Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Robbe had initially agreed to go on a short break with his friends, he had expected fun, alcohol, vlogging, weed and more alcohol. He had even been excited about their venture. When Robbe had come out to them last year, it was like their friendship had reconfigured into the shape it always should have been. It was easier to be around them, now.

However, the more Jens spoke, the more Robbe’s heart sank.

‘Sander is basically a Broerrr at this point, Robbe. And he just broke up with his girlfriend. We just thought it would be nice to ask him along, help him out a bit.’ Jens was almost pleading.

‘Where’s he going to sleep?’ Robbe questioned, slamming the door to his locker slightly more aggressively than he usually would. There had to be some kind of impracticality or loophole that would mean that Sander wouldn’t be able to be there. ‘There won’t be enough room. It’ll already be cramped with the four of us.’

Jens waved his concerns away. ‘It’ll be fine. If everything goes to plan, he probably won’t be needing a bed.’ He winked, and Robbe had a surprisingly strong impulse to reach up and wipe the smug look from off of his face. He already knew that he had won the argument, that Robbe was putting up a desperate, losing battle.

‘You’re disgusting,’ he said, instead of engaging in physical violence.

‘That’s not a no,’ Jens said, following Robbe to his next lesson.

Robbe sighed. ‘It’s not a yes.’

‘Come onnnnnnn. What better way to help a friend out than taking them away from all of their problems? Maybe he can even get a rebound.’

‘Does he want a rebound? Or are you just making terrible plans based on assumptions that will inevitably backfire on you? Remember when you tried to set me up with the guy from Noor’s school?’

‘And he threw up all over you?’ Jens laughed as Robbe shuddered at the memory. ‘Yeah, that was pretty funny.’

‘Asshole.’

‘So, he can come?’ Jens asked, already knowing the answer.

Robbe rolled his eyes. ‘Fine, but I’m going to complain about it.’

His phone buzzed in his pocket as Jens immediately shared the news with their holiday groupchat. Glancing at it, he saw that Sander had already been added. Awesome.

‘You need to get over your whole thing with Sander, anyway. You’re the one who introduced him to us in the first place. You never know, this break might be the thing to bring you closer.’ Jens raised his eyebrows suggestively.

‘Maybe,’ he agreed, half-heartedly. He didn’t know if his heart could take that.

Sander Driesen was a problem.

He was already there when Robbe and the rest of the Broerrrs arrived at the train station, sitting on a bench, alone, in the cold. Even then, he looked stupidly perfect. His hair was windswept, his fringe brushed to side. He was wearing his stupid leather jacket, the one that he was never without, that stood in stark contrast to his white hair.

It was infuriating, how handsome he was.

It had started to rain and they were running late, but Sander was just sitting there, being nice about it all. His face had lit up when he had seen the boys heading over, laughing as Aaron almost tripped over his feet, nearly landing flat on his face. Jens greeted him with a hug and a firm back slap, Moyo following as he yelled something about Jack Frost. Aaron was still trying to play it cool; he was still trying to live down calling himself a ‘big fan’ of Sander’s when they had first met at a party months ago, after the boys had been talking him up for so long.

Robbe froze when Sander turned to him, accepting Sander’s handshake stiffly. If he pulled his hand away too quickly, well. No one commented on it. He couldn’t bear the brief touch, as much as he would always try for normality. There was an awkward pause as Sander started to say something, but he was cut off by the train pulling into the station, ready to take them away to what Robbe was sure would be the longest five days of Robbe’s life.

Sander looked genuinely happy to be there, bar the glances that he kept giving Robbe that were filled with uncertainty. Whether or not this happiness would last would remain to be seen. Sahring small quarters with four teenage boys who had a fondness for pranks could push even the chillest of souls to their limits. Robbe remembered the time on their last weekend away when they had given Jens an oreo filled with toothpaste and he had sulked for almost a full day.

When they arrived at the beach house, Robbe lingered on the beach.

He knew that he would have plenty of time to sit out there and just enjoy being near the sea, but he just wanted that moment to breathe it in. To look out at endless waves of blue and grey and green, choppy in the wind as it rolled up close to his feet.

The seaside held good memories for him. Holidays with his family before his father had left, before his mother had had her breakdown. The sun warmed sand under their feet as Robbe would spend practically all of his time out on the water, surfing or swimming.

Looking out, he took a picture to send to his mother, partially to let her know that he had arrived safely and partially to cheer her up. She had grown up near the sea, and although she said that she liked Antwerp, she always relished in being near the water.

When he turned back to the beach house, Sander was leaning against the porch railings, ever-present camera held loosely in his hands. ‘Taking pictures?’ Robbe asked. As he approached, Sander lifted the camera again, snapping the landscape.

‘Trying to, but someone kept ending in all of the shots.’

Robbe rolled his eyes, walking into the house. It was there that they encountered the problem.

As he had predicted, the house was small, barely big enough to fit the four of them, let alone Sander.

There were two bedrooms, one of which bore the Broerrrs, lounging around on three separate single bed. The other, currently unoccupied, held only a double bed. There was no sofa, or even a living room. Only the hard, wooden floor.

Robbe cursed himself for letting his own sentimentality get in the way of important things like claiming a bed, especially knowing who his friends were.

‘Seriously?’ Robbe said, trying to pin Jens down with a death glare. Sander was walking out of the room with the double bed, unburdened by his bad and camera. ‘Where am I supposed to sleep?’

‘You can always bunk up with me,’ Jens said shamelessly. ‘Might be a bit of a tight fit, though.’

Robbe kept glaring. ‘I would hate for you to be uncomfortable, Jens.’

He didn’t trust the mischief in Jens’ eyes, nor the little smirk on Moyo’s face. Aaron, at least, was too buried in his phone to be aware of anything happening in his surroundings. From the dopey little smile on his face, he was either texting Amber, or stalking her Instagram. They had been together for months and he was still like this.

Sander spoke up from behind him. ‘I don’t mind sleeping on the floor. It’s my fault that there’s not enough room, anyway.’

‘No,’ Moyo rolled off of his bed, making his way over to Sander. ‘You came here to have a good time, and you can’t do that sleeping on the floor. Look at it! It’s not even carpet.’

Jens piped up as though he had just had an idea, one that had definitely not been discussed or planned in anyway shape or form. ‘It’s a double bed. You two can just share.’

Robbe would have almost believed the words if it hadn’t been for the eyebrow Jens raised at him challengingly. He thought back to Jens’ earlier words, about how this break could be an opportunity for him to become better friends with Sander, despite the fact that he was the one who had known Sander for the longest.

‘Good idea,’ he bit out. ‘If that’s okay with you?’ He added to Sander as an afterthought. Jens knew him too well, to know that he wouldn’t back out of a challenge like this, even if it felt like a borderline self-destructive decision.

‘Of course.’ Sander gave him that rakishly charming smile, the one that he usually saved for his girlfriend, or for when he was jokingly flirting with friends. Robbe’s knees turned to jelly. ‘we can keep each warm in these cold autumn nights.’ With that, he winked and disappeared into what was now their room. The Broerrrs wolf whistled as Robbe followed him. If only they knew.

He dumped his one bag on the floor, on the other side of the room to Sander’s green one. He wondered if it contained art supplies, or cans for spraying. More likely it was incredibly mundane, full of band t-shirts that would smell clean, but always with undertones of pencil shavings and charcoal.

‘Everything okay?’ Sander asked lightly, after Robbe had stood there, just staring, for slightly too long.

