Archive of Our Own

"I don't get how you don't smoke. It's crazy to me."

It was quiet other than the muffled music pumping from below them, making the floor tremble.

Smii7y shrugged. "I don't know... I just don't wanna."

"Hm."

John took another hit of his joint, sucking it all into his lungs, leaning back, and pressing all his weight against the crate he was propped up against.

His shoulders dropped, breaths slowing down, eyes fluttering shut carefully. John always was so peaceful when high, like a holy angel delivering Smii7y a message, a task. He'd always have a shine in his eyes that he would never normally have, making them glow with life and emotion. He seemed less tired, less sick of everything.

It was comforting. The feeling almost passed along to Smii7y, making him want to fall asleep right there, go limp and let himself be completely vulnerable.

But, again, when did he not feel like that around John?

It was stupid, and fucking dumb.

When they first met, Smii7y had had the fattest friend crush on John.

The way he talked about the things he liked, the witty jokes he'd whip out in under a second, the crazy comebacks that would make Smii7y's head spin, the way he could be serious but remain fun to talk to. Not to mention, his passion—or, well, lack of passion, maybe, Smii7y wasn't sure how to describe it. John didn't do things because he wanted to appear good, to seem talented. He did them for himself. He was independent and that is one of the strongest qualities he has. He doesn't work to please others; he works to please himself.

That is something Smii7y could never be. As much as he tells himself a project is for himself, that he's making it perfect for himself, it isn't; it really just isn't. He can't handle disappointing others. It makes him want to rip his hair out and scream, and seeing John do it so flawlessly... honestly makes his heart ache sometimes. He loathes him for it sometimes, loathes. It hurts him a bit inside whenever he's in John's house and he notices the most stunning piece of art, clearly hours, maybe even days, worth of work put into it, and John just casually mentions that he's just been keeping it hidden away and even considering throwing it away. Smii7y wants to fucking strangle him sometimes.

John took another drag and he looked more blissed out than before, if that was even possible. There was a small smile tugging at his lips and it was almost unnerving.

"How much did you drink?"

Smii7y sputtered for a brief moment, having almost forgotten that John was an actual human being who could speak and ask questions instead of a stationary sculpture or mural, just meant to be observed and admired. "The—... Me?"

Lifting his head up, John eyed him with hazy, confused eyes. It made Smii7y swallow anxiously.

"Nah, I'm talking to the Benadryl hat man in that corner right over there."

John gestured to one of the corners of the attic and, for some reason, for some stupid reason, Smii7y actually looked over.

He knew there would be nothing there, just an old, dark, creepy corner, yet he couldn't help but follow John's words, his guardian angel guiding him into the light.

That pulled a laugh out of John, breathy and soft. "God, I hate you."

Smii7y snapped his head down in embarrassment, cheeks bright red, biting his lip.

Fuck, he's never getting drunk off wine again.

His head had been spinning nonstop for at least an hour and, if he were to stand right now, he was confident in the fact that he would instantly collapse. His mind was buzzing at a constant low level and it felt electrifying, small shocks occasionally jolting through his whole body. It was sickening and he was so goddamn nauseous it was almost as if the whole room was spinning rapidly around him.

Flushed, Smii7y stayed silent for a whole minute before it clicked that he had been asked a question. "Oh, a... whole... bottle, and more."

"Oh, type shit."

"I lost a bet."

His whole body was weird, cold and hot at the same time, like he was being constantly shocked over and over again, resuscitated from the dead. He wasn't too sure if it was the alcohol making him feel like this or the man to his right.

"How high are you?"

"High enough."

Smii7y didn't want to know what that meant, so he stayed quiet.

But, yeah, ever since they met, Smii7y had been infatuated with John. Something about him drew Smii7y in like a black hole. He was honestly lucky that John tolerated him, otherwise he would have been shattered. He says tolerated as if they didn't use to have six-hour-plus Skype calls together almost every day, talking about anything until the dead of night. They talked about anything they liked, video games, fashion, music, food, literally anything that came to their minds.

Smii7y wishes he could have those days back. Wishes he could just be nineteen again, call with John until 3AM, laughing and giggling. But neither of them had the time for that anymore. They were busy with one thing or another. They had duties. Anyway, he doubted John would want to do those anymore; they would both be exhausted the following morning. He wasn't even sure if he could hold up a conversation with him for that long anymore. Nothing inherently bad happened; they've just changed as people. John was a very different person now from when they met: more reserved, liking his own space more. Smii7y doubted he'd want to give that up for some guy who happened to be his friend.

Spending time with him was amazing, no matter what they were doing, recording or not. Smii7y just clicked with John in a way that he had never clicked with anyone else. They just clung together so easily, and that made it so damn hard to let go. Others would probably describe them as attached by the hip, but, if you asked Smii7y, it was like they were physically intertwined, merged together, inseparable by anything but death.

Smii7y still feels like a giddy schoolgirl around John. John still made him feel different. He knows how weird and corny that sounded, but it was true. He felt things he had never felt before when around John. There was something special about him. No homo or anything.

John suddenly chuckled to himself.

"What?" Smii7y asked, almost regretting the question as soon as it left his mouth.

"It's just funny. That your name is Smii7y and mine is John."

Maybe John was crazy. Maybe Smii7y was crazy. Maybe they both made each other crazy.

"Why? Is there some Romeo and Juliet shit with our names?"

"How much did you pay attention in history class?"

"Not much."

"The name Smitty is a diminutive form of the surname Smith. It means 'blacksmith' or 'metalworker' in Old English. You skillful with your hands, Smii7y?"

"Not... more than... the average person?" he mumbled hesitantly.

"The surname Smith can be traced back to the 13th century in England, with a Y in the spelling instead. One of the earliest people confirmed to have that surname was actually called John Smyth."

Smii7y raised an eyebrow at him. "What a coincidence." He blinked. "And why do you know all of this, exactly?"

"Oh, you know," John trailed off, as if Smii7y should know.

Smii7y felt compelled to nod, so he did. He didn't understand, but he nodded.

"You ever met anyone else called Smii7y?"

Smii7y shook his head. "Not as a first name, no."

"Yeah, I figured. You're pretty unique, Smii7y."

