From Frost to Flame

Part 60: Tipsy Confessions Under the Rooftop Sky

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For a long, aching moment, neither of them moved.

The rooftop air was still, thick with everything unsaid. Below, the party murmured on-dim music, laughter, the clink of glasses-but up here, it was another world entirely.

Vegas stood frozen, breath caught in his chest, staring at the man in front of him. Pete's eyes glistened with tears and tequila, his cheeks flushed with alcohol and emotion.

"I love you. Can't you see?" Pete had said. His voice had cracked, not from drunkenness-but from truth.

And now they stood in silence, the words lingering between them like smoke that wouldn't clear.

Vegas couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Could barely think.

Pete's throat worked as though trying to speak again, but no sound came. His hands were trembling. So was his heart.

Vegas opened his mouth-nothing. Just a dry gasp, choked with fear and feeling. Finally, his voice broke through, cracked and hoarse.

"...Pete."

Just his name. But it landed heavily. Real.

Pete's lips parted as if to respond, but instead he stumbled forward-and kissed him.

It happened fast.

His mouth pressed to Vegas's, clumsy and desperate. Not calculated. Not controlled. Just raw need. Vegas froze, breath stolen from his lungs. His heart slammed painfully inside his ribs, and every muscle in his body went rigid.

His mind spun-He's drunk. He doesn't mean it. I shouldn't... I can't...

But Pete didn't pull away.

His lips were trembling against Vegas's-soft, broken, honest. Not forcing. Not expecting. Just offering. And when he leaned back, his eyes were wet, shining under the rooftop lights. His lips parted, voice cracking.

"Don't just stand there... please."

Then he kissed him again.

This time, firmer. Hungrier. Almost desperate.

Vegas couldn't stop it. Couldn't fight it. Not this time.

His body betrayed him-arms lifting, breath hitching, heart lurching toward the very thing he'd tried to deny for so long. Slowly, hesitantly, he kissed Pete back.

And just like that-something inside him broke.

He reached for Pete, trembling, his fingers cupping his face like he might shatter if he wasn't careful. Pete let out a shaky gasp, hands clutching at Vegas's shirt, holding on like he might fall.

The kiss deepened, messier now-wet with tears, broken with breath, interrupted only by the desperate need to feel more.

It wasn't smooth. It wasn't perfect.

It was real.

Pete sobbed into his mouth, soft and aching. Vegas felt it all-the fear, the longing, the rush of emotions that had bloomed so quickly it felt like they'd always been there. It wasn't years of silence, but the weight of every moment they hadn't said the truth aloud.

"You... idiot," Vegas whispered, his voice breaking as he rested his forehead against Pete's. "You don't know what you're doing to me."

Pete let out a breath that caught on a hiccup. "I don't care," he murmured, his voice cracking. "I love you."