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Victor pushes the last of his empty suitcase to the back of his closet, then turns around with a satisfied smile to look over at Kashawn, who’s sitting cross-legged on his bed.
“Done,” Victor announces, closing the closet doors behind him.
“About damn time, Vic!” Kashawn says playfully before letting himself fall onto his back on the bed. “Now, can we leave?” he asks.
Victor rolls his eyes, but still smiles as he walks over to his bed and tosses an empty paper bag at Kashawn. His best friend yelps in surprise as he gets hit square in the face, before huffing out a small laugh that makes Victor shake his head in amusement.
“Where d’you wanna go, Kash? We can’t even drive here,” Victor says while picking up little pieces of stuff littering his bedroom floor.
Kashawn rolls on the bed for a second before flipping onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows as he looks at Victor with a playful smile. He switches his phone on, scrolling for a moment, then hums.
“Cal and Schaef are asking if we wanna go to the beach,” he says casually. “Eisy and Zay are going too.”
At the mention of Matthew, Victor feels his heart skip a few beats—traitorously fast—before he shoots Kashawn a sharp glare, and Kash tries—and fails—to hide his smile, ducking his head like that’ll make it less obvious.
To put it simply, ever since they’d been drafted to the New York Islanders a year ago—and ever since Victor had shared a room with Matthew during development camp—he’d had a crush on him.
At first, Victor hadn’t paid much attention to it. He’d known Matthew for a while—they’d played in the same age group, faced each other during World Juniors—but it hadn’t meant anything then. But draft night had changed things.
The three of them—Victor, Matthew, and Kashawn, who had been drafted just after Victor—had gone out to dinner with their families. And Matthew had been so talkative, so enthusiastic, so effortlessly endearing that Victor had found himself caught off guard. Matthew had already decided they were best friends—just like that—because they were all first-rounders on the same team.
Victor had felt a little out of place at first. Kashawn and Matthew had known each other longer—they were both Canadian, had played together for Team Canada, both defensemen—while Victor was a Swedish winger, coming in from a different path entirely, drafted away from his best friend Anton Frondell.
But Matthew had looked at him like none of that mattered. He’d told him it didn’t matter.
After that dinner, Victor had assumed Matthew would just become another close friend—like Kashawn had. They’d all three exchanged numbers outside the hotel restaurant, heading up to their rooms with tired smiles and promises to meet at breakfast before flying out to Long Island.
But it hadn’t stayed that simple. Because Matthew was—unfortunately—an overgrown teenage boy with the personality of a golden retriever, and he’d decided that Victor was his person.
At the hotel in Long Island, before Victor had even had the chance to ask anyone—Calum included, who’d already been around after getting traded from Colorado—if they wanted to room together, Matthew had latched onto him immediately.
“We’re rooming,” he’d said, like it wasn’t even a question.
And Victor… hadn’t been able to say no. Which had left Kashawn to room with Calum—who had found the whole thing hilarious, watching Matthew practically vibrate with excitement.
And just like that, development camp had turned into Victor slowly, painfully, realizing he had a crush on Matthew Schaefer. Not that he’d figured it out on his own. No—Kashawn had made sure of that.
On the last day of camp, after an exhausting, borderline brutal day of training and drills out in Long Beach, Kashawn had looked at him with mock seriousness and announced that he knew Victor had a crush on Matthew.
Victor had been livid. He’d denied it immediately—vehemently—but Kashawn hadn’t wanted to hear a single word of it.
And somehow, it had taken going back to Sweden for the summer—spending weeks with Anton and their families, texting Matthew constantly—for it to finally sink in. Especially after one night where Anton and his older brother William had both looked at him like he was ridiculous for not seeing it sooner.
Victor shakes his head briskly, forcing himself out of the memories, and looks over at Kashawn, who’s now propped up on his elbows, chin resting in his hands, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.
“You good?” Kashawn asks, barely holding back a grin. “So… beach?”
Victor walks over and flips him onto his back, making Kashawn giggle like a child. “We can’t go,” Victor mutters. “Barzy’s not home.”
Kashawn’s grin only widens. “We don’t need Barzy,” he says, voice dripping with satisfaction. “Matthew’s got his license now. Got a car too—partnership deal or something.”