Smii7y felt an odd sense of unease whenever John said his name like that.

"What about my name?" John asked, half-seriously.

Smii7y bit back a laugh. "Yes, many."

"Yeah? Do I stick out from all of them? Or am I just another one to the bunch?"

"Unsurprisingly, I don't doubt that you're the most memorable John I've met."

They sat in silence for a long while after that. Smii7y hated it. He hated how he had to marinate in his thoughts, wondering everything and anything. It was torturous. Especially since all of those thoughts were about John.

"Fuck, this shit is good," John murmured to himself. "You sure you don't want a hit?"

John extended his hand, proposing the joint.

Smii7y was hypnotized, eyes locked on it, considering as his heart pounded, raced.

His eyes flickered up to John's only to find the other already staring at him, smiling widely and proudly, like he knew he had already won whatever sick twisted game this was. Something about the way John looked at him, eyes sparkling, wide and present in the moment. He couldn't refuse.

Smii7y shakily accepted it, inspecting it for a long while, watching it as if it might transform into a dagger last minute, carve his stomach open and rip his heart out.

"You smoke it by putting it up to your mouth, not by looking at it, by the way."

John was smirking. Smii7y paid no mind to that, too flushed.

"Oh, uh, yeah, thanks."

Smii7y was kind of embarrassed to admit that he didn't really actually know how to smoke weed. He's a good boy for god's sake, not a druggie.

John folded his legs to the side and leaned in closer to Smii7y, taking it from Smii7y and holding it between his own fingers, placing it in between his lips and inhaling. He held full eye contact until he turned away to exhale. The demonstration was nice, but it still had Smii7y feeling clueless and anxious.

Then, John, the devil himself, held it up to Smii7y's face. "Open up."

Smii7y couldn't find it in himself to refuse, sucking in his last deep breath of being pure and innocent before parting his lips, letting John slip the joint in slightly.

"Breathe in through your mouth."

Nervous, Smii7y held his breath for a moment or two before giving up and inhaling sharply. He got about halfway through his inhale before ripping away and coughing harshly into his elbow, shivering.

"Oh fuck, agh—... Fuck, ah, Jesus, fuck..."

Mockingly, John took another hit. "Nah?"

"That feels... weird..."

Smii7y blinked, trying to regain sense of what was happening.

"Fuck, you're just casually doing that shit?" His words were slurring, mostly from shock than anything else.

"Mhm."

Smii7y was dizzy. His head was spinning. That felt insane to say as he inhaled for not even half a second, but it was making his head all fuzzy and soft.

He whined under his breath, wincing at the spinning feeling. His head was heavy and he couldn't help but lean fully back against the crate, blinking up at the old shabby attic ceiling. It was dim, hard to make anything out, but Smii7y could see general shapes—and John since he for some reason had accessorized himself with a bunch of colorful glow sticks. All the colors were blending into one and he was almost convinced that he was about to black the fuck out.

"You okay?"

His voice was surprisingly close and it made Smii7y flinch, snap his eyes open and glance over, stare.

The sparkle in John's eyes was prominent, really prominent, snapping between Smii7y's eyes, eating him alive. The way he was staring at him so gently made him feel warm and goopy inside.

John's fingertips were barely ghosting Smii7y's leg, the contact driving him absolutely batshit insane.

Not really.

"Uh huh."

"Yeah?"

Smii7y needed John to shut up.

"Yeah..."

"You promise?"

Was it just him, or was John getting closer to him?

"Uh h...uh."

"Pinky promise?"

Smii7y noticed John pull out his pinky finger in his peripheral vision but he couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes off John. He could feel his warm, weed breath against his skin, prickling. Smii7y was breathless, almost getting high off John's breath alone. It was warm; Smii7y's skin was burning up.

"Pinky promise," he mumbled distractedly, barely even conscious.

John shifted closer and Smii7y could feel his lips grazing against his own.

His heart was faster than it had ever been.

His eyes were half-lidded and unfocused.

He couldn't breathe.

And—...

Jesus...

Smii7y's heart couldn't take this. He didn't even realize as he shifted, closer, eyes spilling shut and closing the gap in between them. He was choking on the lack of air, the heat, the warmth, the feelings.

John slid his hand up the back of Smii7y's neck, creating tingling against his skin. His hands were cold, so cold. They made Smii7y whine in discomfort as he tried to push himself away from them; further into John.

And he's lost. Falling into outer space. Drowning and sinking down to the bottom of the Mariana Trench. He's somewhere else, gone entirely.

They pulled away. There were faint footsteps, and Smii7y had half the mind to recognize that they were approaching but he couldn't bring himself to care, not when John was staring at him with hazy, bright eyes and parted lips, not when his hand is tangled in the back of Smii7y's hair, almost holding him at his mercy, not after what they just did.

They push back against each other. Smii7y had to grip John's shoulder to steady himself and not fall over.

It's messy and gentle. They're both drunk and high and have lost all of their kissing abilities yet it's perfect, it's sweet and just right.

Smii7y was leaning fully into John, dependent on him, leaving his whole life in his hands. He couldn't imagine it any other way, if he was being honest. The world feels so small, just them, the main star attractions. If Smii7y were to find out, right now, that he and John were the last two humans on Earth, he wasn't sure he would mind that much.

The light in the attic switched on and Smii7y ripped away from John, accidentally slamming his head on the crate, causing him to let out a pained yelp and moan.

John sat up on his knees and looked over the crate, glancing at the perpetrator.

"What the hell are you guys doing up here?" Grizzy mumbled, genuinely perplexed.

"Privacy."

"...Right. Well, have either of you guys seen Pezzy?"

"No."

"Grizzy, you asshole!" Smii7y whimpered, still clutching his head.

Scoffing, Grizzy flicked the light back off. "Not my fault you guys are hiding in the attic in complete darkness like freaks."

The hatch shut, leaving the two of them in that same dim lighting. It seemed darker now: Smii7y's eyes had adjusted to the light briefly. It was almost disturbing how he could barely see John now. It was like he had just lost half of his vision but gained double the hearing. His heart hammered loudly in his chest, pounding with all its strength against his ribs. He heard each and every breath leave his body, the shakiness behind it.

"Bathroom."

