Archive of Our Own ^beta

Trevor’s wandering around behind Padres when he stumbles upon something he probably wasn’t supposed to see.

To be fair, he’s almost certainly not supposed to be back here, but the two girls in front of him definitely aren’t either. In fact, he’s only here in the first place because Brandon can’t tell time, so, really, it’s his fault that Trevor ended up in this situation at all.

They were supposed to be meeting for lunch. That was the plan, at least, but Brandon’s workout ran longer than he thought, and he didn’t give him a heads up until Trevor was already on his way. So Trevor had grabbed a joint out of his glove compartment, figured he’d go smoke to kill some time, somewhere a little less conspicuous than the parking lot.

Except, apparently he’s not the only one that was looking to get away from prying eyes. The girls aren’t smoking though, or engaging in any other kind of illegal activity that one might need to hide in an alleyway to partake in. They’re just making out, so engrossed in each other that neither of them notice that they aren’t alone anymore.

And it could have stayed that way, if Trevor had just turned around and retreated, but just as he’s about to start backing away, he realizes that it’s not just any two girls, it’s two girls he knows. It’s Tessa and Jai, Rowan’s friends, which is all the more reason to get the fuck out of here before they see him standing here like a total creep.

But, unfortunately, Trevor’s never been that smooth.

What happens instead is that the lighter he’d been messing with in his hand slips out of his fingers, and in his haste to pick it up and run away, he spins around and immediately smacks face-first into the side of the building.

Any hope he had that maybe they didn’t notice any of that goes right out the window when he hears a confused voice calling out from their general direction. “Trevor?”

He steps away from the wall, rubbing his forehead. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was back here,” he says sheepishly, hoping they don’t hear the lie in his voice. “I’m leaving. Sorry.”

In a truly remarkable display of athleticism, he stumbles over his feet a second time and barely manages to stay upright as he hightails it around the corner. If he’s lucky, they’ll go back to what they were doing and leave him alone. Though, judging by the two sets of footsteps he can hear rapidly approaching, that’s not the case.

He abandons his retreat and turns back around with a sigh, a guilty look plastered all over his face. “Hi?”

“Hey,” Jai responds, grinning a little too smugly. “You stalking us or what?”

Tessa’s trailing behind her, holding her hand. Trevor glances between them, not quite sure why they’ve decided to corner him.

“You stole my smoke spot,” he says, trying to keep his voice as casual as possible. “It’s okay though. You got here first, so… don’t let me get in your way. Sorry about that.”

Jai just laughs. “Don’t worry, it’s cool. Wanna come get milkshakes with us?”

Oh?

This is not how Trevor thought this conversation was going to go. He hesitates for a second, pressing his thumb against the arrowhead decal on his lighter. Brandon still hasn’t texted him that he’s on his way, so he probably still has plenty of time, and it’s not like he has anything better to do while he waits. Plus, if he says no, that’ll probably make him look even worse than he already does, so, fuck it.

“Uh… okay. Yeah, sure.”

Her face lights up, which means he definitely picked the right answer. “Alright awesome. C’mon.”

And with that, she walks right past him into the diner, dragging Tessa along with her, leaving Trevor no choice but to follow them inside.

They situate themselves at one of the booths by the window, the girls on one side and Trevor on the other. It occurs to him, as they’re ordering their milkshakes, that he’s never actually spent any time with them without anyone else around. They come over sometimes when Rowan gets everyone together, but even then he’s pretty sure he’s never had an actual conversation with either one of them.

So, he’s only feeling a little bit stupid for not realizing they were together until right now. He kind of wants to ask, but they haven’t actually said anything other than a brief argument about milkshake flavors, and he’s starting to feel like maybe this was something he was supposed to know already. He has a vague memory of some video of Jai leaking a while ago, but he was too caught up in his own shit at that point to care, so he never actually saw it, or even knew what it was. Tessa, he only knew vaguely through Nicki, but other than that, Trevor didn’t know much of anything about either of them. He’s seen the two of them together plenty of times, in his own house even, but he’s never paid enough attention to suspect anything.

Look. He knows he’s not the only gay person in Albuquerque. And he’s not stupid enough to think he’s the only one at Hilland either. It’s just, he didn’t realize they’d been right under his nose this entire time. He’s not going to lie—he doesn’t spend much time thinking about the girls Rowan hangs out with. He’s not interested, he’s never been interested, and he already has his own friends, so he’s never felt the need to bond with Rowan’s.

But right now, as he sips his milkshake, he watches the easy way they move around each other, in and out of each other's space so comfortably, the way they keep trading milkshakes back and forth without having to ask, and he wonders how the hell he missed it. It’s obvious now that he’s looking, even if he hadn’t caught them making out earlier. In his defense, girls are just like that sometimes—even the way Rowan and Elisia act around each other makes him question things every once in a while, though he supposes they have a pretty decent excuse. But it’s easy to tell the difference now that he’s paying attention.

It’s clearly not a secret either, despite the circumstances he caught them in. They were holding hands on the way in, and they’re sitting too close now, seemingly unconcerned that he interrupted them. Trevor can’t identify the feeling sitting heavy in his gut at the realization, or maybe he just doesn’t want to admit to himself that it’s something pretty close to jealousy, but something a little sadder, something a little heavier, something he’s having a very hard time ignoring. They’re not here to throw him a pity party though, and anyway, he’s been trying really hard not to be like that anymore, the miserable, self-pitying version of him that can’t ever seem to be happy for anyone else just because they dared to have something that he wants, even when it doesn’t affect him in the slightest—this is a lot easier said than done, of course, but he’s working on it.

So he swallows down the feeling and takes one more obnoxiously loud sip of his milkshake before he finally decides to say something to break the awkward silence and distract from his spiraling thoughts. “So, uh… what’s this actually about?”

Tessa puts down the straw wrapper she was fidgeting with. “I don’t know.” She turns to look at Jai. “What was your plan here?”

Jai just shrugs, looking at Trevor. “We’re at your house all the time, and we’ve never actually had a conversation. Honestly, I’m just trying to figure out what your deal is. Like, you used to be such an asshole, and now you and Rowan are like, actually friends? It’s a little weird, you have to admit.”

Trevor blinks, taken aback. She’s not wrong, to be fair—there was a short period of time where he did, admittedly, bully Rowan on his very public Twitter account, and also maybe via several flashes he sent out to the entire school. Though it was something he can now recognize as misplaced anger, it took him an embarrassingly long time to get to that point. He’s since apologized, more than once, and Rowan’s forgiven him even though she probably shouldn’t, and they’ve, surprisingly, gotten really close in the last few months. But the problem is, he can’t really explain any of that without getting into some things that he’d really rather never talk about again, and it doesn’t feel right either way. It’s too personal, something kept just between him and Rowan. So he settles for the next best thing.

“Trust me, I know,” he admits, dropping his gaze down to the table. “I don't know why she forgave me either.”

Jai puts her hands up in mock surrender. “Don’t get me wrong, I trust her judgement. I was just curious.”

To Trevor’s relief, she sounds like she means it. Uninterested in tearing him to shreds, thank god, just genuinely wondering. He was starting to worry that he accidentally walked himself right into an ambush.

“We worked it out,” he says, hoping she’ll accept the incredibly vague explanation. “I mean, we kinda had to. We live in the same house.”

“I mean, you definitely didn’t have to, but that’s fair,” she laughs. It makes Trevor feel a little better. “Okay, new question. The guitar that’s always laying around at your house is yours, right?”

Trevor perks up at the change in topic. This, he’s much happier talking about. “Oh, um, yeah, it is. I’ve mostly just taught myself off of Youtube videos though.”

“That still counts,” Tessa says, happily joining the conversation now that the minor interrogation is over. “Do you sing?”

He huffs a laugh. “Absolutely not.”

“You should play for us sometime,” Jai says. “Tessa plays too.”

Tessa’s cheek flush a soft pink. “Probably not much better than you, but yeah, I do. I learned a little bit when I was a kid, and I just picked it up again this summer.”

“Oh, sick.” Trevor turns to Jai. “Do you play anything?”

“Nah, don’t really have the time. I dance, though. And cheer. And I will very happily listen,” she adds with a grin.

“You can bring your guitar over if you ever want,” Trevor offers, glancing back at Tessa. “We can figure something out.”

“Jam session at the next movie night?” Jai offers, but she’s met with matching frowns from both Trevor and Tessa. “Or not…”

“Sorry,” Tessa says, nudging her girlfriend. “I’m gonna need way more practice before I’m ready for that.”

“Aww, c’mon, you’re so good!” Jai tries, but Tessa just laughs and shakes her head.

“You’re the only one that thinks so.”

“Yeah, sorry, there’s no way I’m playing in front of everyone any time soon. Maybe give it a little while,” Trevor agrees, trying very hard not to think too much about the exchange they just had, because it’s one he’s had a hundred times over with a certain someone that should be walking in the door any minute now, and he knows damn well he shouldn’t be reading into things like that for his own sanity. Not that that’s ever stopped him before, but, still.

Jai rolls her eyes, clearly aimed at both of them, seemingly oblivious to Trevor’s spiraling. “Fine, whatever. But if it’s just us you would?”

Trevor shrugs. “Maybe. Less pressure.”

“You’re not, like, secretly really good, right?” Tessa asks. “And just downplaying yourself right now?”

“God, no,” he laughs. “I wish.”

“Okay, good. I would consider it then. But seriously, just us. Maybe Rowan. I can’t have an audience.”

“As long as I’m included, I’ll take it,” Jai says, nudging Tessa back.

“Hey, wait,” Tessa cuts in, looking back at Trevor. “Were you waiting for someone? Like, are we keeping you from something?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, but—”

Trevor’s about to tell them that he’s not here yet when the bell above the door rings, and he looks up to see Brandon walk inside, like they’d accidentally summoned him.

He spots them immediately, flashing a cocky little grin when he sees that Trevor’s not alone. He comes around and slides into the booth right beside him, presses close and wraps an arm around Trevor’s shoulders, squeezing tight for a second in lieu of a greeting.

“You replacing me or what?” he teases, immediately reaching for Trevor’s half-empty milkshake and helping himself.

Brandon’s probably starving, so Trevor lets it slide. He’s freshly showered by the looks of it, his hair still wet, and he smells like shampoo and deodorant, overpowering enough that it tickles Trevor’s nose. His arm is still hooked around Trevor’s neck, so Trevor cautiously lets himself lean into his side, holding his breath for a few seconds while he waits to make sure Brandon’s okay with it, isn’t about to push him off. But Brandon either doesn’t care right now, or he’s too distracted, because he doesn’t react at all, so Trevor settles against him with a sigh, fighting the urge to drop his head down on his shoulder.

“I got kidnapped. And you owe me another milkshake.”

“I’ll get you something else,” he says, squeezing Trevor’s shoulder, then looks up at Tessa and Jai. “You guys eat yet?”

The girls share a look that Trevor can’t decipher, then Jai turns back to address them. “Actually, we gotta go, so we’ll leave you to it. It was good seeing you though.” She smiles sweetly at Trevor, drops a ten dollar bill on the table, more than enough for the two drinks, then tugs Tessa out of the booth.

“See you around!” Tessa calls with a wave, and then the two of them are gone before Trevor can even respond.

Brandon turns his head to look at him. “What was that about?”

Trevor shrugs. “No idea. I ran into them outside, they wanted me to come sit with them.”

“Huh.” He picks up the milkshake glass and pours the last dregs into his mouth.

Trevor hesitates for a second, debates not asking the question burning at the back of his throat, but curiosity wins out. “Did you know they were dating?”

Brandon doesn’t even flinch. “Yeah, obviously. Did you not?”

Trevor frowns. “I don’t know. Guess I just wasn’t paying that much attention.”

“Pretty sure they’ve been dating the entire time you’ve known them,” Brandon says offhandedly, and he doesn’t seem to care when Trevor doesn’t respond. He’s too busy unwrapping himself from Trevor’s side and moving over to the other side of the booth so he can finish the other two abandoned milkshakes.

Trevor changes the subject, and tries very hard not to miss Brandon’s warmth.

—

He forgets all about it until a couple weeks later, when he gets interrupted in the middle of his shift at the record store.

He’s been working here since school got out, and it’s been a nice distraction, something to get him out of bed at least. He doesn’t work a ton, but the extra cash is nice, and he loves it here anyway, could spend hours sorting through the stacks of vinyl.

He’s sitting behind the counter ringing someone up when the door opens, and in walks Tessa and Jai, who both spot him immediately. To their credit, they wait very patiently for him to finish the transaction before they come bother him.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Tessa says with a grin, leaning on her elbows on the counter.

“Only a couple days a week,” he responds. “Do you need help finding something?”

“Nope, just browsing.” Jai props herself up right next to Tessa. “But since you’re here, I do have a question. I mean, you don’t have to answer, but if you don’t, that’s kinda also an answer.”

Trevor frowns at her. “Spit it out.”

“What’s the deal with you and Brandon?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “What are you talking about?” It comes out a lot more defensive than he intended.

“Just— at Padres the other week. It was cute.”

“We were trying to figure out if you were dating,” Tessa cuts in. “Figured we should probably just ask.”

Trevor almost chokes on the piece of gum in his mouth. “Um— no. Definitely not dating.”

Both girls' faces drop at the same exact time.

“What?” asks Jai.

“What do you mean what? We’re not dating. I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

Tessa pulls back from the counter. “Huh. Okay, um… forget we said anything.”

Jai still doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”

Trevor rolls his eyes. “It’s not like that. Trust me.”

He tries not to let the bitterness seep into his tone, but he doubts he was successful. He knows, logically, that they don’t mean any harm, but they also have no idea what they’re asking. He knows how Brandon acts with him, and he knows exactly what it looks like, but he’s also well aware of just how badly Brandon doesn’t want to date him. Or, you know, be anything at all other than weirdly codependent best friends. Which is to say, this is not the first time Trevor’s heard that question, and it’s definitely not going to be the last.

