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It was the kind of perfect summer evening that Beverly thought only happened in movies. They got ice cream from the local shop down the street after hanging out at the park all day, and an evening summer storm caught them mere minutes after Erlin had finally finished his cone on the walk home. The rain was cool against the hot concrete, a refreshing baptism following the heat of the summer day. The kind of day where everything was warm and joyous, and even sudden rushing rain couldn’t wash it away. They ran back to Erlin’s house, laughing and shouting, kicking the puddles forming in the street at one another- they were soaked already, what was the harm of a little more?
Beverly felt effortlessly young and happy, like he and Erlin were seven again and the world was simple. The pressure from his dad and school and the creeping uncertainty that’d started to follow Bev everywhere he went were washed away; and it was just him and Erlin.
He loved Erlin, of course. Loved him, maybe, as long as he’d known him. They’d been best friends for as long as Bev could remember, almost all of his early childhood memories included Erlin attached at his hip. It was the easy kind of childhood friendship where loving each other was never in question- until Bev turned fifteen and realized that he didn’t love Derlin or Cran the way he loved Erlin. That he didn’t imagine a life with his other friends, stretching forever into the future, like he did with Erlin. That he felt an awkward, twisting sensation in his stomach when he remembered the times they pretended to get married as children- huddled under a tree in Beverly’s back yard, holding hands, Bev with his mother’s apron draped over his shoulders, Erlin with flowers from their garden in his hair, promising to be best friends forever.
The feeling hung over Bev’s shoulders, the twin terrors of spending the rest of his life with his heart in a wrench every time Erlin smiled at him, or telling Erlin the truth, only to lose him entirely.
But in the warm summer air, with cool rain droplets falling on his face and shoulders, Bev let the worry and the fear slough off- if only for the night. Nothing bad could happen; not when Erlin was laughing at him like he was, not when Bev could reach out and wipe a stray raindrop off the tip of Erlin’s nose, not when Erlin blushed bright red and watched Bev with wide eyes. They were electric and indestructible.
They were both soaked to the bone when they scrambled up the stairs to Erlin’s house, bursting through the door still laughing. Egwene shot them a glare from her perch at the kitchen island, but even that couldn’t break Bev’s giddy joy, not when Erlin was still giggling into his shoulder- both of them laughing at nothing. Egwene rolled her eyes, scowling back down at her book, but Bev caught the edge of a smile as he glanced back over his shoulder at her, before Erlin dragged him out of the kitchen and into the back of the house.
Erlin shoved an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats into Bev’s arms and pushed him towards the bathroom- “Take a shower, dude,” he demanded, the edge of his voice undermined by the fact that he still couldn’t stop laughing, his smile gone soft and slant. “You’re not getting sick again on my watch.” They fell into another peal of laughter, silently remembering when Bev caught a miserable head cold sleeping over at Erlin’s a few years past. Waking up to Erlin hovering over him, soup and tea in hand, before promptly spilling the long-since-lukewarm liquids all over Beverly as he sat up.
Bev had spent more nights at the Kindleaf house than he could count, the smell of Erlin’s shampoo was as familiar and comforting as his own. There was always a certain secret thrill whenever he ended up having to shower at Erlin’s. The idea of spending the next few days smelling like Erlin, his spiced mint shampoo and conditioner, wondering if Erlin noticed it as much as Beverly did.
When he finished, Bev threw his soaking clothes into the dryer- Erlin’s were already in there- and started it. He shot his mom a quick text that he was sleeping over at Erlin’s- an occurrence so common it barely warranted a warning text anymore- and shuffled through the suddenly silent house towards Erlin’s room.
Erlin was perched on his bed, hair soft and damp from his own shower, face lit from below as he peered down at his phone. The t-shirt he was wearing was a couple sizes too big- maybe one of Egwene’s old high school sports shirts, if Bev had to guess- and it draped over his shoulder and bunched up at his hip where his leg was propped up, knee to his chest. He hadn’t noticed Bev silently hovering at the door yet, and Beverly had the heartwrenching opportunity to watch Erlin at rest, in a quiet moment of solitude, unaware he was being watched.
