---
Scott spent the rest of the day in a daze.
History, math, the cafeteria — it all blurred together behind the replay in his head: the thud of Brian's chest against his, the feel of rough stubble so close he'd swear he could still taste his breath.
The way Brian's eyes — usually so easy and cocky — had gone wide, searching Scott's like they were about to confess something they'd never dared to say out loud.
---
He sat with his friends at lunch, picking at cold fries, nodding when they asked him dumb questions. But all he could see was Brian in that tiny closet — the raw, shaky edge in his voice, the warm strength of his hand pulling Scott off the floor.
He wondered if Brian was replaying it too.
---
Brian, meanwhile, sat two tables away — right where he always sat.
Surrounded by his basketball boys. A pretty girl's fingers laced with his. Her giggle carrying just loud enough for Scott to catch bits of it.
Nicky.
Nickole Jenkins — everyone called her Nicky because it sounded cooler, less girly, less fragile. She was Brian's official it-girl — tiny skirts, shiny lip gloss, half the boys in school drooling over her legs. But she only ever had eyes for Brian.
Or so it seemed.
---
They looked perfect — or at least they were supposed to.
Brian with his strong arm slung over Nicky's shoulders, pulling her in tight. Her head tucked against his chest like she was the luckiest girl alive.
But Scott knew better — or at least he thought he did. There was something about the way Brian's eyes drifted across the cafeteria when he laughed at her joke. Something about how he shifted away when she leaned in too close.
Brian didn't glow around her. He looked like a golden boy playing a part.
---
Nobody else would guess the truth.
Nobody knew that when the lunch bell rang and the hallway cleared, Brian and Nicky would sneak out back behind the gym. Not to make out — not to do the stuff everyone whispered they did.
But to talk. To keep each other's secrets.
---
It had started sophomore year — when Brian's stomach twisted every time he caught himself watching the wrong people in the locker room.
When he told Nicky the truth on a cold winter night under the bleachers, his hands trembling like he was admitting to a crime.
She hadn't flinched. She'd just stared at him for the longest time. Then she'd squeezed his wrist and said, "Then let's fake it together."
Since then, they'd been each other's camouflage — Nicky with her perfect hair, Brian with his perfect abs. She dated him so nobody would ask questions about who he really looked at when he thought no one was watching. He held her close at parties so she didn't have to admit that she didn't care about boys that way, either.
---
That afternoon, they sat behind the gym — the only place they could talk without the world eavesdropping. Brian leaned back against the concrete wall, legs stretched out, hoodie sleeves shoved up to his elbows. Nicky sat cross-legged beside him, picking at her nail polish.
"So?" she asked, eyebrow cocked. "You gonna tell me why you've been looking like a lost puppy since third period?"
Brian scratched his jaw, the stubble catching on his palm. "It's nothing."
Nicky snorted. "Bullshit."
Brian's throat tightened. He closed his eyes and saw it all over again — the dim closet light, Scott's eyes wide under his, that warm spark when their chests pressed together. He could still feel it — the pull that made him want to close that tiny gap, to taste the soft sound that caught in Scott's throat.
"I… messed up," he muttered.
Nicky tilted her head, suspicious but gentle. She was the only one who got to see him soft.
"With the kid you keep staring at in English?" she guessed.
Brian's head snapped up. "I don't stare."
"Yeah, sure." She poked his ribs with her sneaker. "You wanna tell me what happened?"
Brian let his head thump against the wall. "I don't know. We got stuck in the closet. I was trying to dodge Ben. He was just there."
Nicky's eyes twinkled. "And?"
"And I almost… I don't know. Kissed him. Or something." He dragged a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots. "It felt— I don't even know how it felt."
Nicky laughed, but it was a warm laugh, not mean. "Congratulations, Brian Drake. You have a crush."
He groaned. "Don't say it like that."
"Why? He's cute. He's sweet. And unlike half this school, he doesn't think you walk on water."
Brian closed his eyes. Sweet. He hated that word — but he also didn't. Scott was sweet. And Brian couldn't stop replaying the tiny gasp Scott made when he pressed him down, or how it felt when Scott's hand slipped into his to pull him up.
---
Back in his bedroom, Scott lay on his bed, phone buzzing with dumb group chat messages.
He didn't see the memes. He didn't read the jokes. All he saw was the look in Brian's eyes — that half-second where it felt like the world might actually shift if either of them moved.
He pressed his hand to his chest, feeling his heart stutter against his palm.
Did Brian want it too? Or was it just his imagination?
In the dark, it was easy to pretend. Easy to believe he could want something that maybe — just maybe — wanted him back.
---
Outside, the wind rustled through the trees.
Inside, two boys kept the same secret, each lying awake, wondering how much longer they could pretend.
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