Robbe sighed and nodded. The silence between them soon became drawn out; thin and awkward. Sander seemed to be waiting for him to say something, but Robbe didn’t know what he wanted from him.

‘Sorry about them,’ he said eventually, as though Sander wasn’t fully aware what they were like. He had been in enough of their vlogs now to know the stupid shit that they got up to. ‘You really don’t have to share with me if you don’t want to.’

Sander shrugged, and he had the impression that he had said the wrong thing, somehow. ‘I wouldn’t have agreed if I didn’t mean it.’ He said, as he left the room for the greener pastures of the Broerrrs company.

Robbe stayed in the room a while longer, listening to the bickering of the boys as they tried to set a fire up in the pit outside – they would be lucky if no one got burnt. Bottles clinked as they settled in, but all Robbe could think about was Sander. The nerves that crackled under his skin at the thought of sharing this space, of being within touching distance. Of the thought that he might wake up with the unmistakable smell of Sander on his skin.

He picked at the edge of his nail, the slight sting bringing himself back to the moment. If this was Sander of a few weeks ago, even, this would be so much easier. The whole time Robbe had known him, Sander had been off limits, even if his relationship with Britt had been tumultuous to say the least.

Now, there was nothing between them other than the façade of dislike that Robbe had spent so long cultivating that he wasn’t sure he knew how to be around Sander without it.

He collapsed back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as though it could give him answers, or a course of action at the very least. There was nothing.

He closed his eyes for a brief, blissful moment before bracing himself to go outside and be normal. At least he was somewhat practiced at that, after having spent months convincing himself he was in love with Jens last year.

Feeling a little steadier, he went out to the firepit, accepting the first bottle of beer that was handed to him.

They didn’t get too wild, that first night. They had a few beers, of course, and they had smoked part of a joint, but none of them were too wasted. Mostly, they were just enjoying the calm that comes with sitting by the sea at night, all gentle waves and cool sand. It was chilly, but not so much that it ruined their fun. They simply leaned closer to the fire, blankets wrapped around already layered shoulders.

The sky was clear, and Sander was pointing out the different stars, making up increasingly silly stories about why they came to have their names. As the night wore on, Robbe found it more and more difficult to look away, his focus intent on the other boy. He wondered why he knew so much about the stars.

It might have been the weed talking, but when he looked up, he felt that distinct shiver of fear and excitement that comes with the knowledge that they were all so small. Whole galaxies, whole universes existing side by side with their own; stars burning themselves into non-existence. Here they were, five boys surrounded by infinity, the sea and the stars watching over them with the indifference of nature.

He glanced at his watch. The night was passing them by, all of them evidently tired but stubbornly refusing to admit it. Moyo had yawned about five times in the past few minutes alone, but none of them wanted to be the first to bed.

Finally, Aaron did what the others could not, giving them all permission to start putting the fire out and get ready for the night.

By the time Robbe had returned from brushing his teeth, Sander was standing in the room. Shirtless.

Robbe immediately backed out, stumbling over his own feet as he gave out stuttered apologies.

Sander’s answering laugh was deep and unconcerned. When Robbe let himself look, he was wearing a soft looking t-shirt, the now familiar face of David Bowie staring back at him. ‘My eyes are up here,’ Sander said, voice still light with mirth.

‘Sorry,’ Robbe said, again. His skin burned with embarrassment and, deeper down, with a feeling that he did not want to name for fear that it would give it even more power over him than it already had. He couldn’t even hide under the covers to hide from his shame, because Sander would be there, too. He had become so used to his privacy, and now he had nowhere to escape.

‘You apologise too much,’ Sander said. ‘After all, what’s a little nudity between friends?’ He winked, nudging Robbe out of the doorway so that he could use the bathroom.

That fleeting touch did nothing to help the sudden heat.

His heart pounded, all of the hard work that the alcohol and the weed had done to bring him to the perfect level of sleepiness immediately undone. All by the hands of one man. By winks and words and glances.

God, he wished he hated Sander. He wished that his body was on fire with hatred, because it would be so much easier than this. This impossible crush, the months and months of wanting what was forever in reach, but could never be for him.

He got into the bed, making himself as small as possible, curled up close to the edge. He tried to control his small, shaky breaths, just wanting to relax. To have sleep as an actual possibility tonight, rather than a distant dream. When Sander returned, he closed his eyes, feigning sleep. Surely, he was fooling no one, but Sander was quiet and considerate, keeping his movements small as he joined him.

The bed suddenly seemed a lot smaller.

He had been foolishly optimistic at first, thinking that it couldn’t be that bad. After all, he had definitely slept in smaller places with Jens when he had his crush on him, and it had never felt like this.

They were lying back to back, but he could feel the heat of Sander’s body tantalisingly close. If he was braver, or more reckless maybe, he would reach out a hand. A touch that said, I’m here if you want me.

Every miniscule movement and breath that Sander made was amplified tenfold by the tension in Robbe’s body. He could feel it all. With his eyes closed, he could match their breathing until it felt as though they were only one organism sharing two bodies, two consciousnesses.

If Robbe unfolded slightly, by mere centimetres, just to have their backs whisper against each other, there was nobody there to bring it up. Not even the sky or the sea had access to this moment. Only the night, and the boys themselves, ever had to know.

When Robbe woke up, he didn’t even need to open his eyes to know that he was alone.  Sander’s side of the bed was cold, and Robbe was sprawled out over most of it. He hoped desperately that this had happened only after Sander had left the bed. The thought of the other boy waking up to Robbe sprawled all over him made him flush.

He buried his face into Sander’s pillow, relishing in the scent. This was torture, he was sure.

The faint sound of activity in the kitchen eventually drew him from the bed, his curiosity overcoming everything else. It helped that the smell that came wafting through was simply divine.

When he reached the kitchen, he was met by Sander’s back, moving to the music playing loudly from his phone. Sander threw his head back as a new song began, the ecstasy that comes with hearing a favourite tune. Robbe knew that he should recognise it. The solid bass riff was vaguely familiar to him, and Sander’s enthused response made him want to remember even more.

It was nice, to catch Sander without his guard up, but he couldn’t help the twinge of guilt that came with watching someone in a moment that was clearly private.

He smiled as he listened to Sander singing along, casually spreading butter over bread. The coffee maker was chundering in the background, begrudgingly doing its job, and Sander danced over to it.

Robbe didn’t think that it was possible to be in this good of a mood before ten am, especially after drinking. Thinking back on it, however, Sander had definitely drunk the least out of all of them as he usually did.

He must have moved, or made some kind of small sound without fully realising, caught fully in the moment of watching Sander be himself. Sander jumped slightly as he turned around, finally seeing Robbe in the doorway.

‘Coffee?’ He asked, recovering quicker from the potential embarrassment than Robbe ever could. If anything, he didn’t look at all ashamed or awkward at having been caught. Instead, he smiled as Robbe nodded, still humming along to the song as he made his way around the kitchen.

‘Is this Bowie?’ Robbe asked, only half seriously. It had become a running joke between them all, Robbe’s complete inability to remember any David Bowie song. He still hadn’t lived down Space Cowboy – it had been his name in the groupchat for months, since Sander had started hanging out with them more often.

Sander rolled his eyes. ‘I see you still need to revise for your Bowie exam.’ He joked back.

‘What are you making?’ he asked. Sander was still distracted slightly by the music, bobbing his head as he finished constructing what looked to be a sandwich.