John got up, wobbling a bit before eventually wandering out the attic and shutting the hatch.

Smii7y blinked, paralyzed for a while, still trying to completely process what had just happened. If he zoned out enough, he could convince himself this was just a mere dream, a fake memory implanted into his brain. And maybe it was. Maybe that didn't just happen. Fuck knows.

***

When Smii7y wakes up, the first thing he does is moan and clutch his head, turn over and groan into the pillow. His head spins so fast it feels like he might fall off the bed any moment now.

The second thing he does is freeze, gasp to himself and blink rapidly.

He kissed John.

The fact sets slowly, burning him as it sets into his skin and eats him alive, savoring every single bite.

Smii7y's heart pounded so hard it was making him heave.

Sitting up despite the agony in his skull, he stared down at himself, eyes wide and disbelieving.

Propping himself up against the bed frame, he exhaled shakily.

He glanced over at the time, barely able to make it out clearly. It was already the afternoon.

He could barely even remember what happened after their... kiss. Hell, he couldn't even remember how he got here, in this bed. He could be in some random stranger's house right now and not even know it.

The door clicked quietly, creaking open.

"Hey, man."

Smii7y heart hammered for a moment, breath hitching.

Until Puffer stepped out: not John.

Smii7y sighed in half-relief and leaned back against the headboard, groaning after remembering just how much his head hurt.

"Had fun?"

Sick to his stomach, Smii7y stayed silent, still spiraling over the events of last night.

"I feel like death."

"Trust me, I feel the exact same way."

Safe to say, Puffer did not feel the exact same way.

"We're all in the living room, when you feel good enough to join us."

Smii7y barely mustered a nod.

He watched as Puffer exited and gently shut the door, footsteps receding.

Maybe if Smii7y prayed really hard, he'd suddenly appear in a foreign country's forest living in a deserted wooden cabin, hell, he'd even settle with some random motel an hour away. Just, anywhere but here.

Smii7y could still taste the weed on his tongue. He hadn't been high but it sure fucking felt like it. His mouth was numb and an odd sensation ran under his skin, across his whole body. His cheeks were red and, Jesus, he couldn't stop thinking about it, the exact moment they both leaned in.

His throat felt painfully dry and he finally realized that he would have to get up and face John: he couldn't ignore this forever. His heart pounded and he was trembling.

Slipping out of the bed, he moaned, clutching his head and sitting back down instantly.

God, he was fucked.

After a few more minutes of sitting down and begging his head to stop spinning, he stumbled back up onto his feet and clutched the wall, legs shaking feverishly and barely holding him up. His stomach swirled inside him, bubbling heat.

He somehow managed to make it to the bathroom and puke out as much as he could on an empty stomach. It made his stomach calm down, but it just made his headache worse. Walking downstairs, somehow not tripping, he sneaked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, downing everything almost instantly.

He could hear gentle chatter one room away, mostly groaning and whining. There were too many voices for Smii7y to make a single person out. He hoped John wasn't there. The wish was unlikely, but he was crossing every single pair of fingers his body had.

"Oh, hey."

Smii7y blinked.

John stood in the doorway, having just come from one of the bedrooms.

Fuuuck... Be careful what you wish for, I guess.

"...Hey."

John was leaning against the doorframe, probably also struggling to keep his own weight up.

"So," John started.

"So..."

"I got... so fucked up last night. I can barely remember anything... I feel like I'm dying." John chuckled breathily.

Oh.

Oh, that made sense.

He didn't remember.

Smii7y's throat was tight. "Oh, hah, yeah, same, man. I don't even remember how I got into bed."

He was struggling not to stumble over his words, stutter or do anything that would show how nervous he was.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I was fucked... I, uhm, lost a bet and had to drink a whole bottle."

"Oh, goddamn. That's fair."

"Yeah..."

"Can you pass me some water?"

"'Course."

Smii7y was barely even breathing at this point and he didn't doubt that he looked really flushed and red.

Smii7y grabbed a glass with shaky hands and filled it before hesitantly passing it to John.

"Thanks."

Smii7y nodded briefly, watching John drink it all. He couldn't help but notice he still had the glow stick bracelets loosely hanging from his wrists, barely glowing anymore. There were still hints of blue, purple, and pink within them, but they had mostly dimmed.

"You... good?" John mumbled.

"Hm? Yeah. Sorry." Smii7y forced his eyes up. "Just... dealing with the worst hangover of my life," he commented playfully.

John laughed politely. "Me too, man. Me too."

Smii7y didn't know if he could ever look at John the same again.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

John exited the room and all Smii7y could do was stand there, body tense and sweaty.

He had never been in this situation before. He had no idea what to do. Should he tell John? Should he pretend it never happened? There were too many questions and too few answers.

Maybe, if he just spent the rest of his day normally, he would forget all about this.

For the rest of the day, he could barely meet John's eyes, skittishly snapping his head away whenever John looked his way. It was worse when he had to speak to him, awkwardly mumbling to the ground, having to repeat himself time and time again.

Smii7y had tried his best to be normal, partake in conversations with John, but he just couldn't stop thinking about it. He promised himself one thing: he would talk about it. He couldn't postpone it; he had to talk about it today, tonight.

Until he got back to the house and there was booze available everywhere. Until his friends were dragging him to play beer pong. Until he got caught up in a drinking game.

He couldn't talk to John like this. He couldn't talk to John while he was drunk. God knows what that would lead to.

Tomorrow.

He would do it tomorrow. He'd find a way to keep to himself until he sobered up, then he'd find John and talk to him. He didn't know what he was gonna say and how, but it was better than nothing.

His thought process was, as long as he stayed away from John tonight, everything would be fine.

But in what world would that work out?

"Hey."

Smii7y hazily looked up at John. "Hi."

"I have a surprise."

"Huh?"

John sat on the arm of the couch, smiling sweetly. He clicked his tongue. "You wanna follow me?"

Everything within Smii7y was screaming at him, sounding alarms, pushing every last panic button.

Smii7y stared at John.