If Trevor was a stronger man, he would’ve put a stop to it a long time ago. Except, he’s not—instead, he’s probably going to let Brandon string him along until Brandon finally decides he’s sick of him, because he doesn’t seem to know how to do anything else. He’s not proud of this, obviously, but he’s come to accept that it’s never going to go any other way. It’s this or nothing, and he’ll play stupid for the rest of his life if it means he gets to keep the Brandon he has right now, the one it took him so long to get back, even if he never gets anything else. But, of course, he’s not going to tell them any of that, so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t elaborate.

Jai puts her hands up in surrender. “Okay, sorry. I’ll drop it.” She steps away from the counter, the corners of her mouth lifting up in a smirk. “But if something changes, I wanna know.”

Trevor huffs a shocked laugh. Despite being shot down twice now, she’s still giving him one last chance to fess up. It’s a bold move, considering how poorly he’s been reacting, but it does make him pause. He’s never, not even once, even entertained the idea of talking to someone about this, too stuck in the idea that there’s no possible way that anyone else could ever understand. Of all the people that have been brave enough to ask him about it, none of them have ever pushed very hard, or offered any genuine level of sympathy.

But the look Jai is giving him right now isn’t cruel, or teasing. It’s kind, gentle, like she can see right through him, like she knows something he doesn’t. Maybe, if anyone was ever going to understand what he’s going through, it would be the girls standing in front of him.

There’s a denial sitting on the tip of his tongue. He swallows it down.

“You’re literally the last person I would tell.”

The smile on Jai’s face widens. “Hey, as long as I’m on the list, I’ll take it.”

And with that, she turns around and drags Tessa away from the counter to go browse through the stacks of vinyl. He can just barely hear Tessa whisper, “Oh my god, leave him alone,” as they’re walking away.

Trevor kind of thinks he might throw up. He’s never really made any effort to hide his sexuality, but it’s not something he advertises either. The thought of other people knowing makes him feel sort of sick, but the thought of lying to his friends is worse, so instead he’s been existing somewhere in the in between of plausible deniability. As long as nobody acknowledges it, he doesn’t have to think about it, and it’s fine.

Jai and Tessa have made it pretty clear that they know, but he’s not really sure if he’s just that see-through or if they just have that sixth sense that other gay people always seem to possess. He has no idea if they’ve talked to any of the girls about it, or if it’s stayed between the two of them, but he can’t ask without making it seem like a big deal, which means he has no choice right now but to swallow down the bile he can taste at the back of his throat and pretend he’s totally cool about all of this.

Every single queer coming of age story that’s tried to make it seem like coming out is this beautiful freeing experience is just straight up lying. He didn’t even technically tell them anything, yet he still wants to crawl out of his skin, all of his bravery used up on that one vague half response. He watches them flipping through records and wonders if maybe he should just lock the door and set the entire place on fire.

Twenty minutes later, when the girls make their way back over to the counter, he’s still not feeling any better.

“You find everything okay?” he asks, running on autopilot as he rings them up, trying as hard as he can to keep his voice casual.

“Yeah, thanks,” Jai responds. He slides the bag across the countertop, and watches as Tessa nudges her in the side. “Also, um… sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to bombard you or anything.”

“We won’t tell anyone else, obviously, in case you were worried about that,” Tessa adds.

“You really don’t need to tell us anything,” Jai says. “But, if you ever wanted to, you know where to find us.”

The relief that floods through his system is so intense it almost knocks him over. He hands over the receipt with numb fingers, and tries to remember how to make his voice work. “Um… okay. Thanks.”

She smiles softly at him, and then the two of them are out the door before he can say anything else.

Trevor drops his forehead down onto the countertop and forces himself to take a deep breath, and then another. Apparently, he should’ve given them a lot more credit.

He picks his head back up. His shift isn’t over for another two hours. He can spiral later. Right now, he gets back to his job, and wonders what the fuck he’s gotten himself into.

—

The following weekend, Rowan invites everyone over for a movie night, something she’s been doing at least once a month since everything went down earlier this year. Trevor’s pretty sure it’s her way of keeping tabs on all of them without appearing too paranoid, even though none of them would ever really blame her for it.

So on Saturday night, Trevor finds himself curled up in the corner of the couch, Tessa and Jai sitting on the floor on the other side of the room, talking to Elisia. They said hi when they got here, but that was the extent of the conversation, which hopefully means he’s off the hook for tonight.

Brandon walks in from the kitchen, two cans of soda in his hand, and sits himself right next to Trevor, handing one over. Six months ago, Brandon would’ve been handing him a beer, but Trevor doesn’t drink anymore, and Brandon doesn’t drink when he’s around, which he’s quietly grateful for, even though he’s never said it out loud. He suspects Rowan had something to do with that, though he’s never asked.

Brandon pops the tab on his soda and nudges Trevor’s side. “What are you pouting about?”

Trevor pouts harder. “I’m not pouting.”

Brandon reaches over and grabs Trevor’s legs, pulling them over his lap. “Yes you are. Is it because Rowan didn’t let you pick the movie?”

Trevor drops his head against the back of the couch. “I gave her so many options and she shot down all of them.”

He’s well aware that he’s whining, but Brandon’s the only person that puts up with it, so he takes egregious advantage.

“We can watch something else once everyone else leaves,” Brandon offers, squeezing Trevor’s knee. “If you can stay awake that long.” His tone is teasing, but Trevor knows he’s serious. He feels warm all over.

“Okay,” he whispers, and hopes that Brandon doesn’t notice the blush crawling up his cheeks.

Rowan shuts the lights off a few minutes later, and Trevor and Brandon stay put while everyone else arranges themselves on and around the oversized sectional. Sean isn’t around tonight, and Rowan’s busy with the girls, so Trevor has Brandon all to himself, but still, he doesn’t dare move, too afraid that if he shifts even an inch, Brandon will push him off. But Brandon stays where he is when the movie starts, one hand wrapped around his soda can and the other idly rubbing up and down Trevor’s shins, like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it, eyes trained on the TV screen.

Trevor lets himself sink back into the couch, too distracted by Brandon’s touch to even think about paying attention to whatever’s on the TV. This version of Brandon, the one that sits too close, the one that’s constantly making sure Trevor stays in his orbit, the one that keeps a protective hand on him even when there’s no one else around, used to be the only version of Brandon that Trevor ever knew. He’d been like that since they were kids, rough with everyone except a few choice people. Trevor, of course, has always been one of them, something he took for granted for a very long time.

Right up until last year, when Brandon came over with a bottle of tequila and a one track mind and then ripped the rug right out from under him the very next day. Brandon pretended like it was no big deal, like friends get drunk and hook up all the time, but it was all bullshit. He didn’t touch Trevor for weeks. He stopped climbing through Trevor’s bedroom window every other night looking for a place to sleep. He stopped blowing up Trevor’s phone with stupid texts all day. The easy way they used to move around each other was lost entirely, just gone all of a sudden like it had never even been there at all.

Trevor, who had gotten so used to this constant in his life, became completely untethered. Brandon was right there, but he may as well have been a million miles away. Completely absent when Trevor needed him the most, left with no shoulder to cry on through his parents’ divorce, no one to distract him or hold him while he slept. He’s not proud of the person he became. In full honesty, he doesn’t even remember much of it, and he’s sort of okay with that, though he’s still facing the consequences, and he’s pretty sure that’s not going to go away any time soon.

But, by some miracle, things slowly started to get better. He and Rowan settled into some kind of a truce, something that eventually smoothed out into friendship. To Trevor’s surprise, whatever was going on between Rowan and Brandon mellowed out into something closer to friendship as well—Rowan’s doing, from what Trevor was able to gather without asking directly. He thought he’d be happier about it, all things considered, but he honestly found himself worrying about both of them a lot more than he probably needed to until everything finally blew over and Brandon stopped hiding from her.

The Brandon he knew from before came back in bits and pieces. He started climbing through Trevor’s bedroom window again, took up semi-permanent residence in his bed, started leaving his clothes lying around for Trevor to take if he wanted. He started sitting too close again, started seeking Trevor out across the room whenever they were separated. He started asking Trevor about his interests again, asking about what movies he was watching and what music he was listening to, stealing his phone to go through his playlists. It was like nothing had ever changed at all.

Except, there are a few noticeable differences in the Brandon sitting next to him right now. He’s softer, gentler than he ever was when they were younger. He doesn’t shove Trevor around the way he used to, doesn’t treat him like a punching bag—Trevor never really minded, was perfectly capable of fighting back, but Brandon hasn’t tried to roughhouse with him in months. The hands he used to keep on Trevor’s arms, or his shoulders, or his knees, have migrated to the small of his back, his waist, the back of his neck. Trevor’s been going a little bit insane, but he’s trying really hard not to read too far into it.

Even right now, Brandon’s switched to tracing mindless patterns on his knee with one hand, and has the other wrapped around the inside of his thigh, soda can long abandoned on the coffee table. It’s innocent enough, his fingers tucked right behind Trevor’s knee, far enough down his leg for it to not raise too much suspicion, or at least that’s what Trevor tries to gaslight himself into believing instead of taking it for the obscenely possessive gesture that it is. He’s pretty sure Brandon’s trying to kill him. He’s been pulling shit like this more often recently, but only if it’s dark, only if no one else is watching—fingers slid under Trevor’s shirt under the covers, a hand on his thigh in the backseat of someone else’s car, a thumb stroking over his hip under his hoodie, dangerously close to dipping below his waistband.

And Trevor can’t say a word about any of it, doesn’t even dare acknowledge it, because he knows exactly what happened last time things went too far and he’d rather suffer in silence for the rest of his life than go through that a second time. He can’t lose him again. He’d never survive it. But he’s not really sure if he’s going to survive this either.

Trevor lasts about halfway through the movie before he reaches his breaking point and has to stumble off the couch to go take a breather, everything suddenly way too much for him to handle. Brandon makes a questioning noise when he pulls out of his grasp, and Trevor almost ignores him and walks away before he thinks better of it. If Brandon’s worried, he’ll follow him out, and that’s the last thing Trevor needs right now.

“I’ll be right back. You want anything while I’m up?” he asks quietly.

Brandon shakes his head and settles back into the couch, and Trevor takes his opportunity to get the fuck out of there. He walks straight through the kitchen and right out the front door, hoping the cool outside air might be enough to clear his head. He briefly considers going back inside to grab a joint because if anything is going to make him feel better it’s weed, but if he’s gone too long then Brandon will probably come looking for him, and then he’d do something insane like trying to convince Trevor to shotgun with him, and then Trevor would do something stupid like letting him. Like smoking with Brandon isn’t bad enough already, what with the way he likes to be the one to put the joint between Trevor’s lips, and Trevor just has to sit there and try not to fixate on the fact that Brandon’s mouth was just on it. It’s almost like kissing, if you’re desperate enough. Almost as intimate as Brandon’s fingers touching his lips when he plucks the joint back so he can take a turn.

Trevor collapses onto the front step, doing everything in his power to stop thinking. He drops his head into his hands, scrubs them roughly through his messy hair. He’s been letting it grow out recently, solely because he’s too lazy to go get a haircut, but he actually kind of likes the way it looks, just long enough that his curls are starting to show. Rowan likes to twist them around her fingers when he’s laying on the couch, and Trevor likes the attention.

He gives himself another minute to sit there and question all of his life choices before he forces himself to stand up and go back inside. He grabs another soda from the fridge just so he has an excuse for getting up, and thinks about grabbing a second one to try to redirect Brandon’s wandering hands, but apparently he’s a masochist, because he closes the fridge and heads back to the living room with only one soda in hand.

Brandon’s eyes track him all the way from the doorway back to the couch, burning into Trevor's skull as he tucks himself back into his corner.

“You okay?” Brandon whispers, pulling Trevor’s legs right back over his lap. He slides his hand between Trevor’s knees, hooks his fingers around the back of his thigh, digging them in just hard enough to hurt.

Trevor would say that he’s fighting a losing battle, but he knows full well that he isn’t fighting jack shit. He lets his head drop forward onto Brandon’s shoulder, curls in a little closer, tries not to think about the fact that he’s practically in Brandon’s lap.

“Yeah,” he mumbles into Brandon’s hoodie. “M’alright.”

Brandon loosens his grip, but he leaves his hand where it is. “You can go to sleep if you want,” he says softly. “I’ll wake you up when the movie ends.”

Trevor just hums in response, his eyes already slipping shut. It’s an easy out, and it’s not like he was paying any attention to what’s on the TV anyway. He’s exhausted, but he always is these days. Brandon reaches over with his free hand to take the unopened can out of his lap that Trevor had already forgotten about.

He shifts to get more comfortable, leans his head into the cushions but keeps his face tucked against Brandon’s shoulder. The last thing he registers before he passes out is Brandon’s thumb stroking over the inside of his knee.

When he wakes up a little while later, he’s in the exact same position, and Brandon hasn’t moved an inch. The TV is off, and everyone is gone except Elisia, who’s helping Rowan clean up. He doesn’t realize what woke him until Brandon nudges his shoulder again, jostling him gently.

“Trev? You up?” he asks quietly.

Trevor groans, reluctantly picking his head up. His neck hurts, and he can’t really feel his legs, but he doesn’t want to move, wants to stay right here curled up against Brandon’s warm body, even though it’s not comfortable in the slightest. He has no idea how he managed to fall asleep like this.

But apparently Brandon has other plans. “C’mon, let’s go to bed,” he coaxes, untangling himself and then practically manhandling Trevor off the couch, because he knows him well enough to know that he’d be standing here for another twenty minutes if he waited for Trevor to get up himself.

Trevor stumbles on numb legs, but Brandon, clearly ready for that, catches him around the waist before he goes toppling over the coffee table. He keeps a hand on Trevor’s back as he guides him to the bedroom, lower than it should be, and Trevor thinks he should probably be freaking out about that but he’s so tired, and he just wants to go back to sleep. If he’s lucky, Brandon will stay close under the covers, let him mooch off his body heat. He has a new bed, finally, upgraded from his twin sized mattress on the floor to a queen with an actual bed frame, but it just means that Brandon has plenty of room to sprawl out now when he sleeps over, that Trevor doesn’t have an excuse for pressing his whole body against Brandon’s when he’s falling asleep so they wake up in a tangle of limbs.

