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“And if there were only some way of contriving that a state or an army should be made up of lovers and their loves, they would be the very best governors of their own city, abstaining from all dishonor and emulating one another in honor..”
Oh wow. Plato, you romantic idealist, you chuckle to yourself. But wouldn’t that be nice? Spending all of your time with your lover to sustain peace in the world?
“..and it is scarcely an exaggeration to say that when fighting at each other’s side they would overcome the world.”
(Quote from Homosexuality and Civilization by Louis Crompton, 2003)
Ancient gay Greeks promptly forgotten, you can’t help but picture a slightly too rose-tinted and r-rated world where you’re fighting next to the one you love the most when your phone vibrates against the wooden surface of your coffee table. Willing to ignore the notification for more time spent in glorious ancient days, it takes a moment for you to reach out. Since you’re already thinking about your secret super-crush though, you briefly wonder if you manifested him into your real world. Indeed, it’s a message from him, your best friend and roommate of one year and your heart skips the happy beat it always does. With a smitten smile you for once decide to not hide in the solitude of the apartment, you open the endlessly long stream of messages you have with him.
It’s a voice message, which might not be that uncommon, but also, it usually means that he is in some kind of hurry but really needs to tell or explain something to you and his brain’s working faster than his thumbs can. You’re unable to not worry a tiny bit when you press play on the surprisingly long message.
At first, you only hear indecipherable mumbling, warped sound of fabric and garbled laughter as if the message was recorded under water. It causes your heart to beat faster for a dumb second where you actually believe that something like that happened to him but then you remember to breathe and provide your brain with apparently much needed air. You’re about to stop the message, writing it down to an accidentally sent voice note you can tease your friend about as soon as you see him later, when spoken words suddenly grow clearer. The phone must’ve been taken out from its owner’s right pocket where it usually sits. Your nosy heart soars and you surrender to the need of learning possible new teasing material, removing your hovering thumb from the pause-icon and lifting your phone closer to your ear.
You make out two voices, recognise the first at once, like you always do, no matter where.
“...no, please don’t, I don’t need any help from Darcy,” your best friend says, “Their meddling might be funny to watch but believe me, being actually subjected to it is everything but. Besides, he’s too important to me. I don’t want to ridicule the whole ordeal of confessing my love to him even in the slightest.”
A breathy, deep laughter is wafting in from far away. It’s Tara, unmistakable, another friend of yours. The realisation delays the registering of actual words; your brain needs a moment to catch up.
Why is meddling needed and who is the he who’s too important? Or, more pressing, who’s too important because your best friend is in love with him? Dread fills your stomach, weighing you down, while angry jealousy tugs on all the veins in your chest. You want to ignore the tentative hope fighting against it, need to ignore the quiet but persistent voice in your head telling you it’s you, you numpty, he’s talking about you to protect your fragile heart.
You can’t make out Tara’s reply but you hear the laughter in her voice soften.
“You know he means the world to me, I can’t mess this up.”
Who is he talking about? Who could mean the world to him when he means the whole world to you? You feel like crying, both from fear and from suppressed feelings, while Tara says something that makes your mutual friend hum in agreement.
“I know, but I need to wait for the right moment. I just don’t know what that could look like. I mean, I do, but these are dream scenarios where I’m actually brave for once. And I definitely won’t tell you about any of them.”
There’s that sweet embarrassed smile lilting his voice and you know he’s blushing.
Tara’s laughter grows louder again and you hear noises that sound distinctly like someone’s slapping their hands against a sturdy surface. As if on cue, you hear your best friend’s huff of surprised laughter and a high-pitched, “...ouch! Fuck, Tara!”
She giggles in delight and must stay closer to the phone now because you hear her next words loud and clear.
“You’re such a dork, my sweet silly chicken boy. You really need to get your shit together. You both do, actually. Your pining is the death of all of us and Darcy’s this close to meddling without anyone telling them to. Everyone but you can see that he’s in love with you too, I swear to god and on my new super expensive ballet shoes!”
You hold your breath. You are in love with him, does Tara know that?
“How do you know? Has he told you?”
You can hear the hope in your favourite person’s voice even through the tinny speaker.
You haven’t told anyone. Not with words. Not intentionally.
“No, but I have eyes that work. He looks at you like you’re responsible for all the good in this world and for him, that might as well be true. You’re best friends and don’t get me wrong, that’s lovely, but what you two have makes everyone jealous and you’re not even together!”
