. Meanwhile, I'm pretty sure my parents have disapproved of every one of my friends between second grade and when I brought home Cyrus, and they've never done shit about it. It's a completely unfamiliar world to me.
I shudder to think of how they'll react if they find out they've been giving Cyrus alone time with his boyfriend. Alone time to do... boyfriendly things.
Which mostly means kisses and cuddles and R-rated movies. This time, it apparently meant our serious conversation.
"I have a few reasons in my head that seem plausible," I admitted, feeling my heart drop slightly. Cyrus had acted as if nothing was wrong all through dinner, to the point I'd almost convinced myself that all had been forgiven. Which I was not gonna question. But once we waved goodbye to his parents and settled on the porch swing, hands finally clasped together as we watched the sunset, a semi-uncomfortable silence fell. That's when I knew it wouldn't be that easy. "Is there any way I can, y'know, apologize for all of them?"
"That would be way too easy," Cyrus smiled gently and squeezed my hand, anchoring me in reality. A universal apology was such a sweet fantasy.
"Yeah, I figured as much. I really am sorry, though. I swear, if I thought it would upset you this much, I never would have used her locker."
"How much did you think it would upset me?" Cyrus's voice wasn't accusing, which I was thankful for.
"I thought it would be more like, 'Darn it, TJ,'" I tried to copy my boyfriend's voice as poorly as possible, hoping to elicit a laugh, "'I can't believe you did that, you're such a rascal, as punishment, uh... no more kisses for the rest of the day!'"
"Oh, so you were willing to give up kisses to pull this off?" No giggle, but I saw a grin tugging at the edge of his lips as he tried to act offended.
"Only for a day! Please no more than that, I don't think I'd survive." I pulled our clasped hands up to my lips and pressed a chaste kiss against his knuckles. "You know I hate it when I can't be around you."
"Y'know, now that you say that..." The other boy tugged our hands back between us with a soft smile before bumping his shoulder into mine. "I think it's been over a month since we've gone more than a day apart."
I took a second to think back over the past few weeks. Neither of us had missed any days of school, and we'd done something every weekend—the park, the arcade, a movie. I honestly couldn't remember the last time we'd spent an entire weekend apart.
"Holy crap, you're right. Wow. Ugh! Does that mean we're one of those couples? Oh god! Quick, break up with me before we start matching our outfits every day!" I knocked my shoulder against his, relaxing into the sound of his laugh.
"Sorry, Teej, not gonna happen. We are together 4 evah." His giggling grew stronger even as he tried to fight back his smile, and it made my heart flutter. Just a little.
"Together five evah, you mean." I wasn't even trying to look serious now.
"You know it, babe."
A more comfortable silence fell between us as the laughter faded. I hate to admit it, but when Cyrus left me in that bathroom, when I wandered home alone, when I knocked on his door covered in soda, I had asked myself what I would do if he broke up with me. I didn't really think it would happen—this wasn't the first time we'd had an argument, and Cyrus was a master at keeping things reasonable—but I was still scared. It wasn't until that moment, as the last drips of the sun disappeared behind the horizon, and Cyrus laid his head on my shoulder with a sigh, that I felt that fear totally disappear.
"Do you remember," Cyrus started a few minutes later, head still on my shoulder, "how, when you needed Buffy’s help in Math, you tricked me into telling you how to get her to do what you wanted?"
"I... yeah. I do."
Man... I can be a real shit sometimes.
"And when she found out, she made me choose between you and her?"
I nodded, feeling an extra strong twinge of guilt that kept me from saying anything more.
"This just reminded me a lot of that, is all. And I never want to be put in that situation again. Not that Buffy is gonna do that over a cup of Kool-Aid, it just... It felt like the same kind of, well... betrayal."
I wasn't really sure how to respond to that. I hadn't really thought of what I'd done as a, y'know, betrayal. That's such a strong word. And Cyrus doesn't throw around strong words for no reason.
"Am I a bad boyfriend?" I was as surprised as Cyrus looked by the words that came out of my mouth. I hadn't planned on asking that. Though, it's not that uncommon for me to say things without thinking.
Cyrus pulled back, looking at my face for a few seconds as if searching for something, his wonderfully thick brows furrowed in thought. It was his, 'this isn't a simple situation,' face, which didn't make me feel... amazing.