Sander gave him a look, as if it was completely obvious. ‘Croques. Just like my mother used to make.’ He rarely spoke about his family, though that wasn’t unusual by Broerrrs standards. None of them were particularly forthcoming about anything more serious than vlogs or who was hot. ‘I need a pan,’ he said, looking at Robbe expectantly.

Robbe bristled a little at being told what to do, but did so anyway. The distance between them practically vanished, and he knew that Sander would be able to see the blush on his face at the suddenly compromising position he found himself in. Quickly, he stood, reaching around the stove to turn the hob on.

He could feel Sander’s eyes on him, his laughter at Robbe failing to turn on the heat. Sander’s hand touched his own as he pressed down on the button before twisting, and Robbe’s heart nearly beat out of his chest.

He took a step or two back, half-stumbling, just to keep a safe distance. Sander just smirked at him like nothing had happened at all. ‘Maybe I need to give you cooking lessons as well as Bowie lessons.’

Robbe laughed, trying to regain some semblance of normality as he watched Sander cook. The croques didn’t take long, for which Robbe was immensely grateful. The smell of fried food was making his stomach growl. They hadn’t really eaten much actual food yesterday, and his diet was hilariously poor as it was. Fried bread, cheese and ham sounded like the best food in the world to him.

Sander flipped the croques onto a place, shaking the burn off. ‘We used to make these every Sunday, to bring all the family together,’ he said nonchalantly, cutting the sandwiches into neat triangles.

He handed one to Robbe, and in his sleep and Sander-addled brain, he took a bite with it still in Sander’s hand. Of course, Sander hadn’t been feeding him. The other boy’s laugh told him as much. But still, he couldn’t help the little moan at the taste. ‘Best croques ever?’ Sander asked, smiling with every part of him. Whether it was with Robbe, or at him, was another question. One that he was not actively seeking an answer to.

‘Best croques ever,’ he said back, a little too sincerely. He was glad that the boys were still asleep. Without a doubt, they would have been filming this moment, waiting to post it on Insta or put in it a vlog somehow. Sander, at least, would only tease him about it face to face.

They ate the rest of the croques, Bowie playing eternally in the background, Sander’s fingers and feet tapping along to the rhythm as he occasionally gave Robbe bits of trivia or told him why this song was actually the best.

It was calm and, despite the music, quiet. The sea could be heard just outside, waves rolling into the shore; inevitable, as they drew themselves to their own destruction like moths to a flame.

As he smiled at Sander, drinking in every word and look and relishing in this moment of companionship, he thought he was not so different from the waves. He tried not to pay it too much mind, but the idea had wormed its way into his head.

He took a step back, hoping foolishly that distance would keep him safe.

‘Why do you hate me?’ Sander whispered, barely audible over the sound of the slight shift of the sheets.

It was one am. Robbe was holding himself impossibly still, barely breathing as though if he just stayed silent, Sander would fall into sleep and they wouldn’t have to have this conversation. He could feel Sander’s eyes on the back of his head, and it was nearly impossible to resist the temptation to just roll over and look at him back.

In the quiet stillness of the night, he felt like he was in a dream. He clung to the small things that told him that this was real, that he was awake: the feel of the sheets under his hands; the heavy sound of Aaron’s snoring in the next room; the huff of air on the back of his neck as Sander breathed.

‘I don’t hate you,’ he said, after an infinity.

Sander breathed out a sound that could have been a laugh at another time, in another place. It was full of doubt. ‘Then why don’t you treat me like the others. Is it because…’ He trailed off, voice hardening like he was preparing himself for the worst possible outcome.

‘No,’ Robbe breathed, full of certainty. ‘No, never because of that.’

‘So you do hate me.’ A statement, not a question.

Robbe rolled over, something inside of him breaking, whether from frustration or from fear that Sander could ever believe that Robbe genuinely hated him. ‘It’s not like that.’ He found words difficult, at times. Countless times, he had ended up in small fights with his parents or friends because he simply could not communicate his feelings. He just knew that he didn’t want to speak the words, to give his feelings shape and form and power, more than they already had.

Even if his words were not, his eyes were pleading with Sander to understand. To not make him say it so that he didn’t have to have his heartbroken just yet.

Silence fell back between them, a near physical wall, separating them even if their noses were almost touching.

A hint of moonlight was shining through the window, illuminating a conversation that should only ever be had in the dark. Sander was looking at him intently, his hand lying in the space between them. For a second, it seemed as though he was going to reach out, but thought better of it.

‘Remember the first night we met?’ Sander asked, half lost in his own thoughts.

Robbe nodded, lost himself.

It had been a cold night, earlier that year, surrounded by garbage trucks and those who were spraying them. Noor had a habit of dragging him with her to her haunts even after they had stopped dating, and though he always complained, he secretly enjoyed the danger and the pure thrill of it; the sharp, solvent tang in the air.

They were wrapped up, masks on, unidentifiable and wild. He remembered when they had first sprayed here, kissing in the shadow of the trucks. It felt so incongruous, to have been such a different person in the same place, with the same people. How much had changed, how much had stayed the same.

He had been taking pictures of Noor’s work in progress. Amateurish, and the lighting was bad, but Noor had told him that she appreciated getting to see the layers of her work. The things that she didn’t notice when she was too absorbed in creation.

This piece was more abstract than her others; an abstract work all in blues, purples and reds. Messy, like an exploding galaxy. Robbe was absorbed in it too, only realising someone else had walked over after Noor had asked him for a different can of paint.

‘I see I’ve been replaced,’ a voice said behind him.

Robbe spun around, nearly dropping his phone in the process. Robbe was frozen to the spot, unsure of what to say or do. The boy’s face was covered like everyone else’s, but his eyes peered out at Robbe with such an intent curiosity that he felt his knees weaken. He wished he knew more about art, just so that he had the vocabulary to describe the colour of his eyes.

Noor had looked over at his comment, rolling her eyes when she saw who had spoken. She climbed down from the steps and slapped the boy around the arm. ‘I could never replace you. If not for your photography skills than because Britt would kill me.’ The boy seemed to laugh at that. Robbe missed his eyes on him already.

He was unsure of where he fit in this new equation, standing on the outskirts of a conversation that he was not invited to. Normally, Noor’s artier friends simply ignored him, or at best gave him empty greetings. They weren’t malicious or unfriendly, they could just tell from one look that he did not belong with them, not fully. A tourist, who could easily decide that he no longer cared for the risk.

The boy pulled his facemask down, revealing a sharp smile; he looked almost predatory, confident in himself in a way that Robbe so often wished he could project. A hint of pale hair poked out from under his hood-beanie combo, and Robbe felt a sudden desperation to remove those layers just to see the colour, to imagine its softness.

‘Robbe, Sander,’ Noor introduced them, and Sander looked at him rakishly. Robbe took his mask off, too, although he craved the protection that it gave him from Sander’s charm.

Of all things, Robbe did not expect Sander to shake his hand, or to pay any attention to him at all. The touch burned, even though they both wore gloves. ‘I can always give you photography lessons, if you want.’ Sander winked at him, and Robbe desperately hoped that the darkness would cover his flaming face.

He was scrambling for some kind of comeback, anything really to keep Sander’s attention on him, but the other boy’s phone was buzzing aggressively. Sander sighed as he put his phone away without answering. ‘It’s Britt,’ he said to Noor, and she nodded knowingly. ‘I’ll see you around.’ Their gazes caught once more, and the space between them felt impossible to traverse in that moment.

If only Robbe had known, that night, what had lain in store for him.