Victor already knows that. And he hates that Kashawn knows he knows. Because the Martins’ house isn’t far from Barzy’s place—which means Matthew will be the one picking them up. Not Calum, not Cole, not Isaiah—but Matthew.
Victor presses his lips together, exhaling through his nose. He has his license too—but it’s Swedish, which means paperwork, tests, waiting. And no car. Same situation as Kashawn.
Kashawn hums, waiting.
Victor rolls his eyes. “Okay,” he mutters. “Tell Schaef we’re in.”
Kashawn lights up, immediately jumping off the bed like he’s just won something. His thumbs fly across his screen so fast that Victor almost regrets agreeing—but it’s too late now.
So instead, Victor turns toward his closet, grabbing a pair of swim trunks and a t-shirt before heading off to change. He pauses, then grabs an extra pair of trunks and tosses them at Kashawn.
“You’re welcome,” he says dryly. “Be grateful I’ve got bigger ones.”
Kashawn snorts, catching them. “Yeah, yeah. Love you too.”
They change quickly, then gather everything they might need—wallets, snapbacks, sunglasses, towels, portable chargers—stuffing pockets and slinging things around their necks in that careless, summer-ready way.
And just as they finish, a car horn sounds outside. Kashawn grins and Victor rolls his eyes.
They step out of the house, Victor locking the door behind him before they head down the porch toward the driveway, where Matthew’s brand-new car is parked. Of course it is and of course he is.
Matthew immediately spots them and unlocks the doors. Victor moves toward the backseat, already opening his mouth to call shotgun—but Kashawn bolts past him with a wicked grin, throwing himself into the backseat and sprawling across it like he owns it.
Victor stops short and glares at Kashawn who just beams back at him, completely unapologetic.
Victor exhales sharply through his nose before climbing into the passenger seat. “Hey,” he says, forcing casual as he greets Matthew with their handshake.
Matthew’s grin is bright, easy. “Hey, Veky.”
He leans back to do the same with Kashawn, laughing at something Victor doesn’t catch, before turning back to the wheel. And then they’re pulling out of the driveway, driving toward Long Beach.
Victor rests his elbow against the window, staring out as the houses blur past—but he’s acutely aware of everything. The music playing low, Kashawn talking in the back and Matthew—right next to him. Too close. Always too close.
“Glad you guys came,” Matthew says suddenly, glancing at him for a second longer than necessary.
Victor’s chest tightens. “Yeah,” he replies, voice quieter than he means it to be. “Yeah, me too.”
And Kashawn—traitor that he is—snorts softly from the backseat.
The rest of the drive to Long Beach passes without a hitch—mostly. The only disruption comes from Kashawn, who keeps fake-coughing in the backseat to hide his laughter every time Matthew points out something random along the road.
“Oh, that place is good,” Matthew says at one point, gesturing toward a small café as they pass. “We should go there sometime.”
Victor nods, trying to look normal, even as warmth creeps up his neck.
“And that one—” Matthew continues a second later, pointing again, “—their milkshakes are actually insane.”
Another nod and another flush. From the backseat, Kashawn makes a suspicious choking sound into his fist and Victor doesn’t even have to turn around to know he’s smiling.
It shouldn’t mean anything—Matthew’s probably just trying to get them familiar with the area, pointing things out so they don’t feel out of place—but still, Victor finds himself listening more than he should, hanging onto every word like it matters.
Like he matters.
Soon enough, the familiar Long Beach parking lot comes into view, and Matthew eases the car into a spot right next to Isaiah’s. Isaiah is already there, leaning casually against the car with Calum and Cole nearby, the three of them mid-conversation.
The moment the engine cuts, Victor is out of the car immediately. “Eisy—Cal—” he greets quickly, dapping them both up before stepping past them to pull Isaiah into a hug. And it’s not a quick one either. It’s tight.
Isaiah lets out a soft chuckle, arms coming around him easily. “Missed you too, Veky,” he teases, before pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head.
Victor huffs out a quiet laugh against him.
They’ve gotten closer since last year—since dev camp, since Victor joined Bridgeport toward the end of the season—and somewhere along the way, Isaiah had become… safe. Easy. Someone Victor didn’t have to think twice about when it came to closeness, to affection. Not like—well. Not like Matthew.
They pull apart after a couple of seconds, and as Victor turns back toward the group, his eyes meet Matthew’s. Just for a second. But in that second, there’s something there—something unreadable, something sharp—and before Victor can even begin to figure out what it is, it’s gone. Matthew looks away, expression smoothing out like nothing happened.