Bev wrapped the image up in his mind, tying it with a bow and placing it on a shelf for safe keeping. He’d imagined a life, a future like this with Erlin more times than he could count- living together, sharing a room like this, seeing Erlin before bed every night and first thing in the morning every day. He could imagine a thousand moments like this, spread out over a lifetime; snapshots of intimacy and privacy taken from the inside of his and Erlin’s life together.
Beverly broke the moment, pushing the door to Erlin’s room wider as he walked in so it would squeak. Erlin looked up with a tired smile, reaching over to the lamp on his bedside table and clicking it on. The lamp cast a small bubble of golden light, Erlin and Bev on opposite edges of it.
Erlin had a trundle bed, a smaller mattress underneath his bed frame that rolled out on wheels, that he’d already pulled out and thrown a pillow atop of for Beverly. He’d loved the trundle when they were little, had thought it was so cool that Erlin had a built in place for him to sleep when he spent the night.
But the quiet, greedy part of Bev- the one that saved memories of Erlin blushing when he touched his face, the one that daydreamed about an impossible life together- wished they’d gotten rid of the second bed years ago. Wished that maybe, if there wasn’t a second mattress, Bev could come up with a reason for them to sleep together in Erlin’s bed. Innocent, back to back, with space enough for Egwene between them. But still, close enough that Bev could maybe feel Erlin’s warmth through his t-shirt, that maybe they’d wake up curled into each other.
More impossible dreams.
The shared giddy laughter had finally faded away, leaving them quiet and warm in the afterglow. Bev sat and settled cross legged on the little trundle bed, the old metal frame creaking slightly under his weight.
“Pancakes tomorrow?” Erlin asked.
Bev couldn’t help his grin. “Yes, obviously. The superior breakfast food.”
“Don’t let your mom’s sticky buns hear you say that sacrilege, dude.”
“Sticky buns are an all day food, not an explicitly breakfast food, Erlin. Duh.”
Erlin snickered quietly into his hand, and Bev felt the warm glow in his chest he felt every time he made Erlin laugh like that. “Okay, okay, fair enough.” Erlin reached over and put his phone down on his bedside table. Beverly tried not to look at the sliver of pale stomach that peeked out from beneath his overlarge t shirt as he leaned over. “You all set for the night?” Erlin asked, glancing at the blanket folded carefully atop the pillow beside Bev on the trundle bed.
Bev nodded, swallowing the gut desire to say something about sleeping in Erlin’s bed instead. “All good, dude. See you in the morning.” Erlin smiled at him again, a tired, happy thing, and clicked the bedside lamp off again, plunging them into perfect darkness.
Bev shuffled as quietly as he could under the blanket, burying his face in his pillow. He could still hear the rain outside falling on the roof, how the trees groaned and whipped in the wind. He tried to focus on that, as opposed to Erlin’s slow, heavy breathing. He was only marginally successful.
Bev fell asleep quickly, Erlin’s snuffling breaths and the hard patter of rain turning into a lullabye, and his body was still heavy and tired from running home through the rain.
He woke up, hours later, to the thin trundle mattress shifting but a sudden new weight.
At first, Bev thought it was just Erlin trying to climb out of bed- probably to use the bathroom- and stepping onto Bev’s mattress as he did. But as the mattress continued to shift, Bev realized Erlin wasn’t using the mattress as a stepping stone to get to his bedroom floor. He was lying down beside Beverly.
Bev’s eyes snapped open as a line of anxious ice trailed down his spine, reaching out with all his senses to try and figure out what was going on. He couldn’t see much beyond vague shadowy shapes in the darkness of the bedroom- the line of streetlight peeking out from beneath the window’s blinds, the outline of Erlin’s desk against the pale wall behind it, the curl of Erlin’s hair as he buried his face in his pillow. Beverly blinked away sleep, straining to make out the line of Erlin’s body. The curve of his head into his neck and shoulders, disappearing below the blanket Bev was using, the line of his spine into his legs, his bare feet peeking out the edge of the blanket. His face was buried in his pillow, scrunched up between the pillow Beverly was using and the edge of Erlin’s bed frame, his whole body curled into the small space like a small animal looking for safety. Beverly couldn’t tell if he was awake, or whether Erlin had crawled into bed with Beverly in a fit of sleepwalking- sleepcrawling? Either way, that’s probably what had woken Beverly up, the abrupt weight of Erlin crawling into bed beside him, settling onto the thin mattress. Erlin’s shoulder was no more than an inch from the center of Beverly’s chest, where he had been asleep, curled onto his side. If either of them shifted even a little, they would be touching.
