"Okay, I'm dressed. Don't laugh."
Mek stepped out of the bedroom, tugging awkwardly at the edge of his beige oversized sweater, black ripped jeans and clean sneakers. His hair was messily perfect, like he tried and gave up halfway—which, knowing him, he totally did.
Pete turned from the mirror and almost choked on his own breath.
"You look... stupid hot."
Mek glared. "That's not a compliment."
Pete grinned and grabbed his hand. "Come on, fashion icon. You're officially mine for the whole damn day."
---
Their first stop: a tiny indie café in the corner of town.
It smelled like cinnamon and soft jazz. Pete ordered black coffee. Mek chose hot chocolate with three extra marshmallows, and stole a sip of Pete's drink, scrunching his nose after.
"You like pain," Mek muttered, sliding his hot chocolate back toward himself.
"You like sugar," Pete teased, watching him lick foam off his lip.
Mek looked away, cheeks pink. "Shut up."
Pete smirked, sipping his coffee. "Can't. You're too cute when you're shy."
---
Next stop: the fairground.
Pete practically dragged Mek to every stall. They played ring toss (Pete sucked, Mek was secretly amazing), ate cotton candy (Mek got half stuck in his hair), and laughed more than they had in weeks.
Then—
"Let's take a photo," Pete said, holding up his phone.
"No—"
But Pete had already leaned in, arms wrapped around Mek, clicking a selfie as Mek blushed and tried to hide.
Click.
Click.
Click.
And finally... one where Mek actually smiled.
"Send me that one," Mek muttered, quietly.
Pete kissed his cheek. "Already did."
---
Then came the pottery booth.
"Ever done this before?" Pete asked, pulling on the apron.
Mek side-eyed him. "You sound way too excited."
They sat across from each other, clay spinning between their hands. At first, they were both trying to make something normal. A bowl? A cup?
Then Pete reached over and smudged clay on Mek's nose.
"You're dead," Mek said.
Pete laughed.
Clay war = activated.
Five minutes later, their "pot" looked like a squashed alien, and they were both covered in streaks of gray.
"Definitely keeping this," Pete said, holding it up proudly.
"You're an idiot."
"And you're beautiful."
Mek froze.
Pete just smiled. Like he didn't even realize he'd said it out loud.
And Mek... smiled back.
---
Final stop: the ferris wheel.
They rode to the top in silence. The city sparkled below them. The air was cold, Mek's fingers colder.
Pete reached out.
Mek hesitated.
But then—slowly—he slipped his hand into Pete's.
Fingers intertwined. Palm to palm.
Pete gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "You happy?"
Mek rested his head on Pete's shoulder. "Yeah."
They didn't kiss.
They didn't need to.
Just two boys in a tiny metal box, with the stars above and the world below.
And for once—
No walls.
No masks.
Just them.