Chapter Text
It was the beginning of Spring, but it was already too hot for Matt. He despised the heat and everything it brought—sticky air, buzzing insects, and most of all, the way his allergies flared up. His sinuses were a ticking time bomb, and the blooming flowers around school didn’t help. It was their senior year of high school, and honestly, Matt couldn’t wait for it to end.
“Careful, there’s someone behind you” Chris warned, his voice steady. He was shirtless, sitting right next to Matt, the sunlight glinting off his skin. They were playing one of their usual after school games, the kind they’d both lose themselves in for hours. Chris always radiated warmth, physically and otherwise, and Matt couldn’t help but notice it. Being this close, he could feel the heat coming off Chris, his natural body temperature seemingly a few degrees higher than normal.
Matt didn’t respond. He never really did during these moments, but he was grateful nonetheless. Chris always had his back, in more ways than one. Matt was convinced that if it weren’t for Chris, he’d be terrible at most games. Wins felt effortless when Chris was on his side, his instincts sharp and reflexes quicker than anyone else’s.
The two of them moved in sync, dodging and countering, their chemistry as teammates honed over years of gaming together. For Matt, these moments weren’t just about the games—they were about a bond he hoped would outlast high school, the one thing he wasn’t ready to leave behind.
“Hey, Matt” Chris started, his voice quieter than usual, as both of their eyes stayed locked on the screen in front of them.
“Mh?” Matt answered with a soft hum, his focus still on the game but his ears perked up at Chris’s tone.
“I think I’m going to… to—you know. With Ashley.”
Matt froze. His fingers hovered over the controller, his movements stalling as his brain tried to catch up. Chris never talked about relationships, and they certainly didn’t talk about girls they liked. It was an unspoken rule between them—conversations like this were awkward and avoided. Yet, here Chris was, dropping this bomb mid game.
Something unfamiliar and uncomfortable tightened in Matt’s chest, like confusion mixed with something else he couldn’t quite name. For a moment, he was speechless. But Chris was waiting, and Matt knew he had to say something.
“Didn’t she bully you in middle school for being weird?” He blurted out. It was all he could come up with, the words tumbling out before he could think them through. His voice sounded harsher than he meant, but it was the truth.
Chris chuckled softly, a sound that was equal parts amused and embarrassed. “Yeah, but that was, like, forever ago. She’s not like that anymore. She’s cool now, so…”
Matt’s grip tightened on the controller. He didn’t know what to say, so he focused on the screen, pretending to be engrossed in the game. He wasn’t sure why Chris’s words bothered him so much, but they did.
“You sure about that?” He finally answered, his tone more guarded this time. It was probably being his usual self, too protective over Chris. He still remembered the time he broke someone’s nose after Chris was called weird. After that, Matt was sent to anger management classes for two weeks.
Chris nudged him with his shoulder, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Relax, bro. I just… wanted to tell you. You’re my best friend, you know?”
Matt forced a smile, but his chest felt heavier. “Yeah. I know.”
"I feel like we never talk about girls" Chris said, keeping his eyes on the screen as he mashed buttons on the controller. "How are things with Ellie?"
Matt didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t sure how to explain it. Sure, he liked Ellie—she was fun to be around, and her company had been a safe space back in school. She didn’t mind when he picked quiet spots to hang out, and they could talk for hours without it feeling forced. But the way he cared about her felt different. More like a best friend than anything romantic. Kissing her was fine. Nice, even. But it didn’t match the spark he’d read about in books or seen in movies. No butterflies, no magnetic pull, no sense of wanting to stay close forever. It was just lips meeting lips, mechanical and awkward. He never knew how to hold her or where to put his hands, and it made him nervous. There was no fire, no passion. Deep down, he knew that. But he didn’t know how Ellie felt. She looked at him like he was her world. She’d had a crush on him for years, and when Matt finally agreed to give it a shot, he thought maybe he just needed more time. Maybe love was supposed to grow slowly.
"We’re fine" Matt finally said, his voice quieter than usual. "But... I don’t know."
Chris paused the game and turned to face him, all his focus suddenly on Matt. His dark blue eyes searched Matt’s face for more. "What do you mean you don’t know?"
Matt shifted uncomfortably, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his sweatshirt. "How did you know you loved Ashley?" he asked, avoiding Chris’s gaze. Their knees were touching now, and Matt’s heart raced for reasons he couldn’t quite name. Chris' opinions were important to him.
Chris tilted his head, a lopsided grin creeping onto his face. "I don’t think I do, kid." he said with a giggle, ruffling Matt’s hair like they were still kids.
