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“Come on dude-uh! I promise I won't finish your drink…” John begged the man sitting next to him; “…this time.” He finished with a smile.
“No bro– I ain’t trusting you’re lying-as no more!” Smiity wheezed, swinging his—premeditatedly chosen—plastic cup further away from his friend.
“Oh… god– you guys are gone gone, huh?” Grizzy said before choking in his own laugh
“You’re one to talk! Fucking crackhead–” John rolled his eyes.
“Hey-yo?” He raised his eyebrow.
“Oh my god” Puffer dragged the last word—unsure of wether it was intentional or the alcohol finally hitting; “shut the fuck up you–fucks!” He rested his head against the chair’s backrest, careless of his lack of creativity.
John sighted heavily, manifesting his annoyance. He remained silent for a second, taking advantage of the bubble that formed from his friend’s laughter in order to recompose himself.
Suddenly, Smiity felt a shift in weight on the cushion he was sitting on, noticing John had been turning his back towards him. The confusion was momentarily though, as the man began backing up from his now aligned position with the couch, managing to sit on top of Smiity’s legs while pressing his back against the armrest. The Canadian—taking this as an ordinary event— began making space for his friend, all while staying part of the main conversation.
Seeing his friend distracted, John managed to take action on his plan. He began fondling with Smiity’s hair—twirling the soft strands in between his fingers—, then poking his cheeks gentle enough as to not draw too much attention, and lastly teasing with the canadian’s hands— brushing each knuckles with the most utter care that would allow him to gain complete trust over how friend’s hands. Only then did he deemed it right to strike.
He took a harsher hold onto Smiity’s left wrist, that which oh so coincidentally maintained its grip onto the alcoholic beverage. He noticed Smiity staring at him with a semi-knowing look, and so he lifted his back from the armrest and hunched himself to reach the rim of the cup; he began tilting with all his might in order to contradict the attempts from his friend to carefully separate his drink from his friend.
“John! Fuck off dude!” Smiity tried saying with a serious tone, failing to a muffled chuckle that escaped his mouth.
All John did to reply was raise his gaze from the drink to meet his friends and slightly smirk at the look of defeat Smiity unintentionally wore. Smiity quickly looked away from embarrassment after the realisation.
“Come on John…” Smiity jokingly whined; “If you behave I’ll bring you a brand new glass of cocktail, yeah?” Smiity offered, putting on the same face you’d use to negotiate with a stubborn teen.
John took a second to think, then took a big sip from the cup and then reclined back into his seat. Cheeks still visibly puffed, he nodded slowly, giving Smiity the signal he had ‘won’. Nevertheless, just as the Canadian leaned forward towards the table in front of him and placed the almost empty cup on top, John reached his own right hand to the other’s jaw and held it inches away from his face. He puckered his lips in threat to spit the held onto liquid into his petrified, wide-eyed friend’s mouth.
He swallowed the entirety with a big ‘gulp’ and began guffawing uncontrollably.
“Nahh” Droid mentioned, baffled at the series of events he’d just witnessed. “Ya’ll need a room, urgently.”
“Sorry you are jealous of our compatibility, jackass.” John chimed in after slightly composing himself.
“No– guys.. You are– a different breed–”
“What. Now you’re calling homosexuals by “breed’, damn… And I thought there was at least one uncontroversial youtuber…”
“Dude, it’s bromance” Smiity mentioned, emphasizing the last word.
“That’s a fine line you guys tread on every day–” Pezzy began, pointing an open bottle of soju towards the duo.
“I’ll show you treading on a fine line–” John chirped in with a suggestive tone.
“No! Dawg, nah– That’s not–” Smiity tried cutting off, but could not contain his laughter; “I’ll go grab a beer” He said placing his hands on John’s hips, signaling to him to get off for a second.
“Don’t forget my drink!” John yelped as the addressed left the room.
The conversation changed faster than John could even realise. After all, his friend’s voices had become a big mush of senseless noises—no thanks to the slurring of words and genuine lack of meaning behind most of the chattering.