"No," he said, a gentle smile returning to his lips as he sat back against the swing to stare off into the darkening sky. The stars were starting to come out, and I thought momentarily of the night we'd bundled up in the cold at midnight so he could show me constellations. "All in all, I think you're a pretty good boyfriend. I'd say you're the best I've ever had, but, well..." He hesitated and leaned against my arm. I couldn't help but chuckle at his dumb joke. "I just think you forget to think about others sometimes. Like, really think."
"I'm always thinking about you," even though my boyfriend wasn't looking at my face, I smirked at the sky as I squeezed his hand.
"Not like that," A full-blown smile broke onto my face as the smaller boy rolled his eyes and lightly slapped my chest before resting his head on my shoulder once again. Spring hadn't fully wrested control away from winter, and it was getting chilly as the warmth of the sun faded. Perfect weather for my boyfriend to cuddle up to my side and share his body heat.
The boy is like a radiator sometimes.
"I know what you mean. I think," I whispered, leaning my head on top of his. "I'm trying to get better at it."
"I know. And that's why I'm not really too upset right now. Now that I’ve calmed down. I mean, no one's perfect." A gentle breeze blew around us, putting thoughts of moving inside into my head.
"Sometimes I think you do it too much. Think about others. I worry it's gonna drive you crazy one day."
"You're probably right," Cyrus sighed, shifting to press more of his body against mine. "I guess we balance each other out, that way."
"Yeah. I really am sorry, though. Truly. I shouldn't have gotten caught up in a stupid prank war in the first place..."
"I know you are, Babe. And it's okay if you and Buffy prank each other. I just... can you just promise that from now on you'll keep me out of it? Even for the fun ones? They're entertaining to watch, but... I don't want to be caught between you two again."
"Yeah, absolutely. I promise."
"Thanks." He shifted, and I missed the warmth and feeling of soft hair against my face for just a second until I felt a pair of lips on mine. It was a soft kiss, quick and to the point—I barely had a chance to respond before he pulled back with a smile on his face. But the message was clear.
I forgive you.
"We should probably go inside soon. I want to be most of the way through the movie before my mom comes back."
"True. Never know when she's gonna make us turn it off and put on Toy Story 3."
"That happened once," Cyrus rolled his eyes, jumping up from the swing and leading the way to his living room. "And what did you expect, trying to watch Die Hard while she was around?"
"I expected to finish the dang movie, Underdog," I flung my hands in the air with exasperation. "My brother showed me that movie when I was eight! It's not even that bad!"
"Yeah, well your brother also got you addicted to horror films, so I'm starting to question his judgment when it comes to motion pictures." Shaking his head, Cyrus settled onto the couch and pulled up Netflix.
"Hey, speaking of my brother, I got a chance to talk to him last night. Turns out the spring break at the school he's teaching at lines up with ours. He was thinking of coming home to visit."
"Oh that's awesome! Wait, your family isn't going somewhere this spring break? I figured I'd be texting you while you skied the Alps or something."
"We usually do, but I don't think we have any plans this year. Dad's too busy building his new company or whatever. And if Brian's offering to come home, I doubt my mom's gonna plan a last minute thing for us." I grabbed a blanket from the basket beside the couch and jumped onto the cushion next to my boyfriend, pulling him close before he could try to fight me off.
"Oh that's perfect! I don't think we have plans, either. Are you excited to see your brother? How long has it been since you saw him?"
"Over a year. And yeah, assuming my mom doesn't refuse to let him in for skipping Christmas this year, I'm stoked. But..." I glanced over at Cyrus. My Cyrus. The most important person in my life right now—a slot that had previously been filled only by my brother. "So, I really want to introduce you to him. You'll love him, I promise, he tells the best stories. And..."
"Yeah, of course, Teej." The smaller boy shifted into a more comfortable position, half on my lap as he wrapped the blanket around us. "I can't wait to meet him."
"Cool! Cool, yeah it'll be great. I just... I sorta... And it's okay if you say no, I understand because we agreed, and—"
"TJ, what is it?” Cyrus asked, hushed. “You're rambling enough to sound like, well... me."
I realized suddenly that the arms I had wrapped around his torso were probably squeezing him tighter than was necessary—or comfortable—and my heart rate was elevated.
Apparently, I was nervous.
I nodded and swallowed down the lump in my throat.
"I’m really excited for you to get to meet him, and I want to introduce you to him as... as my boyfriend."
I held my breath, and waited for his response.