Then, a quiet snuffle. Erlin shook his head and buried his nose further into his pillow- Beverly didn’t know how he could breathe like that, but if he strained, he could still hear it. Erlin’s breathing sounded different than it had when they were first falling asleep; faster, almost wet sounding, like he was- was Erlin crying?
Bev’s breath caught in his chest, and slowly he lifted his hand and placed it gently on the back of Erlin’s shoulder. He heard the snuffling sound again, and then felt Erlin sigh beneath his hand. And then, as though Erlin had never woken up, Beverly heard his breathing slow and deepen, his spine going loose beneath Bev’s palm. He was asleep. In bed with Beverly. Part of him wanted to shake Erlin awake again, ask why he was crying and why he crawled in bed with him and what did this mean?
But Bev was still exhausted, and half asleep, and the initial adrenaline of waking up had faded, leaving him in a room silent save for Erlin’s breathing. It felt dreamlike, as though Bev would blink and wake up to the early-morning sunrise, Erlin asleep in his own bed again. Bev didn’t want to question it, didn’t crave answers enough to shatter the dream- real or otherwise- he’d found himself in. So he closed his eyes, let himself listen to Erlin’s even breathing, and fell back asleep.
When Beverly blinked awake again, it was morning, and the moment in the middle of the night felt like nothing more than a sugar-sweet dream. The sunlight tore through the crack at the bottom of Erlin’s blinds, washing his room in burning golden light. It took Bev’s eyes a moment to adjust, a yawn hiking up in his chest as he started to stretch out.
All at once, his arm bumped into something warm and firm and Bev’s eyes adjusted enough to catch a pair of pale feet peeking out from beneath the edge of the blanket.
Erlin.
Beverly’s eyes snapped towards Erlin’s bed and caught on his best friend, lying on his side facing Beverly, still tucked between Bev and his bed frame. Still lying next to Bev. The fuzzy memory from the middle of the night slotted back into place, and Bev was suddenly aware of his feet tucked against Erlin’s shins; that he’d shifted, searching for warmth in the middle of the night.
Erlin was awake, his eyes soft and open, watching Bev with the kind of tentative warmth that Beverly recognized from inside his own chest, every time he looked at Erlin.
“Oh,” Bev breathed, his arm settling back against the mattress from where he’d frozen, mid-stretch.
“Good morning?”
“You’re… really here. I thought I dreamed you.” Beverly mumbled, his brain still foggy with sleep, struggling to put the pieces together.
Erlin flushed, and Bev let himself watch how it started at his ears and spread inwards, along the line of his cheeks and up to his nose until his whole face was red. “I woke you up?”
“Only a little,” Bev tried for a joke, and Erlin smiled slightly, acknowledging.
“I… um-”
“Nightmare?”
Erlin nodded. “My parents. And Egwene, this time, and Nana. And-” he hesitated, scanning Beverly’s face- “and you.” A confession that Bev could almost piece together.
“Oh,” Bev breathed, the word punched from his chest.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked, I just- I wanted to know I wasn’t alone, but it felt silly to wake you-”
“Erlin. It’s fine. I- I didn’t mind.” That wasn’t fully true. “I liked it. I like waking up to you.” A confession in response, and Bev watched with bated breath as realization broke out over Erlin’s face.
“Oh.”
“Is that okay? I don’t- you’re my best friend, Erlin, and that means everything to me, and I don’t want to lose that. You. But- I just. I think about it. Sleeping beside you, and holding your hand when we go to the movies, and buying your ice cream for you, and all the little-”
“Boyfriend things?” Erlin whispered, his voice full of barely-veiled hope.