Time flew by, especially after they began playing dumb bets and dares to each other, causing a rise in alcohol intake. The small ‘chill hangout’ had become a heavy drinking sesion—as expected. It had been some time since they got to hang out like this, a small group of friends hanging around in one of their house’s, a large batch of different alcohols and mixers. John was grateful for these meet ups; he enjoyed passing time with his friends in a more calm manner than going out to parties or grabbing expensive dinners. The fact that they could be their most dumb and unhinged selves without the worry of public image let them all feel much more relaxed.
Pezzy was the first to finish the night, having been accompanied by Grizzy to a guest room in order to sleep the night away. Unfortunately, Puffer felt attracted by the idea of slumber, following not far behind.the light-weight. John had long fallen asleep on the couch when Grizzy and Smiity agreed It’d be best if they all went to sleep—the clock marking now 2:30— having to almost force the still energised Droid into a nap.
Smiity laid down in his own bed, convincing himself he’d fix up the house much better tomorrow morning, when he was well rested. He scrolled through his phone for about fifteen minutes when he realised he’d never fall asleep unless he put the device down. He looked up at the ceiling, the silence of his room letting society’s most dreaded thoughts roam free inside his mind.
His whole body felt heavy, the alcohol seemingly beginning to wear off and leave a trace of ache in its place. But the pain he felt was much different from that of a proximing hangover; no, it was deeper than that. A pain that would leave the toughest soldier riling themselves up in agony. He knew what it was, but how could he ever admit it? After all, he would not be able to live with himself in a reality where he let his emotions come between him and his friends, let alone him. No, it couldn’t be, he’d have to spend the rest of his nights wondering about the possibilities of what if’s and shared moments; all discarded as a ‘fleeting bromance’.
The man put a hand up to his forehead, slowly dragging it down his face and feeling up the tenderness in his eyes. He breathed shakily into his own palm, cringing at the fact of him almost tearing up like a “3/4ths into a rom-com”’s protagonist. He felt humiliated, despite no one being near to see him like this. Every day with him was a new experience, yet always circling back into a dumb homoerotic bit. He groaned at the memories of tonight; every eye-contact, every brush at the knee and every caress at his flesh resurfacing in his skin as to overheat his systems.
He jumped up, sitting on top of his mattress, trying to catch his unconsciously quickened breath. A sudden need for water invaded his throat, alluring him to make his way to the kitchen. His walk was soft against the wooden tile, the force of his footsteps rather flowing from the floor up his own feet. He took his hand to his throat, massaging at the most hoarse spot, feeling an inexistent knot that had been progressively growing bigger and tighter. He inhaled deeply through his nose, shutting his eyes as he reached the marble countertop.
Running water echoed through the living room, clashing against the lousiness of 3am silence. After filling a newly grabbed cup—afraid of what the glasses already placed on the counter might’ve had—, Smiity relaxed himself by pressing his back against the counter.
From across the room, Smiity had a clear view of the living room couch. He took a sip from his glass as his gaze met the view of the sleeping american. John looked so peaceful sleeping, reaching a state of relaxation rarely seen by his audience. It was weird, he thought, how many people would never get to meet this side of John, the entirety of him and his personality. Not that he’d gotten to know all of John, there were sides of him he’d never have the possibility to greet; situations in which he’d never properly convey the essence of John. The mere idea of this made him mad, not in anger but in sadness. He wanted to get to know John’s every angle, but that was impossible; not even the closest friendships got to explore all and every bit of the other’s existence— maybe not even most relationships— but with John it’d be different. With John it was different, it always was.
He caught himself staring for way too long when the man he’d been gazing at shifted in his place, apparently slowly coming to consciousness. Smiity lightly choked in his water before composing himself. He stayed silent, hoping the other would not even acknowledge his presence; the lights being off gave Smiity the idea that John’s drowsiness would let him get away with keeping quiet in the shadows, inconspicuously. Smiity wondered what it’d be of his life like this, an unnoticed entity admiring his friend from afar.
“Smit'?”
He froze in place, uncertain whether what he’d heard was really a physical voice or a sick manifestation of his mind.
