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Liam doesn’t like feeling dumb. There had been three notable times within the past week during which this feeling had arisen: in English class, when the teacher looked at him with pity, handing him back another one of his shitty essays. In chemistry, when he was only halfway through the test when the teacher called time. Now, when he’s looking at Alex and feeling so incredibly stupid that he almost wants to crawl under the bleacher they’re sitting on.
Alex is sweaty and flushed after lacrosse practice, Texas humidity plastering his curls to his skin. The summer sun that’s well on its way to the horizon paints him golden — so golden and bright and beautiful that Liam has to look away. The sun is shining harshly through his rapidly blinking eyelids, but he thinks his retinas might burn if he spares Alex one more glance, so Liam is between a rock and a hard place, he thinks.
Ha. Hard place.
He stares down at his cleats, trying not to look over at Alex’s toned calves, because then he really might be in a hard place, embarrassingly enough.
“Liam.” Alex’s voice cuts through his hazy thoughts. “You listening?”
Conveniently, Liam that’s when gets the urge to yawn, so he does, then hums apologetically. “No, sorry, man. I’m like, dead after those drills today.”
Alex groans. “Same. Wanna come over? I can make some stir fry, and June bought some wine the other day she probably wouldn’t mind us having.”
“Please, oh my god. My sister wants to help me with English again and I just fucking… can’t tonight, you know?”
Alex nods. “God, what did she get on that last chem test? A fucking ninety seven? Two points ahead of me, again. I’ll get her back one of these days.”
Liam lifts his head to see Alex’s boyish grin spread across his face. He starts, “It’s not that she’s like, mean about it or anything, she means well, but she just,”
Alex cuts in, always knowing where Liam’s mind goes with these things. “It’s just the wrong kind of help, yeah.”
“Yeah.”
Alex stands, holding a hand out to Liam. “Well, we can forget about school for a night and eat stir fry and watch chick flicks without pretending like they aren’t masterpieces, how’s that sound?”
It’s all Liam can do not to sigh and swoon like a character in one of those nineteenth century novels he knows June loves. “Perfect.”
“They were in love.”
“Who?”
“Olivia and Viola, duh.”
Liam laughs. “It’s like in Mulan. But not really. But, you get my point.”
Alex nods sagely. “The movie studios are just cowards and homophobes.”
“Pretty much sums it up,” Liam says, turning off the end credits of She’s the Man.
Alex reaches out to grab the last sip of wine from the bottle June gave them. “You want it or can I…”
“Nah, go ahead.”
Alex tilts the bottle up overdramatically, then puts it back on the table, starting to gather up their trash. “Do you need to go home or can you stay over?”
Liam ponders if he wants to expose himself to that particular form of torture tonight.
Sure, why the hell not.
He shoots off a text to his mom, curt and impersonal like all their texts have been lately. “I’ll stay over,” he says. Alex looks entirely too happy at the prospect of having Liam fall asleep next to him again, which does annoying, achy things to his heart. Stupid, stupid, stupid .
They clean up, bumping into each other in the kitchen, then run up the stairs, racing each other. They’re red-faced and breathless and Liam wants him so bad he thinks it might do permanent damage to his brain sometime soon.
They split just the one bottle of wine, so it didn’t do much to them besides make them rosy-cheeked and a little giggly. Liam still feels unsteady, sober as he may be, watching Alex rummage through his dresser to throw Liam a pair of his pants and a shirt to sleep in.
Liam sees himself in the bathroom mirror, clad in Alex’s clothes, the two of them brushing their teeth side by side. It’s all too domestic, too easy, the way it always is with Alex. He washes his face, hoping it’ll wash away his blush and any lingering hope he has for Alex seeing him as anything but his best friend. It doesn’t.
Alex laughs raucously at Liam’s resemblance to a drowned rat, the water he splashed all over his face dripping miserably onto the floor. Alex tosses him a towel, and Liam makes a face at him, trying to make himself presentable again, and maybe hide in the towel for a bit. It’s safe there. And soft. And it smells like Alex’s laundry detergent.
“You missed… here,” Alex says from beyond the confines of the towel, and suddenly Liam feels Alex’s hands grab the towel and rub at his hair with it. Alex’s hands are gone as quickly as they came, pulling away from Liam’s head and hanging the towel back up. “Perfect.”
Liam forces the words past the growing lump in his throat. “Thanks, man.”
Alex nods. “Ready?” Liam hums in response, following Alex down the hallway into his room. The creaks in the floorboards and the dust along the photo frames seem much more like home to him than his house has ever felt. Maybe, though, it’s not the floor or the cracking paint on the walls or the dim ceiling light.
Maybe it’s just Alex.
Liam sits down on the bed (on his side of the bed. It’s the left. Alex takes the right, hogs the blankets, and uses Liam as a heater for his freezing feet). The mattress springs groan, a sound similar to whatever’s going on up in his brain at the moment.
Alex catapults himself onto the bed, landing face-first with his body sprawled over Liam’s outstretched legs. “M’sleepy.”