But Brandon doesn’t seem to be worried about excuses. He ushers Trevor under the blankets and crawls in right behind him, pulls the covers over them both and then slides an arm around Trevor’s waist without saying a word, leaving only a couple inches of space between them. He shoves one of his feet between Trevor’s calves and presses his forehead against the back of Trevor’s neck. Almost holding him, but not quite.

It’s enough though, at least for right now. Trevor’s asleep again before he can feel Brandon’s lips press against the top of his spine.

—

It doesn’t even occur to him that he should have been concerned about what anyone else saw until he’s at work a few days later and Tessa and Jai come walking through the door, beelining right to the counter.

He narrows his eyes as they approach. “Did you know I was working today?”

“I asked Rowan for your schedule,” Tessa explains, far too casually.

Trevor glances around the store—there’s only two other people here, and they’re about as far away from them as they could get right now.

He sighs. “What do you want?”

Jai drops her elbows onto the counter, the same exact way she did last week. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” He knows the answer, obviously, or at least has a vague idea, but he’s not actually sure how much they saw, and he’s not about to incriminate himself by admitting it.

“Listen. I was gonna let the diner thing slide, even though I was getting weird vibes. But then we were all forced to witness whatever the hell you two were doing at movie night, so now I have every right to ask you what the fuck is going on.”

Trevor takes a step back from the counter. “First of all, none of that was my doing.”

Tessa turns around and covers her mouth to try and hide the fact that she’s laughing, but it doesn’t work at all.

Jai drops her head in her hands, an exasperated look on her face. “Oh my god.”

Trevor can feel a blush creeping up his cheeks, but he keeps his mouth shut. He’s pretty sure anything he says right now is just going to make this worse.

Jai picks her head back up. “Trevor. It doesn’t matter if he put you there, you were literally in his lap. In a room full of all your friends.”

Trevor frowns. “I was not in his lap.”

Tessa’s trying so hard to hold in her laughter that there are literal tears streaming down her cheeks. “You so were, but that’s still not the point,” she barely manages to get out.

“I don’t know what the fuck you want me to tell you.” He’s getting impatient now. This might be funny to them, but it hasn’t been funny to him in a very long time. “I know, okay? I know what it looks like. But trust me when I say he doesn’t feel that way.”

Tessa leans on the counter next to Jai, taking a second to compose herself. “Okay, look. We obviously don’t know what happened, and you don’t have to tell us. But I can tell you that it looks like he already thinks you’re his boyfriend.”

Trevor’s stomach twists at the words. It’s one thing to experience it himself, but it’s another to hear from someone else—especially someone that hasn’t known them for very long, someone that has no context for the way Brandon acts around him. But he really doesn’t need anyone giving him false hope right now. “Don’t— don’t say that. He doesn’t.”

Jai sighs. The look on her face isn’t pity exactly, but it’s something close to it. “When we left your house the other night, he was glaring at anyone that made too much noise because you were asleep. He was covering your ears so you didn’t wake up.”

Any thought that was going through Trevor’s head is suddenly replaced with static. Why would Brandon be so concerned about letting him sleep if he was just going to wake him up once everyone left? Was he asleep for longer than he thought? He never actually checked the time when they went to bed, but that still wouldn’t make any sense. This entire time, Trevor’s been so fixated on everything happening behind closed doors that it didn’t occur to him that maybe he should be paying a little more attention to Brandon’s behavior when everyone else is around.

He wants to ask them to elaborate, wants to ask them to describe for him, in detail, exactly what it is they saw, but the words keep getting stuck in his throat. All he manages to force out of his mouth is a weak, strangled, “What?”

He was Brandon’s dirty little secret long before they hooked up—something he was forced to come to terms with if he was going to let any of it keep happening. And there was no world where he could ever make himself walk away, so sucking it up and learning to live with it was his only option. When they started getting close again, he assumed they were headed right back down that same path, sticking to the same unspoken rules they always had. And Trevor let it happen, because he knew full well that they protected him just as much as they protected Brandon—it’s easy to get mad at Brandon for pushing him away, but he’s not exactly out either, and he’s not looking to raise any suspicions. Brandon’s stupid rules were a safety net for both of them, and he knew it, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Trevor used to keep track of them, an obsessive list he kept inside his head, borderline neurosis. It made him feel better, having some idea of what Brandon’s boundaries were so he didn’t accidentally cross one at a time when he wasn’t prepared to deal with it. It never actually did him much good, considering Brandon’s mood had a tendency to flicker on and off at seemingly random occurrences, and Trevor’s never been very good at controlling his temper, but it gave him some sense of control, even if it was just in his head. So every time Brandon suddenly went cold on him, Trevor took note, and eventually managed to narrow it down to a rough set of rules that looked something like this:

no touching where someone else might see

brandon has to reach out first

don’t ever try to talk about it

There were others, of course—weirder, more specific ones that would change depending on the day. Don’t touch Brandon’s face. Stay still if he’s playing with your hair or else he’ll stop. Don’t face him in bed if you want him to reach for you, and definitely don’t open your eyes. Holding hands is only allowed under the covers. The list went on.

He hasn’t thought about that list in a very long time.

But now that he is, he’s almost entirely sure that the old Brandon never would’ve let Trevor fall asleep on him like that in front of their friends, never would’ve encouraged it, never would’ve covered his ears or told them to be quiet. If it was just the two of them in Trevor’s bedroom, sure, but not if anyone else was around—that was off limits, and Trevor understood that, or, at least, he thought he did. But apparently he’s been so caught up in everything else that he didn’t even realize Brandon was breaking his cardinal rule.

To be fair, it was sort of vague to begin with. Trevor was a very dramatic sixteen year old, as most sixteen year olds tend to be, and the more he dwelled on it, the worse it got, so he’s at least partly aware that he was maybe blowing things a little out of proportion. No touching didn’t exactly mean no touching, as in, a certain level of friendly bro slapping was okay, plus whatever else Brandon decided wasn’t incriminating enough, and there was also the glaring exception of when they were drunk, in which case all the rules basically went out the window. But still. None of that changes the fact that what happened the other night never would have been allowed before. He can’t believe it didn’t occur to him until now.

“Listen,” Tessa says, her voice much gentler than it was before. “We’re just saying, he obviously cares about you. Like, a lot.”

Trevor’s having a really hard time processing all of this. So instead of telling them to fuck off like he probably should, he just stands there like an idiot.

Jai frowns in concern. “Are you okay?”

“I, um…” He stumbles over the words, struggling to make his voice work. “I have to— I have to think about some things.”

“Here, hand me your phone,” Jai says, holding her hand out expectantly.

Trevor fumbles to take it out of his pocket, unlocking it and handing it over, too distracted to care what she’s doing with it. He watches as she opens up his contacts and adds her and Tessa’s numbers, then makes a group chat with the three of them and sends a little smiley face before closing the phone and sliding it back across the counter.

“In case you need a second opinion,” she says, then steps away from the counter and takes Tessa’s hand to pull her away.

Tessa turns back to wave as they walk out the door, and Trevor almost can’t help the laugh bubbling at the back of his throat at the absurdity of the situation as he waves back.

—

With his newfound revelations, Trevor gets home from work with a half-formed plan to spend the rest of the night laying in bed staring at the ceiling and reconsidering every single interaction he’s had with Brandon in the last few months. Maybe he’ll put on Brokeback Mountain or something, just to really wallow in it.

He changes out of his work clothes and lets Rowan rope him into helping make dinner and does his absolute best to act as normal as possible throughout the entire meal so that she doesn’t try to ask him if something happened, because he’s a little bit concerned that in his current state he’d cave immediately. But somehow he makes it through without incident, mostly by keeping his mouth firmly shut, and after talking his way out of helping with the dishes he escapes to his room and collapses face first on his bed.

He feels around the sheets blindly until his fingers close around his headphones, then pulls them over his ears with one hand while he scrolls through his multitude of playlists full of sad music with the other. He’s been making an effort to stop listening to devastating music every single day because he’s well aware that it only makes him feel worse, but he thinks he deserves to indulge himself tonight. Because how else is he supposed to cope with the fact that Brandon apparently wants everyone to know what’s going on all of a sudden if not with an appropriately stomach-turning soundtrack? It’s better than the alternative anyway, which is drowning his feelings in a bottle of liquor—not that it didn’t cross his mind, not that it’s not the only thing he can think about sometimes, but he’s put way too much work into kicking that particular habit to break his sobriety over something like this.

See, Trevor’s known about Brandon’s attachment issues for a very long time. He’s spent way more time than he’s willing to admit trying to psychoanalyze him as some fucked up kind of coping mechanism, like if he can understand why Brandon acts the way he does than maybe it won’t hurt so bad. Brandon’s horribly avoidant for the most part, riddled with the worst abandonment issues Trevor’s ever seen, but on the other side of that he gets obsessively overprotective over a choice few things.

Trevor is well aware he’s not one of them—Brandon made damn sure of that. But the disgusting truth is that sometimes he really wishes he was. He doesn’t need Brandon’s protection by any means, but there’s a strange sense of security he gets from Brandon’s more possessive behaviours, the kind of butterflies that only come from Brandon’s hand on his waist in a crowded room, his fingers tightening any time someone gets too close. It’s kind of nice knowing that Brandon would probably fist fight someone for him if he ever needed him to, even if that speaks more to Brandon’s problems with aggression than anything else.

But as much as Trevor wants all of that to mean something, the reality is that Brandon’s eager possessiveness means nothing if no one else ever sees. Well, not nothing, but it certainly means a lot more if other people are actually there to witness it and receive the intended message, but no one ever is, and Brandon makes sure of it. It’s more than likely that Brandon just does this stuff to make himself feel better, and doesn’t need anyone else to know.

Or, at least, that’s what he had convinced himself, right up until his conversation with Jai and Tessa today, and now he can’t stop thinking about what happened last weekend. Did Brandon pull his legs over his lap on purpose? Did he let him fall asleep on him on purpose, cover his ears on purpose? Did Brandon want everyone to see? Trevor always assumed that the reason Brandon was so intent on hiding it, the reason he kept everything just between the two of them, was because he didn’t want anyone else reading into it. So if he did—and it’s really starting to seem like he did—then the obvious implication here is that at some point he changed his mind, decided he does, in fact, want their friends to read into it. Brandon could have easily woken him up the second the credits rolled and disentangled himself and Trevor wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but he very pointedly did not. In fact, he went the extra mile to make sure he stayed asleep while everyone else turned the lights back on and cleaned up around them, and it’s not like Trevor’s lacking in sleep or anything, quite the opposite actually, so there was no reason for him to do that unless he wanted at least one person there to get the message to leave them alone.

And that’s the other thing—no one else that was at that movie night has any interest in Trevor, at least as far as he knows, which means that Brandon wasn’t acting like that to scare anyone off, he was acting like that to make sure everyone there knew exactly who Trevor belonged to. Well… maybe not that. But something along those lines, surely. Either way, it’s the exact kind of possessiveness that Trevor’s been craving, even though he knows damn well that he could barely handle it even before he knew what was going on. A hand wrapped around his thigh in front of all their friends, a dirty look at anyone that dared to make any sound, an unspoken threat of what would happen if someone disturbed the boy sleeping peacefully in his lap. Trevor thinks he might throw up.

He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling fan, watching the blades spin. Maybe he’s reading too much into this. Maybe Jai and Tessa are just fucking with him or something, though they’ve been nothing but sweet and genuinely empathetic to him, so he doesn’t think that’s the case. He wishes he could remember more about what happened the other night, but it didn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary at the time, and he was so distracted by Brandon’s hand creeping between his legs that he wasn’t actually paying attention to anything else, certainly not the other people in the room.

Which means all he can do now is lay here and replay the parts he does remember over and over again until it all blurs out and he can’t remember what was real and what he made up. Brandon’s fingers digging into the inside of his thigh, his quiet voice asking if Trevor was okay, telling him he could fall asleep on his shoulder if he wanted, his other hand tracing hypnotic circles around Trevor’s kneecaps, around and around and around.

He doesn’t move a muscle for several long hours, just spiraling into the deep dark abyss in his brain where all his memories of Brandon are kept contained, his own personal Pandora’s box, while his headphones loop the same playlist of forbidden songs over and over again. He’ll go to sleep eventually, put something on his laptop for background noise so the silence doesn’t swallow him whole, but he wants to lay here for a little while longer first, soak in the weirdly comforting feeling of letting himself indulge in something he knows he probably shouldn’t be.

Except, he doesn’t get the chance to do any of that, because a few seconds later Brandon suddenly appears in his peripheral vision, scaring the absolute shit out of him. He rips his headphones off with a gasp, bolting upright, and the first sound he registers is Brandon’s laughter as he collapses on the bed beside him.

“Dude, your face,” he laughs, and Trevor shoves him in the shoulder, still trying to catch his breath, his heart beating a mile a minute. He can’t do anything but stare, wondering if he’s really gone off the deep end and he’s hallucinating this, or if maybe he thought about Brandon so hard he literally summoned him.

Brandon snatches his headphones out of his hand and holds them up to his ear before Trevor has a chance to turn the music off. He makes a face, turning to look at Trevor as he drops them back on the bed. “Jesus, what are you all emo about?”

You, he thinks, but he doesn’t say it. Instead he just rolls his eyes and snatches the headphones back up, pulling them out of Brandon’s reach.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, checking his phone to make sure he didn’t lose track of time that badly. Sure enough, it’s only 9pm, which is way too early for Brandon’s usual nighttime visits. They have a routine down by now—Trevor goes to bed like normal, Brandon climbs through his window sometime around midnight, puts Trevor’s laptop away, and then crawls under the covers with him. Trevor doesn’t say a word unless Brandon tries to talk to him first, and then he’s gone by morning. Brandon showing up unannounced several hours earlier is almost certainly not a good sign.

But Brandon just shrugs. “I was bored. Wanna watch a movie?”

It’s obviously a lie. Trevor eyes him for a second, searching his face for any hint of what’s wrong, but Brandon keeps his expression carefully blank, so Trevor has to accept that getting anything out of him is a lost cause. It always is.

