BEFORE
Adam had come to understand quite a lot of things these past few months. First and foremost, he'd discovered that Raymond forest wasn't really as scary as everyone made it out to be—in fact, the forest that had once been the very stuff of his nightmares was now what he could almost call a sort of home to him, a tranquil place where he could just think and be with him. Him. Now that was the second thing. Oliver. Him. Adam now understood why he couldn't call Oliver anything other than him, why he stuttered and fumbled like a fool at the very thought of his name. (And it had nothing to do with hatred, of that he had come to be very sure about, particularly after he had kissed him that night).
Although certainly not unpleasant (never unpleasant), Adam still found the whole notion of them – really together – a strange thing. For one thing, he found it a lot easier kissing Oliver than any other girl he'd ever snogged. It came to the both of them so naturally, like they'd done it before, because it all seemed so familiar and easy. And right.
It was Saturday today and February had finally dawned upon the world. A burst of tiny shoots were filling up every nook and cranny of Raymond forest, and while there still remained a thin sheet of ice from January that covered up small areas of grass, the cloudless, blue sky and the cheerful chirruping of birds made it perfectly clear that spring had finally arrived.
Oliver and Adam sat side by side on some grass they had both deemed 'dry enough' to settle down on, their backs leaning against a giant boulder that was surrounded by an entire plethora of pebbles and tiny pink flowers that had yet to fully bloom.
"Okay my turn," Oliver chuckled as he threw a small pebble at Adam, who caught it with his left hand with skilful ease. "Have you ever kissed a boy?"
Adam raised an eyebrow. "Never," he replied sardonically, rolling his eyes.
Oliver shook his head. "No, I mean—" He sighed. "Like, someone other than me."
"I haven't." Adam snorted. "I know I'm a catch but come on, you really didn't think I could've—"
"What about Matt?" Oliver interrupted. Adam, who had now begun tossing the pebble up in the air, dropped it suddenly in surprise.
"Matt?" He spluttered with laughter. "Absolutely not."
"Oh." Oliver shifted closer to the other boy, stifling a small smile. "I always thought that there was something between you two."
"What?"
"You know what I mean!" Oliver exclaimed, blushing furiously. "All the weird looks you gave each other in class and—and how mad he got when we had to partner up for the science project. And—" He stopped talking when he noticed the expression on Adam's face.
"I can't believe you'd think that," Adam said in disbelief. "Matt's been my best friend since we were ten."
"Yeah," Oliver shrugged. "That doesn't help much in proving my argument wrong."
"He's practically my brother," Adam retorted snippily. "I'm not going to argue any more than that."
Oliver let out a small sigh and then, almost tentatively, closed his fingers around Adam's hand, squeezing it softly. "Okay," he breathed apologetically. "Yeah, I—I get it. It's just that I'm—"
"Jealous?" Adam offered.
"No." He scoffed unconvincingly. Then, quietly, "Okay, maybe a little."
Adam's eyes softened and he put his other hand on top of Oliver's. "You don't have to be, you know," he said. "It wasn't ever like that between me and him. It won't ever be."
"Good," Oliver nodded. "I mean," he added hastily, "not that I—it's just that I don't want you to like him like—like how you like me." He exhaled sharply. "Okay, that just sounds confusing."
Adam chuckled and leaned forward to press a kiss on Oliver's forehead. The other boy's eyes fluttered shut briefly, marvelling (as always) at how soft Adam's lips felt against his skin. They were warm and firm, like Adam knew what he was doing, and it didn't frighten Oliver as much as it did when he just thought about kissing him.
When Adam drew away, Oliver spoke again.
"When did you realise you liked me?" he asked. Adam cocked his head at the other boy teasingly.
"Isn't it my turn to ask a question?" He grinned.
Oliver rolled his eyes. "Well, alright, if you really—"
"Non-uniform day," Adam interrupted quietly. "At school, we had a Christmas-themed non-uniform day and everyone was supposed to come in wearing something Christmassy. Except," he laughed, "no one did. And then you walk into the class wearing a red-and-green woolly jumper and—"
"Oh god." Oliver buried his face in his hands, shaking in embarrassment. "Was it the one with Rudolph the reindeer stitched at the front? The one with the giant red nose that stuck out and—"
"Lit up when you sang Christmas carols." Adam closed his hand around his mouth to stop himself from giggling.
"Hang on!" Oliver frowned. "That was years ago. Back when we were twelve."
"Exactly." Adam gave him a sheepish smile. "Well, to be fair, I didn't realise I liked you. I just thought you looked...cute."
"Cute?" Oliver wrinkled his nose distastefully at the word.
"Yes cute," Adam teased before leaning in to press a swift kiss on Oliver's mouth. He'd seen guys in films do that to girls when they were arguing or play fighting, and he'd always found the gesture so strange, so random. How could they just do that without feeling silly or too forward? Now he realized that it was because they simply couldn't resist.
Oliver's sharp features – always a little hostile-looking—seemed to soften and Adam knew he liked that kiss as much as those girls in the movies did.
Maybe even more.
"Adam—" Oliver faltered but his eyes remained fixated on Adam's face. He looked very much as though he was battling with himself about something. Oliver lifted his hand tentatively and his fingers reached out slowly to touch the other boy's cheek. He'd barely touched the soft surface, barely felt the small blonde hairs brush against the tip of his thumb, before quickly drawing his hand away. "I—" he began again but the words didn't want to come out, leaving his lips parted open in a rather foolish manner.
"I know," Adam nodded understandingly but Oliver didn't think he did. How could he? How could he know what Oliver felt? But how could Oliver tell him now? It was too soon, too abrupt, when they'd barely begun...
"Are we boyfriends?" he blurted out. Adam looked taken aback by the question.
"Er," he shrugged. "I...guess, yeah." He drew away from Oliver. "Why?" he asked while maintaining what he hoped was a steady tone in his voice. "Don't you...want to be? It's okay if you don't. I mean, I get it. You. Not wanting me...like that. I—I get that."
"No!" Oliver absently grabbed Adam's hand and, realizing his boldness, quickly let go again, flushing. "No. I want this." Their eyes met again. "I want to stay your boyfriend. That is...if you want it too."
"I do," Adam replied meaningfully.
"Good." Oliver nodded and it was the relief that immediately flooded his body, wrapping his senses into a state of comforting, pure bliss while simultaneously setting free a thousand fluttering butterflies in his stomach that made him realize how much more Adam was to him than secret kisses and holding hands under the table. He was sick in love with him. And if he couldn't tell Adam—well, the least he could do was show it to him.
And with that thought in mind, it was he who boldly closed the gap between them.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