Victor blinks.
“Yo,” Cole cuts in after a moment, clapping his hands together lightly. “We grabbing food first or what?”
There’s a general chorus of agreement, and just like that, they’re heading off toward one of the restaurants they all already know—the spot they’d gone to during development camp last season, when everything had still felt new and uncertain and exciting in a completely different way.
As they walk, Victor somehow ends up wedged between Kashawn and Matthew. Of course he does. And at first, it’s fine—normal—but then Kashawn starts drifting closer. Subtly. Deliberately.
Victor feels it immediately. “Kash,” he mutters under his breath, trying to elbow him away.
Kashawn only hums innocently and shifts even closer. Which, in turn, pushes Victor right into Matthew. Their hands brush once, then again, and again.
Each time sending a small, electric jolt up Victor’s arm. Until finally, Matthew just—does something about it. His arm comes up, settling loosely around Victor’s shoulders, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like it’s nothing. And Victor’s entire face goes bright red.
He shoots Kashawn a glare so sharp it could cut glass, but Kash just looks ahead, lips twitching, like he’s not responsible for any of this. Liar.
By the time they reach the diner, Victor is hyper-aware of everything—of the warmth at his side, of Matthew’s hand resting just a little too close to his throat, of Kashawn’s barely contained amusement.
Matthew finally pulls his arm away to open the door, holding it as everyone filters inside.
Victor lingers at the back on purpose, letting the others go first—but then Matthew nudges him lightly.
“Go,” he says, smiling.
So Victor steps in, but not before he feels it—that hover. Matthew’s hand, just barely there at the small of his back. Not touching, but almost. It’s enough to make his stomach flip.
Inside, the others have already claimed a booth by the window, the view opening out toward the beach. Victor slides in next to Isaiah without thinking, across from Cole and Kashawn.
And just as Matthew moves to sit next to Kashawn—Kash grabs Calum and yanks him down beside him instead.
“Sit here,” he says quickly.
Calum snorts but doesn’t argue. Which leaves Matthew with only one option. Right next to Victor, and he doesn’t even try to hide the glare he sends Kashawn this time.
Matthew, completely oblivious—or pretending to be—just smiles as he slides in, their knees bumping under the table, their hands brushing again as they both reach for the menus. Of course they do.
They order a few minutes later, everyone picking something different, conversation flowing easily around the table. And like always—always—Matthew ends up stealing from Victor’s plate.
“Hey—” Victor protests half-heartedly as Matthew reaches over.
“You weren’t eating it,” Matthew shrugs, already taking a bite.
Victor rolls his eyes and immediately reaches over to steal something off Matthew’s plate in retaliation.
“Yeah? Watch me.”
It goes on like that—back and forth, easy, familiar, dangerously comfortable. Neither of them noticing the looks being exchanged across the table. Isaiah raises an eyebrow, Calum smirks, Cole snorts into his drink, and Kashawn—Kashawn looks insufferably pleased.
They spend the rest of lunch talking, laughing, catching up—stories about their summers, their families, little things that somehow feel bigger when they’re all together like this.
It feels… good. Easy. Like no time has passed at all.
After they’re done eating, Matthew, Kashawn, and Isaiah split the bill, waving off the others’ attempts to contribute before they all pile out of the diner and head back toward the cars.
They grab their towels, sunglasses, whatever they left behind, and then start toward the beach. Long Beach is just as crowded as ever—packed with people, the air thick with heat and salt and the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore.
Victor exhales as they step onto the sand, the warmth immediately sinking into his skin.
“Race you?” Kashawn suddenly says, already backing up.
Victor barely has time to react before Kash takes off running. “Hey—!” Victor shouts, laughing despite himself as he bolts after him.
Behind them, he hears Matthew’s voice—“Cheaters—!”
And then footsteps in the sand, closing in fast. Too fast.
Victor doesn’t even make it halfway before a hand catches his wrist, pulling him off balance just enough to send him stumbling forward with a startled laugh.
“Got you,” Matthew says, breathless, grinning.
Victor turns, heart pounding for reasons that have nothing to do with running.
“You’re—” he starts, then stops, because Matthew’s still holding his wrist. Still close. Still looking at him like—like that. Victor swallows. “—so annoying,” he finishes weakly.
