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Jackson’s mom always told him to never go to sleep angry, and while pretending to be annoyed with Mark for his near-constant teasing isn’t the same as being angry, Jackson still lies awake next to his best friend who he can feel shuffling around thinking he should settle the score before he falls asleep.
He’s just about to open his mouth to finish off his argument that, yes, Mark, he could easily be a male model, his jaw is fantastic and he’s worked hard for the lean muscle that shows under his nice, tan skin, thank you very much, when he feels fingers trail gently across his cheek bone.
It startles Jackson, and he catches himself before his eyes can snap open. Keeping his breathing slow and even, despite his fast beating heart, Jackson successfully pretends to be unconscious. Mark speaks, interrupting the silence, the kind you only find at three a.m. when the entire house is quiet and there is the soft sound of tires on pavement outside the window on only the rarest of occasions, “You really are handsome.”
Fighting the urge to say ‘I know’ or ‘Thank you’, Jackson forces his body to remain still and focuses to stop his breath from hitching at the murmured honesty. Smooth fingertips travel towards his chin, slipping over his jaw and curving back around to trace his lips, "Sometimes I really want to kiss you."
Jackson wonders if this is the first time Mark has done this, wonders if Mark is somehow replying to the nights when Jackson will lay in bed, feelings swirling through him like an adrenaline rush and making it impossible to sleep when all he can think about is how in love he is with the boy snoring just inches away from him, the times when he will mumble unheard confessions at the ceiling and wish he had the courage to say them in the daylight. He thinks maybe he should be uncomfortable with Mark's behavior, knows it’s probably weird, but the way Mark’s hands touch his face with such care, the affection Jackson can hear in his whispered words, he can’t find it within him to be that bothered.
He wonders if Mark has done this before, if perhaps this is some sort of ritual in which he will only announce his desires in the dead of night when there is no one to hear, if Mark frequently waits for Jackson to sleep to allow himself the time to wish he could kiss his best friend in the same way Jackson spends much of his time fighting with his own emotions over whether or not it’s acceptable to kiss boys. Sometimes he thinks it must be, that there can be nothing wrong with loving someone you’ve grown up with, someone with such a compassion, someone who exudes beauty so unfairly, right next to you, all the goddamn time. Other times he thinks he must be defective, or something, watching Mark smile and laugh the same way his brother watches girls walk past when they won’t know his eyes are following them.
But, if Mark is thinking the exact same things, there must be something right about it.
“Maybe you should,” Jackson says, and Mark’s hand recoils from his chin like it’s been shocked.
“I didn’t know you were awake,” Mark promises, guilty and embarrassed.
“I am,” Jackson confirms, his now open eyes adjusting to the low light of the moon shining through the window. After several seconds, he can see Mark, facing him, his hand pulled back, held protectively against his chest while his expression shows nothing but fear.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Jackson tells Mark, again, that if he wants a kiss, he should take one.
Mark does.