He looked at Sander now, lying across from him. They were still surrounded by darkness, but it was tinged with sadness and doubt, rather than the electric burn from their first meeting. He had always wondered if Sander’s looks had meant anything, how they always seemed to find each other. Even recently, as Robbe had started to pull away for his own sake, they had still ended up here. Face to face, in the same bed, dancing around something that neither of them were willing to risk.

Sander looked smaller, somehow. Shrunken without the light of the sun to brighten his smile, cast only in shadow. ‘I took a picture of you that night, before we officially met.’ Sander spoke, melancholy.

Robbe blinked in surprise. ‘Why?’ he asked.

‘The moonlight was shining down on you… I don’t know. You’re something special, Robbe IJzermans.’ Sander smiled, sadly. ‘What did I do wrong?’

Robbe swallowed, avoiding Sander’s gaze. He shifted to face the ceiling rather than have to look at the other boy, to be reminded of this casual intimacy that was always on the edge of what he was finding increasingly difficult to resist. He didn’t want to say something that he would regret. These late-night conversations could drag out what even alcohol couldn’t; confessions in the dark that are never meant to be brought into the light of day.

‘You didn’t do anything.’ He said, after a long, still pause. ‘I was afraid.’

‘Of me.’ The sound of Sander’s voice tore a hole in his heart. Not because he sounded upset, but because he sounded like this was an inevitability. As though Robbe was just living up to what he expected from everyone.

‘Never of you,’ he said. ‘Of myself, I think.’ He picked at the skin of his fingernails absentmindedly. ‘I’m sorry, if I hurt you. I just… needed some time.’ Sander’s hand soon reached out, gripping his own gently, so gently, like he was trying to pick a flower without crushing the petals or the leaves. Their hands lay there, linked loosely, in the bed between them. Sander’s thumb rubbed the back of Robbe’s hand, a comforting gesture. He wanted to pull away, but for once, he let the moment rest.

There were no words after that. Just the soft breaths of sleep and infinite dreams of a different life, where either of them had been braver.

When Robbe woke up, Sander was gone, just as he had been the night before. Their conversation felt like a dream, but the feeling of Sander’s hand in his own, the memory, was too specific to be an invention of his mind.

He checked the time on his phone, grimacing at the relatively early hour. He already knew that more sleep would evade him, though.

He got dressed, leaving the beach house in a hurry to avoid Sander, who was probably still milling about in the kitchen. Instead, he left for the dunes, taking in the morning sun and the gently rolling waves.

While the boys were out buying food and various other goods now that they had finally decided on what they wanted to do for the vlog, he and Sander were left alone in the house.

Their conversation still hung heavy over the two of them, near-truths having been spoken regretfully under the cover of night. Robbe didn’t know what to do with what Sander had told him, with what he had hinted at. The whole time that they had been friends, Sander had been with Britt. It was always the same, the push and pull, since they had first met, and Robbe had just gotten sick of it. His mother had been having a bad episode and he had been unsure about where he was going to live, and he had only just come out. He just hadn’t had the energy for Sander’s games, and he had been unable to bridge the gap that he had made ever since.

Robbe was sitting in the kitchen-cum-dining-room, staring blankly at his phone, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram. It was all posts and stories from the Broerrrs, with a hint of Zoe posting aesthetic shots of her and Senne, or Yasmina’s poetry. He put his phone down in frustration a Sander poked his head around the door, making him jump.

‘Want to go out?’ Sander asked, seeming to have much more energy than Robbe did. Maybe he was overthinking the previous night. Maybe, it hadn’t meant as much to Sander as it had to him, and he was only building himself to be let down again.

He couldn’t shake his own tension, trapped in his own body, unable to stop cycling through his fear that he had revealed too much. He felt like a bottle of coke that had been shaken up, ready to explode, but he didn’t know how to release the pressure.

‘And do what?’ Robbe asked back, giving himself time to decide. One bad idea after another.

Sander shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’ He was already heading for the door, though he paused when he didn’t hear Robbe following. ‘Let’s go on an adventure.’ He nodded his head imperiously towards the outside, and Robbe succumbed, mostly because he needed the fresh air to blow the cobwebs from his mind. The house had started to become claustrophobic, especially when all five of them were in it. Maybe this would be the catalyst for release.

The cold air swirled around them, blowing the fluffy tips of Sander’s hair around. Standing there against the backdrop of the wild sea, the washed-out dunes and grasses, Sander looked almost feral. A wild thing; elemental, a creature born from the chaos of nature. If the wind hadn’t taken Robbe’s breath, the sight surely would have.

‘Follow me,’ Sander said, striding with purpose down the long stretch of beach. It wasn’t easy to manage the loose sand in their boots and trainers at the best of times; in the increasingly dismal weather, they stumbled almost drunkenly to their unknown destination. To see Sander stumble always made Robbe smile. It was easy, sometimes, to get caught up in Sander’s world and forget that really, he was as much a goofy teenager as the rest of them.

‘I thought you said we were going on an adventure?’ Robbe was shivering in the wind, and it had started to spit. Neither of them had dressed particularly appropriately for the weather, and he was starting to regret not staying in their little, warm house.

He could practically hear Sander roll his eyes, even if he couldn’t see his face. ‘We are. Just to a very specific place.’

Now that he was paying attention, Robbe noticed the camera slung around Sander’s neck; the weight of Sander’s ever-present green bag. Art shenanigans, then.

He pieced it all together when they arrived at what appeared to be just an abandoned building, already covered in amateur graffiti. The colourful, crude marks of bored teenagers wanting to leave some small mark on an eternally changing world. To remember, and to be remembered in, a specific moment. Names and letters sprayed in hearts as though it could give their love permanence.

Sander took a bobby pin from his pocket, nudging the lock with care until the door of the building swung open.

Beneath everything, it still smelt like the sea. It permeated through even the dank smells of abandonment, all damp and mould and other, less savoury, things.

‘It’s perfect,’ Sander said, eyes bright with inspiration.

It was an odd choice to spray – normally, he would only ever spray on exteriors, leaving bold strokes of colour across the city for all to see. This was hidden away, a small building, more of a shack than anything. Robbe couldn’t even guess to its original purpose. Perhaps it had once been another beach house, left to rot by the waves. Even if Sander had chosen to spray the outside, it would have been seen by few eyes, out on a quiet stretch of beach, in a place that was most likely used as a spot for teen sex than anything else. If he saw a condom discarded of the floor, he didn’t comment on it.

Regardless, if Sander thought that it was perfect, then it must be perfect.

‘What’s the plan?’ Robbe asked, raising an eyebrow as Sander scoped the place out, letting his back fall from his shoulder. Robbe tried not to wince at the thought of what else could be on that floor. He certainly wasn’t going to sit on it.

The cans clinked and jostled as they hit the floor, one of them rolling until it hit the side of Robbe’s foot. ‘Forest green.’ Hread aloud as he picked the can up. ‘I thought they all had super pretentious names. Blood Orange or, like, Dusk Ocean.’

‘I’m sure if you keep looking you’ll find a Purple Haze or something to suit your needs.’ Sander replied. It took him a moment to absorb the comment, too lost in finding the right place to start. ‘Are you trying to say I’m pretentious?’

‘You exclusively post your own art and pictures of buildings with Bowie quotes. If you look in the dictionary, your picture is right under the entry for pretentious.’ Robbe joked back.

Sander was starting to get drawn into his work, pulling out a piece of paper with a rough sketch on it. Robbe hadn’t see the drawing before, though that wasn’t a surprise. It had been a while since Sander had shared any of his art with him, or even been spraying with him. He missed it.