Matthew just laughs. And doesn’t let go right away. Victor blinks up at Matthew, the warmth of his hand still wrapped around his wrist, seeping into his skin like it’s trying to linger there. Their eyes meet—again—and this time it stretches, the moment pulling thin and taut until it feels like something that might snap if either of them moves.
Victor forgets how to breathe. For a few seconds—too many seconds—it’s just them.
And then—“Yo, you guys good?”
The spell breaks.
Victor startles slightly, turning his head to see Isaiah jogging up to them with Calum and Cole trailing behind. Awareness crashes back in all at once, and Victor pulls his wrist free a little too quickly, stepping back like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
He pointedly avoids looking at Matthew as he turns toward the others, ignoring the very obvious looks on their faces—Isaiah’s raised brow, Cole’s barely hidden grin, Calum’s knowing smirk.
“Where’s Kash?” Calum asks after a second, mercifully steering things elsewhere.
Victor clears his throat, gesturing vaguely behind him without turning. “Back there. We were racing and—” he pauses for half a second, then adds quickly, “—I tripped. Schaef just… helped.”
Cole nods slowly, clearly not buying it, amusement dancing across his face.
Victor risks a glance to the side—and immediately regrets it. Matthew’s already looking at him. He’s smiling, soft and a little sheepish, hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck before he looks away toward the others like nothing happened. Victor’s face heats up instantly.
A second later, they’re all moving again, walking across the sand until they reach Kashawn, who’s standing there waiting for them with his hands on his hips like he’s been judging them the entire time.
“Took you long enough,” he says.
Victor flips him off without missing a beat, dropping his things onto the sand as the others follow suit. Towels are spread out, pockets emptied, snapbacks tossed aside, sunscreen passed around in quick, practiced motions.
And then—“Race?” Isaiah calls out.
Victor doesn’t even think before taking off at his signal. He laughs—bright, unfiltered—as he dodges Cole lunging toward him, sand kicking up beneath his feet as he sprints toward the water. The ocean rushes closer, the sound of waves louder now, alive—and then arms wrap around his waist. Strong and sudden.
Victor lets out a startled shout—“Schaef!”—but it dissolves into laughter as he’s lifted clean off the ground.
“Got you,” Matthew says again, breathless, grinning like this is the best thing in the world.
Victor barely has time to protest before Matthew swings him once—twice—before charging straight into the water with him still in his arms.
The impact sends a shock of cold through him, and Victor comes up sputtering, pushing wet hair out of his face as he laughs, breathless and giddy.
“Dude—what the hell—”
Matthew’s right there when he looks up. Close. Too close. Water clings to his skin, droplets tracing down his torso, sunlight catching against it in a way that makes Victor’s brain short-circuit for half a second.
His eyes dip down—just for a moment—and then he jerks them away like he’s been burned.
“Yeah, okay,” Victor mutters quickly, already moving past him, wading toward Calum like that’ll somehow fix the way his chest feels too tight.
He misses the way Matthew watches him go. The way his gaze lingers. The way it softens.
They stay in the water for a long time after that, messing around, splashing, tackling each other like a bunch of overgrown kids. Victor tries—he really does—to keep his distance from Matthew.
But Matthew doesn’t make it easy. He’s always there. Close enough that their arms brush, close enough that his hand hovers at the small of Victor’s back when they’re standing still. Close enough that their eyes keep meeting—quick, fleeting glances that never last long enough to mean anything and yet somehow mean everything. And every time, Matthew smiles. Small. Unassuming. Dangerous.
Eventually, Victor retreats back to the sand with Calum and Isaiah, collapsing onto his towel with a tired huff, chest rising and falling as he catches his breath.
“God,” he mutters, dragging a hand through his damp hair.
Calum chuckles beside him, stretching out on his elbows, while Isaiah leans back on his hands, both of them watching the chaos still happening in the water—Cole yelling, Kashawn trying to drag Matthew under.
Victor follows their gaze for a second before dropping his head back.
“So,” Calum says casually, like he’s asking about the weather. “You gonna confess anytime soon?”
Victor freezes. His phone slips slightly in his hand as he slowly turns his head—too fast, actually, because there’s a sharp pull in his neck that he ignores completely—to stare at Calum and Isaiah.
“What?” he blurts out.