“Yeah, okay. Hang on.” He gets up to retrieve his laptop from his desk, and when he climbs back into bed Brandon has situated himself sitting up against the wall, pats the spot next to him for Trevor to join him.

Trevor settles at Brandon’s side, and doesn’t say anything when Brandon presses closer, just opens his laptop and pulls up the website he pirates all of his movies from. “Any requests?”

“What are the chances you could be talked into a superhero movie?”

Trevor wrinkles his nose. Superhero movies—Brandon’s favorite genre, and Trevor’s least favorite. Brandon’s a bit of a sci-fi nerd, as much as he adamantly denies it, and Trevor wishes he understood but he just can’t get behind it. He’s alright with fantasy, loves a good Lord of the Rings marathon, but he draws the line at sci-fi. He’s a sucker though, which means every once in a while he lets Brandon talk him into something he doesn’t want to watch, usually on occasions like this when he’s pretty sure Brandon’s upset about something and doing a really bad job at hiding it, so despite his complaining, he has, in fact, seen a lot more superhero movies than he’d like to admit. Tonight is no exception, but Trevor does have standards, so he narrows down Brandon’s options to the only ones that he actually somewhat enjoyed.

“Your options are The Dark Knight or The Winter Soldier. Or the first Andrew Garfield Spider-man. Take it or leave it.”

Brandon grins at him all cocky, like he didn’t expect Trevor to give in so easily, and Trevor feels his cheeks heat up. “Winter Soldier.”

Trevor elbows Brandon in the side but pulls it up nonetheless. “Shut the lights off.”

Brandon reaches over and clicks the lamp off, then sits right back where he was so Trevor can put the laptop down, balanced on their legs where their thighs are pressed together. It’s a stupid excuse to keep Brandon close, but Brandon isn’t complaining, so Trevor leaves it be.

He makes it almost all the way through the movie before exhaustion starts to take over. He doesn’t even notice he’s nodding off until his head hits Brandon’s shoulder and jerks him awake.

“Sorry,” he mumbles quietly, trying to blink himself back into consciousness, but his whole body feels too heavy, most of his weight leaning against Brandon’s side.

Brandon doesn’t respond, but to Trevor’s surprise, he reaches up and pulls Trevor’s head back onto his shoulder, scratches his fingers through his hair for a second before he drops his hand. Trevor, who was fully about to lean his head back against the wall and close his eyes again, is suddenly fighting to keep them open, trying very hard to focus on the screen. There isn’t much time left in the movie, and he so desperately doesn’t want to fall asleep and miss a single second of this.

He’s only semi-successful—his neck hurts from the awkward position, but Brandon’s side is nice and warm against his, and his eyelids keep slipping shut against his will. By the time the credits roll ten minutes later, he’s half asleep again, and Brandon can clearly tell because he carefully slides the laptop into his own lap without jostling Trevor at all. Trevor watches through bleary eyes as Brandon stops the movie and closes the tab, then shuts the laptop and puts it down on the bed before he tries to nudge Trevor awake.

“C’mon, get under the covers,” Brandon coaxes, gently pushing Trevor off of him so he can climb off the bed, taking the laptop with him.

Trevor does as he’s told, drags the blankets back just enough to crawl underneath, on the side closest to the wall. With his eyes half-lidded, he can just barely see Brandon as he rummages through Trevor’s dresser, strips his shirt and jeans off and tugs on a pair of Trevor’s pajama pants. Brandon pats Trevor’s ankle through the covers, whispers a quiet, “Be right back,” and slips out the bedroom door.

Trevor lets his eyes fall shut. Brandon’s probably just going to the bathroom, won’t be gone for very long. He knows that he should probably roll over if he wants Brandon to hold him, should be facing the wall instead of the other side of the bed, but he’s too comfortable on his stomach right now, his arms splayed over the pillow, and his head feels too heavy to lift, so he stays where he is, lets himself start to drift off.

The door creaks back open a minute later, but he’s too tired to open his eyes, just listens to Brandon’s footsteps as he pads back over to the bed, feels the mattress dip as he climbs on, takes his usual side between Trevor and the door, something he’s always insisted on for reasons Trevor’s never really understood. And then, the absolute last thing he’s expecting—Brandon’s hand wraps around his wrist. Trevor stays very still, keeps his arm carefully limp as Brandon slowly pulls it down under the covers, slides his hand down and tangles their fingers together.

Despite the exhaustion, Trevor's stomach fills with butterflies. He soaks up the feeling while he still can, tries to memorize the feeling of Brandon’s hand in his in the last few moments before he passes out, knows it’s his only chance. Brandon will be gone when he wakes up. He always is.

—

Brandon’s still in his bed when he wakes up.

It’s so jarring that it takes his sleep-addled brain several long seconds to figure out that something’s off, and another several seconds before he registers that he can’t feel his hand, at which point his eyes fly open and he sees the extra body still occupying the other side of his bed.

Not only is Brandon still here, he’s wide awake, curled up on his side staring at Trevor in a way that’s mildly terrifying, face completely unreadable. He’s still holding Trevor’s hand, barely covered by the sheets that had ridden down throughout the night.

Trevor can’t help the words that tumble out of his mouth, his voice thick with sleep. “You’re still here.”

“Sorry,” Brandon says softly, still searching Trevor’s face. “I can go.”

Brandon makes no move to actually get up, but Trevor rushes to reassure him anyway. “No it’s— it’s okay. You just… you know. You’re usually gone when I wake up.”

Brandon just shrugs, his cheeks flushing pink. “I didn’t wanna leave,” he mumbles, the words spoken so quietly that Trevor probably wouldn’t have been able to hear him if they weren’t so close.

This is deeply uncharted territory for them. Trevor has no idea what he’s supposed to do, what he’s supposed to say, but for some reason the stakes don’t seem so high right now. Usually in situations like this, when Brandon’s guard is down, it’s like navigating a minefield trying not to fuck up and make him shut down again, but this isn’t that—Brandon chose to stay. Trevor feels warm all over, like he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to. He wants to stay here all day, sleepy and peaceful and perfectly comfortable.

Except, you know. Just one minor issue. “I can’t feel my fingers,” he whispers, keeping his tone light so Brandon knows he’s not complaining, just stating a fact.

Brandon immediately pulls his hand away anyway, apologies spilling out of his mouth too fast for Trevor to stop, and it’s so out of character that Trevor can’t help the laughter bubbling up in his throat as he wrenches his other hand out from under him to cover Brandon’s mouth to make him shut up.

“Oh my god, stop apologizing, it’s fine,” he says, only laughing harder at the look of surprise on Brandon’s face. He waits until he feels Brandon snap his mouth shut, and then, because he truly has nothing to lose at this point, asks, “Do you wanna stay for breakfast?”

Brandon’s eyes somehow get even wider. He reaches up and wraps his hand around Trevor’s wrist, pulls his hand away from his mouth but doesn’t let go. “I, um… I should probably go.”

It’s the answer Trevor was expecting, but the expression on Brandon’s face doesn’t match the words coming out of his mouth. His fingers tighten around Trevor’s wrist, his eyes full of something that Trevor might call pleading if he didn’t know any better.

Trevor wants him to stay, of course he does. But he’s not going to beg. He knows how Brandon is, and as nice as this is, he only lasts so long before the walls go back up. Their morning has to come to an end before the switch flips—there’s no use fighting it.

“Okay,” he says softly. “You can use the front door if you want.”

The joke lands, thank god, and the corners of Brandon’s mouth finally quirk up in some semblance of a smile. He just nods, and lets go of Trevor’s wrist, and climbs out of bed in a way that looks like it’s the absolute last thing he wants to do, or maybe that’s just Trevor’s wishful thinking. Trevor stays put, lazily flexes his tingling fingers to try and get the blood flowing while he watches Brandon change back into his clothes from last night, folding the pajama pants back up and putting them back in the drawer. He shoves his feet into his sneakers and grabs his keys off the dresser, but then instead of heading for the window like usual he reaches for the doorknob instead.

Trevor pushes himself up on his elbow. “Oh you don’t actually— I was joking—”

“I know,” Brandon says, and it’s weirdly ominous but he’s smiling as he throws Trevor a stupid little salute on his way out.

Trevor’s still staring at the door wondering what the fuck just happened thirty seconds later when the door opens again. He’s half expecting it to be Brandon coming back to say he was kidding, but the person standing on the other side is definitely not Brandon. It’s Rowan, fully dressed for the day already because she’s insane like that, looking horribly confused.

“Did I just see Brandon leave?”

Trevor frowns. Brandon sleeps over all the time and Rowan’s well aware of that, so he has no idea what this is about. “Yeah? He slept over. What’s the big deal?”

“It’s like, 10am. He’s usually gone by 5 at the latest.”

“What?” Trevor sits up in alarm, scrambling for his phone on the nightstand. Sure enough, it’s currently 10:02, which is significantly later than he thought it was. But before he can start spiraling about it, he processes the second half of her response and snaps his head back around. “Wait, hang on— why do you know when he leaves?”

She just shrugs. “My room’s way too close to the driveway. I hear his car start. Wakes me up.”

“Oh,” he says, deflating. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s not your fault obviously.” She reaches up to fiddle with her necklace. “Is, um… is everything okay?”

“Huh?”

“Like, with Brandon?”

“Oh. Uh, I guess?” A lie, of course, but this is none of her business. “I don’t know why he stayed this late, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, it’s— he’s just been kinda weird with you lately,” she rushes out, avoiding eye contact.

Or, maybe it is her business, because apparently it’s everyone’s business these days.

Trevor narrows his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She’s quiet for a few seconds, lifts her gaze back up to meet his, her eyes darting around his face like she’s looking for a reaction, but whatever it is, she doesn’t find it. “Nevermind. Don’t worry about it.

“Rowan—”

“No, just— forget I said anything. Sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”

And with that, she turns around and shuts the door behind her, leaving Trevor to wonder what the fuck is going on this morning. The conversation with Rowan was weird, but he’s a lot more interested in the fact that Brandon may or may not have been laying in bed awake watching him sleep for several hours this morning—Brandon has a lot of strange quirks, and Trevor’s witnessed quite a few of them throughout the years, but that’s certainly a new one.

He reaches for his phone again and pulls up his messages before he can talk himself out of it. This is why Jai gave him their numbers in the first place, right? He just needs to vent, needs someone to listen and tell him he’s not crazy. And he doesn’t really want to put that on someone else, but they’ve offered twice now, and he might go out of his mind if he doesn’t get this off his chest soon.

Trevor: milkshakes?

The response comes in immediately.

Tessa: right now?
Trevor: yeah
Trevor: if ur free
Jai: give us half an hour we’ll be there

—

Trevor’s already halfway through his first milkshake when the girls slide into the booth across from him.

Tessa doesn’t waste any time. “What happened?”

Trevor takes his mouth off his chewed-up straw. “No good morning?”

“Good morning. What happened?”

He sighs. “I think I’m going insane.”

Jai eyes his half-empty milkshake. “Is that your breakfast?”

“Maybe.”

“You should get some real food. And then tell us what happened.”

Trevor can’t protest because she’s already flagging down the waitress, and she’s right anyway. So he waits for the girls to order first, then gets himself a sandwich and another milkshake for emotional support.

The waitress has barely left the table when Tessa speaks up again. “Okay, hang on. We need backstory first.”

It’s at this point that Trevor starts to reconsider his decision to do this in a public place. He’s suddenly hyper aware of every other person getting brunch at this diner right now that may or may not be in listening range of him about to spill all of his carefully kept secrets from the last several years. But… he’s not going to let himself back out now. So he takes one last sip of his milkshake and tries to figure out where to start.

“Before I tell you anything, you have to promise you won’t tell anyone else. Not a single word.”

“We would never,” Tessa assures him. “Promise.”

“You can trust us,” Jai adds. “You know that.”

He does know that, and he’s the one that made them come here in the first place, so here goes nothing.

“Okay, um… well, we’ve been best friends since we were kids. He’s always been… I don’t know. Attached to me, I guess. He has a pretty shitty family situation, which I’m not gonna elaborate on obviously, but it’s important for context. He spends a lot of time at my house, sleeps over all the time. But he’s really weird about it, has all these rules, and you’re gonna make fun of me for ever letting him get away with any of this but he’s just— he gets upset really easily, and just shuts down, and it’s awful.”

“Wait, back up,” Jai cuts in. “Rules?”

Trevor sighs. “Like, stupid shit to protect his reputation or whatever. He never said any of it out loud, I just kinda had to figure it out.”

“Like what?” Tessa asks, looking sort of baffled. He can’t really blame her—he feels crazy trying to explain it in a way that makes sense to anyone that hasn’t been living it.

“Like, he’s really tactile, but not if other people are around, and there’s like a 50/50 shot he gets mad if I try to touch him first. And he won’t talk about it. Stuff like that.”

He’s staring at his hands as he says it, slowly ripping a paper napkin to shreds, and when he looks back up he’s met with matching horrified expressions from both of them.

He rolls his eyes. “Stop looking at me like that, it’s not as bad as it sounds. And anyway, it gets way worse.”

“What—” Tessa starts, but Trevor bulldozes right over her, desperate to get this part over with as quick as possible.

“Last year we got drunk and hooked up and everything went to shit. He just kept acting like it wasn’t a big deal and he barely remembered it but he was obviously freaking out. I mean, he was literally the one that started it. He got super distant, completely pushed me away for a while. Things only started getting better a few months ago.”

He stops to take a breath, forces himself to lift his gaze again. All these years, and he’s never said any of that out loud to anyone—he feels hollowed out, can’t figure out if he’s terrified or relieved so instead he’s just weirdly numb, heart racing like he just ran a marathon.

Jai’s the one that breaks the silence. “Oh my god?”

“I don’t… know what to say,” Tessa says slowly, looking sort of like she didn’t actually want to know any of that information after all.

“Okay, wait,” Jai cuts in. “He was all over you the other night when everyone was around. Isn’t that against the rules or whatever?” She puts finger quotes around the word rules like she’s still not entirely convinced Trevor’s not insane.