The sketch was simple, but striking. A lightning bolt exploding, somehow both graphic and realistic. Constantly, he was surprised by Sander’s talent; at the fact that he seemed to be able to do everything well. He wished that it made him envious, that he could force himself to be annoyed at Sander’s skill, but how could he resent anything that made Sander so happy?

‘Did inspiration strike?’ Robbe smirked. It took Sander a second, but Robbe laughed at the tired groan he let out in reply.

‘I can’t work in this environment. You’re going to have to leave. Strictly no puns while I spray, unless I am the one making them.’ Sander was shaking his head, but he was still smiling. Robbe felt a little burst of pride, the same one he felt whenever he made Sander smile or laugh. It wasn’t a difficult task, but he would do anything to make it happen, regardless.

‘You’re kicking me out? After dragging me out here?’ He looked pointedly at the increasingly wild weather and shook his head in dismay. ‘The disrespect. I thought you brought me out here because you respected my artistic guidance.’

Sander snorted at that. They both well knew that Robbe could barely draw stick people, let alone anything resembling the pieces that Sander and Noor could create. He didn’t know, really, why they ever let him tag along in the first place.

It was still cold in the building, but at least it afforded them a little shelter from the oncoming storm as Sander got to work. The windows were only partially smashed in, so they were protected mostly from the rain at the very least, but the wind whistled through the gaps.

He shivered as he wondered idly around, inspecting patches of crude graffiti while Sander sprayed, briefly ignoring the incessant buzzing of his phone, until he finally got so fed up of it that he answered Jens’ fourth call.

‘Where are you?’ Jens said, a hint of worry beneath his usually calm demeanour.

Robbe sighed. ‘I’m with Sander. He’s spraying.’

‘You could have texted, left a note. It’s rough out there.’

‘What are you, my mother?’ Robbe said, before cringing. ‘Sorry. We’ll be back soon, okay?’

He hung up the phone, not listening for Jens’ response. He was too entranced by the sight of Sander as he put the finishing touches on his work.

Even after almost a year of knowing Sander, he never really got over how beautiful the other boy looked when he was lost in his work. The first time he had seen him drawing was the moment that Robbe realised his feelings were maybe more than just a simple crush. He may as well have not been in the room for all Sander was aware of his surroundings. A silent observer to Sander’s process. He snuck a picture, poorly lit; the back of Sander’s head haloed by feral lightning. The calm and the storm, all at once.

After adding some infinitesimal detail, Sander stood back, nodding to himself. It wasn’t a big piece, by Sander’s standards, but it stood out for its simplicity. Bright red standing out against the dim colour of the walls.

Robbe knew that Sander could be hard on himself about his own work, sometimes. You look at something you’ve made for too long and after a while, you only see flaws. He seemed pleased, however, if just to have expended some energy. To have gone from vision to realisation, all in a few hours. Sander took a few pictures from several angles, no doubt to put on his Instagram later, or maybe to use as inspiration for a larger, more detailed piece.

‘It feels like you,’ Robbe said into the relative silence of the room. All of Sander’s art did, but this encapsulated the artist in the moment; raw energy and power. As wild and uncontainable as the elements themselves.

The wind had died down, just a little, leaving them in a moment of stillness.

Sander smiled, shyly. As much as he liked to share some of his art, he was always bad at accepting compliments on it. Even to Robbe’s untrained eye, he could see the pure talent in everything that he did. It was incredibly brave, to be able to put yourself on a page and hoped that anyone would care. ‘I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.’ Sander said.

They were closer that they had been before, inching towards each other as they so often seemed to do, lately. Particles being drawn together, inevitably. ‘It’s a good thing,’ Robbe whispered.

He had never seen Sander’s eyes from this distance. The vulnerability and the doubt, the questions that could be seen, just in his gaze. A perfect reflection of Robbe’s own thoughts. He had wondered, always, if he was just imagining this. Britt had seemed to think so, finding him one night to tell him to keep away even though he hadn’t done anything wrong. He had reassured her that there had been nothing between them, that there never had been, regardless of how much he wished it was different.

Sander pulled away first. ‘We should probably go,’ he said, as he looked at the darkening sky. ‘Before it gets too dark.’

The moment had gone, but Robbe was still there. It took him a second to remove himself, to even compute that Sander had spoken at all. Just another event to replay in his mind, over and over, wondering what could have been. If it was even worth all of his worry.

He tried to pull himself back to where they had been before. ‘Scared of the dark, Driesen?’

‘Nah,’ Sander ruffled Robbe’s hair, just like he imagined an older brother would if he had ever had one. He hated it. ‘Just don’t want you to get your precious hair too wet.’ Sander smirked at him, pulling open the door. The walls were back up, after having left them down for hours.

‘You think I care about my hair?’ Robbe said, playing along, pointing at his unruly hair. ‘Have you looked in a mirror lately?’

They carried on as they walked back to the beach house, wet sand sinking under their feet. The wind whipped their hoods from their heads, leaving them sodden and wrecked. As they neared the house, lightning cracked over the relentless sea, blinding them both.

He could feel the crackle of electricity thrum under his skin; the same way that he felt whenever Sander looked at him. At what point did all of this playing with lightning start to become self-destruction? All he seemed to get in return were burns.

The next morning, he still hadn’t spoken to Sander.

It felt like a physical pressure, something inside of him trying to escape whenever Sander got too close. The boundaries of their friendship had shifted once more. As soon as they had reconciled in one way, the shape changed again, and Robbe was once more in the limbo of not knowing Sander’s feelings.

He had never known a more frustrating person; someone who was so open, yet so closed off when it came to the things that mattered. He wished he had had the courage to just ask, or to confess himself, but their friendship was tentative at best and he didn’t know that it could take any more damage.

He lay in the bed, alone. Sander was always gone by the time he woke up. He was starting to wonder whether the other boy ever slept at all, or if he just lay there, waiting for the earliest moment possible that he could escape the bed, and with it Robbe’s company.

Stewing in his own thoughts wasn’t helping. He knew his own mind, and he knew that if he stayed there, it would only get worse, digging himself a hole that he wouldn’t be able to get out of. They were still on holiday, and it wasn’t as though Sander was the only person there. This whole thing had been about getting to spend time with his friends, not pine after a boy who wasn’t going to like him back.

Today, he had decided, was going to be a good day.

That night, after many nights of wild promises, Moyo finally found them a party.

Robbe hoped that this would be the saving grace of a largely uneventful day. Although he had enjoyed hanging out with the boys, playing football on the beach now that the weather had cleared, he hadn’t been able to get Sander out of his mind. The other boy was always there, acting as though nothing had happened at all. Maybe it hadn’t, and Robbe was just making it all up, looking for shapes in the clouds.

They arrived at a bar – more of youth clubhouse that reluctantly served alcohol – largely in the middle of nowhere. Despite this, it was relatively busy, full of other students who had seen the autumn break as an opportunity to get away rather than to use it responsibly.

It was crowded and loud, much like every bar or party they had ever been too. Sometimes, Robbe craved it, the way in which he could simply disappear. That night, it grated against him.

Jens mimed that he was heading to the bar, and Sander offered to join him. As soon as they left, Moyo and Aaron circled around conspiratorially. Moyo definitely looked too excited, and not just at the prospect that he might actually have some luck. Robbe didn’t trust it for one second.

‘What are you planning?’ He asked them, not really in the mood for their hijinks.

Moyo played at innocence. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘We’re going to try and set Sander up,’ Aaron blurted. Moyo slapped him gently around the back of the head.