They’re both looking at him. Smiling. Not even trying to hide it. For a second, no one says anything, and Victor just blinks, panic creeping up his spine in a way that feels dangerously close to exposure.
“What do you mean?” he tries again, weaker this time.
Calum shrugs one shoulder like it’s obvious. Isaiah grins, eyes glinting with mischief.
“We’re not blind, Veky,” Isaiah says lightly. “We’ve all kind of figured you’ve got a massive crush on Schaef.”
Victor’s face heats up immediately. “No, I don’t—” he starts, too quick, too defensive. “I just—he’s—he’s my best friend, I just appreciate—”
He trails off. Because the looks they’re giving him? Yeah. They’re not buying it. Not even a little.
Victor exhales, shoulders slumping slightly as he looks down at his hands. “…Is it that obvious?” he mutters.
Calum and Isaiah exchange a glance—matching grins spreading across their faces—before looking back at him and nodding in sync. Victor groans quietly, curling in on himself as something like humiliation settles heavy in his chest.
“Great,” he mumbles. “So if you guys know, then Matthew definitely knows.”
That gets a laugh out of both of them.
Victor looks up, frowning. “What?”
Isaiah shakes his head, still smiling. “Nah. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t.”
Calum snorts. “If he did, he would’ve tried something already.”
Victor blinks. “…Wait—what?”
Calum tilts his head, studying him for a second before dropping the next part like it’s nothing. “He likes you too, dumbass.”
Victor’s brain short-circuits. For a second, there’s just… nothing. Then—“—what?” he repeats, but it comes out strangled this time, an embarrassing sound catching in his throat before he can stop it.
Calum leans back on his elbows, looking thoroughly entertained. “Yeah. We weren’t supposed to say anything,” he admits, not sounding sorry at all. “But honestly? We’re kinda getting tired of watching you two play this whole cat-and-mouse thing.”
Isaiah laughs softly beside him. “Plus, I’d like to live, thanks. The way he looked at me earlier when I hugged you? Thought he was gonna end me.”
Victor’s eyes widen slightly. “…He what?”
“Oh, yeah,” Isaiah nods, completely serious despite the grin. “I feared for my life.”
Victor just sits there. Processing, or trying to. Because—what?
Calum continues, like he hasn’t just flipped Victor’s entire world upside down. “If one of you doesn’t make a move soon, something’s gonna explode. Probably Matthew.”
Victor swallows, throat suddenly dry. “…Who knows?” he asks quietly.
Calum lifts a hand, ticking it off casually. “Me, first. We were around each other all season—I kept catching him smiling at his phone like an idiot while texting you. Or on FaceTime with you constantly.”
Victor’s cheeks burn hotter.
Isaiah picks up from there. “Even when we’d all hang out at ours, your name would come up. All the time. Didn’t matter what we were talking about—somehow it circled back to you.”
Cole’s voice echoes faintly from the water, but Victor barely registers it.
“Especially after Sweden won Worlds,” Calum adds. “And your goal? Yeah—he wouldn’t shut up about it.”
Victor ducks his head, mortified and something else he can’t quite name twisting in his chest.
Isaiah nudges him lightly with his foot. “Me and Cole figured it out pretty quick after that. Same for Kash,”
“And then,” Calum continues, “he finally admitted it last week. Talked to Syd and Marty too—they’d already clocked it ages ago, just waited for him to say something.”
Victor blinks, slowly. “…Last week?”
“Yeah,” Isaiah nods. “Guess it got harder to ignore once he realized you were actually going to live here. Not miles away in Sweden anymore.”
Calum hums in agreement. “You being with the Islanders now? Bridgeport or not—it means you’re around. A lot.”
Victor lets that sink in. All of it. The words. The meaning behind them.
Somewhere out in the water, Matthew laughs—bright, familiar—and Victor’s head snaps up before he can stop himself, eyes finding him instantly. Like they always do.
Matthew’s smiling at something Kashawn said, completely unaware of the conversation happening just a few feet away. Completely unaware of what Victor now knows.
Victor exhales slowly. “…Oh,” he says, barely above a whisper.
And for the first time all day—everything feels different.
As the realization settles—slowly, dangerously—into Victor’s chest, the others begin to emerge from the water, laughter carrying over the sound of the waves as they make their way back up the beach.