Matt blinked. "But you— you guys are gonna...?"
"Yeah, we’re kinda dating" Chris said, shrugging as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "She’s cute, and she likes me a lot. I just... want to see where it goes, y’know? No pressure."
Matt forced a smile to match Chris’s, even though it didn’t feel right. Chris had always been the coolest of the three of them, effortlessly charismatic and sure of himself. Matt admired him for that—always had. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but Chris’s opinion meant everything to him. It always had.
"Are you going to? With Ellie?" Chris asked suddenly, his voice teasing but his eyes wide with curiosity.
Matt froze, the question catching him off guard. "I— I wouldn’t even know how to start" he stammered. "I’m... awkward."
"You’re fine" Chris said firmly, leaning back and letting his messy blonde curls fall against Matt’s shoulder.
The weight of Chris’s head there felt strange—too warm, too close. Matt’s chest tightened, a mix of emotions he couldn’t untangle. Uncomfortable. Sad. Was he falling behind? Did he have to follow Chris’s lead in everything? Or was this something else entirely?
Chris yawned, breaking the silence. "You overthink too much, Matty. Just... do what feels right"
What felt right? Matt didn’t know anymore. But sitting there, with Chris so close, he felt something stir—something he couldn’t name. And that scared him most of all. He didn’t want to lose Chris to Ashley. What if she stole their time together?
₊˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹
Chris had told Matt to meet him for lunch. Matt hated eating alone in the school cafeteria—always had. Sitting there by himself felt like a spotlight was on him, magnifying how out of place he felt. Nick was usually busy with his girlfriends, huddled in a corner gossiping about things Matt didn’t care about. Ellie, dependable as she was, was tied up doing homework with her best friend, and Matt didn’t want to sit awkwardly in front of them and feel like an intruder.
So, he’d been counting on Chris. Chris always made it better.
But as Matt scanned the cafeteria, Chris was nowhere to be seen. Annoyance pricked at the edges of his mind until something clicked—he knew where Chris would be. Their secret spot.
There was a staircase at the back of the school, tucked away behind the gym, where the two of them would go when Matt wasn’t feeling great. It had been their refuge for years, a place where Matt could breathe and feel like himself without the pressure of everyone else’s expectations. If Chris wasn’t in the cafeteria, there was a good chance he was there.
Matt made his way to the stairs, weaving through the crowd and ignoring the snippets of conversations around him. When he got there, though, he froze mid step.
Chris was there, all right. But he wasn’t alone.
Ashley was with him, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist as they kissed. Chris’s hands rested on her hips, his fingers splayed like he was holding onto her for his life. Ashley’s hands tangled in Chris’s messy blonde curls, her fingers trailing down to his shoulders. Chris still had his lacrosse uniform on, and his flushed face made it clear how much he was enjoying the moment.
Matt’s chest tightened. His first instinct was pure, unfiltered rage. Then came the jealousy, sharp and unrelenting. This was supposed to be his time. Chris had promised. They always ate lunch together—just the two of them.
But now, Matt couldn’t look away. His eyes followed every movement, and he hated himself for it. He hated the way his stomach spun and his chest ached as he watched Chris kiss her with a confidence Matt couldn’t even fake. His face fell, his shoulders slumping as he stood there like a weirdo on a moment he wasn’t supposed to see.
What was wrong with him? Of course Chris would get a girlfriend eventually. It wasn’t going to be the three of them—Nick, Matt, and Chris—forever. But still, the sight of it made Matt feel like a little kid, clinging to something he couldn’t keep. He felt left behind, like a puzzle piece that no longer fit.
Matt’s breathing grew shallow, his hand instinctively clutching his chest as he felt the edges of a panic attack creeping in. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else. Slowly, quietly, he turned and walked away, his footsteps barely audible against the concrete.
The image of Chris and Ashley stayed with him as he walked aimlessly around campus, refusing to leave his mind. He thought about Chris’s hands—steady, confident, perfect. Hands that didn’t tremble like Matt’s did. Chris held Ashley in a way Matt knew he’d never be able to hold anyone. And for the first time, Matt wondered if the ache in his chest wasn’t just jealousy over losing time with Chris. It felt deeper than that. More complicated. Scarier.
To Matt nothing is indispensable, except what he and Chris had. Nothing else was necessary, nothing apart from his love. But they were growing apart, and that thought terrified him. The bond he’d always relied on, the unshakable connection between them, felt like it was slipping through his fingers. Was he being dramatic? Overthinking, as usual? Maybe. But the ache in his chest said otherwise.