“Yeah.”
“Oh.” Erlin shifted forward on the mattress, just a little. “Kissing?”
Bev could barely find the breath to answer, terrified that one wrong move, one wrong word, and everything would come crumbling down around his ears. “Yeah.” Again, louder, more certain, “Yeah.” And then the important part, “What about-”
But before Beverly could finish his question, Erlin’s palm was on his cheek and he was leaning forward and then his lips were on Bev’s. They were warm and slightly dry and Bev could smell Erlin’s deodorant and shampoo and Erlin was kissing him. Bev combed his hand into Erlin’s curls- something he’d thought about doing more times than he wanted to admit- and pulled him closer, until their chests were touching and Bev felt electricity arc down his spine. Erlin’s hand was a warm, grounding presence on his face, and Erlin kept it there even when he eventually pulled away. His pupils were blown wide, all traces of sleepiness wiped from his face, and his cheeks were burned fire engine red.
“Yeah,” Erlin echoed, breathless for a different reason now. “Me too.”
Bev pulled his hand out of Erlin’s hair and wrapped it around the hand Erlin was still holding against his face, twisting their fingers together. Erlin’s flicked between their hands and Bev’s eyes. “Let me take you to dinner,” Bev said, more a plea than a question.
“Like a-”
“A date. Erlin Kindleaf, I’ve been thinking about this for years, please let me take you on a date.”
“Yeah, dude, yeah, yes-” And then Erlin kissed him again.
It was even better the second time. Erlin tilted his head a little so their mouths slotted together and his hand was still cradling Bev’s cheek. Bev dragged his hand up Erlin’s chest, wrapping his fingers around the place where his shoulder turned into his spine turned into the nape of his neck. Bev had always wondered what the softly curling hairs there felt like. Now he got to find out, twisting his fingers gently through them and pulling Erlin ever closer. Their noses bumped as Erlin sat up, sitting on his knees and shuffling forward until they pressed into Bev’s side on the mattress. Erlin’s hand finally moved from his face to grab onto his shoulder, and gently ran his other hand along Bev’s side- hip to stomach to ribs. Bev broke away as Erlin dragged his fingers along a ticklish spot on his ribs, tucking his face into the soft space at the top of Erlin’s shoulder with a helpless giggle.
It felt like they were back in the pouring rain from the night before, when everything was washed in blue light and cool water, the hot asphalt steaming as the rain evaporated. Where everything was light and joyous and exhilarating. Bev could feel Erlin laughing breathlessly, the way his shoulders jumped under Bev’s forehead, how his head shook with tiny rolling laughs. His hair brushed against Bev’s face, soft and smelling like the same herbal shampoo he’d used the night before.
It was that, more than Erlin agreeing to go on a date or kissing him, that finally made Bev realize that this was real. That he could have the kind of life he’d always wanted with Erlin; hundreds of nights curled into each other as they slept, arguing over who could pay for who’s dinner, making out at the movies during the credits (because neither of them would want to miss the rest of the film).
The morning was golden as Bev sat up and started to pepper Erlin’s face with tiny kisses until they were both laughing too hard to breathe.
Hours or minutes later, Egwene knocked briefly before ducking her head through the door to Erlin’s room- giving them barely enough time to leap apart, sprawled on opposite sides of the tiny trundle bed, red-faced and still shaking with laughter. She raised a silent eyebrow, but didn’t comment.
“Nana’s making breakfast, fuckers.” Her eyes jumped between Beverly and her brother, her forced scowl failing to hide the smile in her eyes. “Quit giggling to each other, let’s go.” She ducked back out of Erlin’s room leaving the door cracked as she stomped down the hall. Bev turned and grinned at Erlin, knowing it was as good as a blessing they were ever going to get.
“Pancakes?”
“Yeah.” Erlin grabbed Bev’s hand, dragging them both finally to their feet. “But not too many, we have dinner plans tonight.”
Bev pressed another kiss, quick and full of promise, to Erlin’s mouth. “Okay.”
The morning was golden, Bev could already smell the pancakes cooking, and he finally saw the future he wanted spread out before him; hand in hand with Erlin.