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He’s texting with one hand, the other wrapped firmly around his weeping sister. She’s got her face pressed against his chest, so luckily she’s unaware of the fact that his entire focus isn’t on her at the moment. He hates this. He hates this so much. Leah crying is one of the few things in life that really tugs at his heart, makes his insides hurt. It reminds him too much of his mum whenever she was sad. And she was sad a lot.
“It’s okay,” he mumbles, or rather lies. It’s not okay. It’s likely not going to be okay for a while. They’re been through enough they do know that death is permanent. Ella isn’t coming back. It’s not gonna stop hurting her until she manages to bury it somehow.
Maybe it’s selfish, but he kind of wishes he didn’t have to stay with Leah right now. The thought of Dillon at home, waiting for him, it’s enough to drive him half insane. They were going to talk. About what exactly? He’s got some idea, but he can’t put it into exact words. It’s too frightening. Still, he wishes Dillon was here with him right now.
Wait.
“Who are you texting?” Leah complains, lifting her head from his chest, frowning at him through her tears. At least her being irritated with him is distracting her from being sad. Maybe he should pretend that was his plan all along. He’s the best brother in the world.
He shrugs. “Just Dillon.”
“I’m boring you, aren’t I?” Leah asks, her voice even more crabby than before. “What’s Dillon got to say that’s so important?”
Now’s not the time to get irritated with her. She’s upset. “Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he replies, throwing his phone down onto the coffee table. Now he’s got both hands free, he pulls her into another hug. He’s shit with words, so this will have to do.
Leah has stopped and started crying for the fifth time when there’s a knock on the door. They’re about halfway through The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe . It used to be both their comfort film, and it couldn’t hurt to have something on in the background.
“I’ll get it,” Lucas quickly says, rushing from the couch to the door. For a moment, he can’t believe his eyes. The sight of Dillon in front of him, smiling, wearing a red striped button-down shirt he’s never seen him wear before is messing with his head. For a second, he forgets all proper greeting terms of the English language.
“Hi,” Dillon says, still smiling. His expression feels foreign. He looks almost fond .
“Hi,” Lucas echoes. This feels safe enough.
Dillon holds up a white and green plastic bag. “Mind if I come in? It’s gonna start melting soon.”
Mentally shaking himself out of his stupor, Lucas steps aside. “You’ve got a guest,” he calls out to his sister.
At first, Leah does not look thrilled to have Dillon witness her in this state. Lucas really can’t blame her. But then Dillon reveals the contents of the bag, and her eyes light up. “That’s my favourite! How did you know?”
“A little bird must have told me,” Dillon responds, shooting Lucas a wink. He nearly drops the bowls and spoons he’s carrying from the kitchen, just barely managing to keep his hands steady. Fuck . Why is he suddenly so nervous? It’s just Dillon. Dillon, who looks like he made a special effort with his appearance. Dillon, who is now sitting down next to Leah on the couch, eyeing the TV curiously. “Narnia? Wouldn’t have taken you for the type,” he tells Leah.
“It used to be pretty much the only child-friendly blu-ray Auntie Leela owned when we lived with her,” Leah says quietly. “When our dad- I mean, when we had to live with her for a bit.”
“The second one is much better,” Lucas comments, moving towards the other two. Dillon is sat squeezed in between one of the arms and his sister, so the only free space is on her other side. He starts dividing up the ice cream, giving Leah the biggest portion.
She takes the bowl from him, a small smile on her lips. It’s the first time he’s seen her smile today. “You’re only saying that because you had such a crush on Susan. God, Dillon, you can’t imagine how many times he’s begged me to put on that movie.”
“That’s a lie,” Lucas protests, his gaze quickly flitting towards Dillon, but the other boy simply laughs, amused. When their fingers linger on top of each other when he’s passing Dillon his own bowl of ice cream, it’s only ‘cause he wants to make sure his grip on it is secure. That’s the only reason.
They do end up putting on The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian after the first movie finishes. The sight of a young, handsome Ben Barnes is enough to keep Leah from thinking about Ella. Well . Her sighing every time he’s on screen is at least a mild improvement over her crying.