He couldn’t deal with it—not right now. Everything felt too loud, too heavy. The idea of sitting through two more classes, pretending like everything was fine, made his stomach twist. His decision was made in an instant. Matt pulled out his phone, his hands trembling slightly as he typed. He shot a quick text to Ellie, letting her know he was heading home, though he left out the details. She didn’t need to know why.
Then, he messaged Chris and Nick in the group chat: "Not feeling great. You’ll have to take the bus home."
He shoved the phone back in his pocket before either of them could reply and stormed out of the school. The hallway was crowded, but Matt moved like a ghost, dodging groups of laughing students and ignoring the occasional curious glance. He didn’t care what anyone thought—he just needed to get out.
By the time he stepped into the cold afternoon air, his breathing was still uneven, and his chest felt tight. He didn’t know if he was angry, sad, or just exhausted. Maybe all three.
As he drove home, his thoughts spiraled. Was this it? Were things between him and Chris always going to feel different now? Like Chris was moving on, leaving him behind to figure it all out alone? He wished he could bottle up the way he felt and throw it away—out of sight, out of mind. But the image of Chris with Ashley, the way they looked so perfectly in sync, refused to leave him.
By the time he reached his front door, he felt drained, like the drive home had sapped what little energy he had left. He dropped his bag in the hallway and made his way to his room, not even bothering to grab a snack or check his messages.
Collapsing onto his bed, he stared at the ceiling, willing himself to stop thinking, stop feeling. But no matter how hard he tried, his mind circled back to the same thought: things were changing, and he didn’t know how to keep up.
₊˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹
When Nick arrived home alone, Matt didn’t even need to ask where Chris was. He already knew. Chris had gone to Ashley’s house—again. The realization hit him square in the chest, sharp and heavy, like he could physically feel what Chris was doing.
He couldn’t stop replaying the image of Chris from earlier in his mind: the way he looked in his lacrosse uniform, his hair messy and his cheeks flushed from the heat. But no, it wasn’t that. It couldn’t be that. He refused to believe he was looking at Chris with that kind of feeling.
No, it had to be something else. The jealousy. The immaturity. That stupid voice in his head telling him he was always falling behind. Whenever Chris did something—something big, something new—Matt felt like he had to do it too, like some unwritten rule said they had to move through life at the same pace. But the thought of calling Ellie, of trying to force something just to keep up, made his stomach twist.
No . He didn’t want to.
Instead, he sat at his desk and pulled out his homework, hoping the routine would quiet his racing thoughts. The room grew dimmer as the evening darkened outside his window, shadows stretching across the walls. He barely noticed. His mind kept drifting back to the same place, circling the same questions he couldn’t answer.
High school sucked. It really did. Everyone around him seemed to have it all figured out. Chris with Ashley. Nick with his endless stream of friends. Even Ellie, who always seemed to know exactly who she was and what she wanted. But for Matt, everything felt like a tangled mess.
He wanted to ground himself, to feel secure in his own decisions, but the truth was he didn’t know who he was or what he wanted. Every choice felt like a coin flip, and every moment seemed to push him further from the person he thought he’d be by now.
And the worst part? The one person he always turned to, the one who had been his comfort through everything, was slipping away.
Chris was growing apart from him, and Matt didn’t know how to stop it. He wasn’t even sure if he could. The thought made his chest tighten, and for a moment, he let himself wonder: what if it was always going to be like this? What if he’d always be chasing Chris, never able to catch up?
Matt stared at his homework, the words on the page blurring together. He let his pencil fall, the sound sharp in the quiet room. Outside, the world carried on, but for Matt, it felt like it was standing still.
Matt heard the front door creak open. He didn’t need to look to know it was Chris. The familiar sound of his voice carried down the hallway as he greeted their parents and Nick, who were still eating dinner in the kitchen.
Matt had skipped the meal entirely, too nauseous to stomach anything. He’d told himself it was because he wasn’t hungry, but deep down, he knew the truth. The thought of sitting at the table with everyone, pretending like everything was fine, felt impossible. The knot in his stomach had been growing all evening, and he didn’t trust himself not to break down.
He was on his bed, staring at the glow of his phone screen, but his attention wasn’t on it. He was waiting. He knew Chris would come to his room. He always did. Chris never stayed in his own room—not really. Their room had become a shared space over the years, an unspoken agreement between them. Matt’s room wasn’t just his, it was theirs. They shared the TV, the bed, the snacks stashed under the dresser. What was Matt’s was Chris’s, and what was Chris’s belonged to Matt.