He had beige cargo pants on, complementing his body type immaculately, white and orange sneakers on with a little bit of a rough look to them, adding some personality. His t-shirt caught Smii7y's attention a lot; he actually wasn't sure how to explain it. It looked like an optical illusion. It had Smii7y feeling dizzy and unable to look away, or maybe that was just the man himself having that effect. A few bracelets hugged his wrists loosely, all silver or white. His fingers were littered with rings and small chains, also all silver. The shiny gray looked perfect on him, heavenly almost.

Smii7y met his eyes.

There was something in them, with the way they scanned all of Smii7y's movements carefully, as if there was something obvious that he was missing, as if he was a wise being and Smii7y was just a medieval peasant.

"A surprise?"

John grinned, such raw eagerness that Smii7y couldn't dare refuse him.

Smii7y got up, following John upstairs and into the attic, again. Smii7y swallowed nervously, but still sat down in their exact places from last night, against the crates, facing the slanted ceiling.

John pulled out two joints, handing one to Smii7y.

"Only if you want to."

Smii7y stared at it. He felt sick.

"Why up here...?"

"If the others see you smoking weed, they're gonna get all up in your business and annoy you. I just want a little safe private space for you."

Smii7y didn't argue. "Okay."

"You wanna try it...?"

"Uh huh. Okay, yeah."

They sat in silence for a beat longer.

"Are you gonna grab it?" John questioned, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

Smii7y bit his lip, nervousness creeping up his body.

"Okay, that's fine. C'mere." John shifted closer, again. He held it up to Smii7y's face, again. He waited for approval, for Smii7y to part his lips, again.

Everything was just a repeat of last night, but Smii7y really didn't want to stop.

Smii7y tried it again, inhaling.

Maybe it was his extreme desperation for some peace, for some calmness, but he managed to take in more than last night, almost getting through it all without choking. Ripping away, he coughed into the back of his hand and groaned out a curse.

And, oh fuck, it actually felt good.

The first time, he had had no idea what to expect, he had been anxious about trying it and he got scared at the slightest feeling. But when he let go of all of that, when he forgot about his nerves about weed and he could actually relax and breathe, it was fucking good.

It was a hypnotizing, swirling feeling that made everything around him spin round and round and round. Everything had decreased in volume, almost peacefully silent. His heart slowed in his chest, relaxed and content.

"Fuck..." he whispered.

"Good fuck? Bad fuck?"

"C'n I—..."

Careful, he grabbed the joint from John's hand, leaned back, and took another hit. He didn't choke this time, inviting the smoke into his lungs and probably fucking him up in so many ways he couldn't understand. He let his body fall limp, tired and light. He adjusted so he was leaning to the side and eventually set his head to rest on John's shoulder, eyes fluttering shut in bliss and euphoria. It was silent in the attic beside Smii7y's soft breaths, occasionally getting broken up by him deeply inhaling the smell of weed in the room. He felt John relax as well, gently rest against Smii7y.

Sure, they did this jokingly in front of their friends a bunch, but this felt different. Whether that was due to the events of last night or the fact that he was starting to get high for the first time in his life, Smii7y didn't know. It just felt intimate, like they should keep this a secret, and maybe they should.

"Feels nice. Doesn't it?"

"Mhm..." he mumbled, smiling.

John sat up, adjusting so he could sling his arm around Smii7y, resting it on Smii7y's shoulder and pulling him closer. His touch was warm and Smii7y was half convinced he could fall asleep like this.

"Y'wanna know the nerdiest thing ever?" Smii7y muttered.

"Yeah."

"I loved math in school, even did it in my free time. Just doing it kinda made me feel peaceful and distracted my mind. I thought that was what being high would be like. And, fuck, it feels so much better than any stupid math equation could make me feel."

John snorted. "I don't think I was ready for just how nerdy that was."

"Shut up... I had a good teacher, loved that guy. He was basically like a parental figure to me. I could always go to him if I needed help with something, even if it wasn't math-related. Honestly, I was closer to him than my actual..." he trailed off.

This conversation was getting dangerous.

Smii7y barely—barely—talked about his personal life, let alone his parents. The little information he had shared with his friends had been... not exactly the most accurate.

He didn't know why he just started talking like that. It was like he couldn't control what was coming out of his mouth. And his emotions were starting to feel like a fucking wreck, all over the place, spilling over the ground where John could see.

"...Than your actual parents?"

"I didn't say that."

"You meant it."

Smii7y stayed quiet.

John didn't push, didn't freak out and start questioning and interrogating him. He was calm.

"You still in contact with your parents?"

"Of course I am—... I tell you guys stories about things they said or did, like, all the time."

"And every time you do, it pains me to have to sit through all your straight-up bullshit."

Smii7y went silent.

"I can tell. The others might be stupidly oblivious, but I'm not. I know you, Smii7y."

"Pass the joint."

Smii7y sat up, away from John, away from his warmth and comfort.

John held it closer to Smii7y but snapped it away at the last second.

"Will you talk?" He stared into Smii7y, into Smii7y's soul.

"Talk about what?"

"I'm not brain dead. I can see you trying to avoid the subject. I know all your little quirks as well as you."

It wasn't like John was going to remember any of this, Smii7y thought to himself as he glanced off to the side awkwardly.

"I'll talk."

John tentatively passed the joint, watchful eyes not straying from Smii7y's for a single second.

"So."

Smii7y leaned back against the barrels.

He stared at the joint in his hands, inhaling much harder and choking slightly. Clearing his throat, he sighed and rested his head back, returning the weed to John.

"I... uh," he began, careful, "was about... fourteen or fifteen? I think so. Anyway, there was a big hockey game going on for my school. I was playing against another team with my... friend... in it. Uhm, my parents were there, obviously. I don't remember what team won, think it might've been mine. So I got off the rink and was putting all my shit away in the locker rooms. We had shared locker rooms, so my friend was there too. Everyone was celebrating with their team, but we both didn't really know anyone, so we just put all our stuff away and left as soon as we could. And..." He groaned. "Ugh, it's so embarrassing..."

John muttered, "Go on."

"Fuck..." Smii7y covered his face with his arm. "My parents caught me and him making out under the bleachers."

The silence that followed made Smii7y want to rip his skin off.

"They didn't like that?"

"Hah, fuck no."

"Damn... How long were you two dating?"

