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Gabe’s textbook is open between them.
It has been open on the same page for twenty minutes.
There’s a detailed diagram of the human hip joint staring up at the ceiling like it probably disapproves of what’s happening here. Gabe is lying back against his pillows, one leg bent awkwardly because David is half sprawled over him.
David is braced on one elbow above him, one knee rests on the mattress beside Gabe’s hip. His other leg anchors him on the opposite side. He looks thoughtful, like this is a controlled academic environment.
It is not.
“David,” Gabe says, breath already thinner than it should be, “don’t we actually have to, you know. Study.”
David hums. He glances down at the open textbook. Then back at Gabe. “We are studying.”
Gabe squints at him. “No, we’re not.”
“This is part of it.”
Gabe blinks up at him. “What.”
“You’re learning about human anatomy,” David says evenly. “I’m reinforcing the material.”
Gabe’s entire face flushes in real time. It starts in his ears, hot and bright, then spreads to his cheeks. His neck follows. He knows it’s happening. He can feel it happening. He cannot stop it.
“David.”
“Yes?”
“You are not demonstrating anything from chapter six.”
“Chapter six is musculoskeletal interaction,” David replies calmly. “I’d say this is accurate.”
Gabe makes a helpless noise somewhere between a laugh and a whimper.
He hates that David can make him feel like this, all flustered and dizzy and embarrassingly easy to read, just by existing in his personal space.
David smiles faintly. He leans down to kiss him, and Gabe meets him in the middle. Clearly, he doesn’t hate it enough.
Gabe melts instantly. He always does. His fingers curl into the fabric of David’s shirt and the highlighter slips from his hand and rolls somewhere near his ribs. He doesn’t notice.
“Are you sure,” Gabe murmurs against his mouth, voice already slightly shaky, “that this is necessary for my academic success?”
“Absolutely,” David says, and kisses him again.
Gabe feels it everywhere. His heart is racing, fast enough that he notices. His lungs feel full, stretched wide with warmth. His skin is hypersensitive, like every nerve is awake at once. David shifts slightly closer, adjusting his balance so he’s not pressing down too hard on Gabe’s chest.
But then his leg moves, and he slides it gently between Gabe’s.
And Gabe inhales sharply like something just clicked into place. His body reacts before his brain can catch up. His hands tighten. His back arches slightly without permission. Heat floods his face even deeper.
It feels overwhelming. It feels like too much light all at once. It feels good.
Gabe doesn’t know what to do with that much sensation. He’s not good at containing things. Joy spikes feel like panic spikes. Excitement feels like fear if it goes high enough.
He tries to breathe normally. He very quickly fails. His chest tightens and his eyes sting. A tear slips out before he realizes what’s happening.
Then another.
David pulls back instantly, detaching himself from Gabe. “Oh my god.”
Gabe’s vision blurs. His mouth trembles. His body is still reacting, heart racing, nerves firing. But now tears are sliding down his temples into his hair.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” David says immediately, pushing himself up onto his hands. “Did I go too far? Are you okay?”
“No,” Gabe says, but it comes out cracked and soaked in tears.
David’s face goes pale. “Gabe–”
“I’m fine,” Gabe insists. “It’s good. It’s really good. I just–”
He can’t finish the sentence because the crying surges. His shoulders tremble, his breath stutters, he tries to swallow it down and can’t.
He can’t describe the feeling. He’s not sad, or scared, he’s just completely flooded. It’s too much at once.
David stares at him, completely at a loss. “You’re crying.”
“I know.”
“That’s– we were… that’s usually not a good–”
“I like it,” Gabe blurts out desperately, as if David might pull away forever if he doesn’t clarify. “I like it. Don’t stop.”
David hesitates.
He searches Gabe’s face like he’s trying to decipher a chart. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Gabe says, tears still spilling, eyes glassy. “Just– just don’t stop.”
He must’ve seen in his expression that Gabe truly wasn’t lying. For one cautious second, David leans down again. He kisses him softly.
His hand comes up to cradle Gabe’s cheek, thumb brushing gently under his eye to catch the tears. Gabe makes another overwhelmed sound into the kiss. The tear tracks on his face glisten in the light.
And that’s when they hear a car pull into the driveway. Both of them freeze instantly.
Fuck.
“Oh no,” Gabe breathes. He pushes himself up too fast and the room tilts. His breathing goes shallow. His hands shake as he scrubs at his face, which only makes the redness worse.
It feels like no time at all before the front door opens downstairs. He can hear his mother’s muffled voice quietly passing through the walls.
Gabe makes a strangled noise that sounds dangerously close to hyperventilating. David grabs tissues from the nightstand. “Okay. Okay. Breathe. Slow down. In through your nose.”
Footsteps in the hallway. Gabe tries to stop crying.
The effort makes it worse. His thoughts spiral downward instantly. They’re going to ask. I can’t explain. I look insane. Oh my god.
By the time there’s a knock on the door, Gabe looks like he’s on the verge of a full panic attack, eyes swollen, cheeks blotchy, clinging to David like he might drift away otherwise.
“Come in,” David calls, voice thinner than usual, clearly unsure of what exactly to do.
Diana opens the door.
She takes in the scene instantly. Her son sobbing. David on the bed. Her expression shifts from neutral to alarmed in half a second. “Gabe? Honey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
That does it.
Gabe cries harder.
It’s mortifying. He can’t stop. The concern in her voice makes everything spike again.
David is genuinely worried now. He’s been crying for minutes at this point. He’s seriously starting to wonder if Gabe will dehydrate.