“How can a single person be so dreamy? It’s unfair,” she complains for the third time. He ignores her, instead focusing intently on the scene on TV.
Suddenly, he can feel his phone vibrate in his jeans.
He shoots a quick look at Leah, who seems completely unaware of his text exchange with Dillon. The rest of her ice cream sits melted at the bottom of her bowl, forgotten. When he glances at Dillon, the other boy’s got his phone in hand, typing, biting his lip. When he’s done, he shoots Lucas a quick grin.
Leah lets out a whelp when he accidentally elbows her trying to retrieve the phone he’s dropped on his lap. “Who are you texting now?” she complains.
“No one,” he quickly replies, not daring to look at Dillon, instead keeping his gaze straight on the TV.
Leah falls asleep twenty minutes into The Voyage of the Dawn Treader . She’s slumped over, cuddled into Dillon’s side. Sometimes, he really hates his sister, even though he’s not sure why. Okay, that’s a lie. He might know why.
When she doesn’t stir after five minutes pass, Lucas hits the pause button. The silence in the room is suddenly deafening. His eyes meet Dillon’s. With all outside distractions gone, he’s aware again of how good he looks, his skin just ever so slightly illuminated by the soft, low lighting of the wall lamp. It’s a strange thought. Dillon looks good . He finds Dillon good-looking . It makes him want to jump up from the sofa and run for the hills.
“You’re a really good brother, you know that, right?” Dillon breaks the silence, his voice barely audible.
Lucas shrugs his shoulders. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew all the shit I’ve done to her,” he responds.
After that, they’re quiet again. Leah is mumbling in her sleep, something about a boat, which makes absolutely no sense.
He wants to talk to Dillon, but he doesn’t trust that any word coming out of his mouth would be the right one.
“Should we get her to bed?” Dillon asks quietly, finally. “We can talk after, yeah?”
Lucas nods nervously, then moves a hand to gently shake his sister awake. “Hey,” he tells her quietly. “Movie’s over. You should go to bed.”
Her eyes open slowly, gazing at him, then flitting towards Dillon, a little confused. “Can’t I just sleep here?” she mumbles. “You’re warm,” she adds, smiling at Dillon.
“Nope,” Lucas responds, shooting up from the sofa, then pulling a protesting Leah with him. “You have a bed. Use it.” Maybe he should be nicer to her, but right now, all he wants is five minutes alone with the other boy, and she’s getting in the way. He ends up half-dragging her up the stairs towards her room. Clearly, she’s exhausted from crying so much (and then fawning over Prince Caspian), she sort of lets him.
He’s half expecting to have to tuck her into bed, the way she’s done to him many, many times, but when he throws her pyjamas at her, she gives him an exasperated look. “Get out,” she commands through a yawn.
“Fine, fine, I’m leaving!”
“She alright?” Dillon asks from the bottom of the stairs after Lucas has quietly closed her bedroom door.
“Yup,” he replies, coming down the stairs, stopping in front of the other teen. Dillon simply looks at him. There’s this expression again on his face. That fondness . A few seconds pass. Or maybe it’s a few hours? He really can’t tell.
Dillon clears his throat. “I think we had some things to talk about, yeah?”
Lucas nods, leading Dillon into his own room. It looks exactly like it always does - like an 8.6 earthquake has just hit - but they manage to find a spot to sit down on the single bed in the corner after taking off their shoes, adding them to the general mess. He would have cleaned up, but he’s had no idea Dillon would be coming here . Maybe they should have this talk in the living room, instead. The sight of the other boy less than a metre away, sitting on his blue bedsheets, is making his hands shake a little.
“Erm, where did we leave off?” Lucas asks, fiddling with his phone for a lack of things to do with his hands.
“You told me that you weren’t alright with me and Freya,” Dillon promptly responds. Jesus, talk about going straight to the point. “And that you didn’t know what you want. Is that true?”