"Few weeks. He dumped me after that." Smii7y winced. "That sucked. He was my first kiss... and relationship in general. Funnily, I thought I was so in love with him. Then he just casually mentions wanting to break up, no pep talk, no easing into it, no reassurance, and we never speak again."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. A perfect first relationship is pretty unlikely, so fair enough."

"Yeah. I could have treated you better."

"What?"

"What?" John repeated back, sounding genuinely confused.

"What'd you say?"

"I could have treated you better, instead of just dumping you like that. If we had dated, I would have done my best to make it as close to perfect as possible."

Smii7y was speechless. "That's a... weird thing to say..."

"Is it weird? Is it weird after we were making out in this exact position at almost exactly this time yesterday?"

Smii7y blinked.

John could remember while high, just not sober. Smii7y hadn't actually thought that could have even been possible, although he hadn't been doing much thinking tonight.

"We—..." Smii7y bit his lip, snapping his head away in embarrassment. "I... don't know..."

"So what did they do?"

"What?" Smii7y was breathless, and his mind was too foggy for this conversation.

"Your parents."

"Oh. They were insanely homophobic, hated my guts after that."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that."

"But I am."

"Yeah but—... Just... stop. It makes me feel bad."

"Why does it make you feel bad?"

"I don't know, I just... Fuck, stop asking so many questions!" he groaned out. "I feel like this weed is making me into an emotional wreck."

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh... It's fine." John won't remember any of this in the morning anyway.

"Why were you lying to us? Well, still are."

Smii7y looked over at John, met his eyes.

"I just wanted to seem normal."

John blinked a few times, taking in the words. He seemed taken aback and really unsure of what to say, occasionally snapping his eyes away from Smii7y, almost as if looking at him was hurting him.

Smii7y eventually tore his eyes away, shuffling back against the crate and looking down, thinking.

"I just kind of..." he trailed off. He needed to stop taking.

"What?"

"Nothing, never mind. It's, like, barely related."

"Tell me." John placed a comforting hand on Smii7y's thigh. "I'm here to listen."

Smii7y was spacey, barely in the moment. His heart was pounding, breaths shaky. "It's fine."

John caressed Smii7y's leg gently. "You don't have to tell me, but it might help. It might be nice to get it off of your chest. You get me?"

Smii7y glanced at John again, meeting his eyes. John was waiting, patient and calm. He wasn't pressuring Smii7y, no, he was kind and understanding. He was respecting his wishes, his boundaries. Smii7y swallowed, looked back down at the ground. He had already yapped John's ear off about things he shouldn't have said; what harm would a little more do?

"I've never really..." Smii7y hadn't told anyone this before, "liked myself."

John was silent, processing the words and trying to think of what to say, how to respond.

"Sorry..."

"Don't apologize, Smit. Is there... anything in particular you don't like?"

Smii7y crossed his arms over himself, squeezing his legs together and forcing John's hand to fall off him. He wanted to hide away from the whole world.

"Can we... talk about something else?"

"...Of course."

"Thanks..."

There was a brief pause of silence before John spoke again, in a completely different tone, completely different conversation. They didn't talk about it.

"When'd you find out you were gay?" John asked quietly.

"I never really did. I just always knew. It's how people just know their types, like just knowing that you only like blonde chicks or something. I just didn't realize that liking another dude wasn't okay."

"It is okay."

"My parents wouldn't say so."

His breaths were heavier, more effort put into them. His eyes stung and, fuck, was he starting to goddamn cry? Smii7y groaned, rubbing his eyes and trying to nonchalantly sniff away his runny nose.

"Smii7y, you're my best friend."

"Thanks..."

John moved closer, sitting up on his knees and facing Smii7y. They were close, really close. Smii7y could feel John's breath against his face.

"You can't say that and then look like you're about to kiss me."

"Fine, how about this: you're my favorite person who I've been crushing over since we met. Better?"

Smii7y didn't have time to think about the meaning of what John had just said, because, before he knew it, his lips were on him and Smii7y couldn't help but smile and melt into it. Smii7y rested his hands on John's shoulders, legs wrapping around him and holding him as close as possible. John pulled away, keeping a hand flat against Smii7y's chest to stop him from chasing John.

John pressed a kiss into the crook of his neck, mumbling something under his breath.

"Hm?"

"I love you," John muttered.

***

He was smitten, on cloud nine, head over heels, whatever the fuck you wanted to call it.

Smii7y was so, so fucked.

He couldn't get those stupid three words out of his mind, out of his head. They were driving him insane.

I love you.

It was one-third the words themself, one-third the context they were said in, and one-third how John had actually said them.

Smii7y felt weak remembering his tone. He spoke the words gently; it was the softest John had ever spoken to him, in his life. John had comforted him while crying, comforted him while he was going through messy break-ups, talked him through everything, yet he had never spoken to him that sweetly, that purely. It was breathy and just so fucking sincere that Smii7y actually couldn't take it.

Smii7y had flown back home the following day.

He was almost grateful—he couldn't even look in John's direction anymore. But it was almost so much worse, stuck in another country, desperately yearning for a man who only loved him when insanely high.

Every time he heard John's voice in a call, his heart pounded and his throat tightened. Every group recording session he had had suddenly turned ten times more miserable for Smii7y, ten times harder to stay focused and actually make content for his video or streams.

This was actually driving him crazy.

Smii7y and John hadn't played a duo game since, barely messaged each other directly instead of in group chats. Smii7y wondered if John noticed that Smii7y was distancing himself, avoiding him. The weird thing was that... it almost seemed like John was avoiding him too. He wasn't acting weird at all when they were in a call together with others, just the same, but he wasn't texting Smii7y at all. Maybe he had noticed. Maybe he thought he had done something wrong. Maybe Smii7y had done something wrong.

The more time passed, the more his mind spiraled. Smii7y was actually going insane. He couldn't do this. He couldn't keep ignoring John. He couldn't pretend like everything was fine, continue recording with him.

He got a DM from Puffer: 'Yo, matt bailed last minute, you down to play smth?'

Smii7y swallowed and opened up the chat.

SMii7Y
is John there?

BigPuffer
Yeah
is that a problem?

He didn't know how to respond to that. He stared at his screen for a little while longer.