It was comforting in a way, but tonight, the thought filled Matt with dread. He was still mad at Chris for leaving him hanging, for ditching him without a second thought. But their little bickerings weren’t anything new. They fought, they made up. That’s how it always was. What scared Matt tonight was something deeper. It wasn’t the anger—it was the fear.
The fear of sounding like a child who couldn’t let go. The fear of admitting, even to himself, that he didn’t want Chris to have space, not really. That he didn’t want to share Chris with anyone else.
He could hear Chris’s footsteps approaching now, the steady thud growing louder as he walked down the hallway. Matt’s chest tightened. He turned his phone screen off and stared at the ceiling, willing his face to stay neutral, calm.
The door creaked open, and there he was. Chris, standing in the doorway, looking as effortlessly cool as always. His lacrosse bag slung over one shoulder, his hair still slightly messy and wet— a faint smile on his face like he hadn’t just spent the day tearing Matt apart without even realizing it.
“Hey” Chris said casually, stepping inside like he owned the place. He dropped his bag on the floor and flopped onto the bed next to Matt without waiting for an invitation.
Matt swallowed hard, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He didn’t look at Chris, afraid that if he did, all the feelings he’d been holding back would spill out.
Chris didn’t notice. Or maybe he did, and he just didn’t care.
“So” Chris said, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV like nothing had happened, like everything was fine. “What’d I miss?”
Matt’s jaw tightened. He wanted to yell, to push Chris away, to demand answers. But instead, he stayed quiet, letting the sound of the TV fill the silence between them.
“We were going to eat lunch together” Matt said, his voice sharper than he intended.
Chris froze for a second before letting out an exaggerated groan, running a hand through his damp hair. It was still wet from a shower—at Ashley’s, no doubt. Matt felt his stomach twist at the thought. They’d done it. He was sure of it. And the idea made him want to throw a tantrum like a little kid.
“Oh my God” Chris said, exasperated but not unkind. “I totally forgot.”
Matt watched as Chris moved closer, his arms already moving to pull him into a hug. Chris had always been the touchy one, always quick to ruffle Matt’s hair or throw an arm around his shoulders. Usually, Matt didn’t mind.
But now, he froze, his body stiff and unyielding. Chris’s arms wrapped around him anyway, his hold warm and firm, his scent filling Matt’s senses—fresh soap and a hint of Ashley’s floral perfume. It was suffocating, overwhelming.
“I’m so sorry” Chris murmured, pulling back just enough to look up at Matt. His eyes were wide and sincere, brimming with that unmistakable Chris energy that made it impossible to stay mad at him for long. If Chris was anything, it was genuine. He didn’t leave Matt behind on purpose—Matt knew that. Chris wasn’t the type to hurt people intentionally. But knowing it wasn’t on purpose didn’t make it hurt any less.
Matt’s jaw tightened as he looked away, refusing to meet Chris’s gaze. “It’s fine” he muttered, though the words felt like gravel in his throat.
“No, it’s not” Chris insisted, his voice soft, his grip on Matt’s shoulders tightening. “I should’ve remembered. I mean, you’re my best friend. I hate that I made you feel like that.” Matt finally met his eyes, and for a second, he almost believed him. Almost. But the ache in his chest wouldn’t go away.
“It’s fine” Matt repeated, more firmly this time, shrugging Chris off and stepping back. The space between them felt like a chasm, and for the first time in his life, Matt wasn’t sure how to close it. “Did you guys do it?” Matt asked, his voice cold, distant, as he stared at the ceiling. His chest felt tight, but he refused to look at Chris, afraid of what he might see.
“Yeah” Chris answered casually, completely unaware of Matt’s feelings. The nonchalance in his tone was like salt on a wound. Matt’s heart gave a sharp, painful twist, but he stayed silent, holding it all in.
“Did you like it?” Matt asked again, his voice steady, though each word felt like it weighed a ton. He wasn’t even sure why he kept asking. Maybe he thought if he pieced together the whole picture, the aching in his chest might make sense. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much.
“It was fine” Chris said with a shrug, his tone light, unbothered. “I think she liked it.”
Matt felt something in him snap—not an angry, dramatic break, but a quiet, muffled shattering, like glass fracturing under pressure. He couldn’t tell if it was jealousy or betrayal, but it didn’t feel fair to call it either. Chris hadn’t done anything wrong. And yet, it still stung, like Matt was losing something he couldn’t name.