“Did something change?” Tessa asks. “Like, in the last few months? I know Rowan ended things with him a while ago. Maybe he’s rethinking some things.”

“I have no idea,” he says quietly. “He’s been… different. Since then. Like, nicer, I guess, since everything went down. We got close again, and I just sort of assumed it would go back to the way it was before. I didn’t even realize until you pointed it out yesterday that he hasn’t really been hiding it anymore. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do.”

Jai’s expression softens into sympathy. “You’re afraid he’s gonna freak out again.”

Trevor just nods, putting his straw back in his mouth only to discover that there’s no milkshake left for him to drink, so he starts chewing on the straw again instead.

“Did something happen this morning?” Tessa guesses.

Trevor never actually told them that that was why he texted them, but he supposes that calling an emergency vent session at 10am was enough to clue them in.

“Brandon’s idea of sleeping over is climbing through my window in the middle of the night, catching a few hours of sleep, and leaving before the sun comes up. He does it all the time, just doesn’t want to sleep at his own house I guess. But last night he showed up way earlier, watched a movie with me, and that was already weird but when I woke up this morning he was still there. And I know he didn’t just oversleep or something because he was awake, literally just lying there watching me sleep. I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do with that. I told him he could stay, and he didn’t, obviously, but it was just so strange. Then Rowan came in to ask why he was leaving so late and made some really vague comment about how he’s been weird with me lately and then refused to elaborate and told me to forget it. So, you know. I’ve had a morning.”

Jai narrows her eyes at him. “Hang on… watching you sleep?”

“It’s not as creepy as it sounds.” He ducks his head, and mumbles the next part. “He was holding my hand.”

Tessa’s mouth drops open. “Oh, this is like… serious.”

“Is it?” he asks, exasperated. “Because I have no idea with him. Genuinely no fucking clue.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Tessa says. “This would be insane behaviour for someone you don’t have feelings for.”

“But what if he’s just like that? What if he’s just using me because I’m the only person stupid enough to keep crawling back to him?”

He snaps his mouth shut, slightly mortified at his little outburst. He goes to apologize, the words halfway out of his mouth when Jai puts a hand out and cuts him off, nodding her head towards the waitress approaching their table with three milkshakes in hand. Thank god she was paying attention, because Trevor certainly wasn’t, and the last thing he needs is another person up in his business right now.

She waits until the waitress has left again before turning back to Trevor, a thoughtful look on her face. “Okay, before I start giving my opinions. What’s your goal here?”

Trevor frowns. “What?”

“Like, do you want to be his boyfriend? Is that the end goal?”

He blinks, taking a second to consider the question. The easy answer is yes, but it’s not as simple as that. He wants to be the only person Brandon ever looks at. He wants to stay permanently attached at the hip for the rest of their lives. He wants to crack open Brandon’s ribcage and shove his dirty hands inside. The word boyfriend doesn’t really encapsulate all that. But he doesn’t really know how to explain it in a way that anyone else would ever understand, so he just nods instead.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, only if he wants it too though. If he doesn’t, I want him to cut it the fuck out.”

“You so don’t mean that,” Tessa laughs, and Trevor can’t help cracking a grin.

“I’m trying to be mature about this,” he says, but he starts laughing too, because he knows full well that he’d sooner spend the rest of his life following Brandon around like a lost puppy than ever tell him to stop. It’s not actually funny at all, except for the part where it’s been going on for so long now that it kind of is.

“Okay, listen,” Jai says, putting her hands down on the table like she has something important to say. “First of all, I know Brandon’s really good at playing shit off as casual, but trust me, he’s only acting that way with you. Like, he had that whole thing with Rowan and he definitely wasn’t trying to pull her into his lap in front of all of us.”

“Can you guys stop reminding me that he used to kiss my stepsister?” he groans, but apparently this is the least of their concerns.

Jai just rolls her eyes, ignoring his dramatics. “I’m not finished. Second of all, he’s your best friend, not some shitty ex. And it kinda sounds like he’s the one that keeps crawling back to you. And like, maybe it’s a little bit stupid that you keep letting him, but there’s obviously a reason that he seeks you out specifically, and it’s probably because you’re the only person that’s ever had enough patience to survive his five million attempts to push you away. He’s probably terrified, and it’s not an excuse for the way he’s treated you, but you still have to take it into account here.”

That’s… a really good point, actually. Despite being well aware of Brandon’s abandonment issues, Trevor never really thought they applied to him. He’s never given Brandon any reason to believe he would ditch him—in fact, he’s well aware that his own behaviors tend in the complete opposite direction, something much closer to obsessive clinginess. It’s pathetic, and he knows it, but he can’t seem to stop himself, which is why he always assumed that when Brandon pushed him away it was personal. But maybe Jai is right. Maybe Trevor’s dog-like loyalty is exactly what Brandon needs, the reason he keeps letting Trevor back in. Trevor knows he’s scared, of course he does, but maybe it’s worse than he thought, and Brandon’s habit of pushing him away is just a test to see if Trevor will keep coming back. Maybe he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

“Honestly, the responsible thing to do would probably be to stop letting him climb through your window every night,” Tessa says. “But he obviously needs you. And if he’s not trying to hide it anymore, that’s definitely a good sign.”

“I mean, you probably shouldn’t hook up with him again,” Jai cuts in. “Like, not until you have an actual conversation. But you might actually be able to have that conversation now without him flipping out on you.”

“Agreed,” Tessa says. “Sorry, is this actually helping? You look kinda scared.”

Trevor blinks, immediately schooling his face. “I, uh… I was really not expecting you to encourage this.”

“Did you not want us to?”

“I can take all that back if you want,” Jai offers with a grin.

“No, that’s not—” He pauses, trying to sort out the jumbled thoughts clouding his head. “I’ve never actually said any of that out loud to anyone before,” he admits quietly. “I just kind of assumed you’d be horrified.”

“I mean, I’m definitely concerned,” Tessa says, but it’s playful, like she doesn’t want him to worry.

“Well, same,” Jai agrees. “But I think you’ve built this up so much in your head that it’s maybe about to ruin your life.”

“Did you miss the part where it already ruined my life?”

Jai sighs, her face softening. “I know. I wish I could tell you to just go talk to him, but we both know it’s not that easy. Whatever he’s so scared of, I’m sure he has his reasons. Trust me, I know how that feels.”

A silence falls over the table for a few moments, quiet acknowledgement of Jai’s words. She’s not the only one that knows how that feels—they all do, to some extent. Relationships will never be as easy for them as they are for their other friends, going on dates and holding hands in the school hallways without having to worry about what other people think, what other people might try to do to them. It sucks, and they all know it, and there’s no use dwelling on it because there’s nothing they can do about it.

“Alright, listen,” Tessa says. “I know it’s not fair to you at all, but you know that already, and considering the fact that you’ve put up with him this long already, I’m assuming you’d be willing to wait a little longer. You can walk away if you want, and no one would blame you, but, like Jai said—he needs you, clearly. Plus, if he ever does come to his senses, he’s gonna owe you for like, the rest of his life.”

Trevor huffs a laugh. She’s not wrong. “So what, you’re telling me to just wait and see what happens?”

Jai shrugs. “Up to you. If he’s been acting different, maybe he’s working up to something. Or, you know, you could also try and talk to him about it. But if you think that’s going to backfire, maybe hold off and see what he’s up to first.”

“Okay,” he says softly, sighing heavily. “Okay, yeah, you’re right. Sorry for hijacking your morning, by the way. I hope you didn’t have more important things to do than listen to me talk about my really tragic love life.”

“Are you gonna think less of me as a person if I tell you that this is probably the highlight of my week?” Tessa jokes, reaching over to swap her milkshake with Jai’s.

Jai doesn’t even react, just takes a sip of Tessa’s. “I mean, yeah, dealing with other people’s problems is way more fun than dealing with your own.”

Well, it’s good to know that, at the very least, he’s providing some solid entertainment. “I’m feeling left out. Someone swap milkshakes with me.”

Tessa slides hers over with a grin. “You wanna talk about something else now?”

He slides his back with a relieved smile. “Please.”

—

The following week, the girls come to see Trevor again at work, because apparently they have nothing better to do than gossip and take advantage of his employee discount. They’ve shown up at his last three shifts, not-so-casually looking for updates that Trevor doesn’t have, but they don’t force him to talk about it if he doesn’t want to, and he honestly doesn’t mind the company—enjoys it, even.

If they were hoping to get any new information out of him today though, they’re out of luck, because they weren’t the only ones that woke up this morning and decided to come loiter at the record store.

Brandon, who also had nothing better to do today, is currently sitting on the rolling stool behind the counter, spinning in endless circles and kicking Trevor in the shins on every rotation. Trevor’s been explaining the book series he’s reading in egregious detail to him between customers to keep him entertained, but there haven’t been that many customers, and he’s running out of plot points.

So when the bell on the door rings, and he looks up to see Tessa and Jai walk in, he’s almost relieved. Brandon perks up when he notices them, abruptly stops his spinning and nudges Trevor in the side.

“Aww, Trev, you’re so popular,” he teases, laughing when Trevor shoves him back.

“They’re just using me,” he mumbles, but he can’t help the smile on his face.

Jai walks right up to the counter as usual, Tessa in tow, and only spares two seconds to wave at Brandon before she fixes her gaze back on Trevor. “You have my records?”

“Yeah, hang on,” he says, turning around to go rummage through the back room. Jai figured out very quickly that she could ask Trevor to hold copies of new releases for her, and he does it even though it may or may not be against some store policy somewhere because it’s the least he can do for her. No one’s found his stash yet, at least, so it’s probably fine.

He emerges with the records in hand and checks them out under his own employee account so he can apply his discount. Brandon pulls himself up and sidles up right next to him, watching as he punches in his ID number.

“Are they blackmailing you?” he asks skeptically, glancing between him and the girls.

Trevor huffs a laugh, grabbing the receipt and sliding everything across the counter. “Something like that.”

Jai grins at them as she pulls out her wallet to pay him back. “He’s not allowed to have friends?”

Brandon wraps his arm around Trevor’s waist and tugs him flush against his side. “Nope.”

Trevor watches the girls share a look that’s not even kind of subtle and feels his face heat up against his will. The last thing he needs right now is Brandon catching onto the fact that they’ve been talking about him, so he quickly snatches the cash from Jai and changes the subject.

“Don’t you guys have better things to do than distract me?”

“You don’t look very busy,” Tessa counters, and he doesn’t actually have anything to say to that because she’s not wrong. It’s a weekday morning, and they’re the only ones in the store right now. There are things he probably could be doing, but nothing urgent enough that he has to kick them out.

“Well, no, but still. Imagine if you got your own jobs and stopped loitering at mine.”

“Why would I do that when this is so much more fun?” Brandon says, letting go of Trevor’s waist so he can wrap his arm around his neck instead, pulling him into a half-hearted headlock.

“You’re gonna get me fired,” Trevor grumbles, trying and failing to wrestle out of his hold without knocking over any of the precariously stacked displays of trinkets that cover most of the counter.

He digs his fingers into Brandon’s forearm as hard as he can until he finally lets up, loosening his grip but leaving his arm around Trevor’s shoulders. “That’s why I only come in when your manager isn’t working.”

Trevor frowns at him. “You literally have no way of knowing that.”

“I took a picture of the schedule hanging up in the back room.”

Tessa starts laughing, and Trevor frowns even harder. “Can you send that to me? Rowan’s getting really sick of me asking.”

Brandon just grins at her. “I would, but I think Trev would kill me.”

“I’m gonna kill all of you,” he mutters in response.

Suddenly the bell above the door chimes, and Trevor straightens up, promptly reminded that he’s on the clock and actually has a job to do.

Jai takes that as her cue, pushing herself away from the counter. “Alright, well, I just needed my records, so we’ll leave you alone now, since you have so much to do.”

Trevor rolls his eyes, embarrassed laughter escaping his throat. “Oh my god, just get out of here.”

“See you later!” Tessa calls as Jai drags her out of the store, and Trevor just waves until they’re out of sight.

Brandon doesn’t let go of him until they’re gone, dropping back onto the stool again so Trevor can go attend to the actual customers. He waits until Trevor comes back—a truly shocking display of patience coming from Brandon—before he says something about it. “So, what, are you into lesbians now?”

Trevor kicks the stool over with Brandon still in it.

He doesn’t get a chance to check his phone until after his shift, and when he does he’s not very surprised to find a flurry of texts in the still-yet-to-be-named group chat with Tessa and Jai.

Tessa: not to be dramatic or anything but he wants u so bad
Jai: no like that was kinda obscene
Jai: he was two seconds from fist fighting two lesbians for your attention
Tessa: no like chill out bro no one’s taking him from u
Jai: i take back everything i said before u gotta do something about this
Tessa: u have to say something
Tessa: literally anything
Jai: just kiss him
Tessa: or that
Tessa: that works too

Trevor drops his head against the steering wheel of his truck, laughing quietly to himself. It’s funny—this thing, with Brandon, this secretive little fucked up not-quite-friendship not-quite-relationship he’s been living for years now, always felt so heavy, like this burden he’s been carrying around with him that he was never allowed to tell anybody about because he was convinced it would only make things worse. But now that it’s finally off his chest, it’s not nearly as overwhelming anymore. Jai was absolutely right about him building it up in his head—if he hadn’t told them, it may or may not have swallowed him whole by now.

It’s just, he’s never been friends with other queer people before, unless he counts Brandon, but it’s not the same. He’s never had anyone in his life he felt comfortable talking about these things with, always so sure no one would understand. It feels… easier, with Jai and Tessa. He’s only really been friends with them for a few weeks, but he trusts them in a way that he’s never really trusted anyone else before. It’s still a lot, obviously, the Brandon situation, but even just these stupid text messages are enough of a reminder that he’s not alone in this anymore, that he’s not insane, that he’s not making things up. It’s so much easier to carry like this. He can’t even imagine how different things might have turned out if he had something like this earlier, but, then again, maybe they weren’t ready back then either.

It doesn’t matter anyway—the important part is that he has them now.

