Archive of Our Own

It seemed to Karl like he and Sapnap hadn’t had a moment alone since he’d picked Sapnap up from the airport that afternoon. It also seemed to Karl like this was most likely a good thing. Although he’d come to accept his (painfully unrequited) feelings for his friend in the months following their last meet-up, the realisation had done very little to alleviate the ache in his chest and the electricity in the tips of his fingers when he was close to him.

And so he was equal parts cursing and thanking Chandler in his mind for never giving them a moment alone, especially now as he and Sapnap sat, sides pressed together, by the crackling fire the three of them had started in his backyard. He’d never wanted so badly to be alone with someone, had never needed so badly not to be. It was, to say the very least, a confusing cocktail of emotions, only fuelled more by the glances Sapnap kept throwing his way. God, was he distracting.

It’s in your head, Karl, he told himself. You’re overanalysing. He’s looking at you the normal amount.

But every glance burned hotter than the fire in front of them, a searing heat that split Karl’s face open from mouth to cheekbone. Karl hoped Sapnap would chalk the furious blush on his face up to the late night chill. He hoped he knew exactly what he was doing. He hoped he was doing it on purpose.

Chandler said something that made Sapnap laugh. Karl had missed the joke - too focussed on the flex of Sapnap’s hands as he held them over the fire, seeking warmth from the dying flames - but laughed too, the burst of joy he felt from hearing Sapnap’s dancing giggle enough to make his own genuine, despite missing Chandler’s quip.

The three of them carried on like this for a while, Chandler and Sapnap caught in a witty back-and-forth exchange while Karl tagged along, too dazed by Sapnap’s presence and the campfire smoke to really partake in any real conversation. It was past midnight when Chandler finally got to his feet, announcing that he should probably be going now, that his fiancee was probably waiting for him anyway.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Karl said, vaguely dizzy as he stood to see Chandler out.

Sapnap stayed put, turning his attention to Twitter after swapping goodbyes with Chandler. As they made their way to the front door, Chandler turned to face Karl, quirking an eyebrow.

“You good?” he asked, the question loaded with knowing.

“Huh?” Karl frowned. “Yeah. Yeah, man, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

Chandler paused to think for a moment, seemingly turning over his next words in his mind before he spoke.

“No reason,” he seemed to decide on. “You’ll be… you and Sap’ll be fine without me?”

Karl scoffed, like it was a stupid question, lathering a forced layer of sarcasm onto his response.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I think we’ll manage.”

Chandler looked at him, face unreadable.

“Okay,” he shrugged. “Talk to you tomorrow, dude.”

“Yeah, see ya,” Karl said, sending a wave towards Chandler’s fiancee, who was waiting in the car to pick him up.

He closed the door behind him and let himself fall against it, praying his legs wouldn’t give out beneath him. Chandler knew. Karl knew he did. He just thanked God he hadn’t said it out loud.

He wondered who else knew. Was he this obvious over Discord? On stream? Or just in person, where the catch in his breath every time Sapnap got too close could be heard, where every longing stare and flicker of his eyes to Sapnap’s mouth could be seen up close?

Did Sapnap know?

Did he hate him for it?

Anxiety burrowed in Karl’s chest like the beginning of a storm, dark and daunting on the horizon, a pre-warning before the mass destruction of a tornado. He steadied himself, brushed himself down in an attempt to regain some bodily autonomy, and made his way back to the dying campfire.

Sapnap turned to meet his gaze as Karl closed the patio door behind him, a small smile pulling at his lips, dark eyes soft and gentle as they followed Karl’s movements. Karl hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether he should sit by Sapnap like before, or if that was weird now that Chandler was gone and there was an open spot on the opposite chair. Tentatively, he retook his previous position.

“Hey,” said Sapnap, looking at him.

“Hi,” said Karl, looking back.

Silence followed. It crossed Karl’s mind that he might die if Sapnap didn’t break eye contact soon. He couldn’t breath under the intensity of the gaze, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away, either. He found himself wondering if poison could be sweet, if, sometimes, dying felt more like living than living did.

Sapnap was the first to break, eyes panning down to stare at his own hands as he twiddled his thumb. Karl followed, revelling in the sturdy elegance of his long, heavy fingers. He reached out to touch them, threading them into his own - the casual intimacy was a force of habit, an easy gesture that wouldn’t have meant anything with any of his other friends, but he was hit almost immediately by a thousand tonnes of regret weighing down on his stomach. He moved to pull his hand away, only for Sapnap to tighten his grip ever so slightly - barely a tug, but enough for Karl to recognise the silent plea for him to stay put.

He relaxed a little. This was fine. This was okay. They’d held hands before - it was nothing. It was platonic. It was okay.

Karl’s voice was shaky when he spoke.

“So,” he said quietly. “We’re alone.”

“Finally,” Sapnap breathed. “I was starting to think you were keeping Chandler around so you didn’t have to spend time with me.”

Karl sat up straight, eyes wide.

“Wh- no. Of course not,” he said, words tumbling out in rushed concern. “I wouldn’t have invited you here if I didn’t want to be… with you.”

He winced at his phrasing. Sapnap shot him a half smirk.