“Then go to sleep, dumbass,” Liam drawls.
Alex rolls over, settling into the bed. “Naw, I wanna talk to you.”
Liam huffs. “‘Bout what?”
“Nothing in particular. Just like hearing your voice.”
Liam flushes, grateful for the dark washing over the room, flooding the space between him and Alex with a familiar sense of nothingness. He could reach out to touch Alex, just reach a bit further, but he doesn’t; he’s terrified, he’s terrified of so much , and so he says, “I’m scared about high school ending.”
“Yeah,” Alex whispers, his skin aglow despite the darkened room. Moonlight somehow found him, bleeding lazily through the curtains. Liam loves the way light always seems to seek him out and follow him everywhere the way he does too, with his compass set to Alex. “I don’t want to —”
Liam interrupts, knowing the way it goes, the way it was always going to go. “Leave me?”
“Liam,” Alex admonishes. “It’s not like that, and you know it. Come to New York with me, please, and you’ll see, or… for fuck’s sake, dude, we have phones, and we have cars.”
Liam loves him for it, God help him, the way he’s trying to make it seem like anything but what it really is. “I’m not gonna leave here, Alex.” He pauses. “You’ll just have to text me pictures. And call me every week.”
Alex sighs, sinking further into the bed. “I’ll visit every break. I’ll bring you shitty, tacky souvenirs that you’ll hate.”
“And I’ll keep them forever,” Liam says, hoping the sincerity of the words isn’t obvious.
“I’ll keep you forever, asshole,” Alex says, chucking a throw pillow at Liam. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?
They’re both silent for a moment, then Alex gasps and props himself up on one arm. “We need to make bucket lists. All the good shit, the stupid high school movie shit: skip school, sneak out and go to a different city, make out with someone at a lame house party —”
Liam laughs. “Damn, right to making out? I haven’t even kissed someone yet, let me check that one off first.”
Alex gapes at him. “Wait, what the actual fuck. You haven’t kissed anyone? You’re kidding.”
Liam raises an eyebrow at him, incredulous. “I would’ve told you if I had, man.”
“Well, I just…” Alex trails off. “I was partnered with Inez in calc a few months ago and she told me that you got with Jamie last summer. And I guess I thought you were just like… embarrassed or something and didn’t want to tell me, and I didn’t want to invade your privacy because I’m an incredible and amazing friend, duh.”
Liam can’t fucking believe him, Christ. “Me and Jamie? I literally had one conversation with her. In which I told her to stop being a cheating asshole to her girlfriend, Alex.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, dumbass, I would kiss and tell, don’t worry.”
“But you haven’t yet,” Alex sing-songs, grinning.
Liam rolls his eyes. “It’s not like it was by choice. If it were up to me it would’ve happened already.”
Alex is silent for a moment, and something in his expression twists Liam’s stomach. “It could be up to you, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you could like… kiss me, or whatever. If you want.”
Liam stills. Alex is looking at him expectantly, all earnest and open, and Liam can’t take it, except maybe, this time, he can. It’s all he’s wanted for years, just in the wrong context, without the right feelings. It could finally be real but it would be fake, but couldn’t that be better? Easier? Loving Alex is the easiest thing he’s ever done. Making it real could fuck everything up, make him lose Alex, make him face his personal hell, so this is easy. Fake. Safe.
Liam stumbles over the words. “What if I suck?”
Alex raises an eyebrow.
“Not like that, dickhead, shut the fuck up, Jesus. I’m being serious.”
Alex scoffs. “The literal point of practice is to get better at something.”
Liam considers this. “What if it makes things weird?”
“It won’t”
“Alex—”
“It won’t! Seriously, dude. I promise.”
Liam’s running out of excuses, and Alex’s eyes keep flickering to his lips, and there’s really only so much resolve left in Liam’s body, so he lets himself fall forward.
His nose is pressed against Alex’s cheek, and their lips aren’t touching, not yet, but Alex’s skin is warm against his face. Liam can feel Alex’s eyelashes as he flutters his eyes closed, so Liam closes his, too, just breathing. Waiting.
In the end, it’s Alex that closes the final bit of distance between them, kissing Liam with a devastating combination of practiced ease and charming clumsiness.
Alex’s lips are softer than Liam thought they would be. He sees Alex picking at them all the time, biting them in anxiety, so he figured they’d be rough, or at least a bit dry. But then again, Liam also never thought he’d have this outside of daydreams, so maybe he can’t trust his own judgment too well.
He doesn’t know where to put his hands. Is he moving his lips too fast? Too slow? Jesus, can Alex feel him trying to catch his breath through his nose? How does he breathe when all the air left his lungs as soon as Alex kissed him? His limbs feel sort of numb from shock, circulation freezing for a moment, then restarting his quickened heart rate with a jolt.
Alex pulls back. Liam’s eyes fly open and he searches Alex’s expression. Unreadable.
“Relax, dude.” Alex laughs quietly. Liam feels the air brush against his face. “I can feel you overthinking this. It’s chill. We’re chill.”
