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You stole the bottle of vodka from your mom’s house with the intent of only taking a couple shots with John. Just to get a little tipsy before you do the usual stupid shit you do, like play Mario Kart or watch those terrible movies that John loves so much. God, you hate those movies. But he gets so invested in them that you get the perfect opportunity to stare and admire him without him noticing.
Holy fuck you are so gay.
Instead of stopping after a few shots, you and John pass the bottle back and forth until you’re both shitfaced. The alcohol has both of you loosened up, and while John gets way happier than any person should be when drunk, you just get anxious. Anxious and thinking things that are far from platonic thoughts.
“This is kinda gay,” John slurs between a fit of laughter. You don’t remember why he’s laughing. Probably from one of his own stupid jokes.
Your head snaps up at his words, but you quickly play it off, feigning disinterest. John doesn’t seem to notice how fast you moved, anyway. You’re both totally plastered. “What’s gay?” you ask. You make sure to keep your voice level as best as you can with all the alcohol flowing through you.
“Like,” he pauses for a long while, “I’m putting my mouth. Where your mouth was.” He tilts the bottle up to his lips and takes another swig. You watch his Adam's apple bob. You’re so going to hell. “So it’s like an indirect kiss.” John puts the bottle down and then falls onto his back. He starts giggling.
“Yeah,” you agree, watching him carefully. “But you’re not gay, so it’s not.” You slowly lay down next to John, but you stay on your back so you’re not looking at him.
His giggles eventually die down, and the two of you lie there for a while in silence. You close your eyes and you can feel that you’ll probably fall asleep soon, but before you can, John speaks up again.
“I might be.”
He says it quietly. So quiet, that you think you’re hearing things. You stop breathing for a second, then turn your head so you can look at him. He’s turned his head too, so you’re both just staring at each other. “Huh?” You can’t think of anything else to say.
“I think.” He’s grinning, and fuck you hate how cute he looks with that stupid grin and his cheeks flushed red. “I think I’m gay,” he laughs.
“Yeah?” you whisper, your eyes wide behind your shades. You notice John’s glasses have disappeared.
“Yeah.” He sits up on his elbows and continues to grin at you. “I think I’m gay for you, Dave.”
Your brain short circuits. By the time you actually process what he’s just said and you manage to grab John by his shoulders, he’s passed out next to you, still smiling in his unconscious state. “John. John, dude, you like me?” You shake him but he’s totally out, and you let him go and sit up. You’re starting to panic. There’s no way John actually meant that. He passed out right after saying it, he probably didn’t even know what he was saying.
But what if he did? What if your best friend, the guy you’ve quietly had a crush on for years, actually does like you? You know you like him. Hell, you’re pretty sure you love him. You’ve been in love with him for so long that you don’t think you can remember what it’s like to not be in love with him.
That’s just wishful thinking, though. John definitely doesn’t like you like that. You resign yourself to that thought and lie back down. The floor isn’t very comfortable, but it’s where John is, so you stay there and fall asleep next to him.
John doesn’t say anything the next morning. You don’t either, because if John isn’t bringing it up, it means one of two things: he forgot what he said, or he remembers but didn’t mean it. No matter which it is, there’s no point in you bringing it up and embarrassing yourself. You’re both also totally hungover, and you don’t want to discuss it with a raging headache anyway.
Over the next week, you do your best to forget what happened. Not that much really happened. John just said a few words that didn’t mean anything. They totally didn’t mean anything to you. You also kind of avoid John, and although you feel bad about it, it’s really hard to look at him and not want to blurt out that you like him too.
You’re curled up on your bed when you get a notification that John is pestering you. Part of you wants to ignore him and stay hiding, but you can’t bring yourself to.
ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]
EB: do you wanna come over tonight?
TG: i dont know
TG: are you going to make me watch a nic cage movie
TG: or some other dumb film that came out a million years ago
EB: haha no!
EB: we can just play mario kart or something.
TG: ill be over later
EB: wanna bring some more alcohol?
TG: uh
TG: sure i guess
TG: i can bring some of my bros beer
EB: okay cool!
EB: ugh i have to go my dad wants something.
EB: i’ll see you tonight!
ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]
You put your phone down and stare at the ceiling. Man, you’re such an idiot. Bringing alcohol to his house again is decidedly a bad idea. Unfortunately, you’re a total pushover when it comes to John. You can’t say no to him.
You wait a few hours and then grab a six pack from the fridge. Bro and Dirk are both out, so you’re stuck with walking the thirty minutes to John’s house. Whatever. It’s not that far.
When you get to his house, you let yourself in and make your way up to his bedroom. Thankfully, his dad doesn’t seem to be around, because you had forgotten to cover the beer with anything.
“Sup,” you say as you push open John’s bedroom door and step inside. He’s on his bed with a comic book in hand.
“Hey, dude!” He tosses the comic book to the side and jumps up off the bed. He seems more excited to see you than usual. Must be because of the alcohol.
“Brought some beer.” You shrug and place it on his desk.
“Cool!”
You and John split the six pack, and once you’ve both finished your three drinks, the two of you feel more intoxicated than you should after three shitty beers. Only then do you decide to take a proper look at the bottles, and you realize you had accidentally taken some of your bro’s expensive craft beers. Fuck. He’s totally gonna kick your ass tomorrow.