“You wanna be with me?” he teased with a cocky raise of his eyebrow.

“Shut up,” Karl mumbled, looking away as a deep shade of pink tinged his cheeks.

“Kidding,” Sapnap said, a sudden softness to his voice. Karl looked back at him.

“I mean it, though,” Karl said, voice low but certain. “I’ve missed you. I’m really glad you’re here. And I’m glad we finally have time to ourselves.”

Sapnap nodded, forest eyes ablaze.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Me too.”

Karl could have sworn he’d noticed Sapnap’s gaze flicker down to his lips, could have sworn he’d spotted something hungry in them, but wishful thinking had never gotten him very far, so he brushed the thought to one side.

“Well,” Karl breezed, pulling his hand away from Sapnap’s and steadying himself. “You’re here now.”

Sap let out a small breath. “I am.”

The beat of silence that followed was tense with something, although Karl couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. Sapnap shifted uncomfortably next to him, eyes suddenly anywhere and everywhere but on Karl.

“You good?” Karl asked, tentative and nervous to cut through the quiet.

A short laugh - almost more of an exhale - blew from Sapnap’s lips.

“You’re asking me if I’m good?”

A perplexed frown knitted itself through Karl’s brows.

“Um. Yeah.”

“I don’t know. Are you, Karl?” he asked. “…Whatever you are, that’s what I am.”

Now it was Karl’s turn to laugh.

“I’m not so sure about that one,” he said, a sad smile splayed across his face as his eyes glued themselves onto the final sparks from the fire.

“I thought it would be different,” Sapnap sighed, frustration plaguing his tone. “When I got here. I thought maybe you’d stop pushing me away once I was right in front of you and you couldn’t avoid my calls anymore.”

“I haven’t been-“

“Yes. You have.”

Karl didn’t know if Sapnap was bitter or sad. Maybe both.

“I’m sorry.”

“You can’t get rid of me,” Sapnap nudged him in an attempt at lightheartedness, although it seemed almost pitiful with how thick and heavy the air around them felt. “You can try, but I’m not going anywhere. I just wish you felt like you could talk to me.”

“It’s not you,” Karl huffed, leaning back and covering his face with his hands. “God. I feel like such an idiot.”

“You’re not,” came the reply, far more gentle and laced with concern than Karl felt he deserved. “Whatever it is, Karl, you can tell me.”

“You’ll hate me.”

A strong hand pulled Karl’s from his face. His breath hitched in his throat as he looked back at Sapnap, his friend’s gaze intense and desperate.

“I could never hate you,” he said, urgently. Almost pleading. “Never.”

“You could,” his voice broke, so quiet he almost couldn’t hear himself. “If I was honest, you could hate me. If I told you the truth.”

Sapnap tightened his grip on Karl’s hand.

“I couldn’t hate you even if I wanted to,” his eyes searched for something in Karl’s. “And, trust me, sometimes I want to.”

Tears burned behind Karl’s eyes, a dam somewhere in his mind threatening to break and let a river of them flow, along with every secret regarding Sapnap that Karl had ever held.

“Please,” said Sapnap. “Just say it. It’s okay. I promise, it’s okay.”

They were so close that Karl could feel Sapnap’s breath on his cheek. How had he ruined things so quickly? Not even a day and everything was spilling out, like blood gushing from an open wound. Embarrassment prickled his skin like pinpricks, sharp and painful and sure to leave a mark.

And yet, piercing through everything, was the feeling of Sapnap’s flesh against his wrist, the forest fire of Sapnap’s eyes staring right back into his.

Oh, fuck it. What else is there left to lose?

“I love you,” he said in a hurried confession. “I- I love you. I’m sorry.”

Slowly, Sapnap lifted a thumb to Karl’s cheek, wiping a tear Karl hadn’t noticed he’d shed. The movement was so tender that it only made Karl cry more. Sapnap leaned in, pressing small kisses where each tear fell, months of unspoken words becoming clear with every delicate touch. Karl couldn’t breath, couldn’t process the implications of the response. His head was spinning.

“How could you possibly ever think,” Sapnap whispered. “That I don’t love you back?”

When Sapnap pressed his lips to Karl’s, every nerve in his body exploded, like he’d been dead for centuries and he was suddenly, finally alive again. He moved without thinking, reaching up to tangle frantic fingers in chestnut brown hair, pulling Sapnap as close as he could. The kiss turned quickly from a careful, uncertain press of mouth against mouth to a frenzied culmination of months of heartache and pining, all clumsy hands and swollen lips and clashing joints. Karl was on fire, and so, so alive.

And then, just as quickly, it was over, both boys pulling away and staring wide-eyed at each other. Karl felt like a cartoon character who’d experienced a bump to the head, half-expecting to look up and see a circle of dazed birds above him. A lazy smile tugged at his lips.

“Woah,” he breathed, half chuckling.

“Yeah,” Sapnap grinned. “Woah.”

“I really thought you’d hate me,” Karl laughed, feeling, decidedly, like a bit of an idiot.

“I told you,” Sapnap said, hands cupping Karl’s face like he was precious porcelain. “I could never."