The biting fire in your chest cools down to warmth, the weight holding you down is slowly wafting away. Might your dreams come true after all? You are his best friend, there’s no one else holding this most precious title, he tells you all the time. The rush of air escaping your lungs causes your lips to pout with its strength. It’s startlingly loud and you clasp your hand over your mouth, remembering too late that it’s not a phone call but an accidentally sent voice message that holds the power to change your life. For the better, you wish; you still don't dare to let yourself believe that this whole conversation is about you. Hope’s a relentless force when awoken though; it’s putting you on high alert as your breathing grows shallow and your heartbeat powerful.
It’s quiet for a few moments and you wonder what’s happening inside your best friend’s mind and heart. It doesn't prepare you for what comes next in the slightest.
“I’ve never had a friend like him, someone who just gets me in a way that I sometimes don’t even get myself. He sees me, the real me, and he did from the moment we first met. If I think about losing him I’m back to square one and don’t want to tell him ever. But also, thinking he might be with someone else? That might just break me, and then I’m like seconds from throwing myself at him. I’m tired of this back-and-forth, of holding back, Tara. I know I have to tell Charlie that I’m in love with him, that I love him so much. But what if all he wants is a friendship with me and me confessing my feelings for him will ruin it? I mean, we’re roommates, for fuck’s sake, I can’t just leave if it all goes south!”
The corner of your phone hits the book sitting in your lap with a thud. It is about you. It’s crystal clear and recorded to last for eternity whenever you’ll be in doubt.
He is in love with you about as much as you are in love with him.
You feel like crying but it’s from being overwhelmed by the onslaught of feelings crashing over you in big, exhilarating waves. He loves you too. You giggle to yourself; you’re so excited it comes out almost an octave higher than your usual voice. You shimmy your shoulders and butt in an awkward but very happy dance and only barely refrain from twirling your curls around your finger while you bite your lip and let your mind briefly wander to the brightest future possible. Tara’s voice is what pulls you back to your colourful now and you scramble for your phone tumbled to the floor.
“He’s in love with you, too, I promise. You two are always tip-toeing around this invisible line that’s separating you. One day he’s leaning over it in hope you’re there to catch him while you’re leaning back, suddenly scared, and the next day it’s the other way around. It’s maddening to watch because I just want you to be happy and in love the way you both deserve! I promise you’ll end up happy, you just have to tell him.”
“It would be so easy to just be the one saying it back. Why do I have to be the one to risk it?”
You smile to yourself, the whine in your best friend’s tone is one you know well; he’s complaining for the sake of it. Does that mean he’s made up his mind and will tell you how he feels? You feel your heartbeat in your throat.
“When will you see him next? Let’s come up with a plan, love.”
“Tonight, at home, I was just about to text him that I’ll bring dinner when you arrived earlier, so...”
There’s some rustling against the phone’s speaker and then -
“Oh no, sh-!”
The message ends on this horrifyingly desperate tone in your best friend’s voice and your heart drops with the reality of the situation. You weren’t meant to hear all of that and now he knows that you know that he’s in love with you while he doesn’t know that you love him too.
You breathe in harshly as you try to find a solution to this mess and focus on what’s around you to ground yourself: the heavy book in your lap pressing against the terse muscles in your thighs, a gentle breeze filled with rainy air coming in from a tilted window, music finding its way to your ears. Your mind decides to latch onto the last part, words sung softly but sure.
There is a hole in the ceiling pointing to the North Star
Reassuring me I'll find my way home
As long as there's no clouds or airplanes in the night sky
And my alignment's cosmically exact.
You don’t know this song, even briefly wonder where it’s coming from, but it helps to quieten your racing mind; he’s your home, the alignments couldn’t be more cosmically exact. You jump up from your spot on the sofa to rush to the door and get to him. You wrestle into your shoes in the clumsiest way, forget how to tie them and you push and pull and curse your love for this specific kind of Converse and hate for elastic shoelaces. You need to get to him, you need to find him, maybe they’re still at the café he’d told you he was meeting Tara, maybe you can call him on your way to him, maybe -
The door bell rings.
You freeze, only slightly confused. You know it’s him, you just do, so you assume he must’ve left his key at the café. Stuck in this awkward hunched position for a moment longer, you’re unable to inhale enough air into your lungs. It lets you feel your heart beat against your ribs in a sudden display of strength and its sound is echoing in your ears. You straighten but you’re still rooted to the spot. It rings again, slightly longer and you sense your best friend’s nervousness traveling with the sound, meeting your own.
