Teach Me To Be Gay (BoyxBoy)

Part Four

I wake him up. It's Tuesday. We have no classes.

Today's the day of the week we usually spend just playing video games for the whole morning, from nine till midday and doing nothing else apart from eating junk food. Then we'll go for a run together for a half hour, stop at a café for lunch and run back for another half hour. Then we'll watch a movie, and afterwards, continue to play video games until midnight. It's how each and every Tuesday for the past three or so years has been. And I can't help but not want that to change just because my feelings are going mental.

So, I start off the usual routine, praying it won't be awkward.

 Jumping onto the bed, I land just next to him as usual, giving enough bounce for him to be startled but not actually landing on him and breaking a rib or something. As expected, he only shifts a little in his sleep, so I shake him a little. He reaches up and slaps my chest, sending tingles through me that I'd never felt on our Tuesday routine. Focus, I tell myself.

 I straddle him as I usually would, feeling tingles everywhere my body brushes against his. We're both still in our boxers. It's tradition. Boxer Tuesday – well, up until the run. It's more like Boxer Tuesday Morning.

 Grabbing the pillow from under his bed, I watch his head as it thuds against the mattress, still not waking him. And then I start hitting him with the pillow, in the chest, repeatedly, until he wakes up. Only this time, after he wakes and grabs the pillow from my hold, when I try to stand up, he stops me. I already don't like where this is going.

 His hands lay on my thighs, rubbing warm circles onto them with his thumbs. It's comforting, makes me want to sleep again. I snap my eyes open when he flips me over. I hadn't even realised I'd closed them. Now he lies above me, straddling me just below my hips and I feel his arousal over mine, stretching his boxer material.

 This is wrong.

 But I don't care, so I tell my rational mind to shut it and leave.

 He leans down as I place my hands over his chest, not constricting him, just wanting to feel him. All of him. And then his lips land on mine and we're kissing, open-mouthed, hot and heavy, before he suddenly pulls back, gets up and walks to the door, hiding his erection as he only turns his head slightly to wink at me.

 Why am I so mad that he's left me hanging?

Downstairs, I see breakfast made and on the table. It isn't the usual. It's much, much nicer.

 The curtains are closed and the door closes after I walk into the kitchen, where my eyes flicker over to the small table, only big enough to fit two people. Perfect for Kade and I. I shake the thoughts away, noticing what lays there. And no, Kade is not stretched across the table in a provocative position as I kind of wished he would be, but there is a miniature feast laid out.

There are croissants and toast and fruit salad – all things Kade knows I love.

“Don't we just eat junk food today?”

“Thought I'd change it up a little.”

I shrug as if Kade hadn't just kissed me upstairs, both of us clad in only boxers.

Then the lights are turned out and Kade leads me to the table where he takes the chair out and lets me sit, before telling me to close my eyes.

When I'm told to open them again, candles are lit and the whole thing seems way too... romantic.

“Kade, what is this?”

He shrugs, but I can tell it means something to him. My opinion means something.