And Now, We're Soaring

Prologue

 There were only two things in this world that Mitch Grassi was absolutely certain of.

The first thing was that his World History final was in the morning, and if he didn't go home and get some sleep within the next half hour, there was no way he'd be coherent enough at nine AM to scrape by with at least a B.

The second thing -- and this one was news even to him -- was that as he lay on his back in Scott's backyard, quilt beneath him and crickets chirping with the stars like diamonds in the velvet over the treetops, he felt something in the deepest caverns of his heart that he had never felt before with anyone.

Scott's hand was warm, and his thumb rubbed patterns along Mitch's, tiny circles and loops that were the only things keeping the younger teenager from escaping into the night sky that hovered above them with such wonderland temptations. If Mitch focused closely, he could feel his best friend's pulse throbbing in synch with his own, sending sparks through his body that only vibrated for a mere second before creeping into his heart like drops of rain slipping through the cracks in a picnic table. His eyelids fluttered shut for a moment, chocolate-brown eyes hiding from the world that kept him from truly living.

"Mitch?"

The whisper was gentle, and sent such a warm feeling through him that Mitch was coaxed back down to earth, even though he'd much prefer flying through the heavens a little bit longer. "Hmm?"

"Are you cold?" He felt Scott sit up next to him, and a hint of a smile tugged at his lips as the blonde's fingers lightly brushed his bangs off his forehead.

"A little," he admitted softly, eyes cracking open to peek up at him. Their gazes locked, and his heart fluttered for a moment at the warm smile Scott gave him. "Do you want to go inside?"

Scott eased back down beside him, reaching out and suddenly wrapping Mitch up in his arms. The brunette immediately snuggled closer, head falling to rest on the boy's chest. His eyes shut again, and there wasn't a chill in his entire body as he laid there and breathed in the mingled scent of wet grass and night air and the aftershave Scott insisted on wearing so that he'd smell more like the rest of the athletes at school. Mitch was in love with the way he fit perfectly in his best friend's arms. Like they were meant for this. Meant for each other. Meant to love in a way that Mitch had never loved anyone before.

The tenor didn't know what the next day would have in store, but right now, he didn't care. As he began to drift off, safe and warm even though they were outside on a wet lawn at an hour in which any normal person would be asleep in a bed, Mitch was absolutely certain of just one thing: he never wanted this feeling to end.