Why would they even bother trying to keep hat a secret from him? Were his feelings so obvious that even they had noticed, or did they really think that he hated Sander so much that he would refuse to help? More than anything, he just wanted Sander to be happy, even in it broke his heart. At least if Sander had another relationship, he could stop feeling so confused.

Moyo was eyeing an artsy looking blonde. She was dancing, but in a way that said she thought that she was still too cool to be there. While she bore some resemblance to Britt, he couldn’t help but notice the longing glances that she kept giving another girl, standing at the bar. He didn’t think to mention it, but he knew how that felt. To want, more than anything, to be seen and understood.

‘She’s got to be the one,’ Moyo said, clapping excitedly as Sander and Jens returned, hands full with beers. Robbe took his graciously, immediately downing half of it. Sander gave him a look, but he just shrugged and plastered on his best fake smile. If Sander wanted to be friends, then he would be a friend.

He turned to Sander. ‘They’re going to try and set you up tonight,’ he warned him. Whether or not Sander did want to meet someone new, it was only fair to let him know purely because the Broerrrs were not known for their matchmaking abilities.

Sander shrugged, a relaxed smile on his face. ‘They can certainly try.’

Before Robbe could reply, Sander was gone, corralled off to talk to some poor girl who probably just wanted to be left alone in the first place. He drank the rest of his beer to soothe the sting that came with the knowledge that he was going to have to watch Sander flirting all night, with people who weren’t him.

It was going to be a long night.

Robbe was drunk. Drunk, and miserable.

The boys had drifted apart, each moving in their own spheres. Jens and Moyo were dancing together, filming Aaron stumbling around and presumably posting the videos on stories so that all of their friends and, most importantly, Amber could watch him humiliate himself.

Sander, on the other hand, was talking to that girl. A group of friends had joined her, and they smiling and laughing, leaving casual touches on Sander’s arms and hair and face. He could tell just from the looks on their faces that Sander was putting on his usual charm. There was particular attention paid to a smaller girl, with soft brown hair and a smile that touched even Robbe’s heart.

He tried to remind himself that all he wanted was for Sander to be happy, but he wasn’t so selfless that he could deny the pain it caused to be so obviously not wanted. It pricked at his heart, and the alcohol only seemed to make it worse. He had no one to blame but himself, however. If he had just been less of a coward; if he had just been honest about his feelings from the start, maybe they would all be in a different place right now. He may not have had Sander, but at least he would have had some peace of mind.

He had been lingering by the bar for the past hour, drinking beer after beer after beer, hoping foolishly that it could turn into something stronger. Something that would simply cut the edge off of his own feelings. People passed him by, but never looked too closely, all too enraptured in their own lives. He wondered if Sander could feel his eyes on him, if he even cared at all.

A boy approached him, taller than Robbe and handsome in the dim light of the bar. Soft, dark hair and a smile that could charm almost anyone. He should have felt something, but his tank was empty. Still, if he wanted Sander to leave his mind – to leave his heart – this was the best way.

‘Do you want to dance?’ The boy asked. There was something almost smug about him, though that may have just been confidence. It didn’t matter if he was good, or kind, or funny. It only mattered that he wasn’t Sander.

The world around him tilted slightly as he looked up, looking somewhere in the region of the boy’s face, even if he missed the eyes. He nodded, knowing that if he tried to speak it would probably be slurred.

He finished his beer, leaving the bottle on the bar as he followed the boy out onto the dance floor, trying to just let himself go. He liked to dance sometimes, when he was drunk. When he was dancing, he didn’t need to think. He could just be in the presence of a cute boy, who maybe thought he was cute too. He could be wild and free, like Sander was.

The thought made him look Sander’s way once more, desperate to see if he was looking. Sander didn’t even glance his way. None of his friends saw him, he noticed, as he looked blearily around the room. He was out there, alone and invisible to all but some stranger.

The music was swift and bland, a cycle of songs that could have been identical if not for slightly different bass drops. It didn’t matter. The music didn’t have to be good for him to disappear. He wasn’t listening to it more than he could feel it, the bass pounding heavy in his blood and his bones.

It reminded him of Sander, somehow, in the kitchen, dancing to Bowie. Everything reminded him of Sander, it seemed. All he wanted was for his mind to be clean; to drink himself into oblivion.

Hands clasped around his waist, and he learning back into the warm body behind him. When the boy turned him around and held his face to kiss him, Robbe kissed back. It was wet and tasted like stale beer, but if he just closed his eyes, he could pretend that it wasn’t just a stranger.

He pulled away.

Suddenly, he felt lost and small in the sea of people, a piece of driftwood getting tossed around by unruly waves. It was too hot, and too loud. The boy was still too close, hands around his waist and the back of his neck and reaching up to his hair as he leaned in again.

He stumbled away, the boy letting him go with a laugh that had a cruel edge to it. He didn’t care. He just needed air.

When he reached the door, he was alone again. People were passing him by: laughing, crying, kissing. He squeezed his way through, mumbling out unheard apologies until he was outside. As soon as the sea air hit him, he could have cried from the sheer relief.

He rested against the rough wall, barely aware of his surroundings anymore. Although he wore only a t-shirt and hoodie, he didn’t feel the cold. He wanted to laugh at himself, to turn this into an anecdote to tell his friends later, but he was so weighed down. The alcohol had done nothing to clear his mind. It had been foolish to think that it ever could.

The world was still spinning, the floor tilting beneath him. It wasn’t supposed to do that, he thought. His stomach churned in the way that he knew meant he was probably going to throw up soon. How had the night slipped so far away from him, that he couldn’t even have fun with his friends at a stupid party.

He didn’t want to burden his friends with his melancholy, but he desperately wanted to just go back to the beach house. It was going to be an ordeal to make it back alone.

A few people were smoking outside, the abrasive scent overpowering the fresh, sea air. He watched, transfixed, as the trails of smoke unfurled in the air like thoughts or memories, expelled and then forgotten.

The door opened and shut again next to him, marked by the brief burst of sound before it all became blissfully muffled again. He lost his balance trying to move out of the way for whoever was making their own bid for freedom, but he was caught by firm hands, a warm body behind him. For a second, he thought that the boy had followed him out.

‘Whoa, careful, there.’ He knew that voice, it’s reassuring timbre.

‘Sander,’ he said, looking behind him, relaxing just a little now that he knew who it was. ‘What are you doing here?’

Sander laughed at him, his eyes bright with mirth. ‘Your friends invited me, remember?’

Robbe tried to hit him, but missed miserably. ‘No, like, outside.’ He stumbled again, and Sander rearranged them so that they were both sitting on the cold concrete.

‘You looked like you could use a hand.’ He said, looking pointedly at Robbe.

‘I’m fine,’ Robbe retorted. He didn’t want to be looked after like a child; to be helped or pitied like some poor creature. ‘Go back to your new girlfriend, or whatever.’

Sander snorted, shaking his head. ‘No. I think I want to stay out here.’

‘Why?’

‘It was all just a bit much. I’d rather sit out here, with you.’ Sander was looking him in the eye, and Robbe was struck by the sincerity, even if he was finding it difficult to focus. The lights from the bar were distracting, too bright to look at, but impossible to look away from.

He felt very bad, very quickly. He had just enough forethought to turn away from Sander before throwing up, groaning as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. He turned his face, longing for the cold press of the brick against his cheek.