SMii7Y
Nah
I can't soz, busy

BigPuffer
You and John have been really weird around each other
wtf happened

SMii7Y
Nothing happened

BigPuffer
Well the tension when you're both together is insane, js try sort out whatever's going on on man
It's painfully obvious

Puffer had a point. Smii7y had to sort this out. He had to talk to John.

The next time they would be meeting up was next week, the fourteenth, Valentine's Day. Wasn't that ironic?

Smii7y held out until then, not speaking a single word to John, refusing any sessions with him. He couldn't bear to speak to the man. He just had to see him face-to-face so he could talk to him, sort everything out. That sounded a lot easier than it probably would be, but he had to speak to him.

It felt like it was just yesterday that he had been dreading meeting John in a week, and now here he was, sitting on the bed of a hotel and taking as deep of breaths as he could.

John's room was right across from his. He had gotten here before Smii7y and was already settled in. Thankfully, Smii7y hadn't seen him yet, otherwise he might have exploded. One thing about this hotel, was that there was a bar right across the road. Smii7y had been so stressed, so anxious, that he decided to try calm his nerves a bit. He sat on the stool, sipping his vodka cranberry, heart hammering. Scrolling through Instagram, he couldn't help but almost flinch whenever he scrolled onto a post with John in it.

Tyler had posted something a few hours ago. John was in the background, hiding his laughter in his fist, eyes scrunched and pleased. The next photo, John was laughing harder, face hidden in his hands, but still visibly cackling at something. The last picture was John standing back-to-back with Tyler, both of them holding up finger guns with silly expressions.

Smii7y couldn't stop staring at John, lips tugged up, wide, amused eyes, gorgeous rings wrapped around his fingers, perfect necklaces that complemented him.

Fuuuck, he was so fucked.

Smii7y groaned, finished the rest of his drink, ordering another and immediately downing that one too. He paid and left as soon as he could. He froze as soon as he reached the hotel.

"Smii7y!" John chirped up, walking up to him and hugging him tight.

Smii7y couldn't ignore the strong stench of weed.

"Hi, John," Smii7y greeted nervously.

John met his eyes, grinning. He was so happy, so genuinely overjoyed to see Smii7y that it made his heart ache.

"Come on! We need to catch up," John replied giddily, dragging him to the elevators.

"As much as I would love that, I'm really tired... John."

John hummed and glanced back at him as he pressed the button to their floor.

"That's okay. You can get some rest tonight. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

He smiled sweetly, intoxicating.

Smii7y nodded, knowing any words he would try to get out would just break and fall apart immediately.

The elevator thrummed, shook gently. Every second spent in silence made Smii7y's mind freak out worse and worse. He was shaking and barely holding himself up on his own two feet.

He followed behind John and was about to open his door, but... oh, shit, his keys weren't in the pocket he remembered putting them in.

Smii7y ground his teeth together, checking every single pocket he had: pants, jacket, shirt.

"You good?"

"Fuck, I think I dropped my keys somewhere..."

"Oh, shit."

"It's fine. I'll go to the receptionist and ask for a spare pair."

"...Smii7y."

"Yeah?" For a second, Smii7y's heart stopped, having no idea what John was going to say.

"The reception isn't open. It closed at three."

"Isn't it only, like, two?"

Smii7y checked his phone: 3:42.

Smii7y blinked.

John glanced around before asking, "You wanna crash in my room?"

And that was probably the worst idea Smii7y had ever heard, given their current situation. But what else could he do?

"...Okay, uhm, thanks..."

John unlocked his door, stepped inside, and held it open for Smii7y, waiting.

Smii7y felt like he was willingly stepping into a bear trap, but he walked in, the door shutting behind him.

"You drunk?"

"Bit... You high?"

"Fuck yeah."

Smii7y was relieved to see the room had a couch, and not just a bed. At least he wouldn't have to sleep in the same bed.

Smii7y stared at John, grinning and happily looking at him. He couldn't talk to him while he was high and wouldn't remember anything. That was just pointless. Smii7y's nerves weren't calming down, and he was going to freak out bad if he didn't do something soon. He might actually lose his shit.

"You want some?"

"What?"

John held up a joint.

Smii7y didn't think twice, grabbing it and immediately holding it up to his lips.

He was stressed. He needed it, and for a moment, he really didn't care about the consequences.

He held onto it for a long while, until everything was spinning, until his vision was hazy. He passed it back to John and stumbled back to sit on the bed, lying down with a quiet moan. Everything was moving around him. He couldn't believe he was doing this again, getting high with the one person he shouldn't be getting high with.

He heard John cough, choke. Smii7y looked over, watching a woozy John lie back against the bed, eyes slightly watery.

"Loser."

"Suck a cock." John groaned.

Smii7y giggled, lightly and quietly.

Smii7y kept his eyes trained on John, physically unable to look away.

John glanced back at him. "What?"

"N'thin'. Just..." he trailed off, couldn't breathe.

John's chest rose and dropped slowly, over and over.

Smii7y was weak.

John shuffled back, sitting against the headboard of the bed.

"Come here."

Smii7y hesitantly followed, sitting in front of John. "What?"

John smiled. He carefully wrapped his legs around Smii7y's hips and placed his hand on his cheek.

"I hope you know how fucking lovesick you make me."

Smii7y flickered his eyes across John's face. Flushed, Smii7y stuttered, "I—... I don't... You—..."

John somehow managed to get a better hold of Smii7y and flip them both over, gaining a surprised yelp out of Smii7y, who looked up at John awkwardly and nervously.

"Hi?"

"I love you."

John pressed a kiss to Smii7y's forehead.

"So much."

He kissed the tip of his nose.

Smii7y wanted to cry. His eyes stung and his throat was trembling.

"I missed you."

"Fuck..." Smii7y mumbled shakily.

Everything inside Smii7y was on the verge of bursting, exploding. He had forgotten how much weed affected his emotions, how hysterical it made him, how sappy.

"I missed you too..."

John smiled at that, almost relieved that Smii7y felt the same way.

John pressed their lips together carefully, tentatively, as if testing the waters. Smii7y placed a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in.

Everything else didn't exist, just them. Smii7y was living in the moment, more present than he had ever been in the past year. Smii7y's stomach was bubbling, boiling inside him. His head spun like a never-ending carousel, and it was sickeningly amazing, perfect.