“Smitty, what– what hour is it?” The semi-awake man asked, in an almost whisper-like tone.
“Nothing, don’t worry dude, just go back to sleep, yeah?” Smiity replied from behind the island that separated the living room from the kitchen.
“Dude, come here, I can’t fucking hear you–”
“Okay okay” Smiity couldn’t help but chuckle at his friend’s sudden burst of energy.
He walked slowly, slightly worrisome of what he might say at this hours of night.
“All good John?”
“Yeah, I don’t– why are you still standing?–Come, sit” John said as he made a small space at the side of the sofa.
Smiity grimaced at the liquids that’d be sticking onto his clean piyamas. Still, one look at John’s half lit up face from the moon’s light phasing through the curtains was all that took for him to get over spilled alcohol.
“Are you okay?” Smiity asked at the bent-legged man.
John began moving, contorting his body so that he sat, back-straight, facing towards his friend. Smiity, at the realisation, turned his body so that his own back rested against the armrest. He giggled at the still shifting John, low effort-grunts coming from the moving figure. Then there was silence, one again.
“Why are you awake dude?” John asked, unknowingly ignoring his friend’s question.
“I–” Smiity paused for a small second, remembering the whole truth of why he couldn’t fall asleep. “– was thinking, you know…” He tilted his head to brush the subject off in an attempt to keep things vague.
“What..? I don’t know– that’s why I’m asking, no?” John let out a small laugh. His back seemed to sink further down into the couch’s side.
“Just– nothing, really. Things–”
“Okay– Smiity– I’m going to start thinking you killed someone if you keep being so fucking vague, dude.”
“Damn– I don’t know, stuff– about life, relationships and that stuff.”
“Huh…”
“What?” Smiity was quick to ask
“‘What’ what?”
“I–”
“Mhm?” John neared the other slightly, brushing their knees together.
“Nothing…” Smiity looked away, embarrassed of the very clear flush of his cheeks.
“Dude…”
“Really!”
“Sure.” John said with a comically skeptical look.
Both men sat silently for a moment before erupting in a quiet laughter.
“You know…” John began, catching the attention of his friend. “I’ve also been thinking…, about stuff” He said, resting his side against the couch’s backrest.
“Yeah?”
“I just– It’s weird, no?” John asked with a slightly joking tone; still Smiity recognized he was speaking seriously.
“What–? I don’t think I follow…”
John put a hand over Smiity’s knee, causing a slight jerk from the man’s leg at the unexpected touch.
“I mean,” John sighted; “I can’t stop thinking about what the guys said–” He looked away, slightly cringing at his words. “Not that they were the detonator or anything– I have been thinking about it; about us.” His hand unconsciously squeezed tighter at Smiity’s leg.
Smiity could only nod his head in acknowledgement, unable to let any words come out of his mouth.
“Is it? Weird, I mean…” John looked back at his friend who was wide-eyed, his mouth partly open as he tried to let out a sound, any sound escape from it.
Smiity’s wishes were quickly regretted, as he managed to let out a sound that resembled a low-pitched moan. His face abruptly adapted a bright shade of red, shutting his eyes in embarrassment of letting himself do that during a serious conversation. Nevertheless, his anxiety was put down once John began chuckling.
“Damn dude, wait until I take you out for dinner first–”
“No no, I’m sorry, please continue!” Smiity yelped, wheezing, as he gripped onto John’s shoulders.”I’ll be serious, I promise.”
“You didn’t even answer dude– I mean–! I don’t think it’s odd! At least…” John thought for a second about the words that were leaving his mouth—something strange of him to do, therefore catching Smiity off guard. “It doesn’t feel like it” His voice abnormally gentle for how he was hushly-screaming just a few seconds ago.
“I…” Smiity said, but his mouth quickly closed again, searching for the right words.
Was he dreaming? Not like it would be the first time he dreamt of his best friend confessing to him. Was John confessing? There was a slight possibility the lack of sleep was catching up to him and he was just imagining or misinterpreting things! Smiity brushed a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm his thoughts down.
