BLUE [BXB]

TWENTY THREE

"You ready?" Vincent grinned, feeling drunk on nervousness and anticipation and fear.

Ethan tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. Discontentedly, Vincent raised an eyebrow at the boy who looked green with discomfort.

"Hey," he started softly, reaching to capture one of Ethan's hands. "You know we don't have to do this, right?"

Ethan couldn't help but grin slightly at the boy's thoughtfulness; he freed their intertwined hands and reached up to caress the soft, freckled skin of his cheekbone. Vincent averted his gaze, squirming under Ethan's intense stare, and blushed slightly.

"I know," he assured, nodding. "But I want to. You deserve someone that'll show you off, I'm just lucky you haven't realized yet that you can do so much better."

By now, Vincent's face was practically burning. He rolled his eyes at his lover's corniness, but his crimson cheeks gave him away: He was loving the attention.

"If you feel uncomfortable, you tell me and I'll back off, yeah?" He grew serious once again, wanting to deliver the message loud and clear. He knew what it was like to come out, how it felt to have everyone's eyes on him, how morbid it was to sense them judging him.

Ethan scoffed in annoyance, but secretly relished in the reassuring, comforting tone Vincent had taken on. All he was succeeding at was to further convince Ethan that this was all he wanted. How could he not, when Vincent was so amazing?

The nerves were clawing at his stomach, gnawing his insides like a pack of hungry wolves; Ethan was petrified.

But for once, he'd decided, he wasn't going to be a coward anymore. If all went south, he'd still have Vincent, and that was more than he could've asked for. For the first time in what seemed like forever, Ethan finally had his priorities straight.

In the end, he'd finally realized what—or rather, who—mattered, and it felt good. It felt good for him to know what he wanted, to be willing to stand his ground and fight for it. He was done taking the easy way out, sick of having things handed to him on a silver platter. For once, he was doing the hard work. For once, he was taking a risk, plunging into a pool of uncertainty, blindfolded. And it was horrifying.

But it was also exhilarating. It was funny that Ethan's brain seemed to be relating everything about the blue-eyed boy to that specific feeling. Kissing him, touching him, holding him, even fucking looking at him—it excited Ethan beyond belief, left a trail of goosebumps up his arms, sent electric shocks down his spine, and drove his heart to pump louder and faster with every beat.

That was mostly what Ethan loved about being around Vincent: the constant thrill of it all. It was part of the reason he was so adamant about holding onto him—tooth and nail and claw—so scared of letting him go, terrified of losing the only thing in his life that edged him to the brink of madness, in the best way possible.

He'd gotten his spoonful of reality, as raw and unfiltered as it could possibly get, and he would do anything for another fix. Somehow, it was more addictive than any drug, always managed to get him dizzy and lightheaded on the adrenaline, leaving him to wonder what would happen if they took it even further. He was far from done exploring the new world of euphoria Vincent had introduced him to. Ethan didn't think he'd ever be finished with it.

And so, with a determined smile and a racing heart, he smiled, "Let's do this."

Vincent rounded the car and grabbed Ethan's hand, not before giving him a quick, chaste peck on the lips.

Outside the school doors, only a few students were milling about, and Ethan's heart skipped a beat when he saw their eyes drop to his and Vincent's joined hands. Nobody said anything, but the raised eyebrows and questioning gazes told Ethan that they'd noticed.