John's lips were hot and magnetic, threatening to swallow him whole. They knew what Smii7y needed right now. John pushed a bit harder, Smii7y pulled a bit harder.

"John..." he whispered into his mouth. "We can't..." He glanced at John with half-lidded eyes.

"You're the one pulling me in."

Smii7y pulled him closer, just wanting him to shut up. He was addicted.

Smii7y shut his eyes, lost in the feeling. He'd been wanting to feel this again since the last time. He'd been craving it, even after how much it messed him up afterwards. He just wanted to have a few moments of pure bliss, of freedom. Smii7y would do anything to be trapped in this feeling forever.

John grabbed the hem of Smii7y's shirt, tugging it up.

"John—..."

"I'm not. I just wanna..." He muttered something inaudible after that.

Dazed, Smii7y helped John take the shirt off, pulling it over his head.

John pressed kisses down his chest. "You're amazing, Smit."

"Shut up..."

"I'm serious."

It was dim, and Smii7y could barely see, but the warm bedside lamp was helping, honestly, the only thing keeping him grounded currently. It was warm, and Smii7y was burning up, probably bright pink in the face, especially his flustered cheeks. His whole body was electrified, and he was almost convinced this was some weird dream.

John leaned down, biting a part of Smii7y's neck, sinking his teeth in hard and drawing a few pained tears from Smii7y.

"Ow, you fucker..."

"Shh..." John pressed a kiss to the area. "See? It's fine."

John placed his hand on Smii7y's waist, squeezing it slightly as a way of comforting him. His hands were so cold against the heat of his skin and it was heavenly, refreshing. Humming mindlessly, Smii7y held one of John's hands and moved it to press against the middle of his torso, faintly sighing. John rubbed circles with his thumb against the flesh. Something about it was so comforting. John kept his hand there, seemingly appreciative of Smii7y's pleasure.

John kissed his chest again. "You're so gorgeous."

John smiled. "I love you," he mumbled, over and over. He kept repeating the phrase as he kissed different parts of his body, pressed his hands against his hips, stomach, chest, waist, shoulders.

He shifted up again, leaning into Smii7y's face, pressing one of his hands into his cheek and kissing him with pure, unfiltered love. John treated him like a husband of ten years, like a high-school sweetheart, like they were an old married couple. He smiled into the kiss and Smii7y couldn't help but do the same, body pulsing with heat.

"You're fucking amazing. I'm so happy I met you."

He sounded so sincere, so genuinely honest that Smii7y actually had to bite his lip to not start crying.

"I wish we could do this sober."

Fuck...

What was he doing?

Smii7y threw his arm over his face.

"Get off," he whispered.

"...What?"

"Please get off."

John backed away, off of him, staring with a hurt expression. "You okay? I'm sorry... Was that—... Was that too far?"

"I can't keep doing this."

"What?"

Smii7y's voice was breaking. He sat up, head turned away from John. "I can't..."

"Smii7y, talk to me."

"This—... This isn't just... meaningless to me... I can't treat it like that, John. I'm not that kind of person... Every time we—..." He was a few moments away from full-on sobbing and breaking down. "I think about this thing we have almost every waking minute... I can't just..."

"...What do you mean?"

Smii7y couldn't respond, too focused on trying to calm his broken weeps.

"Smii7y... Hey, it's okay..." John muttered, reaching out to try grab Smii7y's hand.

Smii7y snapped it back, biting his lip and sniffing. "I can't... I'm—... I can't..."

"Please let me hug you, just hug, nothing else." John's voice was timid.

Smii7y trembled, eyes burning with his tears.

"Can I?"

"U-Uh huh."

John moved closer and wrapped his arms around Smii7y, holding him close. He rubbed circles on Smii7y's back reassuringly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into his ear. "I'm so sorry."

John sniffed as well, as if he was also crying. And maybe he was.

"Do you wanna put your shirt back on?"

Quiet, Smii7y whimpered.

"Okay, uhm, fuck," John's voice broke, "here you go."

A hoodie was passed to Smii7y and he didn't hesitate in putting it on, vision blurry through teary eyes.

"I'm sorry..." John mumbled. He was crying.

"I'm too h...igh for this..." Smii7y exhaled, hiccuping and sniffling.

John nodded. "I can help... Wait..."

He stumbled off the bed and grabbed two bottles of water from the kitchenette, passing one to Smii7y.

"Drink, uhm, that..."

Silently, Smii7y complied, drinking as much as he could without feeling violently sick before discarding it on the bedside table.

He was still crying, but it was quieter and more controlled.

John leaned closer, rested his forehead on Smii7y's shoulder.

"Please don't cry... I can't stand hearing you cry because of me."

Smii7y sobbed under his breath, almost silently. Lying down, Smii7y let John follow, hugging him and pressing his head into Smii7y's chest.

"Can we talk in the morning?"

"Mhm..."

"I'm so sorry, Smii7y."

***

When Smii7y woke up, John was staring at him.

Smii7y let his eyes adjust, blink a few times before taking in the face a couple of inches from his own.

John lit up, almost surprised. "Smii7y..."

There were dry, faint tear streaks on John's face, and he couldn't even begin to imagine the ones on his.

"John..."

It was quiet. A few birds were chirping outside, maybe the sound of some wind. Sunlight shone into the room, and Smii7y could actually see clearly for once. John was anxious, hesitant to say anything, as if scared of what Smii7y might say or think.

John winced, swallowing anxiously. "Do—... Do you remember last night?"

"...Yeah."

"All of it?"

"Yeah..."

John was silent for a moment.

"Do you?" Smii7y asked.

"Yeah."

Smii7y glanced down at John's shirt, unable to look him in the eye.

"Smii7y?"

"Mhm...?"

"Do you... remember the first time we kissed?"

"Yeah."

John stared at him. "...Actually?" he whispered, almost like he was hesitant to believe Smii7y.

"Yeah... I... remember us kissing."

"But you don't remember me carrying you to bed, do you?"

Smii7y stared at him again. No. He didn't remember that. He shook his head slowly.

"You said you—... You said you didn't know how you got into bed. I thought that meant you didn't remember any of it..."