“I’m sorry– If I made you uncomfortable– I guess it’s just a way to cope with my feelings or something but I never wanted to make you feel bad–” John began rambling, his hand quickly jumping off from Smiity’s knee and instead to his forehead. His voice became lightly higher in pitch and a nervous smile draped his words in a worrisome tone.
A knot threatened to form in his throat once again, this time from the thought of having made John anxious. The last thing he wanted right now was for John to think he’d put him off; and so he did the only thing he could think of.
His body flung forward, lifting from his seat and weighing on top of the man in front of him. His left hand held the right side of John’s face whilst his right pressed firmly against the armrest behind the other as to keep stability. His mouth found warmth against John’s, despite only holding the kiss for a couple seconds before bringing his head back; waiting for his friend’s reaction.
Smiity expected John to stay still, shocked at his actions, repulsed even. He expected him to cuss him out for even thinking about kissing him. What he didn’t expect was John reciprocating the kiss so suddenly that it threw him crashing against the armrest. Still he paid no attention to the future back-sore the audible thump would give him in the morning; the man he’d pinned down for years now was kissing him with more passion than he’d ever dreamed of.
Both his hands were frantically searching for a place in John’s body, reaching all the way from his back down to his ass and back up to his nape. Meanwhile, John’s hands rested calmly against his shoulder and crown. What John exhaled Smiity was fast to inhale, forming a vicious cycle between their lungs. He couldn’t help but smile against John’s cheeks, causing the other to part in amusement.
The Canadian began laughing, encouraging the other to do the same, even if it was with a dimly confused face.
“Sorry sorry! It’s just– I’ve been waiting for this moment so long, but I just can’t stop thinking of all the times I’ve lied to the guys, to myself, to you under the justification that what we had was a mere ‘bromance’” He began giggling again.
“Dude– you’re such a dumbass”
“Oh but you love this ass, don’t you–”
Smiity was cut off by John’s lips, coming onto him with the same intensity—if not more than— before he’d interrupted. He could taste every sip John had taken the night before, a lingering taste engraved in his tongue; every touch he’d pressed against his skin in an effort to relieve the need for his friend’s flesh. Their bodies craved for the intimacy of shared time and space, reaching a state of system stability.
The overwhelming of emotions that coarse through their veins forced a lump of repressed feelings to burst and paint the room deep red. Smiity was in his house, but at this moment he gained a sense of home he’d never believed himself capable of experiencing. He noticed John had begun tearing up slightly, making him think about breaking the kiss momentarily. Nonetheless, as he tried to back up John pressed closer to him; their chest closed in together, hearts beating in a shared comfortable rhythm. Smiity noticed his eyes had become glossy as well, the reflection of the moon’s light against John’s skin shining in his own dilated pupils.
Despite their attempts at prolonging the kiss, the men were forced to part from the comfortable warmth of each’s lips. The panted agitated against their flushed faces, gazing into each other’s reddened eyes. John’s sloppy grin made it’s way in the crevice between Smiity’s shoulder and neck, placing a soft peck before opening his mouth and leaving in it’s place a love bite.
Love… Smiity was in love. He managed to assure himself before doing so to the causation of this feeling.
“I think… I love you, John.” Smiity said, suddenly causing John to stop himself in the middle of placing yet another hickey.
Smiity knew saying this might seem strange to most people, specially due to them not even having established their relationship as a couple. But the truth is he’d felt this way for more time than his pride would let him ever admit. The thought of blurting it out in the middle of a hangout had crossed his mind more than one would consider appropriate; whether it be with John laying peacefully in his lap, or the whole group sharing drinks in a diner.
“I fucking love you.” He said in an accomplished sigh, letting his head hang forward as his hands cupped John’s face.
“Don’t remember to say ‘bro’ in order to cancel out the gay” John joked.
“Jackass”
“Your jackass”
They both laid quietly, bracing the other in their arms, every breath closing their bodies together.
“I love you too, Smiity.” John finished, earring a quiet, pleased hum from the man cuddling with him.