A heavy numbness spread through his chest, wrapping itself around the ache and dulling it, but not enough. He swallowed hard, trying to push it down, trying to pretend he didn’t feel the strange emptiness yawning inside him.
“Cool” Matt said after a moment, his voice flat, distant, even to his own ears. He didn’t look at Chris. He couldn’t. It wasn’t Chris’s fault, after all, and Matt wasn’t even sure how to begin explaining the hollow ache in his chest.
So he let the silence stretch, pretending the ceiling held answers he didn’t have the courage to search for elsewhere.
“What about you and Ellie?” Chris broke the silence, his voice light, as if trying to defuse the tension.
“What about me and her, Chris?” Matt shot back, sharp and annoyed, finally turning his gaze to him.
Chris tilted his head, his expression softening. “Don’t be mad at me” he said, pouting slightly. And there it was—that stupid pout. Matt’s stomach did a flip, betraying him in a way that made him want to crawl out of his own skin.
No. No. No.
“Just asking how things are going” Chris added innocently, like he wasn’t just tossing a lit match onto dry kindling.
Something snapped inside Matt. Words bubbled up and out of him, too fast to stop. It wasn’t just talking—it was choking, spilling, as if the dam holding back everything he’d been avoiding thinking about had burst wide open.
“Well, I’m not sure how to hold her right, okay?” His voice cracked, but he didn’t care. “I don’t know if she likes the way I kiss her, or if I’m doing it all wrong. I don’t know anything, Chris. I have no experience.”
Chris blinked at him, startled, but his expression quickly softened again. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t tease. He just listened, his full attention locked on Matt. And that made it worse.
“I feel like I’m fumbling through every moment with her” Matt continued, his words spilling over each other, messy and open. “Like I’m trying to guess what she wants or what she likes, and I can’t tell if I’m doing enough or if she’s just being polite about it all.”
His voice grew quieter, trembling with frustration and vulnerability. “She deserves someone who knows what they’re doing, you know? Someone who doesn’t feel like… like this. Like a kid playing at being a grown up.”
Chris’s eyes never left his, and there was something in them that Matt couldn’t quite place—something soft and grounding, but also unreadable.
“And you…” Matt trailed off, shaking his head. “You’re over here acting like everything’s so easy. Like it doesn’t matter. But it does , Chris. It matters to me.”
The room fell silent, save for Matt’s ragged breathing. He wanted to take it all back, shove the words back into his chest where they wouldn’t see the light of day. But Chris was still there, still watching, his brow slightly furrowed in thought.
“Matt” Chris said softly, his voice carrying none of the usual teasing lilt. “You’re way too hard on yourself. You think you’re not enough, but maybe you’re more than enough, and you just don’t see it yet.”
Chris’s words settled in the air between them, heavy and quiet, as Matt struggled to process them, his chest still heaving with the weight of everything he’d just confessed.
“Do you need help?” Chris broke the silence once again, his voice soft but steady, cutting through the tension in the room.
“What?” Matt turned to him, confused, his brows furrowing as if he hadn’t heard right.
Chris leaned in slightly, his gaze steady. “I can show you how to touch. Where to touch” his voice was calm, almost casual, but there was a weight behind his words that made the air feel heavier. He shifted closer, the bed suddenly shrinking, suffocating Matt with how little space it seemed to offer.
“Remember when we played house when we were kids?” Chris added, a small, almost teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Something like that.”
Matt blinked, his breath catching. “Chris— what? ” His voice cracked, his confusion clear, but it wasn’t just confusion—it was panic, curiosity, and something else, something far more dangerous.
Chris tilted his head, his smile fading into something softer, more serious. “Do you trust me?” he asked, leaning forward, his weight shifting as he braced himself with one hand on the mattress. He was hovering now, just slightly, his face inches from Matt’s.
Matt froze, every nerve in his body alight. “Yeah” he finally whispered, the word barely audible, caught somewhere between his throat and his chest. He wasn’t even sure if he meant it or if it was just instinct.
Chris’s face was so close now. Matt could see every freckle scattered across his skin, like constellations on a map he suddenly felt desperate to memorize. His blue eyes were always a little darker than they should have been, thanks to his oversized pupils, and somehow, they made him even harder to look away from. Even the pimple on his cheek, which would’ve been easy to tease him about, felt precious now—every imperfection, every little detail was just Chris .
Matt’s heart was pounding, every beat reverberating in his ears as if trying to drown out the voice in his head screaming. What was he doing? What were they doing? And yet, despite everything, Matt couldn’t move. He couldn’t look away.