Lucas shrugs. A part of him knows what he wants. Even if he doesn’t want to want it. Somehow, he suspects that he may be close to getting exactly what he wants. It’s scary. It’s so goddamn scary.
Somewhere between the point from Dillon to himself, their fingers brush against each other on the mattress. It feels a bit like on the night of the funeral, only more intense, now that there’s no alcohol to dull his senses or mind.
“Lucas, what do you want ?”
He doesn’t respond straight away. “I know I don’t want to be like my dad,” he eventually says, looking up from where he’s been watching Dillon’s pinkie finger overlap with his own. The gentle look on Dillon’s face makes it all come spilling out. There’s no stopping it now. “I don’t want one failed relationship after another. I don’t want to get my heart broken by terrible, selfish guys. I don’t want to get fucked up on drugs, sleep with strangers and catch HIV. I want a normal life, fuck !” He can feel his eyes grow a little wet. Furiously, he wipes at them with the sleeve of his dark green shirt.
“None of that has anything to do with being gay though,” Dillon points out.
“How would you know that?” Lucas asks. It comes out harsher than he intends to. “Sorry,” he quickly mumbles, squeezing the other boy’s hand in apology. “I just meant, you’re not even gay. You have a choice. Why would you ever choose to be with a guy?”
Dillon looks back at him, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t have a choice. I don’t choose who I fall for.”
Lucas’ lips feel dry. “But you could be with a girl. Don’t you think about that? Having a normal, easy relationship? One that’s not gonna break apart?”
Dillon frowns. “Have you seen the way all these straight relationships break apart, too? Like, Tom and Yazz are getting a divorce because he slept with your cousin - don't look at me like that, I'm not blaming you for that. Meanwhile, Auntie Mizzie and Zain are doing absolutely fine. It's not about whether you're gay or straight or whatever. It's about how you treat the people you love. If you decide you're gonna be a good boyfriend, or girlfriend, or if you're not.”
“You think you're gonna be a good boyfriend?” he asks. It slips out of his mouth without meaning to.
Slowly, Dillon lips form a grin. “No, I think I'm gonna be the best boyfriend.”
Lucas has to look away. The other teen’s face is too bright. It’s blinding, in a way. “Well, Freya’s gonna be very lucky then,” he mumbles under his breath. He can't quite keep the venom out of his voice, pulling his hand away from overneath Dillon’s.
“Sometimes, your jealousy makes you really, really stupid.”
Lucas looks up again at those words. “What?”
The other boy’s brows are furrowed. “Don't you get it? Freya’s nice and all, I’m not gonna lie, but she's not who I want.”
His gaze flicks down to Dillon’s lips as he’s speaking. It’s a bit hard to keep track of his words. “So who do you want?” he asks, trying to force himself to look into his warm brown eyes instead.
Dillon looks at him, incredulous. “Isn’t it obvious?” His gaze flicks down a little, breaking their eye contact.
Maybe he’s having a heart attack right now. It would certainly explain the way the beats get faster and faster. Has anyone ever died from a heart beating too fast? Will it eventually tire itself out and stop?
“Please say something. Or at least let me kiss you. You're killing me here, Lucas,” Dillon whispers.
“Go on then,” he says before he can think about it too much.
The first press of lips against lips is gentle, much gentler than he’s imagined. Almost fleeting, as Dillon pulls back a little after a moment. “Okay?” he asks quietly.
Lucas forces his muscles to escape their temporary paralysis and jerkily nods his head, quickly wiping his hand against his jeans.
The second touch is more insistent, Dillon’s lips slotting between his own. He lets his eyes fall shut as a hand comes up to reach for his shoulder, resting there. Not sure what to do with his own, Lucas places his palm against the other boy’s side. When he does, he almost regrets it. He can feel the warmth of his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. His heart keeps hammering faster.
Dillon moves his lips.
Oh. Oh .
This is why everyone’s so obsessed with it. Why people write books, poems about it. It’s not about how there’s a pair of foreign lips pressed against his own. It’s that they’re Dillon’s .