It's what kicks you into motion, finally, and you grip the doorknob. It’s cold against your sweaty palm, helping reeling you back in from your frenzy even more. You open the door with an exhale and there he is, soaked to the bone, panting. Gorgeous. His usually fluffy, sun-bleached reddish hair is dark from the water clinging to thick strands and moulded against his perfect skull. His long lashes are glued together by droplets, accentuating his warm brown eyes even more than normal. They’re wide, anxiously flickering from your face to the phone he’s holding in the hand of his awkwardly stretched out arm. He looks like he’s worrying after seeing his voice message changed from being sent to being seen since he’s left the café.
“Nick,” you breathe and it’s soft, carrying your emotions and smile in an attempt to comfort him. We’re both on the same page, I promise you. Slowly, you see it mirrored on the beautiful man standing opposite you.
“You listened to it,” he states. He knows. You nod, and it’s eager, giving you away. You reach out to grab the wet fabric of his hoodie, tugging Nick inside your shared apartment and close the door. You let go of him and gesture to your feet still only halfway wrangled into your stubborn shoes.
“I was just about to find you, to reassure you, to tell you-”
“I’m sorry, Char.”
You swallow your next words, feel your smile grow unsure.
“Not that!” Nick rushes to add, another wave of horror splashing over his features. “I’m not sorry for what I said! Fuck, I’m messing this up. What I meant to say is I’m sorry for the way you found out how I feel about you. I-”
His cherry-red cheeks darken and he lets his eyes drop to your messily shoe-clad feet. His smile grows stronger.
“Believe me, I had a million different scenarios in my head about how I wanted to tell you what you’ve just found out by accident.”
“So I’ve heard,” you can’t help but tease. He huffs out a laugh, scrunches up his nose in embarrassment and bites his lips. Your gaze drops to the movement and for the millionth time you wonder how they might feel pressed against your own. You’re as close to finding out as ever and your heart speeds up from this newfound certainty.
You read more than hear Nick’s sheepishly whispered shut up and feel your own smile brighten again. Oh how you love him.
“I love you too, Nick,” you say, suddenly desperate for him to know, to make you both equal. You watch his eyes widen in surprise, watch his gaze grow soft and his smile emotional.
“You do?” Nick asks and his voice cracks from relief. You nod as you take a step closer to him, reaching out to brush away a strand of dripping wet hair, watching his eyes flutter closed upon the tender contact as your hand wanders down to cradle his cheek.
“You forgot your coat?” you ask and your voice couldn't sound any fonder if you tried. You love him so much and don’t have to hold it in anymore - you feel it burst at the already frayed seams.
He slowly shakes his head as if in a daze, leaning into your touch. “Didn’t check the weather when I left,” he mumbles, “Hope Tara took it. I just-,” he sighs and his voice shakes on the exhale as if his body is still in slight disbelief. “I just had to get to you as fast as possible, I'm not even sure I said goodbye to her.” He opens his eyes again and you feel the corner of his mouth stretch into a smile against your palm still holding gently to the side of his face.
“Idiot,” you say and it carries the same emotion as these three words you’re finally allowed to say without any fear of rejection do.
The bright colours of adoration and affection are painting your love’s face, his gaze holding you captive like you’re the most important thing in his life.
“I'm so in love with you,” you hear yourself say, the words now slipping off your tongue so easily after having to bite them back so forcefully and endlessly, “Have been for such a long time now, probably from the moment we first met. I was afraid for the same reasons as you, terrified of being rejected and terrified of stayin’ silent, of having to watch you fall in love with someone else.”
“So Tara was right,” Nick says with one of his small and affectionate smiles.
“To me, you are responsible for all the good in the world, yes.”
Nick’s eyes start to sparkle in the bright light of the hallway. You carry on.
“You’re my best friend but I want more. I want to finally cross the line and call you my boyfriend. I want us to get our shit together, stop the pining and doubts,” you say, trying to remember more of the accidentally sent message. “Confessing our feelings to each other will not ruin anything, I promise. You mean the world to me, too.” You look at Nick, take in his shy smile and pretty blush and suddenly, your mind steers into an entirely different direction. You avert your eyes to gather courage and fill your lungs with air that smells so familiar it’s immediately soothing. You lock gazes with the man you love more than anything. “I want to hold you in my arms for as long and tight as possible, without having to worry if it's socially acceptable to do so with a friend; I want to feel all of your skin against mine with no layers of clothes between us anymore; I want to learn every new secret your body tells me. I want to be with you in every which way. I want everything with you, Nick, because I love you, so much.”