‘And there it is,’ Sander said. He reached out a hand, carding it softly through Robbe’s hair. Robbe leaned into the touch, not unlike a cat who was desperate for any shred of attention. ‘Okay, come on. Let’s get you back to the house.’

With those words, the hand was gone. Robbe tried to quell the disappointment he felt, the soft whine that wanted to be released. He hated feeling so needy, the swoop of fear as Sander stood up that he would be left behind, despite the words he had just said.

Instead, Sander dragged Robbe up by the arms like a ragdoll, waiting patiently for him to regain his balance. He only wobbled for a second, swallowing down more sick before they started to walk. He had to lean on Sander more than he would ever like to admit, aching for that warmth.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, as they reached the peace of the beach. They were completely alone, surrounded only by the sea and the stars. The night was surprisingly clear, the moon reflected crisply in the waves. It was beautiful, and felt like it was just for them.

Sander smiled down at him. ‘Don’t worry. We’re roommates now, we’ve got to look out for each other.’

‘Roommates,’ Robbe echoed. If there was a hint of disappointment in the word, neither of them mentioned it.

Robbe’s phone started to ring and he fumbled around for it, dropping it onto the sand and signing as though this was the biggest inconvenience he had ever faced in his life.

‘I’ve got it,’ Sander said, as he picked up the phone. He looked at Robbe from the corner of his eye as he nodded at whatever the voice on the other end was saying. ‘He’s a bit out of it. We’re nearly back. Oaky, cool. See you later.’ Robbe took back the offered phone, deciding to hold it instead of trying to put it back in his pocket. He didn’t have the motor control.

‘We should go swimming,’ Robbe said, after walking in silence. He couldn’t resist the temptation of the sea; the thought of escape. The idea that Sander might come with him, and they could both float away into the night. Sander shot him a worried look. That he could still be so beautiful, even when he was concerned and not sober and bearing the burden of looking after a drunk friend., made his heart wild. He was so far gone.

Robbe was too drunk for this.

He was still too warm, pulling off his hoodie to try and release some of the heat. He had only just gotten the edge of his t-shirt in his grasp when warm hands covered his own. ‘Come on, Robbe. We’re nearly back.’

‘I want to go swimming,’ he said, again. Deep down, he knew that he wasn’t thinking straight, but that voice was muffled under layers of irrationality. His heart was racing and he felt desperate to just get out of his own skin, to get out of his head. Thoughts could be a prison, and it felt like torture to be so close to Sander and to have it mean nothing to him.

‘We can swim tomorrow, Robbe. Just come with me, okay?’ He finally looked at Sander, looked deep into his eyes. They were not so different from the sea. He knew that he would follow them, follow him, wherever he wanted to go.

Sander was always too sincere at the worst moments. He was helpless to do anything other than agree, to watch Sander exhale in relief. The resumed walked, Sander’s grip still tight on his hands like he was afraid that if he let go, Robbe would slip out of his grasp and drift into the sea, swimming away like a forlorn creature of the deep.

Robbe leaned up, just wanting to be closer. He rested his forehead against Sander’s own, straining to meet Sander’s eyes, to meet his lips.

Sander turned his head, pushing Robbe away with gentle hands. Robbe was constantly amazed at how gentle he could be, those same hands that could craft lightning, touching him as if he was something precious.

‘Why don’t you want me?’ Robbe said. It should have been a whisper, words that he never wanted to be heard. His grip on Sander’s leather jacket was tight, needing it to help him keep his balance, needing to keep himself in Sander’s orbit.

‘Not now, okay? Not like this.’ Sander’s hand was soft in his hair. He could barely feel the touch, just the reassuring warmth of his nearness. Sander looked regretful and Robbe hated himself for putting such a look on his face.

‘Sorry,’ he said. He felt hollowed out, exhausted in a way that he hadn’t felt in months. The more time passed, the closer he got to the sleepless exhaustion of the drunk, always moments away from pure oblivion, but not quite close enough to ever truly fall into it.

He blinked. They were back in the house, the tap running as Sander filled two glasses with water. He passed one to Robbe, keeping one for himself. ‘Drink this,’ he was told, and he did. It didn’t make him feel any better, but he knew that he would appreciate it come the morning.

They made their way, weary, to their room. Their room. The thought still sent a thrill down his spine, even though it was meaningless. He flopped onto the bed, unable and unwilling to move any further. Sander took his shoes off, before moving to remove his own, preparing them both for bed.

He nudged Robbe over to make room for himself, but he was beyond noticing anymore. He had closed his eyes, and ceased to exist.

He woke up to bright light and loud noises, and he thought I do not deserve this.

Then glimpses of the last night returned to him, and he rescinded that thought. It would be perfect if he could just lie in bed all day and never have to see Sander again. It was a cruel and unusual punishment, to be woken up so aggressively, and if he had his wits about him he would have killed his fellow Broerrrs, who knew exactly what they were doing. As it was, he closed his eyes against the sun and limply pulled a pillow over his head to dim the clamour.

The door was thrown open with such force that it hit the wall, and Robbe flinched at the sound. ‘Fuck off,’ he whined.

‘Rise and shine, space cowboy!’ Jens’ voice rang bright and clear, smug as anything.

He threw the pillow vaguely in the direction of the doorway, giving the finger to Jens without even bothering to look his way.

‘Someone’s grumpy. Come on, chop chop. We’ve got a vlog to film and we can’t do it without you.’ Robbe had completely forgotten about the vlog. After everything that had happened, it just didn’t seem to matter at all.

He felt like the living dead, and gave a groan worthy of a zombie movie before dragging himself up. Jens, pitiless monster that he was, cackled as he left Robbe to his devices.

Someone had placed a glass of water and a packet of painkillers by his bedside. He knew, of course, who it had to have been, and he felt the deep burn of shame at having made such a fool of himself. It had been a long time since he had been that wasted – not since the stress of coming out and his mother’s breakdown. He rubbed a hand uselessly over his face, sighing at the thought of what was to come.

At least he didn’t throw up again. Small mercies, he supposed.

The Broerrrs were all dressed and ready, perky as anything as though they were gaining energy from seeing his suffer. Who was he kidding, they were his best friends. Of course, they thrived on his misery.

Sander was there, too, bearing none of the wear and tear of the previous night. He was leaning against the kitchen cabinets in his Pink Floyd t-shirt, looking too cool to be friends with any of them. The only visible sign that anything had happened were the dark circles beginning to form under his eyes. Robbe wondered if he had gotten any sleep at all. The pang of guilt didn’t make his hangover any better.

Robbe accepted the cup of coffee that was thrust into his hand – he didn’t see who put it there – and downed it. He would definitely regret that, but in the moment the burn of the coffee was exactly the thing he needed to kickstart his brain. His stomach still felt sensitive, but he nibbled around the piece of toast he was given.

‘How are you all so fine?’ He grumbled, still annoyed at how little the previous night had done to them. It was no fun to suffer alone.

‘Because some of us drank responsibly, Robbe.’ Jens shot back with a smirk. Moyo snorted at that, perched on the counter next to Sander as he sipped at his own coffee. Smug as they were, they definitely still weren’t at their best.

Aaron elbowed him, giving him a look that made him fear whatever he was about to say. ‘Did you get that guys number?’

Robbe blanked at the question, not remembering enough from the night before to even know who he was referring to. All he could remember was Sander; trying and failing to kiss him. The rejection, because of course he would be rejected, drunk and desperate as he was. ‘What guy?’

The room became noticeably more tense. Sander was avoiding his gaze completely, but his fingers had tightened around the handle of his mug. ‘The guy you made out with?’ Aaron persisted, unable to read the room. ‘He seemed nice!’