Liam nods. He can feel the weight of Alex’s hand on his neck with every movement. “Am I,” he pauses, uncertain. “Doing alright? Is it okay? I just-”
Alex leans back in to press a firm kiss to Liam’s mouth, then pulls back with a grin. “You’re good.”
And Liam has to laugh at that, because, “You’re doing all the heavy lifting, really. I’m just along for the ride.”
Alex wiggles his eyebrows. “The ride, huh?” Liam shoves him.
“If you want, though,” Alex continues, “I can like… chill out and let you take the lead. To try it out.”
Liam lifts a shaking hand to wrap around the nape of Alex’s neck, fingers twisting into his curls. He nods, and Alex leans into another kiss, dragging his hand down until his fingers are splayed across Liam’s back under his t-shirt. The heat that courses through him at the contact must immediately fry his brain, because Liam pushes forward until he’s on top of Alex, their legs intertwined. Liam pulls away for a second, lungs heaving.
Alex, of course, is smirking up at him. “That’s more like it.”
“Dickhead.”
“Mmhm.” A wink.
“Shut up, asshole.”
“Yeah, that one too.”
“Jesus, do you ever stop talking?”
“Well, you currently have an open invitation to shut me u—” Liam doesn’t let him finish the sentence.
Between Alex’s whispered instructions and the fact that Liam is, apparently, a quick learner, it’s good. It’s good in a ruinous way, a way that Liam knows will make him hurt later, but right now he has Alex’s lips and hands and legs and heart against his own, and the only thing he can bring himself to do is keep going.
Alex’s hand brushes the top of Liam’s waistband and freezes there.
Liam breaks their kiss for a moment, looking at Alex with wide, wild eyes. “Do you—”
Alex’s face is flushed and beautiful, and his lidded eyes meet Liam’s frantic ones with unmistakable intent. The words are quiet when he says, “Why not? It’s just practice, right? And, hey, we’ve both been stressed. Why not help each other out?”
Liam hates feeling dumb. But he can’t let himself be smart about this, can’t let himself think through it logically, can’t feel the guilt and shame and love seep into his skin along with Alex’s damning warmth. So, he lets himself be completely and utterly stupid. He nods.
Liam maneuvers them into a more comfortable position, tucking his face into the crook of Alex’s neck as Alex gets a hand around him. Liam shudders, pressing his open mouth to Alex’s skin to keep down the noises that build in his throat in case hearing them snaps Alex back into reality — where he’s straight, where they don’t do this, where Liam can never have this.
After a few minutes of building up his courage (and Alex grinding on his leg, Jesus Christ) Liam fumbles with Alex’s t-shirt and waistband until he wraps his hand around his dick. He has no fucking idea what he’s doing, but Alex is breathing heavily and turning his head to muffle pleased noises in Liam’s hair, so he figures must be doing something right.
When Liam comes, Alex kisses him, frantic and heady, and Liam thinks he’s going to love him forever.
When Alex comes, a couple minutes later, Liam is busy sucking a hickey onto his collarbone. He’s fully aware of the possessive connotations. It’s useless, though. Alex isn’t his.
Alex is, however, laughing breathily underneath him, sweaty and blissed out. “Nice.”
Liam groans and rolls off of him. “Nice? That’s what you’re going with?”
In his peripheral vision, Liam registers Alex holding up his hand for a fist-bump. “Yeah, dude. Nice job. Check those two off your bucket list.”
Liam sighs deeply and rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they might fall out of their sockets. “You’re insufferable.” He fist-bumps Alex anyways. It was nice, to be fair.
Alex reaches to grab a tissue and clean them up, making a show out of tossing it into the trash when he’s done. “Oh shit, score!”
“I hate you.”
Alex hums, lying down and pulling the blankets back over both of them. “That’s not what you were saying, like, literally five minutes ago.”
Liam feels the blood rush to his face. “Aren’t you gonna be a fucking lawyer or something? I plead the fifth.”
“Boring,” he drawls, shoving the side of his face into the pillow.
Alex visibly lets exhaustion take over, his breaths evening out and his body relaxing into the mattress, but Liam needs to know. “Alex, hey.”
“Hmm?”
“We’re still okay, right? For real? Nothing’s changed?”
Alex doesn’t open his eyes, but flops his hand around until it successfully pats Liam’s shoulder. “Mmhm. Good. We’re good.”
Frankly, Liam is not good, but Liam is also tired, so he chooses to succumb to sleep and let his brain shut the fuck up for a bit.
Liam cooks them pancakes for breakfast. He knows where everything in the cupboards is. He knows what Alex tastes like, what he feels like under him, what he— Alex drives them to school, and Alex is driving him crazy, how the fuck is he doing that thing with his hand— They say goodbye in front of Liam’s first period classroom, with a promise to meet for lunch and study after school.
They say goodbye in front of Alex’s house, his car’s trunk full of all his college things, with a promise to text and call.
Alex doesn’t.