Trevor: pretty sure he wasn’t about to fist fight anyone
Jai: he totally was but it doesn’t matter
Jai: what matters is that he wants to kiss u so bad
Trevor: literally last week u told me to wait
Jai: yeah and i just told u to ignore all that
Tessa: i feel like u should try to say smth at the very least
Tessa: just test the waters
Trevor: why are u guys suddenly praying on my downfall
Jai: this is for the best trust me
Tessa: praying on u locking down brandon darrow so he leaves women alone forever
Jai: like honestly ur doing a public service
Trevor: ????

—

Trevor thinks about it—he really does. Maybe they’re right, maybe he should actually try and do something about it, try and get Brandon to talk, at the very least. To be fair, it’s not like he hasn’t tried before, it’s just never gone very well. And anyway, it was a lot easier to confront him when things were already weird between them, when the damage had already been done, easier when his entire world felt like it was crumbling around him and he was convinced he had nothing left to lose. But he had forgotten then, how good it feels to have Brandon like this, how addicting it is to have his full attention, how easy it is to just cave and let Brandon do whatever he wants. Now that he has it back, he’s willing to do just about anything to keep it, and that includes keeping his mouth shut so he doesn’t accidentally scare Brandon away.

But he still thinks about it. He thinks about it every time Brandon climbs through his window in the middle of the night, and every time he wakes up to find him gone. He thinks about it when Brandon comes over to play video games, his legs tangled with Trevor’s on the couch, and he thinks about it when Brandon drags him to Padres and spends the whole time kicking him under the table and stealing food off his plate.

It takes two more weeks before he breaks. Long enough that Tessa and Jai stop harassing him about it, though they do keep asking him for updates every time they come visit him at work. Jai seems genuinely baffled that Brandon hasn’t made an actual move yet, but Trevor doesn't know what to tell her, because he doesn’t know what’s going on either. Honestly, Brandon hasn’t even done anything super out of the ordinary since that morning a few weeks ago, and Trevor’s starting to wonder if maybe he is going crazy after all.

And then, one random Tuesday night, Brandon throws him for a loop again. He knows something’s off the second Brandon walks through the door completely unannounced—it’s not entirely out of character, but Trevor usually gets a text first, at least, if Brandon’s planning on crashing one of Rowan’s impromptu girls nights.

The impromptu girls night in question is actually just Rowan and Elisia, because apparently no one else was around, and Trevor was included only because he lives here too. The girls had stolen all the blankets, so Trevor had stolen all the pillows, currently stacked under his head to prop him up enough to look at the TV. Trevor barely reacts when Brandon walks in, just raises a hand in greeting and moves his feet so Brandon has somewhere to sit.

Brandon, apparently, has other plans.

“Sit up for a sec,” he says as he comes around the couch, nudging Trevor’s shoulder with his knee.

“Huh?” Trevor mumbles, confused at the request, but he props himself up on his elbow anyway before he can really think about why he’s doing it.

Brandon doesn’t offer an explanation. Instead, he promptly sweeps all the pillows onto the floor and immediately sits down in their place. Trevor’s about to ask him what the fuck his problem is, his mouth already half open, when Brandon puts a hand flat on his chest and pulls him back down, his head pillowed on Brandon’s thigh.

Oh.

So… not crazy then. He still feels sort of insane though, for an entirely different reason now. And too scared to move. That is, until Brandon slides a hand into his hair, blunt nails scratching at his scalp, and Trevor’s helpless to the way he melts into it, shifting just enough to get comfortable and train his eyes back on the TV.

The last time Brandon let Trevor lay in his lap like this was almost two years ago. Trevor had been sick, quarantined in his room all week, and Brandon had been given explicit instructions to stay away so he didn’t end up in the same boat, but he only lasted about five days before he gave in and came crawling through the window as usual. Trevor was past the worst of the illness, but he was still miserable, all groggy and exhausted, and he was so relieved to see Brandon that he didn’t even bother trying to scold him. Brandon started apologizing immediately anyway, climbed onto Trevor’s bed and pulled his head into his lap just like this, and told him to go back to sleep, combing his fingers through his hair until he passed out again. Trevor’s mom kicked him out an hour later, but it was nice while it lasted.

But no one’s here to kick Brandon out this time, and he’s settled in like he’s here to stay, absentmindedly twisting Trevor’s overgrown curls around his fingers, rubbing his scalp every time he gets caught in a tangle and pulls too hard. Trevor’s like putty in his hands, lulled into a sleepy trance under the gentle ministrations. He was barely watching the movie before Brandon showed up anyway, something Rowan picked that Trevor didn’t even try to fight her on, but it doesn’t matter now because all his attention is on Brandon’s fingers in his hair, Brandon's warm thigh under his cheek, the soft sound of Brandon’s breathing. Usually if it’s just the four of them, as it so often is, Brandon would be keeping up a running commentary, but he’s quiet tonight, and awfully still.

The girls bid them good night after the movie ends, handing over the remote and relocating to Rowan’s bedroom, but Brandon doesn’t move so Trevor doesn’t either, just watches with half-lidded eyes as Brandon pulls up something new to watch, one of the Dark Knight films, Trevor’s pretty sure. He can’t help smiling to himself—he didn’t even say anything, but Brandon still stuck to the very short list he gave him a few weeks ago.

Brandon drops the remote and goes right back to petting Trevor’s head. He could close his eyes right now, let it lull him to sleep, but he fights against the urge, forces himself to watch the screen. He doesn’t want to miss any of this, wants to soak it in while he still can, even though he knows it’s probably a losing battle, the same way it always is. Maybe Brandon does it on purpose, only acts like this late at night so he has an out when Trevor inevitably falls asleep, or maybe Trevor’s just helpless to it, and it’s on him that he can never seem to stay awake the second Brandon’s close enough. Either way, he loses every single time, and tonight is no exception.

Or at least, that’s what he assumes. But apparently Brandon’s not done with him yet.

Trevor’s fighting his eyes back open for the third time when Brandon’s hand slides out of his hair and down the side of his face, fingers trailing down his jaw, and suddenly Trevor’s wide awake again, adrenaline coursing hot through his veins. He does his best to keep his breathing even, carefully holding himself still, which is way harder now than it was five seconds ago when he wasn’t thinking about it.

His first thought is that maybe Brandon’s trying to turn his head, or move him off his lap or something, but his touch stays light, and soft, just slowly dragging his fingers over his skin like he’s mapping the planes of his face. He traces back up his jaw, over the ridges of his ear, pauses for a second to brush the hair off his temple and tuck it behind his ear before drawing his fingers over his brow, his cheekbone. It’s so achingly tender, so strangely reverent, just out of character enough that Trevor starts to wonder if maybe Brandon thinks he’s asleep. But then Brandon trails a finger underneath his eye, and he doesn’t react at all when Trevor’s eyelashes flutter on instinct, which means he’s well aware that Trevor’s still awake.

And that, of course, means he’s doing this on purpose. He wants Trevor to know he’s doing it, the same way he wanted Rowan and Elisia to see Trevor curled up like his lap dog. Or maybe it wasn’t about them seeing Trevor, maybe it was about them seeing him, his possessive hands in Trevor’s hair, on the back of Trevor’s neck.

Either way, it doesn’t matter. They’re not here anymore. This is just for Trevor. The fingers tracing over the ridge of his nose, down his cupid’s bow, all for him. For some reason, it feels different this time—like Brandon’s not hiding because he’s scared, but rather, he waited until they were alone because this quiet moment between them is too heavy, too sacred for anyone else’s eyes.

Maybe it’s the privacy that has Brandon feeling so brave tonight, his thumb swiping over Trevor’s mouth. Trevor’s breath hitches in his throat, his lips parting unconsciously, and Brandon presses the pad of his thumb against the swell of his bottom lip, lingering there for a second too long before he lets up, sliding down to his chin. Trevor’s whole body feels like a live wire, like he might vibrate out of his own skin. Brandon’s hand is back on his jaw now, but he so desperately wants him to backtrack, wants him to slide his fingers back up to his lips and push a little harder, wants it more than anything.

He’s turning his head before he even knows what he’s doing, driven entirely by the need to look at Brandon’s face, just to see. Brandon’s usually pretty hard to read, but maybe, just maybe, he’ll let his guard down, just this once, and he’ll let Trevor look, just for a second.

To Trevor’s shock, Brandon’s staring right at him, his features soft, open in a way that they almost never are. It knocks all the air out of his lungs, seeing Brandon look so vulnerable. He should say something. He needs to say something. He can’t let this moment slip them by, not again, can’t fall asleep tonight without knowing he at least tried.

It’s easier said than done though. His heart is in his throat, and his voice breaks on the single syllable. “B?”

Brandon slides his hand over to splay over the other side of his face, the side he couldn’t reach before because it was pressed against his thigh, sweeping his thumb over Trevor’s cheek, still so soft it’s making Trevor’s chest hurt. His other hand is back in Trevor’s hair, tugging gently on the loose curls. He’s staring at him in a way that’s almost unsettling, like he can see right through him, or maybe like he’s trying to memorize the image in front of him, taking his time with it.

“Mhm?” he hums, so quiet Trevor almost thinks he hallucinated it, but his movements slow, and his eyes lock on Trevor’s. Waiting, patiently, for whatever he has to say.

Trevor swallows thickly, his heart pounding so hard he’s sure Brandon must be able to feel it. This is a horrible idea, but he can’t back out now. It’s what Tessa and Jai have been telling him to do, right? Not an ambush, not a confrontation, just… testing the waters. Not that that’s ever gone well for him in the past, but things are different now, a lot different from the last time that he tried to have this talk. It’s worth a shot.

Mustering up all the courage he has left, Trevor forces himself to open his mouth, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What are you doing?”

Brandon blinks once.

Twice.

And then shuts down so abruptly it almost gives Trevor whiplash. He pulls his hands away, shifting back like he wants Trevor to get off him but he doesn’t quite have it in him to push him off. All the warmth, all the vulnerability from before washes right off his face, replaced with something much colder. Trevor can practically see him rebuilding the walls, putting back on the carefully blank mask that he's always hiding behind. The only evidence that he was even affected at all is how long it takes him to put it back into place, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air for several seconds before he clenches his fists and drops them at his sides.

“Nothing,” he replies, a moment too late. The casual tone of voice is so forced it grates on Trevor’s ears. “We should go to bed.”

Trevor was—hypothetically—well aware that this was the most likely outcome. And yet, that knowledge does nothing to quell the disappointment sitting heavy in his gut, the tiny little spark of hope he was holding onto completely snuffed out. He wants to curl himself closer, cling to Brandon and refuse to let go, wants to throw a tantrum like a little kid, so pathetic that Brandon takes pity on him and brings him to bed and holds him until he feels better. But he’s too old for that, and Brandon’s not here to coddle him, so instead he pushes himself up on his elbow so Brandon can escape if he wants to.

It’s fine. He’s just not ready to talk yet, and Trevor can deal—or, at least, that’s what he tells himself so he doesn’t do anything stupid when Brandon immediately clambers off the couch the second Trevor lets him up. It’s his fault anyway for letting the girls get in his head, convince him that Brandon was suddenly going to react differently than the way he’s reacted every single other time Trevor’s tried to talk to him, so really there’s no one to blame here but himself. He’s probably in for a long night of Brandon doing everything in his power to maintain the six inch gap between them in bed, but hopefully he falls asleep before he has the chance to spiral too far. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last, but it still hurts anyway.

“Sorry,” Trevor mumbles, collapsing back down on his back. He doesn’t even know what he’s apologizing for, or why he’s apologizing instead of just letting it be. Sorry for trying to push, maybe, or sorry for ruining the moment. Sorry I’m struggling so hard to let you do this on your own terms. Sorry for whatever happened to you that made you this way. It doesn’t really matter. He’s just sorry, for all of it, and he feels like shit, and he wants Brandon to tell him it’s okay and coax him off the couch and reassure him that he didn’t do anything wrong.

But Brandon doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he freezes the second the word is out of Trevor’s mouth, remote in hand, his thumb still hovering over the power button. “It’s— don’t. It’s fine.”

It’s very clearly not fine. He won’t make eye contact as he shuts the TV off, and he keeps glancing towards the kitchen like he wants to make a run for it. And then, to Trevor’s absolute horror, he walks right past him to the other side of the room and snatches up his car keys off the side table.

Trevor sits up so fast he gets a head rush. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” Brandon says simply, sliding them into his pocket.

Trevor opens and closes his mouth, trying to figure out how the fuck this went so wrong. “What?”

Brandon just looks at him like he’s stupid. “You know, my house? Where I live?”

Trevor is a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them, and Brandon knows that. When he starts acting like this, it’s not because he thinks Trevor’s buying it, it’s because he wants him to back off and he doesn’t know how else to say it. And usually, that’s exactly what Trevor would do, but he’s very quickly finding that he’s not in the mood for Brandon’s games right now. He’s angry, and upset, and exhausted, and he's growing increasingly concerned that if he lets Brandon walk out the door right now, he might never come back.

“Jesus, I said I’m sorry, okay? I’ll keep my mouth shut, you don’t have to leave—”

“Trev,” Brandon snaps, cutting him off as he shoves his feet into his sneakers. “Stop it. I said it’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

Trevor stares at him in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

Brandon doesn’t say a word, just stands there in the doorway looking like he’s bored of this conversation.

Not even two minutes ago, he was lulling Trevor to sleep in his lap, tracing the lines of his face like maybe he was thinking about kissing him. And yet, right now he’s a completely different boy, standing on the other side of the room with that cold, calculated composure, acting like Trevor’s crazy for thinking he’d sleep over, something he does almost every single night these days. If Brandon is good at one thing, it’s pretending not to care, and Trevor wants to grab him by the throat, wants to throttle him until he finally admits that he’s just as affected by this as Trevor is, that it actually means something to him too.

Trevor accepted a long time ago that if anything was ever going to happen, it was going to have to be on Brandon’s terms. It’s the dynamic they’ve been operating under the entire time they’ve been friends, and Trevor’s been letting him get away with it because he doesn’t know how to do anything else. But it’s been months of this now, and he’s reached the end of his rope.