He can actually feel his stomach flutter. It’s so goddamn stupid. So cliché.
It’s way too soon when Dillon pulls away. Lucas opens his eyes, catching the other boy biting down on his lip, trying to suppress his smile. “Uhm,” Dillon says, seemingly lost for words. “That was okay for you? I mean, it was okay for me. More than okay, actually, but if you-”
“Now who’s being stupid?” Lucas asks, not even trying to contain his smile anymore. “Thank you.” A second later, he wants to hit himself. What kind of melt says thank you after a kiss?
Dillon looks at him in amusement. “You’re welcome?”
“I just mean-” Actually, he has no idea what he means. His brain isn’t functioning at full capacity anymore - not that it ever is, if he’s being honest. “I liked that. A lot.” I like you a lot is the underlying secret he’s not willing to say just yet. Earlier, during detention, Dillon mentioned how he thought Lucas might like him as more than just mates. There’s a stupidly high chance he was right.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this.” As Dillon’s gaze flicks back down towards his lips, his expression turns into something else. Something less gentle. A second later, his hand moves from his shoulder to the back of his neck, fingers grazing his short buzzed hairs, pulling him forward into another kiss.
Lucas can’t help but close his eyes again, lips moving in tandem, like he’s got no control over them. He opens his mouth against Dillon’s curious tongue - how could he not - and lets him in. The thoughts running through his mind, they all quieten down to make room for a steady drum of Dillon , Dillon , Dillon . Or maybe that’s just his heart beating against his chest, fast and strong.
The other boy is the first to break away. Lucas has no idea how long they’ve been kissing for. It was inevitable that at some point, they needed to come up for air. “Sorry,” Dillon says, but he doesn’t look sorry at all, “got a bit carried away.”
“Didn’t mind at all,” Lucas responds honestly, resisting the urge to touch his own lips, see if they’re still the same. Dillon’s are a little red, a little puffy, and it’s incredible to think that it’s all because of him. Because they’ve been kissing. He’s been kissing Dillon. Snogging Dillon. Wow .
Dillon’s thumb starts brushing against the sensitive skin of his neck, and he can feel both his entire arms erupt in goosebumps. He wants to kiss him again. Badly. Get back to tasting the hint of that sweet, salted caramel flavour on his lips. So he does, relishing the little surprised sigh Dillon lets out in response.
It’s a little later that they decide to check the time. 01:30, his alarm clock reads in angry red letters. For a moment he thinks they’ve been kissing for hours, before he remembers that they watched two very long movies in their entirety and even started on a third.
“Urgh,” Dillon sighs, stretching out his arms. “I really need to get home. Don’t want to leave, though.” He lets his head fall against Lucas’ shoulder.
Lucas smiles. “You could stay over,” he suggests. “It’s super late…”
Dillon pulls back, raising his eyebrows.
“I didn’t mean-” Lucas quickly says. His cheeks feel hot all of a sudden. “I wasn’t suggesting we- You don’t want to- I mean, unless you want to-”
“No, Lucas,” Dillon says. The gentleness is back in his voice. “I don’t think we should go… there … quite yet. Take things slow, yeah?”
Relieved, Lucas nods.
“So maybe I better leave-”
“You can just sleep over but nothing happens,” Lucas blurts out. “The bed’s big enough?” Doubtful. “Unless you hate the idea, sorry-”
Dillon grins mischievously. “You want to sleep with me? In the literal sense of the word, of course. Cuddle?”
Lucas shrugs his shoulders. He wasn’t about to put it like this, but the idea… it’s not the most terrible idea he’s ever had.
“I can’t believe this. Lucas Hay, a closet cuddler?”
“Fuck off,” Lucas complains, feeling his face go red. “I just had to watch you cuddle with my sister for several hours!”
“Oh, that must have been hell for you,” Dillon mocks him.
“Shut up!”
“Make me,” Dillon retorts, and then they’re kissing again, but it’s almost impossible because they’re both grinning so much.
