Work Text:
The glow of Per’s phone was the only light in his room. It was well past midnight, and he was curled up under the sheets like the covers could protect him from the gnawing pit in his stomach.
He stared at the message he'd typed and retyped ten times.
What if I trip over my own feet and die
Send.
Three seconds later, Tar replied:
Then I’ll jump on the track and dramatically cradle your corpse like a Disney prince. Real Romeo and Juliet stuff.
Per grinned in the dark, half-choking on his own laugh.
don’t make me laugh i’m trying to wallow
Wallowing is only allowed between the hours of 3-4PM and immediately after math exams. This is illegal.
im gonna barf tomorrow. on the track. in front of everyone.
That’s hot. A performance art piece.
Per hesitated before typing again.
also what if i win. that would be worse
Worse?? How??
then people will expect me to be good all the time. consistency is a scam.
Okay but hear me out: if you win, I will kiss you in front of the entire stadium. Your choice.
Per blinked.
Paused.
Reread it three times, heart skipping hard enough to make his fingers clumsy on the screen.
you’re not serious
Try me.
Per didn’t answer. He stared at his phone, at the three little dots Tar left behind. Then nothing. Then more typing.
Or I could just give you a private celebration. Very exclusive. Invite-only.
He rolled onto his back, dragging the pillow over his face to muffle the helpless, giddy scream that escaped his throat. His heart was going nuts.
He peeked out from under the pillow just enough to text:
you’re a menace
Tar sent back a single emoji: 😇
Per bit his lip, debating. Then typed:
will you actually come tomorrow?
Tar’s answer came back almost instantly.
Wouldn’t miss it. Front row. Poster and everything.
you’re lying
I’m dead serious. You’re gonna win, idiot. And if you don’t, I’m still gonna be screaming your name like I’m your groupie.
Per stared at the screen for a long time, smiling so wide it hurt.
His thumbs hovered before typing his final message for the night.
ok. then i’ll try to win.
Tar didn’t respond for a bit.
Then:
goodnight, track star.
Per didn’t reply.
He just turned the phone over, pressed it to his chest, and let himself fall asleep with a tiny, terrified, completely lovesick smile.
...
The sun was bright, the stands were packed, and Tar was definitely yelling too loud for someone who wasn’t technically part of the track team.
“Go, Per!” he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “You better run like you just saw your GPA!”
Per, down on the field stretching, turned just enough to shoot him the most offended glare humanly possible.
Tar grinned and waved like a menace.
“You're embarrassing,” Shane said beside him, not looking up from the juice box he was sipping like a five-year-old.
“I think it’s cute,” Kit added, slinging an arm over Shane's shoulders.
“You think everything’s cute,” Shane grumbled, though he leaned into the touch anyway.
Tar turned to them with a big smile.
“He’s gonna win. I just know it.”
Behind them, Kim and Mon were sharing a pair of headphones, whispering about some new song while Kim braided Mon's hair. They looked like they’d wandered out of a slice-of-life anime and straight into real life.
Tar bounced on the balls of his feet, heart pounding even though he wasn’t the one racing. He remembered Per’s texts the night before:
What if I trip over my own feet and die?
Also what if I win. That would be worse.
Tar had replied:
If you die, I’ll kill you. If you win, I’ll make out with you in front of the entire stadium. Your choice.
Per had left him on read.
Now, watching Per jog to the starting line, earbuds in, game face on, Tar felt something warm bloom in his chest.
It was dumb how proud he was. He hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t run laps with him or timed sprints or even carried his water bottle. But watching Per do what he loved — and look so serious about it — made Tar’s throat feel tight.
The gun went off.
And Per flew.
Tar didn’t stop yelling the entire time.
“You’ve got this! Push, Per, push!”
“Legs, idiot! Use your legs!”
“That’s my boyfriend! Yeah, keep looking!”
Per ran like he had fire in his lungs. Like every practice had paid off. Like Tar’s voice was the only thing he could hear.
(Tar would later claim it was.)
And when he crossed the finish line — first — Tar was already halfway down the bleachers.
He tackled him the second he was allowed onto the field.
Per was still panting, sweat slick on his skin, but he caught Tar with both arms and didn’t let go.
“You—” Tar gasped, breathless. “You actually won.”
Per gave him a cocky, exhausted grin.
“Told you I could. Eventually.”
Tar kissed his cheek, shameless in front of the team, the coaches, the entire stadium.
“You’re disgusting right now, and I love you so much it’s stupid.”
“You gonna make out with me now?” Per asked, trying to catch his breath.
Tar smirked. “I said if you won.”
“I did!”
“I also said in front of the entire stadium.”
Per blinked.
“...Right now?”
Tar leaned in like he was going to, paused just short of Per’s mouth, and whispered,
“Maybe after you shower, track boy.”
Per groaned and flopped dramatically onto the grass.
Kit and Shane appeared behind them a second later.
“Gross,” Shane said, deadpan.
“You were literally feeding Kit bites of your muffin earlier,” Per mumbled from the grass.
“Romance,” Kit sighed dreamily.
A little ways off, Kim called,
“Let me know when you all stop being unbearable,”
as Mon giggled beside him, dimples shining in the sun.
Tar just flopped down next to Per, still grinning.
Per turned his head toward him.
“You really think I did okay?”
“You really think I’d scream my throat raw for someone who didn’t deserve it?”
Per looked like he wanted to kiss him again. Instead, he reached out and tangled their pinkies.
The sun was still bright, the field still loud, but Tar didn’t mind the chaos.
Not when his favorite person was smiling like that.
Not when he could hold his hand right there in the open and no one said a word.
...
Per’s chest still heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his heartbeat louder than the crowd, louder than the world. The field around him buzzed with noise—cheers, footsteps, whistles—but the only thing that grounded him was Tar, right there, grinning like a fool, hands on his shoulders, eyes bright with something that looked like awe.
“You really did it,” Tar breathed, like he still couldn’t believe it.
Per let out a disbelieving laugh, sweat clinging to his forehead. “Guess I’m not entirely useless.”
Tar rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” But the smile stayed. “God, you were amazing.”
Per blinked at him, still reeling—not just from the race, but from the way Tar was looking at him. Like he mattered. Like he was someone worth cheering for.
And then Tar leaned in.
It was slow, not rushed or dramatic—just sure. Warm. Real. Per could feel his heart racing again, but for a completely different reason. His eyes fluttered shut just as their lips met.
The kiss was soft—tasting like sports drink and summer heat and something new they hadn’t dared name out loud until now. Per curled a hand behind Tar’s neck instinctively, like he needed to hold onto him to prove it was really happening.
He could feel Tar smiling into the kiss.
When they finally pulled apart, Tar’s forehead bumped against his, both of them still a little breathless, though for entirely different reasons now.
“You promised,” Per murmured.
“I keep my promises,” Tar said, eyes crinkling.
Someone wolf-whistled from the stands. Another voice yelled, “Get a room!” Probably Shane. Kit followed up with a too-loud, “Let them have their moment!”
Per groaned into Tar’s shoulder. “We’re going to die of secondhand embarrassment.”
Tar just laughed and held him tighter. “Worth it.”
And somehow, with his cheeks still flushed and lungs still burning, Per believed him.