The words are spilling out of his mouth before he can stop them. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

If Trevor was smart, or had any self-preservation instincts at all, he’d take it back and let Brandon go. If he wasn’t so riled up, he might have noticed the mask falling right off of Brandon’s face the second the words were out of his mouth. But as it is, he’s already started, and he certainly can’t stop now, everything already pouring out of him, like a dam he’s been holding back for an entire year finally bursting.

“You can’t keep playing with my fucking feelings like this. It’s one thing when it’s just us, but you’re doing it in front of our friends now and if one more person asks me what’s going on, I’m gonna lose it, because I don’t know! And you won’t tell me! What am I supposed to think? Because last time you did this I thought it meant something, but apparently it fucking didn’t. So why the fuck are you doing it again? Is this a fucking game to you? Are you just tormenting me for fun? You know how I feel, and you knew how I felt last time too, and you still fucked me over. I can’t do this anymore.”

Trevor’s voice breaks at the very end, and he can feel the tears welling in his eyes, his sinuses burning, his voice choked up. He hates himself for it, hates that he can’t get angry without crying, hates that he’s the only one in tears. Trevor’s not like Brandon, can’t just close himself off and pretend he doesn’t care. He cares so much about everything all the time, and he shows all of it on his face, wears his heart on his sleeve whether he likes it or not, doesn’t know how to shut it off the way Brandon does.

Isn’t he supposed to feel better, now that he’s gotten this off his chest? Trevor just feels worse, can’t even bring himself to look at Brandon, so convinced he just did something so terrible and irreparable and Brandon’s never going to talk to him ever again, never going to even look at him, certainly isn’t going to crawl in bed with him every night and let him fall asleep in his lap and visit him at work and listen to him talk about his interests even when he doesn’t care, looking at him with that stupid little smile on his face that’s reserved just for him.

He collapses back on the couch and scrubs his hands roughly over his face, trying and failing to stop the tears from falling. “Get out. Just get the fuck out.”

“T—” Brandon starts, but Trevor just shakes his head, dropping his hands.

“Just fucking leave, I don’t want you here anymore,” he chokes out, a total lie that just makes him cry even harder.

God, what the fuck was he thinking? There’s no way the rest of the house didn’t hear his whole fucking outburst, in the middle of the goddamn living room in the middle of the night, like that’s not cause for concern, like one of the people here right now didn’t find him in the bathroom with a bottle of pills in his hand a few months ago, like he’s ever going to live this one down. His whole life, thrown out for a boy that tries to bolt at the first sign of feelings. He might be the dumbest person in the whole entire world.

But in the middle of his spiraling, he hears the sound of Brandon’s footsteps approaching, and he can’t help the way his stupid, traitorous heart lurches in his chest, that horrible, dull spark of hope burning a hole through his stomach.

“Trev, Jesus, c’mere,” Brandon’s voice cuts through the heavy silence, and when he finally forces his gaze up from his lap it’s to the sight of Brandon dropping down right next to him, dragging him bodily into his arms.

Trevor fights him for all of two seconds before he gives up and curls into Brandon hold, desperate hands clutching at his t-shirt. Brandon shushes him softly, pulls Trevor’s head down onto his shoulder with a hand threaded in his curls, and Trevor buries his face in the crook of his neck and starts sobbing in earnest, couldn’t stop it even if he tried. He feels so awful, so pathetic, letting Brandon comfort him like this when he’s the reason Trevor’s so upset in the first place, hates himself for still seeking Brandon out to make him feel better, hates that he still craves this, still wants Brandon to make everything better even after everything he’s done. He hates that Brandon’s sitting here rubbing his back and telling him to breathe, and he hates that it’s working, hates that his body responds so well to Brandon’s, like it knows something he doesn’t, hates that even at his worst, Brandon’s voice alone is enough to calm him down. He was supposed to be angry, supposed to be standing his ground, and instead he’s letting Brandon pull him between his legs so he can hold him tighter, practically in his lap again, the exact thing that started this whole mess.

“C’mon T, take a deep breath,” Brandon coaxes, his voice gone all soft and gentle again, quiet and soothing, like a cold compress on his feverish heart. “We’re not having this conversation until you calm down.”

It’s enough of an incentive to rein himself in, the promise of an actual conversation, the one he was trying to have in the first place. He got what he wanted, didn’t he? He got Brandon to stay. Now he actually has to pull himself together and see this through.

He gives himself another minute to catch his breath though, his last chance to be a little selfish while Brandon’s still holding him like this, his face still tucked against Brandon’s throat. He would stay here forever if he could, warm and safe in Brandon’s arms. But he doesn’t know how much patience Brandon has in him right now, and he doesn’t really want to take his chances.

“I’m sorry,” Trevor mumbles, forcing himself to pull back even though he wants nothing more than to have this talk from the security of his favorite hiding spot. And he knows he doesn’t actually need to apologize, didn’t technically do anything wrong, but that’s not what it feels like, so he does it anyway. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Brandon’s arm tightens around his waist, his other hand coming up to hastily wipe the tears off Trevor’s cheeks, though it’s not much use. To Trevor’s immense relief, he looks like he’s dropped the act completely, his brow furrowed in worry, his eyes full of emotions that Trevor can’t seem to identify. Guilt, maybe, or fear. He’s not quite sure.

“No, don’t— don’t apologize,” Brandon says, stumbling over the words. “You’re right, I just— I don’t know. I guess I was hoping maybe we’d never have to talk about it.”

“You wanted to do this forever?” It’s a weak attempt at a joke, but it gets half a smile out of Brandon anyway. He doesn’t specify what this is, but he doesn’t have to.

“Maybe,” Brandon admits quietly. “If you let me.”

Trevor sighs, letting go of Brandon’s t-shirt to fiddle with his hands in his lap, staring down at them. “I would’ve, probably. You know that.”

“I know,” Brandon says softly, an uncharacteristic sort of shame dripping from his tone. “You shouldn’t have to though. It’s not fair. You deserve better than that.”

Trevor lifts his gaze back up to meet Brandon’s eyes, the deep self-loathing written all over his face. He’s not trying to hide it anymore, whether he means to or not. It makes Trevor’s breath stick in his throat.

Brandon’s not wrong, is the thing. Trevor knows it’s not fair, knew it even before the girls said it too. And maybe he’s right, maybe Trevor does deserve something better than this. He thinks about Jai and Tessa, holding hands and kissing in the middle of the record store, thinks about the way his heart always clenches at the sight. Maybe he deserves something like that, something easy, something that isn’t weighed down by years of tumultuous feelings, so much hurt on both sides.

But then again, what would he ever do without this? Who else would hold him like this, who else would let him cry in their arms right after getting screamed at, who else would put up with him the way Brandon does? Trevor could leave him behind if he really wanted, move far away for college, meet a boy in a filmmaking class, go on stupid coffee dates and hold hands and argue about Tarantino movies and play footsie under the table, move into a shitty apartment together and adopt a stray cat named after a character in a movie that no one else has ever seen and go to bed every night with a boy that didn’t know him when he was a bitter seventeen year old. He’s thought a lot about this, this fantasy future with a faceless boy that loves him without question, how lovely it is in theory. But the cold, hard truth is that he doesn’t actually want it. He wants the college in the city, the filmmaking class, the shitty apartment and the stray cat, but when he pictures this life, there’s a gaping hole where a certain someone should be, and it can’t be filled by a stranger from a filmmaking class. He knows himself too well to believe that. If he left this behind, he’d spend the rest of his life chasing the feeling of being loved by Brandon Darrow, riddled with regret that he didn’t try to fix it while he still had the chance.

“Maybe,” Trevor says simply. “But I don’t really care.” And he finds, with full certainty, that he’s telling the truth.

Brandon swallows thickly, looking at him like he doesn’t quite believe it. He’s quiet for a moment, searching Trevor’s face before he drops his gaze with a sigh, his shoulders slumping. “It did mean something. Last year, when we… you know. I just— I didn't want it to, but it did, and I shouldn't have taken that out on you but I did anyway. I was hoping you would get over it because then maybe I could get over it too, but clearly that didn’t work.” He hooks one of his fingers around one of Trevor’s, squeezing tight. “And I’m not— I’m not trying to play games or anything, and I’m not trying to torment you for fun. I just… I don’t even know. I feel better when you’re around, I guess. And you look at me like I actually mean something to you, like you actually want me around, and it makes me do stupid things, just to get you to keep looking at me like that. I don’t know why I can’t stop.”

It’s more honesty that Trevor’s ever gotten from him in the entire time he’s known him. It sucks all the air from his chest, knocks his whole center of gravity askew. So, so close to the confession that Trevor’s been waiting for, but not quite. Trevor can’t help it. He pushes a little further. “You do know.”

Brandon’s face scrunches up like he’s in pain. Trevor wants to hold his hand, but he’s not sure how he would take that right now. He still has Trevor’s finger in a death grip. “Don’t make me say it,” he whispers, still avoiding eye contact.

He’s not making this very easy. But, then again, if he did, it wouldn’t be Brandon.

“What if I said it first?” Trevor offers, squeezing back.

Brandon glances up at him, something akin to hope in his eyes. The air finally floods back into Trevor’s lungs. “Okay. You first.”

Trevor has imagined this a thousand times over, rehearsing in his head every possible way he could say it, just in case he ever got the guts to see it through. He never quite knew how it would happen, so he made it up. Sometimes he pictured a screaming fight in the rain, or sometimes just a quiet confession while they smoked in Trevor’s truck. But it doesn’t rain much in Albuquerque, and he would rather do this sober, considering their track record with being inebriated around each other. Either way, all those speeches in his head never felt right. How does he tell the boy he’s been in love with for as long as he can remember that he’s in love with him without scaring him off forever? Where does he even start?

The beginning feels like as good a place as any.

“Remember when we were, like, nine, and we were at camp, and I was really homesick so you gave me your ice cream every night for an entire week because it was the only thing I would eat?”

It shocks a laugh out of Brandon. He looks confused, like he has no idea where Trevor’s going with this, even though it’s pretty obvious. “You let me eat all your food. It was only fair.”

“Yeah, well, I think that was when I fell in love with you.”

The smirk immediately drops off Brandon’s face, replaced with a look of candid shock. “Trev—”

“Your turn.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to follow that up?” he asks, his voice hollow, almost panicked.

Trevor shrugs. “However you want. I just wanted you to know.”

There’s a strange sense of calm settled over him right now, even in the face of Brandon's very clear distress. The words are finally out of his mouth—it’s out of his control now. Even if Brandon doesn’t reciprocate, at least he knows he tried. At least he knows he told the truth, instead of dancing around it for the hundredth time. He feels weirdly empty, but not in a bad way. The weight is finally, finally off his shoulders.

“Okay, well, I was not nearly as in touch with my emotions as you were at nine years old, clearly,” Brandon huffs, defensive, but then Trevor watches his expression soften. He gets this faraway sort of look on his face, like he’s recalling a memory that hasn’t surfaced in a very long time. His tone is much softer when he continues. “But, I don’t know. Maybe I was on the same page.” He looks back down at where their fingers are still hooked together. “I used to make up all these elaborate plans to run away, and they all involved you coming with me because I didn’t wanna do it alone. But then I saw how upset you were that week, and I scrapped them all because I figured you’d get too homesick if we ran away and that wouldn’t be fair. So then I just… started coming to your house instead. I never really put a name to it. I just knew I couldn’t leave without you.”

Trevor’s so relieved he thinks he might start crying again, that little spark of hope from before suddenly ablaze in his chest again, a full roaring fire, burning him up from the inside out. He’s so, so close. Just one more question. But Brandon looks so sad, and it’s breaking his heart, and he can’t bring himself to ask it just yet. Not until Brandon stops looking like that.

“I would’ve run away with you, just for the record,” he says, keeping his tone light, just to get that awful hurt expression off Brandon’s face. “But I probably wouldn’t have lasted very long. Like, a day at most.”

It has the intended effect, thankfully, and Brandon exhales a helpless bout of laughter, like he’d been holding his breath. “I know. That’s why I never asked you to do it.”

“We could do it now, if you wanted.” It’s a joke, almost. Not really.

But Brandon just shakes his head. “Nah. I’m good where I am.”

“Okay,” Trevor responds gently, trying to ignore the blush he can feel crawling up his cheeks at the implication of the words. “Then what do you want?”

Brandon frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you already know what I want. What do you want?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, considering. “I want a lot of things. Most of them would land me back in juvie.”

Trevor shoves weakly at his chest, the exact reaction Brandon was looking for judging by the smile on his face, but Trevor’s not going to let him get away with avoiding the question. “What about the things that wouldn’t land you in juvie?”

Brandon stares at him for several long moments, an unreadable expression on his face.

C’mon, Trevor thinks, staring right back. He can feel Brandon’s fingers digging into his side like a brand. Just answer me. Please, god, just say it.

He’s quiet just long enough that Trevor almost thinks he’s doing it on purpose, just to torment him. And then—

“I wanna kiss you,” he says simply. Trevor drops his mouth open, shocked, but Brandon keeps going before he can say anything. “And I want you to never look at any other guys ever again or I’d probably have to kill them, and that would definitely land me back in juvie.”

“B—” Trevor starts, but then Brandon’s face drops abruptly, and he lets go of Trevor’s hand to wipe at his cheeks again.

“Ugh, Jesus, hang on,” he interrupts, rubbing his thumb under Trevor’s eye like he’s trying to get rid of the tears that have long dried. “I can’t even look at you right now, you still look like you’re crying,” he explains, weirdly distraught about it. “I hate it when you cry, you look like a kicked puppy. It makes me feel like shit even when it has nothing to do with me.”

“Oh my god,” Trevor laughs, tugging his hand down. “Would you just kiss me already?”

The words are barely out of his mouth before Brandon’s leaning forward to press their lips together, holding Trevor’s jaw, his other arm still wrapped tight around his waist. Trevor melts into it immediately, presses impossibly closer, lets Brandon push his tongue into his mouth, his stomach swooping with it, and all he can think is finally.