Chris started slowly, his movements deliberate, almost calculated.
“First, you do this” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, sending shivers down Matt’s spine. He slipped his hand beneath Matt’s shirt, the warmth of his palm pressing against Matt’s waist. His grip was firm but not harsh, grounding yet arousing. “Don’t press too hard— just right .”
Matt’s breath hitched as Chris’s touch sent a ripple of sensation through him. His skin prickled, and a strange, unfamiliar heat blossomed in his chest. It wasn’t discomfort, not exactly—it was sharper, sweeter, a pleasant ache that made him feel both weightless and trapped in his own body. Chris’s hands were impossibly warm, his fingers soft but steady, and Matt swore he could feel every ridge of his fingertips. He nodded numbly, unable to form words, his gaze locked on Chris’s face.
Chris’s eyes were darkened now, his pupils blown wide, but his expression was calm, assured. “You can also do this” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. He reached up and placed his hand on Matt’s neck, the touch featherlight but powerful enough to make Matt’s pulse race beneath his skin.
Chris’s thumb brushed gently along the edge of Matt’s jaw, persuading his head to tilt to the side, baring his neck. The room felt impossibly quiet, the sound of their breathing filling the space, heavy and uneven.
“And you kiss” Chris said softly, his breath warm against Matt’s skin before he leaned in and pressed his lips to the curve of Matt’s neck. The kiss was soft, barely a touch, but it sent a jolt of electricity straight through Matt. A soft, involuntary sigh escaped his lips as every muscle in his body seemed to melt and tighten at the same time. His lungs felt empty, the air sucked out of him as Chris’s lips lingered for just a moment longer than necessary.
Matt felt his stomach flutter, a sensation he’d never experienced before, like butterflies taking flight inside him, brushing against his ribs and stealing his breath.
Chris pulled back slightly, his lips grazing the shell of Matt’s ear as he whispered, his voice low and velvety, “The hair is important too” his fingers slipped into Matt’s curls, threading through them gently, his movements slow and intentional.
Matt’s heart was racing, the beat so loud he wondered if Chris could hear it. The soft pull of Chris’s fingers in his hair sent a wave of heat through him, and when Chris’s lips brushed against his ear, his breath hitched once again. “It’s not that hard, see?” Chris whispered, his lips so close they almost touched Matt’s skin.
Matt’s head swam, a mix of confusion, wonder, and something deeper that he couldn’t name. His chest felt tight, but not in a painful way—it was more like his heart was swelling, too full to contain the rush of emotions coursing through him.
For the first time in his life, Matt felt butterflies, fluttering wild and uncontrollable, filling him with a strange, dizzying excitement. He stared at Chris, his throat dry, his voice caught somewhere between his chest and his lips. What were they doing? What was he doing? And why did it feel so impossibly, undeniably right?
Chris and Matt locked eyes, and for a long moment, neither of them moved. The world seemed to pause, holding its breath. Matt felt his pulse race, and his stomach flipped again, this time in a way that wasn’t unfamiliar but new, unfamiliar in its intensity.
There it was. He liked Chris . That was it, wasn’t it? That was the reason he’d been so mad, so frustrated—because it wasn’t just about Ashley or Ellie, or his own insecurity. It was about the fact that he wanted something, someone.
But it couldn’t be Chris. It just couldn’t.
The thought felt almost laughable. It was stupid. It was a stupid idea. He could never be in that place with Chris. The room felt too small, the air too thick, like everything was closing in on him as the weight of the realization hit him all at once. He’d never been good at these kinds of feelings, the ones that made you question everything, the ones that made your heart beat a little too fast and your thoughts spiral.
No, no, no. He didn’t like Chris. He wasn’t crushing on him. He couldn’t be.
He wanted someone to understand, someone to hold him like he’d seen in movies, like he’d dreamed about when he was younger. This feeling, this thing that was bubbling up inside him, had to be some misplaced need.
Matt felt the heat in his chest rise, the confusion mixing with a sharp pang of something else—a deep, aching longing he couldn’t make sense of. His eyes stayed locked with Chris’s, and for a moment, he couldn’t look away, couldn’t not see Chris’s expression, the way his eyes seemed to hold a question, something unspoken.
But Matt didn’t know how to answer that question.
The longer he stared, the more the walls he’d built started to crumble, leaving him exposed. And that feeling—that fluttering, terrifying thing—was too much to ignore. But he still tried. He tried to push it away, to shove it down like it was some kind of mistake.
It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. He just wanted love. That was all. Right?