“Oh, Char,” Nick exhales through a hiccup that makes you giggle, drunken on love and high on happiness. “I want everything with you, too. Can I-” Nick’s gaze drops to your lips and it’s the first time you allow yourself to understand this movement for what it is.
“Can I kiss you,” Nick tries again, whispering, voice lilt with awe and you nod, getting up on your tiptoes to finally learn what it means to be kissed by Nick.
It compares to nothing you’ve ever dreamt of; no fantasy can compete with the sure softness you now feel pressed against your own lips. Your brilliantly honed ability to bend and shape reality to whatever your mind wants to believe pales in contrast to the real slide of Nick’s tongue along your lower lip as it’s asking for entrance you were ready to grant months ago. Your hands wander from damp fabric to warm skin, from a soft stubble to short hair and you feel yourself being pulled closer with the same eagerness against the body you yearned for so long now. You hear a soft moan weaving into shared air and it sets you both even more on fire. You’re both tugging on jumpers and you giggle when Nick chases your mouth the moment you try to pull back to get rid of that offending fabric. You give in and kiss back and it’s a clumsy dance of two lovers trying to get closer, always closer, but you don’t care because it leads to you finally seeing Nick’s bare chest in all its glory without having to censor your own mind and mouth.
“Fuck, you’re so fit,” you murmur, the awe in your voice as reverent as your hands travelling down slowly over the still damp expanse of skin you’ve never really dared to admire before.
A low groan tumbles from Nick’s lips from where they’re now brushing against your neck, leaving a trail of tender kisses.
“Takes one,” kiss, “to know one,” kiss, “can’t believe,” kiss, “I get to do this,” kiss, “now.”
Is this a moan escaping your throat? You don’t worry and just tilt your head back to grant Nick more access and it’s as if the sudden movement clears a narrow path in your Nick-clouded brain. The song somehow still playing finds its way back to your eardrums and new words register in your brain.
There's a hole in the kitchen wall covered by a stopped clock
The insulation could be better but I
Like the fact that I'm sheltered from the elements
By a broken countdown towards extinction
The bubble created by the body pressed against your own, the kisses pressed against your skin and the feelings overflowing your heart feel like this broken countdown the singer tells you about. You feel safe and sheltered and suspended in time.
There is a hole in the ceiling pointing to the North Star
Reassuring me I'll find my way home
You smile against Nick’s lips that have found their way back to yours and it causes him to pull back and look at you with curiosity displayed on his eyebrows. You feel your cheeks warm and you chuckle as you let your head fall on Nick’s shoulder to hide your face. You inhale deeply, the soft skin around sculpted muscles exude Nick’s scent in its purest form. Something giddy and mellow and delicate settles in your chest, in your soul.
“There’s this song I discovered today, it randomly came up while I was actually listening to another one of my playlists. It’s still playing, maybe you noticed.”
Your curls drag along Nick’s cheek with his nod.
“There’s this part I heard right after I listened to your voice note and it felt so fitting. It’s about finding home thanks to the North Star and-,” you trail off, your voice growing quiet. How can you explain this complex feeling of utter rightness without sounding like a lovesick fool when your whole being is still so entangled with Nick’s to the point it’s overwhelming your mind with utmost happiness?
You feel a gentle kiss pressed against your temple and you take it as the encouragement that it is. Because it’s something you two do now apparently, support each other with kisses and not just words. Your smile turns emotional, how’s this is your life.
“Promise you won’t laugh?”
“I promise,” Nick whispers with reverence that reaches your skin.
“You always felt like home to me,” you start. Arms tighten around your waist. “So, hearing these words after I got your message was like some sort of sign. Especially when I look at it now. Your message was like this star leading me home, leading me to you, leading us to each other, only for real this time, you know? Gosh, this sounds so sappy…” you chuckle lowly, shake your head and clear your throat. “It gave me the kickstart I needed to get over my nervousness, to get to you. To go out and find you and tell you how I feel, too. And now I can’t stop thinking it was some sort of fate, this song finding me out of the blue. It’s ridiculous but-”
You lift your head to gauge Nick’s reaction and all you find is adoration and love written so clearly over his handsome features, you feel your heartbeat’s joyous tumble in your chest.
“It isn’t, though. If it feels right, it is right. And I’m glad it caused you to open the door to me.”
You hold his gaze as you both smile at each other knowingly, lopsided meeting wide. You know that he knows that you would’ve opened your figurative and literal door to him anyway. It just sped up the process in your brain.
He cradles your face in his big calloused hands and you’ve never felt more cared for, more cherished and special. His lips capture yours and you lose yourself again in everything Nick, your home.
🍂🍂