Dillon interlinks their fingers as they tiptoe across the corridor to the bathroom. Lucas isn’t sure if his dad and James made it back at some point during the night, and if they did, he can’t risk waking them up to find him and Dillon like this. They couldn’t be more obvious if they tried, Lucas thinks as he observes their reflection in the large bathroom mirror. Lips bright red, the corners of their mouths keep tugging up into matching grins.
Luckily, James keeps quite a selection of spare toothbrushes in their original packaging in the cabinet under the sink - along with a bottle of extra-strength lube that he’d rather not think about at all, thank you very much - and they end up brushing their teeth side by side, shoulders brushing against each other occasionally.
“I have one more question,” Dillon says, spitting out toothpaste into the sink.
“Shoot,” Lucas replies.
“Why do you smell like you tripped and fell into a bucket of my grandad’s cologne?”
He ends up nearly choking on his toothpaste. “Erm,” he says, not sure if he should be offended. “Do you not like it?”
Dillon shakes his head. ““I like the way you normally smell much better.”
“What, sweat and Price Slice brand deodorant?”
“Exactly,” Dillon replies, grinning.
They wait for each other outside the door to get changed and use the toilet. Since any shirts Lucas owns are just too small for Dillon, he ends up in just a pair of sweatpants that end way above his ankle, his top half bare, while Lucas puts on a t-shirt and an old pair of pyjama pants. He normally just wears a shirt with boxers to bed, but he’s not about to mention this. He’s trying to keep his gaze off Dillon’s bare chest as they make their way back to his room, barefoot - he has to survive this night somehow.
It’s a little awkward when they first get into bed, trying to both fit into the small space without pushing each other out. Dillon ends up with his back to the wall, Lucas next to his nightstand. He’s trying to keep from touching the other boy, but that means that he’s at a constant risk of ending up on the floor. The blanket barely fits one person on a good day. In the end, Lucas turns it sideways so it covers their legs at least. Turning off the bedside lamp, he settles his head on the single pillow next to Dillon. He can feel the heat of another body beside him, even though they’re not touching yet. There’s still several centimetres between them. He can even feel his breath tickling his chin.
“Goodnight,” Dillon whispers into the darkness, his hand finding Lucas’.
He’s not sure he’s ever going to be able to fall asleep with the way his heart is still hammering in his chest like crazy. “Night,” he says, then leans in to give him a final kiss in the dark. Inevitably, Dillon had the same idea, and they end up knocking their teeth against each other, which may sound cute in theory, but is very, very painful in practice.
“Okay, we should probably go to sleep for real now,” Dillon says, laughing.
Lucas turns to his other side, facing away so there’s a smaller likelihood of snoring directly into Dillon’s face at some point during the night. He doesn’t think he could ever face him again if that happened.
Slowly, Dillon’s arm moves around his middle, pulling him back, flush against him. “Is this okay?” he asks quietly. “Seemed like you were about to fall out of bed any minute."
Lucas nods, then remembers he can’t see that in the dark. “Yeah.” Dillon’s bare chest is warm against his back, and he can’t help but lean back into him, getting comfortable. Many times, he has cursed the fact that the other teen is a little taller than him, but for this, the extra height is actually perfect. A hand slips underneath his shirt, resting on his stomach, and there’s the goosebumps again. How is he ever meant to fall asleep? There’s a thousand thoughts racing through his brain. What’s going to happen tomorrow? Are they together? Does Dillon expect him to tell anyone? What exactly is his sexuality now?
He knows the exact moment that Dillon falls asleep. His leg twitches a little, and then his breathing evens out, becomes slower, much slower. He can feel the rise and fall of his chest against his back. He very much likes it. How’s he going to survive spending a night without Dillon at his side now? Knowing he could have this instead of a cold, empty bed?
Shit, maybe I am gay, Lucas thinks, but then a wave of sleep nearly overcomes him. So what, his brain continues. Are you really going to complain about it? and then he feels feet brush against his own, No I am not, he decides. This is what I want and you’re not taking it away from me. Fuck off brain. I’m going to shut you off now and go to sleep.
That, he does.