Letting Go of Yesterday

Thief of Tomorrow

"Fear is a thief of tomorrows; let it win today, and you may lose a lifetime of what could have been."

These words cut through Bible's mind, reopening a wound in his heart he thought he'd closed. He had let fear win, giving it permission to steal away a future he hadn't dared to imagine. It was a mistake that still stung—a single choice that altered everything. Three years ago, one impulsive, drunken kiss between him and his best friend, Job, had stirred up feelings he hadn't even known were buried within him.

It had all started that night, a typical Friday meetup at Job's apartment, like they did every other week. Job was hosting this time, and Bible had barely knocked on the red, wooden door when Job swung it open, grinning, only to be hit with ""you really have shitty taste in doors, I can't believe you still kept it like that".

"You still complaining about my beautiful red door, or are you actually gonna come in, loser?" Job shot back, rolling his eyes but grinning.

Bible chuckled, slipping off his shoes by the entrance. "Fine, I'll save my critique for later after this beautiful bottle of red gets opened."

As they entered the cosy living room, Bible noticed a round, battered wooden table covered in an impressive spread of snacks, beers, and 3 open bottles of wine.

"Hold on," Bible squinted at the setup, "where's the pizza? You forgot the main event?"

"Calm down, it's on the way," Job replied with a smirk. "Did you really think I'd dare forget and let you cry about it all night when it's my ears out on the line?"

"Better hope it walks itself over here soon," Bible teased.

"Trust me, it'll smell the desperation and come running to you."

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Bible lit up, "It's here! My precious has arrived!" He hopped up to retrieve the pizza while Job poured two frosty beers, setting them beside the wine.

They dug in, swapping updates, laughter, and teasing insults over pizza and beer. Time melted away, and soon they'd moved on to the wine. Bible noticed that Job, who'd never been great at holding his alcohol, had started slurring, inching closer and closer to him, his face flushed and eyes hazy.

In a drunken mumble, Job leaned in, practically sitting in Bible's lap. He reached out, gripping Bible's cheek in his hand, his voice thick and soft with a vulnerable softness Bible hadn't heard before.
"B-Bible... when's it gonna be my *hic* turn, huh?" Job slurred, his gaze growing intense, almost pleading.

"I just... I just wanna find love too, you know? Wanna settle down... get married an' all that..." He huffed, Job's grip on Bible's cheek tightened, then relaxed, only for him to reach out and squeeze it again, a strange mix of desperation and affection in his touch. "Damn it, I want... a weddin' too!"

Bible felt his pulse quicken, his laugh suddenly shaky. He had seen Job tipsy countless times, but something about this felt... different. His stomach fluttered with a feeling he couldn't pin down, as though a door had cracked open, flooding him with a rush of emotions he'd never let himself explore. The way Job's eyes softened, his lopsided grin... it was endearing, almost mesmerising, and Bible felt himself drawn closer, uncertain if he wanted to pull away.

"Don't laugh... I'm bein' serious here, Bible. I mean it!" Job hiccupped again,

"I mean it. I really do," he continued, his eyes now vulnerable, raw with an honesty that Bible had never seen, an honesty that took his breath away. "If ya keep laughin'... I'll... I'll just fall asleep right here."  His gaze lingered on Bible's face, scanning his features as though seeing him for the first time. "I mean it. I really do," he continued, his eyes now vulnerable, raw with an honesty that Bible had never seen, an honesty that took his breath away. "If ya keep laughin'... I'll... I'll just fall asleep right here."

Just as Job attempted to get up, he stumbled, his legs tangling in the hem of his pants. Sending him forward falling into Bible's arms. Their faces were only inches apart, close enough for Bible to feel the soft brush of Job's breath, warm and laced with the sweetness of wine, both of them too stunned and too tipsy to move right away.

Bible's heart pounded so loud it seemed to fill the quiet room, the air between them heavy and electric. He didn't know what to do, barely even dared to breathe. Everything about this moment felt amplified—the steady rise and fall of Job's chest against him, the warmth of Job's body pressed against his,  the faint scent of Job's cologne mixing with the wine, the heat in his cheeks. Suddenly, the gap between friendship and something more felt terrifyingly thin.