Victor doesn’t mean to stare. He really doesn’t. But his eyes find Matthew anyway—like they always do—and this time, it feels different. He notices everything in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to before: the loose way Matthew walks, arms slung around Kashawn and Cole, the easy confidence in his movements, the way the water clings to his sun-warmed skin, catching the light as it drips down his torso.
Victor’s gaze lingers. Too long. And then he snaps his head away the second they get close enough, heat rushing up his neck like he’s been caught even though no one said anything.
Matthew lets go of Kashawn and Cole as soon as they reach them, shaking his head like a dog—sending a spray of cold droplets right onto Victor.
“Hey—” Victor starts automatically—but the complaint dies on his tongue.
Because Matthew just drops down onto his towel like nothing happened and, without hesitation, rests his head on Victor’s thighs.
Victor blinks once. Twice. His brain goes completely, utterly blank. Then slowly, he looks up—and immediately regrets it when he sees the way the others are watching.
Isaiah’s lips are pressed together like he’s seconds away from laughing. Cole looks delighted. Calum’s eyebrows are raised in silent amusement. And Kashawn—Kashawn looks like he might actually combust from holding it in.
Victor pointedly ignores all of them. Instead, he exhales quietly and lets his hand drift down, fingers threading carefully into Matthew’s damp curls. Matthew lets out a soft, content sigh, eyes fluttering shut like he belongs there. Like this is normal.
Victor swallows. And, because he refuses to give Kashawn anything to use against him, he clears his throat and speaks.
“So—uh—rookie camp next week,” he starts, voice only a little tight. “What’s it like?”
Isaiah, bless him, immediately picks up on it. “It’s not too bad,” he says easily, leaning back. “Just… intense. A lot of drills, a lot of evaluations. You’ll be fine.”
Calum nods. “But yeah—brace yourself. You Kash, Schaef and I go straight into main camp after. It’s a jump.”
“Different from Kash,” Isaiah adds, nudging him lightly. “He’s already been through it.”
Matthew shifts slightly against Victor’s thighs, still not moving away. “You don’t have to worry,” he mumbles, voice softer now, almost sleepy. “I’ll be there the whole time.”
Victor’s lips twitch into a small, shy smile before he can stop himself. And immediately after—he shoots a glare at Kashawn, Cole, and Isaiah, who all make a very poor attempt at looking away, coughing into their hands like they’re not absolutely losing it.
The conversation drifts after that, easy and light, stretching on as the sun slowly begins to dip lower in the sky, painting Long Beach in shades of gold and orange.
Eventually, they start packing up.
Victor pulls his t-shirt back on, the fabric sticking slightly to his still-damp skin, and slings his towel around his neck before they all start walking back up the beach together, the warmth of the day fading into something softer.
“Ice cream?” Cole throws out suddenly.
Kashawn’s head snaps toward him. “Yes.”
Matthew grins. “Obviously.”
The others agree easily, and Calum leads the way toward a shop nearby that Isaiah, Cole, and Matthew all swear is the best in Long Beach.
Inside, it’s crowded—packed, actually—and a few people recognize them. They pause here and there, smiling for pictures, signing whatever’s handed to them before finally making it to the counter.
Victor orders a small tub of passion fruit and guava ice cream, stepping aside to pay—but before he can, Matthew steps in beside him.
“I got it,” he says simply, already ordering a cone with chocolate fudge brownie and vanilla.
Victor frowns. “Schaef—no, I can—”
Matthew doesn’t even look at him as he taps his card. “It’s fine.”
Victor huffs quietly but doesn’t push it further, taking the ice cream when it’s handed to him, the faint warmth in his chest impossible to ignore.
They step back outside together—and that’s when Victor notices it. The others are… walking ahead. Faster than before. Too fast.
Victor frowns slightly, watching as Kashawn, Calum, Isaiah, and Cole drift further away, occasionally glancing back at them before quickly looking forward again.
And then—it clicks.
Oh.
Oh.
Victor’s grip tightens slightly around his ice cream as his heart starts to race, his mind spiraling just a little. They left them alone. Because—because Matthew’s going to—Victor exhales slowly, trying to calm himself down, trying not to panic, trying not to shove his entire ice cream into his mouth just to avoid whatever’s about to happen.