“David,” Diana says sharply.
“I didn’t hurt him,” David adds quickly. “I swear.”
Gabe is shaking.
“Gabe,” David says quietly, leaning close. “Please. You’re gonna pass out if you keep crying this hard and you already do that often.”
Gabe’s eyes widen immediately.
“Oh, God, Dave, don’t say that,” he manages to choke out.
Now he’s thinking about passing out. And his crying intensifies. His breath catches painfully.
“Okay, no, that was the wrong thing to say,” David mutters, horrified. “You’re not going to pass out. You’re safe. I’m right here.”
He’s going to have to explain. Gabe’s eyes flick up to his parents, and they’re still watching him.
Waiting.
“Oh no,” he whispers. And somehow manages to cry harder. At this point, it’s starting to become hard to breathe.
David closes his eyes briefly.
Whether it was seconds, or minutes, or hours past when Gabe is finally, finally empty, when there are no tears left and his body is too exhausted to produce more, he just slumps.
He collapses against David like someone unplugged him, and falls asleep mid-breath.
The room is silent.
Gabe is limp against him, tear-streaked and flushed and completely spent.
Diana is staring at David like she is evaluating how many ways she could legally destroy him. They still don’t know why Gabe was crying.
David sits very still, one arm secure around Gabe’s shoulders so he doesn’t slide.
“So,” Diana says carefully. “Why was he crying?”
David swallows. “…We were kissing.”
A pause.
“...Okay,” Dan says like he didn’t want or need to hear that.
“And he liked it,” David continues, because honesty feels safer than inventing something worse. “And he started crying.”
“…What?” Diana says flatly.
“He got overwhelmed,” David says quickly. “I think? I’m telling you the truth, I swear.”
Silence.
They do not look persuaded in the slightest.
They just sit there in tense quiet while Gabe sleeps on David’s shoulder like nothing catastrophic happened.
David doesn’t move. He feels increasingly like a mouse being stared down by a lion. Diana crosses her arms.
“I’m having trouble understanding,” she says carefully, “how that results in… this.”
David swallows. He does not look away. “I didn’t push him,” he says.
Diana’s jaw tightens slightly at that.
“I know you’re careful,” she says, which is not quite forgiveness but not accusation either.
Dan steps further into the room, glancing at the open textbook, the scattered notes. “Were you two at least pretending to study?”
“We were,” David says immediately. “...Before.”
That earns him a look. Someone needed to fucking get him out of his situation. Gabe then stirred faintly against him, making a soft, exhausted sound. His fingers twitch weakly in David’s shirt like he’s checking that it’s still there. Thank God.
It’s silent again until eventually Dan clears his throat. “Let him sleep,” he says gently. “We’ll talk when he wakes up.”
Diana hesitates, then nods once. “Door stays open,” she says.
“Yes, ma’am,” David replies automatically.
They leave. The door remains open a few inches, hallway light spilling across the carpet. David exhales slowly for what feels like the first time in an hour as he looks down at Gabe.
His face is blotchy and swollen from crying. His lashes are still damp and stuck together. He looks younger like this.
“You,” David murmurs softly, brushing his thumb lightly through Gabe’s hair, “are going to be the death of me.”
It’s almost half an hour before Gabe stirs properly. He inhales sharply, like he’s surfacing from deep water. David straightens slightly. “Hey.”
Gabe blinks up at him. Disoriented. Then memory floods back in stages. Them kissing, him crying, his parents entering. He quickly goes very still.
“…Did I,” he starts hoarsely, “make a scene?”
David considers this. “Yes.”
Gabe closes his eyes. “Oh my god.”
“You cried for approximately twenty five minutes,” David adds helpfully. “Then you fell asleep mid-sob.”
Gabe groans and drags a hand over his face. “Are they still mad?”
“Um. Not with you, if that helps.”
Gabe peeks toward the open door. As if summoned by the movement, Diana appears in the hallway again. She must have been hovering.
“You’re awake,” she says.
Gabe nods cautiously. There’s a long pause.
“So,” Diana says, stepping into the room again. “Why were you crying?”
Gabe’s face immediately starts to flush. David stays very still beside him, looking anywhere possible except for Gabe or his mother.
“We were kissing,” Gabe mumbles.
“We’ve established that,” Diana says.
Gabe looks at David for help.
David gives him a small nod. Honest.
“It was fine, I am fine,” Gabe says quietly.
Diana blinks.
“Look, I got overwhelmed,” he continues, forcing himself to keep going even as his ears burn. “I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t scared. I just–”
His voice wobbles slightly as he cuts himself off, but no tears come this time.
Diana studies him closely. “You weren’t hurt?”
“No.”
“You didn’t feel pressured?”
“No.”
She looks at David.
“I would never,” David says firmly.
Another pause. Then, slowly, Diana exhales.
“Alright,” she says at last. “I don’t understand.”
“That’s fair,” Gabe mutters.
“But, I'll take your word for it,” she continues.
Gabe nods. Dan appears behind her, offering a small, reassuring smile and taking her hand. “Maybe next time,” he says lightly, “study at the desk.”
Gabe makes a noise of mortified agreement. And then they leave again.
Gabe exhales shakily. “I’m never emotionally reacting to anything ever again,” he announces.
“That seems unrealistic, love.” David says.
Gabe leans into him anyway, resting his forehead against David’s shoulder. David presses a gentle kiss into his hair.
“Next time,” he says, “we pace ourselves.”
Gabe huffs a tired laugh.
“Next time,” he agrees.