Smii7y eyed him. John thought he didn't remember.

"I thought... I mean, that incident... and the one the next day were eating me alive. I was... going crazy, could barely look at you. But I just... pushed it away because I thought you couldn't remember. I thought it didn't matter, so I just tried to ignore it." John hesitated. "Did that... make sense? 'M sorry... I'm just so sorry..."

"John, it's fine... Please, stop apologizing..."

John's eyes were watering. "I feel like I fucking used you, just... using you for when I wanted to have some fun, when I wanted to kiss someone. I knew I should have stopped. But I couldn't... Smii7y, I'm—..."

"Don't... John, I basically did the same thing... I kept getting high with you even though I knew it wouldn't end up well... I knew it'd just end with us... kissing."

"Smii7y, you started crying..."

Smii7y swallowed anxiously, glancing down for a brief moment before looking back up at John.

"I just wanted something more. I wanted something... real, than just drunk or high making out in some shabby attic or hotel room."

John stared at him, swallowing. He nodded, understanding. "Why'd you think I didn't remember?" he mumbled.

"You said you could barely remember anything." Smii7y blinked. "I thought that meant that you didn't remember."

"I... was trying to break the tension... I didn't think about how that might come across."

They were both silent for a long while.

"Do you remember the second time?" Smii7y asked, pleading in the back of his mind, silently wishing.

John's eyes tightened. "Yeah."

"Everything...?"

"I'm sorry... Smii7y."

Smii7y bit his lip, turned over to lie on his back, shutting his eyes and releasing a breath.

John knew. He knew every single little detail of his life that he'd desperately been trying to hide, to cover up and keep away from public eyes, even from private eyes, any eyes but his own. He'd been doing so well at keeping everything silent.

"I... Fuck." Smii7y draped his arm over his face. "I thought you wouldn't remember that."

"I do."

Smii7y inhaled sharply, taking deep breaths.

"Smit..."

"...Yeah?"

"I've been crazily in love with you for years now."

Smii7y looked over at him, cheeks bright pink. His head spun.

"Everything I said while high was true. It wasn't just... bullshit. It was real."

"...Really?"

"Uh huh."

Smii7y's stomach was twisting, spiraling.

"Do—..." John glanced away briefly before looking back at Smii7y. "Do you... feel like that? About me?"

"Yeah..."

"You promise you're not just saying that?"

Smii7y stuck out his pinky finger. "Pinky-promise."

"This seems familiar."

The corner of Smii7y's lip twitched upwards.

Smirking, John linked their pinky fingers and leaned in. Smii7y pushed forward, linking their lips together.

There wasn't the clear stench of weed. They weren't messy and out of their right mind. They were sober, and choosing this. This was real. It wasn't some lousy casual making out, it was real, intimate love.

Smii7y held John's hip, pulling him closer, wanting him to never pull away.

When John pulled away, Smii7y tried to follow him. Chuckling, John shifted his face away. "Damn, let a man speak."

Smii7y scoffed playfully.

"I don't get why anyone wouldn't like you. You're amazing." John pressed his forehead against Smii7y's.

Oh. He was referencing what Smii7y said to him that night.

Smii7y stayed silent, his stomach empty and dark, uneasy.

John held his wrist, pressing a kiss to it and smiling.

"You're funny."

John kissed the corner of his eye, where tear streaks probably were.

"You're caring."

John shifted to sit over Smii7y, straddling his hips and leaning down, kissing the top of his head. Smii7y adjusted and sat up too, staring at John in his lap.

"And you're beautiful."

Smii7y's heart was hammering and his cheeks were burning up.

"You say that a lot."

"Mm, do I?"

"Yes."

John hummed. "Maybe I do. I'm right, though, aren't I?"

Smii7y stays silent. He doesn't want to agree.

John frowned. "Smii7y..."

Smii7y glanced to the side, turning away from John.

"Smit, look at me."

Smii7y doesn't want to. He really doesn't.

"Please?"

Smii7y bit his lip, shy.

"Come on, I'm your... boyfriend."

Now that does make him look.

Smii7y stared at John, half-shocked. John himself seemed a bit stunned and hesitant at the word choice.

"If that's okay... with you," John adds quickly.

Smii7y feels giddy.

"...Yeah. I'd like to be your boyfriend."

John blinked, nodded. "Okay... Okay."

They're both silent for a bit.

"Smii7y?"

"Yes?"

"I love you. I love you a lot and... I want you to be okay."

"I am okay."

"No, you're not."

Smii7y sighed.

"Smii7y, please, take care of yourself. You're an amazing human being and I'd hate for you to see yourself as anything less. And I know me saying this doesn't do much, but I care about you a lot. I care about you and I hope you know that. I've always cared about you... Can you promise me one thing?"

"...What thing?"

"Promise me you'll give yourself a second chance, a fresh start."

Smii7y didn't bother holding back a scoff.

"Promise me you'll at least try. Because I know that, if you met someone new right now, they'd fucking love you."

"Fine. I can try, I guess."

"You can't even pretend like you mean it? Come on, promise me like you mean it. For me, and for you."

"John, I promise that I'll try."

"Could you also promise me you'll tell the others? About your parents."

Smii7y's stomach twisted uncomfortably.

"You said one promise, one thing to promise you. I didn't—..."

John leaned closer, pressing a peck to Smii7y's neck, the same spot John was kissing last night and probably held a hickey like a trophy. He kissed around that area, all over Smii7y's neck before pressing a small, soft, gentle kiss to his cheek, fluttering his eyes open and staring at Smii7y.

"I know, but they're both really important Smii7y, you know that."

Smii7y stared.

"I... can't just... do that."

"One day. It doesn't have to be today. It doesn't have to be this month, not even this year. But promise me you won't stick with the bullshit forever? That you will one day tell them the truth?"

"...I promise."

"What do you promise?"

Smii7y sighed. "I promise I'll tell the others the truth about my parents one day."

"And?"

"...And that I'll try give myself a second chance."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, I promise."

John stuck out his pinky finger.

Snickering, Smii7y shook his head in disbelief. He linked his pinky with John's, leaning in and kissing him for a short moment before pulling away again.

"Pinky-promise."