He just manages to steady himself when—Matthew’s hand closes around his wrist. Gentle. But firm enough to stop him, and Victor’s breath catches as he’s pulled back just slightly, feet coming to a halt against the pavement. His heart stutters—skips—then starts racing all over again like it can’t decide what it’s doing.
He looks down at his ice cream for a second, waiting. Waiting for Matthew to say something, but nothing comes. So Victor looks up and finds Matthew struggling. His teeth worry at his bottom lip, brows drawn together slightly as he opens his mouth—then closes it again, like the words just won’t come out.
Victor watches him for a second. Two. And then—he understands. And the realization makes something soft bloom in his chest.
He lets out a quiet, almost fond huff of laughter. “Hey,” he says gently, stepping a little closer.
Matthew blinks down at him. Victor doesn’t explain. He just tilts his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Can I?”
Matthew doesn’t ask what he means. He just nods—slow, a little dazed—eyes fixed somewhere between Victor’s eyes and his mouth. So Victor rises onto his toes—and presses a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips. Barely there. Just enough to mean something.
He pulls back almost immediately, a hint of amusement in his expression as Matthew just… blinks at him.
“…Was that—” Matthew starts, voice a little breathless. “Was that what you meant?”
Victor nods, smile softening. Matthew stares at him for another second.
Then—quietly—“Can you… do it again?”
Victor doesn’t hesitate. This time, when he steps in, the kiss is firmer, longer and intentional. And Matthew responds. There’s a sharp inhale through his nose before his free arm wraps around Victor’s waist, pulling him closer—closer—until there’s barely any space left between them.
Victor’s eyes flutter shut as Matthew deepens kiss, the moment stretching, expanding, turning into something warm and consuming. Everything else fades. The noise, the people, even the ice cream slowly melting in his hand. It’s just—them.
When they finally pull apart, it’s slow, reluctant, like neither of them really wants to be the one to end it.
And then—a whistle cuts through the moment.
“Finally!”
Victor’s eyes snap open. Kashawn. Of course.
Cole’s clapping. Isaiah’s laughing. Calum’s very obviously trying—and failing—not to look proud as he quickly lowers his phone.
Victor groans softly, rolling his eyes as heat floods his face again, immediately taking a bite of his ice cream to give himself something to do.
“About damn time,” Cole adds with a grin.
Matthew flips him off without missing a beat. “Shut up.”Then, softer—glancing at them all—“…Thanks.”
Victor smiles faintly around another spoonful, finally meeting Kashawn’s gaze. Kashawn winks. Of course he does. And just like that, they fall back into step together, heading toward the parking lot—everything lighter, easier, and yet somehow entirely new all at once.
When they make it back to the cars, the moment settles into something quieter—softer—like the day is finally winding down around them. They toss away their napkins and empty ice cream cups, brushing sand from their hands as Isaiah digs a box of wet wipes out of his dashboard.
“Here,” he says, tossing it back toward them.
They pass it around, cleaning their hands one by one, the casual routine grounding Victor just enough to keep him from floating off somewhere else entirely.
Then they split. Cole heads off with Isaiah and Calum, laughter trailing behind them, while Victor follows Matthew and Kashawn back to Matthew’s car.
They toss their damp towels into the trunk before climbing in. Kashawn sprawls across the backseat again like he owns it, one arm thrown over his eyes, while Victor slides into the passenger seat. Matthew starts the engine. They wave as the others pull out. And then it’s just them.
The drive is quiet—not awkward, but not filled either. Something in between. Something new.
Victor finds himself glancing over more than he should, catching the way Matthew’s lips curve into small, almost private smiles whenever their eyes meet. It sends a steady warmth through his chest that he can’t quite ignore.
In the backseat, Kashawn is suspiciously silent, scrolling through his phone like he’s not even there and Victor almost laughs. Almost. Because for once, he’s actually… grateful.
When they reach Elmont, Matthew pulls up by the Horvat house first. Kashawn sits up, grabbing the towel he borrowed as he opens the door.
“Won’t forget,” he says, pointing at Victor, “I’ll wash your stuff.”
Victor huffs. “Keep the swim shorts. They’re too big for me anyway.”
Kashawn grins. “Early birthday gift?”
“Late,” Victor corrects, rolling his eyes. “And don’t worry about the towel. Just give it back whenever.”
Kashawn nods, then leans in to handshake both of them. “See you tomorrow,” he says, tone just a little too knowing.