Robbe just shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know. I can’t remember much.’ He tried to think of a change of topic, some way to direct the attention away from him as he tried to piece together his fractured memories and lick his wounds in peace. Instead, the silence grew as Aaron commiserated with him.

In the following minutes, the Broerrrs left to go set up whatever they needed for the next vlog. Robbe couldn’t even remember what it was meant to be about, he just knew that it would probably be humiliating.

Robbe made to leave to, so that he could shower and make himself somewhat presentable for their subscribers, but Sander spoke softly. ‘I think we should talk.’

He really did look exhausted, more deflated now that the others weren’t there as a distraction. ‘I don’t know what there is to talk about. I clearly embarrassed myself last night, but you made yourself pretty clear, too.’

He didn’t give Sander time to defend himself, using what little anger he had to give himself the pride to leave, before letting the shame and doubt cloud his mind again.

Filming the vlog was awkward, to say the least.

Robbe and Sander definitely weren’t fighting, but Robbe found it difficult to be around the other boy. Sander wasn’t really in the right headspace for hijinks, either. But they pushed on through for the sake of the Broerrrs – Robbe knew that their channels was one of the few things that Moyo took seriously, even if it was mostly just an excuse to do stupid things sometimes.

It was fine, mostly, until Sander excused himself and just didn’t return. It was Moyo who left to check on him, throwing a questioning look Robbe’s way as he left. This was the last thing that he wanted; their stupid, personal drama getting in the way of their friendships, and Robbe couldn’t help but feel like he was the only person to blame. He had read too much into everything Sander had said and done and convinced himself of a reality that simply wasn’t true, and he had ended up hurting the boy that he cared about the most.

Jens and Aaron looked a little lost, kicking a football between them without much energy. ‘What was that about?’ Aaron asked, finally. He may sometimes have been clueless, but he was never afraid to ask the questions that others wouldn’t.

Robbe looked at the floor, pushing sand around with his feet. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to share, but he knew deep down that keeping secrets wasn’t helping him anymore. It wasn’t helping anyone. He took a deep breath and held it. ‘I think I tried to kiss him last night.’

The football lay still as both boys took in the revelation. Robbe glanced between them, waiting for any kind of response. ‘That explains a lot,’ Jens said, after a longer pause than Robbe thought he could bear. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that you liked him?’

‘I don’t know.’ Robbe looked helplessly at the sky, like the clouds could give him the right words to speak. ‘I thought that I’d just get over it, at first. Then, I got scared, thinking that it would change everything. Like, I’d rather have him as a friend than tell him and be rejected. And now I’ve messed it up in the worst way possible.’

Jens was shaking his head in disbelief. ‘I can’t believe I’m the best person at relationships,’ Aaron said, almost to himself. Robbe laughed, but somehow it was true. He was the only one of them to have successfully had any kind of drama-free romance.

‘Robbe, I love you, but you’re so stupid sometimes.’ Jens said, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. ‘You need to talk to him.’ That sounded like the worst idea in the world. The last thing he wanted to do was put his heart on the line. The worst thing was that he knew that Sander would let him down gently, and that would hurt so much worse than a clean blow.

Robbe groaned into his hands, just wanting to go back to bed and wake up in a universe where none of this had happened, and he wasn’t in love with his friend, and everything was easy. ‘Why am I like this?’ He asked, not wanting a response. Jens just kept rubbing his back.

‘Okay.’ Robbe took in another deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to do. What he knew that he had to do, as much as he didn’t want to. ‘I’m going to do it.’ He tried to sound certain, but his voice came out flat and tired, and his head still ached something fierce from the hangover.

‘Go get ‘em,’ Jens said, and Aaron whooped supportively. Robbe rolled his eyes, but he appreciated it nonetheless. Possibly, he should have told them earlier – it wasn’t as though bottling up his feelings had ever worked out for him before. Old habits died hard, though, and they were all still learning to be more honest and open with each other.

Buoyed by his friend’s encouragement, he entered the house. It was small, so it didn’t take long to realise that they were in the bedroom, Moyo’s back peeking out from the doorway.

Moyo craned his head to see who had walked in, and silence fell. Robbe expected a bit of a fight, but Moyo just left after checking if Sander was okay, giving Robbe a back slap on the way out.

Sander was on the bed, his bag and clothes strewn about him. It was only a day before they were due to leave, but Robbe dreaded to think that he had somehow made Sander think that his only choice was to leave.

He wished it was night. So far, the darkness had made these conversations so much easier. Maybe it was time, though, to bring this all out into the light and own up to his own feelings. Sander had yet to speak, just watching Robbe warily from the bed as he made his way further into the room.

Robbe swallowed, fidgeting as he always did when he was nervous. ‘I’m sorry.’ They were the first words that he could think of, but they were true. Earlier, Sander had told him that he apologised too much, but he didn’t always apologise at the right times, for the right things.

‘What for?’ Sander asked, not yet allowing himself to sound hopeful. Robbe hated to see him like this, looking small and defeated, surrounded by his own mess.

‘For trying to kiss you last night.’ Sander was expressionless, waiting for Robbe to finish. ‘For pushing you away the past few months, and ever making you doubt yourself, all because I was too scared to just tell you the truth.’ Robbe wished that he had something to hold onto other than his own hands, to tether him down so that he couldn’t back out of this. His heart was beating so loudly he wondered how Sander couldn’t hear it. It felt like the only sound in the room, beating beneath a tense silence that was begging to be broken if only so that they could both breath again.

‘I like you, Sander.’ The words felt like an understatement. A simple, childish expression of a feeling that he didn’t really know how to put into words. All he knew was that he had never felt this strongy about anyone else. How could he put into words the months of pining away, alone; concealing his feelings to protect himself against the pain whenever he saw Britt and Sander kiss.

Sander was still, absorbing the words.

‘I can swap beds with Jens or Moyo tonight if it makes you uncomfortable-‘ He was cut off by the warm hands that cupped his cheeks, the soft lips that touched his own. For a moment, he was unable to think or act or even breathe. All he could do was close his eyes against it all and take it in.

Sander leaned his forehead against Robbe’s, letting out a breath. It sounded like happiness and relief and comfort, all at once. ‘I’ve liked you for so long.’ Robbe held Sander’s hands to his cheeks, wanting all the points of contact he could get now that he was allowed to touch him.

When Robbe finally let himself look, Sander was smiling a smile that he had never fully seen before, not even when he had been with Britt. A smile that was just for him, that said I’m in love and I’m so happy to be here, with you. ‘Is this a dream?’ He asked, not realising he had said the words out loud. Sander laughed, and Robbe moved to kiss him again.

‘The sweetest dream I’ve ever had,’ Sander said, his voice like velvet. Neither of the could stop smiling, giddy on the joy that came with each look, each kiss that told them that they were finally home.

That final night was one of the easiest of Robbe’s life. They had whiled away hours simply relishing in the other’s presence, Sander showing Robbe the photos he had taken, the sketches he had drawn. Robbe kissed him, hoping that all of the wonder, all of the sheer adoration came through in the only way he felt he could express it in that moment.

There was no existential doubt, no fear, no late-night conversations that ended with one or the other holding their heart out in the moonlight and hoping for kind words back.

There was only Sander’s arms against his back, Robbe’s face resting in the crook of neck, pressing kisses wherever he could reach. Smiles in the dark as they lay there, safe in the knowledge that after everything, they had each other - and they were never letting go.