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Casey was 18. Will was 17. It was late and they were in the kitchen. No one else was in the house. They'd spent the day at the soccer field and now they both stood, hair wet from showering, chest to chest, so still that they could hear a light switch on next door.
Will leaned in and gave Casey a soft kiss. Casey couldn't breathe for a moment. He kissed him back, with that same gentle haste. The air between them felt so hot it burned their cheeks, and they could each see how red the other was but could also feel how flushed they were themselves so it didn't matter. Will leaned in again, slowly, tilting his head ever so slightly. Casey brought his hand up halfway before stopping, stuttering, but he only hesitated for a moment before sliding it into place in the crook of Will's neck, beneath his ear. His heart was thundering like a stampede, but they were so close he could feel Will's was as well, so he closed the final distance and kissed his friend, or whatever this made them.
Will sighed, relaxing into the kiss, and Casey suddenly so very comfortable, like this was the right thing to be doing. Never in his life had he felt so confident in his place in the world than now, when he was kissing his best friend.
It was soft still, and they hardly moved, but Casey felt Will rest his hands on his hips. He pulled away for air, for a look at Will, for a chance for his brain to catch up with his heart, which was skipping around the two, bouncing like a merry-go-round. He breathed out but it came out like a laugh, one that was quickly cut off by Will pressing against his lips again, tilting his head up. Casey didn't know he was opening his mouth but he didn't mind when Will dragged his tongue against his lip, asking so politely for a chance inside.
This time Casey didn't hesitate.
After thoroughly making out for a few minutes, Will pulled back for some air, his fingers slotted in Casey's hair. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. Holy shit, do you know how long I've been wanting to do that? I probably shouldn't say that, huh?"
Casey felt about as manic as Will sounded. He couldn't speak, couldn't think of anything to say. He just kept dragging his eyes over Will's face, looking down at their feet, seeing how close they were, back up again to his hands on his neck, over and over and over.
"This is crazy, isn't it? Isn't it crazy?" Will rambled in hushed voice, his face breaking open in a smile.
"This is real?" Casey asked. He hadn't really meant to say it out loud.
Will stared at him. No pity this time. Just relief. "Yeah, Case, it's real. I'm here. You're here."
And with that realization came a stinging in his eyes as he began to cry. Will moved his hands to cup his face and swipe the tears with his thumbs. Casey laughed and cried and laughed.
-
Will led them to the couch, where they sat facing each other. Casey had a glass of water in his hand.
"Are you okay?"
Casey sighed and bit his cheek. "Yeah. I think. Yeah."
His friend raised a brow. "You think?"
Casey tipping his head back with a groan. "I don't know. It feels too good to be true."
He could hear the smirk in Will's voice when he said "It? You mean that we kissed?"
Casey had to laugh. "Stop," he said, feeling his face get hot again.
"Stop what? Stop talking about the fact that we kissed?" Will poked his leg. Then again.
"Stop, no, stop, Will." Casey took his hand, gentle. And he let go.
There was a very long silence. Casey could only look at the couch cushion. When he finally spoke the words were cracked and ugly.
"I always thought this was the worst part of myself."
It was Will who took Casey's hand now. He thumbed over his knuckles. He sighed. He pressed their knees together. Looking down, like it was the most natural thing in the world, Will said, "I think every part of you is so beautiful, Case."
Casey leaned in, catching his gaze. "How can you think that?" he whispered, blinking away more tears still.
Will looked up again. He took him in. He peered at every crevice on the skin of his face; Casey could feel him looking. And it was clear he knew where to look. Where to find the white scar on his brow. The craters from stubborn acne. The brown stains at the corner of his eyes. Every inch, he coveted, wished on, as Casey had for Will for too many years.
"How could I not?"