It’s so much better than last time. For one, he’s not drunk this time, not vaguely nauseous and too dizzy to know which way is up. Brandon tastes like the mint gum he’s always chewing instead of tequila, and he’s so much softer, so much gentler than Trevor remembers him being when they did this before, just cradling his face and kissing him deep and slow instead of pushing him hard against the wall with a hand around his throat. Not that Trevor didn’t like being thrown around, wasn’t just as game for it as Brandon was, but waking up the next morning hungover and alone and covered in bruises wasn’t exactly the best feeling in the world.

But he’s not worried about any of that right now, entirely consumed by the slick slide of Brandon’s mouth against his, the warm fingers slipping under his shirt, the quiet sounds escaping Brandon’s throat, or maybe they’re coming from him, he’s not really sure. He has to pull back eventually to take a breath, but he doesn’t go far, lets Brandon chase his mouth and kiss him one more time before putting a hand on his chest and pushing just hard enough that Brandon gets the message and lets up. He wants to keep kissing him, he really does, wants to stay here forever and make out until he can’t feel his face, but he can’t let Brandon off that easily, can’t let the conversation end right here, and he’s mildly concerned that if he doesn’t stop himself now, it’s not going to happen.

It still takes a second for his brain to reboot though, all his thoughts buffering at the sight of Brandon in front of him, pink cheeks and swollen lips and pupils blown wide open. He can’t imagine he looks much better, based on the way Brandon’s staring at him right now, shameless hunger written all over his face.

When he finally manages to get his head back online, the words that come out of his mouth aren’t the ones he intended. “Were you thinking about this earlier? When we were watching the movie?”

Brandon darts forward and presses another kiss to his mouth, just for a second. “You’re asking a lot of questions tonight.”

“This is the last one,” Trevor lies. “Promise.”

“Mhm, sure,” Brandon responds sarcastically, clearly not buying it, but he plays along anyway, reaching up to trace Trevor’s face, just like before, his expression softening. “Sort of, I guess. I was trying to figure out if there was anywhere I could kiss you and get away with it.” He touches Trevor’s forehead, his temple, his cheek, like those were all the places he was considering, leaving a burning trail in his wake, the feeling lingering even after he drops his hand. “Had to wait until Rowan left though. She would’ve killed me if she saw.”

Trevor blinks, struggling to process all of that. He has way more questions now than he did before, but he already promised he’d stop, so he narrows it down to the more pressing one. “You let her see last time.”

Brandon tilts his head in confusion. “Huh?”

“At Rowan’s last movie night,” Trevor clarifies. “You let me fall asleep on you. You’re not usually that touchy when other people are around.”

Brandon just shrugs. “I don’t know. I was feeling brave that night, I guess. And you were all upset, and I wanted you to stop looking like that. I didn’t really care that everyone could see.”

Oh.

Huh. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he was reading too much into it after all. Maybe he was caught up on the wrong thing this entire time. But then, just as he’s about to change the subject, he notices the slight pink staining Brandon’s cheeks, and narrows his eyes. “You’re lying.”

Brandon’s face flushes a much deeper shade of red, clearly trying to fight back a grin and failing miserably. “Okay, fine, I wanted them to see. And I wanted you to stop pouting. Those things are not mutually exclusive.”

“Oh my god,” Trevor laughs, relieved. He punches Brandon in the stomach, though there’s not much space between them so it isn’t very hard. “You’re the worst.”

“But you still love me anyway?” Brandon asks, catching Trevor’s wrist so he can’t hit him again, and he says it like he’s joking, but Trevor can hear the quiet plea beneath the lighthearted tone, Brandon silently begging him to say it out loud again.

Trevor just grins back, playful, easy. “Maybe. If you answer one more question.”

“Fine. Shoot,” Brandon agrees, way too fast.

“Was it all on purpose then?”

He furrows his brow. “Was what on purpose?”

“All of it. All summer. You’ve been acting different. Not bad different, just… different. And around everyone else too.”

Trevor can see the exact moment it clicks, a look of clarity settling on Brandon’s face. He sighs, glancing down at his lap, dropping Trevor’s wrist to fuss with the hem of his t-shirt. “Not at first. I was just feeling really bad about everything that happened, and I got weirdly obsessed with trying to make it up to you, but I didn’t wanna say anything because I didn’t wanna talk about it, so I was just, you know. Trying to be better, I guess. And I got a little carried away. But…” He looks back up at Trevor. “Then I kept pushing, and you kept letting me get away with it. And you’d get all quiet, and you’d lean into it, and you’d look at me like— like this. And I was selfish, and I couldn’t stop, and I wanted everyone else to see, because maybe that would make it real.”

Not crazy then.

Definitely not crazy.

Trevor doesn’t know how he could possibly respond to that though, so he just kisses him instead, feels Brandon sigh in relief against his mouth, both hands grasping desperately at Trevor’s waist. Trevor cups his face, slides his fingers into his hair, kisses him long and slow, gives Brandon all the time he needs to settle back down, still twitchy from all the confessing he’s done tonight. Trevor was at least a little bit prepared—Brandon, clearly, was not. It’s okay though. Trevor’s happy to kiss him as long as he wants.

“Hey,” Brandon says, out of breath, pulling back just enough to look Trevor in the eye. He looks a lot better than he did a few minutes ago. “Can I take you on a date this week?”

The butterflies in Trevor’s stomach multiply tenfold at the question, at the eager look in his eyes, at the slight touch of nerves in his voice, like Trevor would ever say no to him. “We go on dates all the time,” he teases, can’t help himself. “You took me to the diner like two days ago.”

Brandon just rolls his eyes. “C’mon, I can do so much better than that. A real one. A movie at an actual movie theater and dinner that’s not fast food. I’ll bring roses to the door and everything.”

“Please don’t bring roses to the door,” Trevor protests weakly, but he can’t help the smile on his face, and he can feel the blush on his cheeks betraying him.

“Fine. I’ll bring them to your window instead.”

Trevor leans forward and captures Brandon’s mouth again, doesn’t trust himself to talk right now, but Brandon only lets him get away with it for a few seconds before he grabs Trevor by the chin and forces him to separate. “I need a real answer.”

“Deal,” Trevor says, practically crosseyed from how close they are. “No roses though. Pick a better flower.”

Brandon just nods, way too enthusiastically, and then slides his hand up Trevor’s neck and pulls him right back in.

—

When Trevor wakes up the next morning, Brandon’s still in his bed. He’s not surprised this time, though he will admit that there was at least a small part of him that was worried that Brandon would wake up at his usual 5am and decide it was too much for him after all and make a run for it.

But here he is, wrapped around Trevor from behind, his face pressed to the back of Trevor’s neck, the late morning sun shining through the curtains, lighting the room in a soft glow. Brandon’s awake, judging by the pattern of his breathing, but he’s laying perfectly still, warm and solid against Trevor’s back.

Trevor lets himself soak it in for several long moments before he remembers that he doesn’t have to worry about any of Brandon’s rules anymore, and promptly flips himself around in Brandon’s arms, which immediately tighten to keep him close.

“You stayed,” Trevor whispers, his voice rough with sleep. He watches as a sleepy little smile spreads on Brandon’s face, hopelessly endeared.

“Didn’t want you to wake up alone,” he explains, voice soft to match Trevor’s. It makes Trevor’s insides turn to mush, makes him dizzy with affection. He wants every morning to be like this for the rest of his life.

“That’s the only reason?” Trevor challenges, teasing.

Brandon takes the bait, tightens his hold around Trevor’s body. “Maybe I just wanted to stay.”

Trevor slides his hands up to Brandon’s neck, pulls him into a kiss, just to feel Brandon melt into it, just to remind himself it’s allowed now, just to taste him, just for a few seconds before he pulls away. “I like it when you stay.”

Brandon leans back in and kisses him again instead of responding.

“Hey,” he says a minute or two later, pulling back, licking his lips, Trevor’s eyes immediately dropping down to follow the motion. “I have a question.”

Trevor forces his gaze back up. “Mhm?”

“You said… you said last night that someone asked you what was going on. Or, multiple people, I guess. Who were you talking about?”

Trevor narrows his eyes. “How long have you been awake?”

“You don’t wanna know. Just answer the question.”

He sighs, not very happy at the implication that Brandon’s apparently been laying here all morning replaying the events from last night over and over again in his head, but the least he can do is be honest right now if it makes Brandon feel better. “Rowan said something a couple weeks ago, when you stuck around after you slept over. And Tessa and Jai, when I ran into them at Padres when I was waiting for you.”

Brandon frowns, looking even more confused than before. “That was like, a month ago.”

Trevor just nods in confirmation.

Brandon rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Oh my god, I knew they were up to something.” He turns his head to look back at Trevor. “Have you been getting coached by lesbians this entire time?”

Trevor punches him weakly in the stomach, then rolls right on top of him, blanketing his side. “Coached is a strong word. Harassed, mostly. Threatened.”

Brandon starts laughing, his chest shaking under Trevor’s face. “Were they, by any chance, conspiring with Rowan?”

“Not that I know of. Why?”

Brandon just sighs, catching his breath. “Dude, they totally were. She’s been on my fucking case all summer.”

Trevor shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. I mean— I trust them. They wouldn’t have done that.” He’s not really sure why he has such unwavering faith in these two girls he’s only been friends with for a month, but they were dead serious when they said they wouldn’t tell anyone—he believed it then, and he still believes it now.

“Maybe Rowan forced it out of them or something, you know how she is—” Brandon starts, and then abruptly cuts himself off. “Wait, how much did you tell them?”

It’s Trevor’s turn to start laughing now, hiding his face against Brandon’s shoulder. “Way too much. It was a moment of weakness. But apparently you were talking to Rowan, so we’re even.”

“I didn’t say shit to Rowan, she found out on her own,” Brandon grumbles. “Bullied it out of Sean, I think. She knew something was up. I didn’t stand a chance.”

Trevor’s face screws up in confusion. “What?” Was this all going down in his own house? When the fuck did Rowan talk to Sean? Why didn’t he know about any of it?

But Brandon just huffs a tired laugh. “Why did you think I was hiding from her?”

“I— I thought it was because she broke up with you,” Trevor admits, realizing that apparently, he made that up in his head.

Brandon laughs even harder. “Ugh, God, no,” he says, wiping a hand over his face. “I mean, yeah, but that was way before. She put an end to that before it even started. Straight up looked at me and asked who the other person was. She didn’t even say girl. She said person. She literally already knew, she was just torturing me for shits and giggles. It’s kinda funny now, but I was pissed at her at the time.”

That didn’t clear up anything at all. “Why did I have no idea this was going on?”

“Honestly, I’m shocked she didn’t say anything to you until recently. I was convinced I was being ganged up on.”

“Definitely not,” Trevor assures him, frantically rethinking the last several months and trying to figure out if he’s missed anything else. “I take it back though. Your thing is way worse. I was having lesbian therapy sessions over milkshakes.”

“That’s so not fair,” Brandon whines, digging his fingers into Trevor’s side just to make him laugh.

Trevor’s tempted to press him for more information, but this isn’t really how he wants to spend his morning, so he decides they’ve had enough of this conversation and changes the subject. “You sticking around today?”

“If you want me to,” Brandon replies, all too easy.

“Of course I want you to,” Trevor says, his voice coming out much softer than he intends it to.

Brandon doesn’t say a word, just pulls Trevor up to lay properly on top of him and drags him down into a bruising kiss, Trevor all too happy to give in.

He doesn’t know what changed last night that has Brandon so willing all of a sudden, and he’s not sure he ever will. Maybe Brandon will tell him one day, or maybe he won’t. Brandon likes him best when he just lets him exist and doesn’t ask any questions, and Trevor’s okay with that, for the most part. He’s happy to be that for him, someone he can come to when he doesn’t want to talk, would much prefer Brandon comes to him instead of running away. And he’s not stupid enough to believe that it will never happen again, because he knows Brandon better than that, but maybe the next time he freaks out about something, he’ll let Trevor talk him down first. He can’t fix any of Brandon’s problems, and he knows that, but maybe Brandon will at least tell him what he’s so scared of. Not right now, but eventually. Brandon told him more last night than he has in the entire time they’ve known each other, and he knows there’s still a lot more where that came from. Hopefully Trevor doesn’t have to scream at him again to get it out though—he doesn’t want to do that ever again.

But for right now, he doesn’t want to worry about any of that. He doesn’t want to think about the future, or even what’s going to happen when they eventually have to leave this bedroom and inevitably get interrogated by Rowan, who’s almost definitely waiting for them to get up. He just wants to stay in bed for a little longer, wants to kiss the boy he’s been in love with since before he even knew what it meant, wants to let himself be excited about the date that Brandon may or may not have already planned while he was still asleep. He’s spent years fantasizing about this, about having Brandon all to himself, about the way Brandon’s looking at him right now. They had enough feelings-talk last night to last them a pretty long time. The next one can wait until after Brandon takes him out a few times, at the very least.

It feels sort of silly, taking it slow when they’ve already crossed just about every line possible. They’re doing all of this in the wrong order, but Trevor doesn’t really care. He’ll let Brandon take as long as he needs, as long as he keeps kissing him like this, as long as he doesn’t have to wake up alone anymore, as long as he actually commits to this, whatever this is. They were practically already dating anyway, as Trevor is very rapidly coming to realize. Maybe things aren’t going to change much after all.

—

Jai: hey
Jai: wanna get milkshakes tomorrow?
Tessa: say yes
Trevor: cant
Trevor: sorry
Trevor: i have a date
Jai: WHAT
Tessa: WHAT
Jai: TREVOR
Tessa: EXPLAIN
Jai: WHAT THE FUCK DID WE MISS
Tessa: WHERE DID YOU GO
Tessa: GET BACK HERE
Jai: is it with brandon please god tell me its with brandon
Trevor: :)
Tessa: YIPPEEEE!!!!
Jai: i expect a full debrief after btw
Jai: if you won’t get milkshakes with us we’ll show up at your place of work
Jai: thats a threat
Tessa: im seconding the threat
Trevor: if u show up at my place of work theres like a 95% chance he will also be there
Trevor: so we can do milkshakes
Trevor: but not tomorrow
Trevor: the day after
Tessa: YES
Jai: deal :D