Victor narrows his eyes at him, but Kashawn only smiles wider before hopping out and heading toward the house. Matthew doesn’t drive off right away. He waits, until Kashawn disappears inside. Then—and only then—he pulls away.
The rest of the drive is even quieter. Victor looks out the window, watching the familiar streets pass by, his thoughts running in circles he can’t quite catch. Beside him, Matthew just drives, hands steady on the wheel.
When they pull into Barzy’s driveway, the house lights are already on, his car parked out front.
Victor exhales softly, reaching to unbuckle his seatbelt—but a hand catches his, warm and firm. He lets out a small yelp as he’s pulled back slightly, turning to look at Matthew, who’s watching him with that same soft expression.
Matthew’s gaze drops to his lips for a second. Then back up. And Victor swallows.
“…Need something?” he asks, a little breathless.
Matthew nods, almost shy—but not quite. “Kisses,” he says quietly, voice low, “only if you say yes.”
Victor’s heart stumbles over itself the he nods. “Yes.”
That’s all it takes.
Matthew leans in, and Victor meets him halfway over the center console, their lips brushing together in something gentle at first—tentative, like they’re both still figuring it out.
But it doesn’t stay that way for long, because Matthew’s hand slides to the back of Victor’s neck, fingers threading lightly into his hair, pulling him just a little closer. Victor lets out a soft sound against his lips, his own hands gripping the front of Matthew’s shirt as the kiss deepens—still soft, but sure now.
Like they’ve found something. Like they’re not letting go.
Time slips.
Victor loses track of it completely, caught up in the warmth, in the closeness, in the way everything just fits.
Until eventually, they have to pull apart. They’re both a little breathless. Matthew presses his forehead to Victor’s, letting out a quiet laugh—but Victor doesn’t close his eyes. He just looks at him—really looks this time, taking in every detail like he’s trying to memorize it.
His hand comes up, brushing gently along Matthew’s cheek. Matthew leans into it without hesitation and when he opens his eyes again, their gazes lock. And this time, neither of them looks away.
After a second Victor notices the way Matthew’s teeth catch his bottom lip again, worry slipping through.
“What?” Victor asks softly.
Matthew hesitates. Then—“…Do you wanna be my boyfriend?”
Victor blinks, once, then twice but Matthew keeps going, words rushing out like he’s been holding them in for too long.
“I’ve been trying to ask you for a while,” he admits. “But I kept—backing out. And I don’t—” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t want this to be casual. I don’t think I can be casual with you.”
Victor just stares at him for a second. And then—he smiles, soft. Certain. Then he leans in, pressing a few quick kisses to Matthew’s lips—each one lingering just a little longer than the last.
“I don’t want casual either,” he murmurs. “Not with you.”
Matthew lets out a small, relieved laugh. “So…?” he prompts.
Victor nods. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I want to be your boyfriend.”
Matthew doesn’t hesitate this time—he leans in and kisses him again, slower now, softer, like they’ve already settled into something real.
When they pull back, the moment lingers between them. Warm. Steady.
Victor exhales, then glances toward the house. “I should go.”
Matthew nods, though he doesn’t look like he wants to let him.
Victor reaches for the handle—but gets pulled back again. “Hey—” he laughs softly as Matthew steals a few quick kisses, one after the other, until Victor’s smiling too much to even pretend to complain.
“Okay,” Victor says, breathless, nudging him lightly. “Let me go.”
Matthew finally does.
Victor shakes his head, fond, before opening the door and stepping out into the warm evening air. He grabs his towel from the trunk, then circles back to the passenger side. Matthew rolls the window down. Victor leans in, extending his hand. They go through their handshake—familiar, practiced—but this time, it lingers just a second longer. Neither of them pulling away immediately.
“Text me,” Matthew says.
Victor huffs a quiet laugh. “You mean like we don’t already text all the time?”
“Still,” Matthew shrugs, smiling.
Victor nods. “I will.”
He starts to pull back—then pauses, leans in again and presses one last, quick kiss to Matthew’s lips through the open window.
“Goodnight,” he says softly.
Matthew’s smile is bright. “Night, Veky.”
Victor steps back, watching as Matthew finally drives off, headlights disappearing down the street. He stands there for a moment. Just… standing. Before turning toward the house, something warm and new settling deep in his chest. And for once—he doesn’t try to overthink it. He just lets himself have it.