The one shots I write when I should be sleeping

2. Spierfeld (631 words)

It's a Monday morning. Leah, Abby, and Nick are all already in the car. I'm driving down the road to Bram's house, feeling elated. As I pull over to the side of the road, Leah gets out of the front seat and climbs into the back with Abby and Nick. I know she doesn't like being squished back there, but she does it voluntarily, and I like the soft morning kisses from Bram when I pick him up and he climbs into the front seat.

Speaking of, he's walking down his driveway with a different look on his face than normal.

He tries for a small smile as he sits in the passenger seat and leans over for a soft kiss, but I know something's bothering him.

"You okay?" I ask quietly as we begin driving. He sips on his iced coffee, silently shakes his head.

"You wanna talk about it?" I ask. The others don't hear us. Beyonce is playing from the speakers.

He bites his lip, the iced coffee rests on his knee. "Maybe later."

I nod. "Alright. You wanna pick a song?"

He hesitates before grabbing my phone and turning it on to scroll through my playlists, chewing on his straw.

***

We arrive at school and the three in the back scramble out. Bram stays, quiet (as per usual) and downcast (irregular).

"So," I begin, "does this count as later?"

"Yeah." He takes my hand and presses my knuckles to his soft lips. He holds my hand and brushes his thumb over mine, staring straight ahead.

"You gonna tell me why you're feeling... woeful?"

"Um," he takes in a deep breath and sighs, unsure. "I don't know, Si. I'm just not... I don't know. I just kind of want to curl up in my bed and sleep and not have to worry about... anything."

I bit my lip. "What are you worried about?" I ask quietly.

Bram shrugs, the fabric of his hoodie (well, it's actually mine, he just stole it from me) shifting. "Things. Finals, summer, college? I don't know. I think it's just generalized teenage angst. I'll be fine, Simon," he says, avoiding my gaze.

"Anything else?"

He's silent for a long moment before he speaks. "I- I want to take you to prom. But... I mean, you know better than I do the things the students of Creekwood high can do, and... I don't- I don't want-"

"Bram, breathe. It's alright. I get what you're feeling. But we walk into that school holding hands every day, and we walk out holding hands every afternoon. We have no sense of 'personal space' at the lunch table and we feed each other fries. Both our Instagram pages have just become pictures of us together, and in some of them, it's us kissing," I said, "And it's a fact that you are one of the bravest people I know."

He smiled and leaned over to kiss me again.

"I think you're braver, but that's just me." He shrugs nonchalantly. I roll my eyes.

"Not as brave as you," I reply, hopeful that it will stall the 'argument.'

Now it was his turn to real his eyes. But he smiled at me, and leaned across the seats again.

We spent another ten minutes making out and then the first morning bell rang out and we had to separate and run into the school with our bags bouncing around on our backs. I always hate that feeling, but he made it worth it when we paused at the top of the stairs for another quick kiss and split up to go to our separate classes.

"You're the bravest!" he shouts over his shoulder as he runs down the hall. I can't yell it back because Mr. Wise is standing just down the hall, and he'll get mad at me if I yell.