“They’re eleven percent,” you tell John after dropping the empty bottle.
John starts to laugh. “Holy shit, dude. You’re trying to kill me,” he snickers, tripping over his words from the combination of his laughter and inebriation.
“Not this time.” You swallow. “I love you too much to kill you.” You’re far too gone to care about what you’re saying anymore. You have to tell John how you feel, even if he forgets. Even if he doesn’t feel the same way.
John laughs again. You love his laugh. “Yeah, I love you too, bro. You’re my best friend.”
You stare at your lap. Right now would be the best time to drop it. You can play it off as you being an emotional drunk, wanting to let your best bro know you love him in a totally platonic way. You can, but you don’t want to.
“No, dude.” You look up at him and then grab his shoulders. He stops laughing. “I seriously love you. Like. In a not bro way. In a, um. Fuck.” What the hell are you saying? You sound like an idiot. John’s definitely staring at you like you’re one.
He doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “I love you so much, dude. Like, so much.” You swallow. “Um. I’ve had a crush on you for ages. ‘Cause you’re totally cool. E-Even though you’re kind of a dork. But I like that. It’s cute. You’re cute. Shit.” You let go of his shoulders and look away. You’re expecting him to say something, but he remains quiet. When you finally look up at him again, he looks vaguely offended. Your face falls. “Say something,” you beg him.
John frowns. “That’s not funny, Dave.”
“Huh?” Your eyes widen slightly.
“C’mon, man. Saying all that after I told you I think I’m gay last week,” he mutters. “It’s not funny.”
You blink and then surge forward, grabbing him again. He squirms in your grasp, but you keep a tight grip on his shoulders. “Dude, I am so not joking right now. I am completely serious.”
“I’m serious too, Dave. It’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking!” Your voice is slightly raised and you’re starting to panic. How can he think you’re joking? He already knows you’re gay, you’ve made no effort at hiding that fact from anyone. So why can’t he believe that you do like him? You love him! “I love you, John!”
“Dave-“
You surge forward and slam your lips together. It’s way more violent than you intend since you’re too drunk to control yourself. Tilting your head to the side, you kiss him passionately for a few seconds. When he doesn’t kiss back you pull away. “Fuck, sorry,” you start, but you’re interrupted when John leans forward and kisses you. He’s definitely more gentle than you were.
You kiss back, and John slowly climbs forward onto your lap. Your whole head feels like it’s about to explode. This is the exact fantasy you’ve had for god knows how long, and now it’s finally happening. John Egbert is sitting in your lap and kissing you.
One of your hands reaches up and cradles the back of his head, the other holding onto his hip. Your glasses clink together and John starts to giggle against your lips. He pulls away slowly and grins.
“This is super gay, dude.”
You roll your eyes, even though he can’t see. “No fucking shit. Shut up, Egbert.” You drag him back into a kiss and this time push your tongue into his mouth. He groans and you feel his hands grab onto your shirt. You only pull away when you need to catch your breath.
John stays quiet. You don’t notice one of his hands moving up until he’s starting to pull off your shades.
“Wait-“
“Shh.” John’s other hand presses a finger against your lips and he removes your shades, placing them next to you.
You stare at him, red eyes wide and dilated. Despite all the years you’ve known each other, you can count all the times John’s seen your eyes on one hand. Exactly three times.
The first time you were kids. John had accidentally knocked off those shitty anime shades Bro gave you, and he had only caught a glimpse before you squeezed your eyes shut. He pestered you about it for ages.
The second time was a few years ago.
It was your birthday, actually. Your thirteenth, you think. John had invited you to come over to his house, because he knew Bro would probably forget about your birthday, and had even offered to have his dad bake a cake for you. You agreed, but instead of arriving at his house at noon like you said, you showed up on his doorstep late in the evening, bloodied and covered in bruises.
You weren’t crying, because crying is for babies, but John actually started to when he saw the sight of you. He took you to his room and hid you from his dad at your request. You couldn’t get your bro in trouble.
John had cleaned all your wounds and bandaged you. You just sat there quietly the whole time, watching him through your freshly cracked anime shades.
When John had finished cleaning you up, he got a box from his closet and handed it to you. Inside were the pair of shades you’ve worn every day since then. John had seen your eyes when you switched the glasses, and you had let him that time, though only for a couple minutes.
And now, the third time. You stare at him nervously. Sometimes you think all your confidence is connected to those shades. Honestly, it probably is.
“You have pretty eyes.”
You blink. “Ha. No I don’t. Yours are prettier.”
“Mine are just a boring blue. Yours are cool.” John cups your cheeks and brushes his thumbs against them. “I wish you’d let me look at them more often.”
You look away from him, embarrassed. Your cheeks have been red for a while from the alcohol, but you’re pretty sure they’re turning redder. “Yeah, well,” you mumble, “maybe I will.”
“Really?” John grins.
“Yeah, but I have one condition.” You look back at him.
“What?”
“You have to be my boyfriend.”
“Deal.”
“Cool. Now come here.” You drag him into another kiss, but it doesn’t last long before John pulls away.
“Hold on.”
“What?”
John smiles nervously. “I love you too.”
You grin back.