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Andrew found himself at the park again. He wasn’t sure why he kept coming back to this spot, tucked away behind some half-dead shrubs, but it was quiet enough, and the benches were usually empty. A good place to smoke without being bothered, with just the right amount of shade.
When Andrew crushed the butt of his cigarette under his boot, he took a long, deliberate breath, staring out at the park around him. As he lit another cigarette, Andrew saw him. It was the first time he had seen Him—hair messy from running, eyes laser-focused on something far above the treetops. At first, Andrew didn’t pay much attention, but as he took another drag from his third ciggy of the day and flicked the ash, his eyes kept drifting back to the guy standing in the clearing.
He was a strange combination of intensity and distraction, as if the whole world narrowed to a single point somewhere above his head, and everything else just faded away. Andrew watched as he adjusted his binoculars, following something Andrew couldn’t see, brows furrowed in concentration. He couldn’t tell if he was ridiculously serious or completely absent-minded, and it piqued his interest.
Andrew leaned back against the tree, his gaze never fully landing on the stranger but catching glimpses of him in the corner of his eye. The way the guy moved was almost hypnotic—fluid, deliberate, yet somehow unthinking. It was compelling in a way Andrew couldn’t quite articulate. There was something wild about him, something raw, like he was built for motion—speed, flight, the chase—and it was only by some strange twist of fate that he was standing still in that moment.
He watched him brush back his hair absentmindedly, exposing the cut of his jaw and the sharpness of his cheekbones. He chewed his lip as he peered up through the binoculars, and Andrew found himself strangely aware of every shift of his expression—the small crinkle in his brow when he saw something interesting, the way his mouth would twitch with the beginnings of a smile, only for it to fade when he realized he was alone. There was no need.
Andrew crushed his last cigarette out on the ground, grinding it with his boot. He should have looked away, gone back to his own world and left him to his birds, but he couldn’t. There was something about the guy that made it impossible to look anywhere else. Maybe it was the sheer focus he had, like he could shut out everything and everyone for the sake of whatever he was searching for in the trees.
Andrew’s eyes followed the line of his throat as he tilted his head back, the tautness of his neck, the way his collarbone showed just above the collar of his shirt. He seemed oblivious to everything around him—completely lost in his world—and Andrew couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to know someone like that, to be around someone who could so wholly belong to himself.
It was that thought—that feeling—that kept Andrew watching, just for a moment longer, before he shoved his hands into his pockets, turned away, and acted like he hadn’t seen anything. Nothing of interest.
The next day, Andrew found himself back at the park, same time, same place. Sure enough, the guy was there again, in the same spot, staring through his binoculars like his life depended on it. This time, Andrew didn’t hang back on the edge of the clearing. Instead, he walked up and casually took his place beside him, leaning against a tree as he lit his cigarette. The click of the lighter seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet, but the stranger didn’t even flinch.
He half-expected him to move away, maybe shoot him a dirty look, but instead, the guy just glanced sideways at Andrew and grinned. “Oh, hey!” he said brightly, like they were already acquainted. “You here for the broad-winged hawk too?”
Andrew just grunted in response, keeping his eyes straight ahead, not showing any interest. The guy didn’t seem to care. He lowered his binoculars and turned fully toward Andrew, enthusiasm spilling out of him like he couldn’t help himself.
“They’re migrating right now, heading south. You’re actually in a great spot to see them! They take these updrafts and just… glide, like they own the whole sky.” He said it with so much excitement, like he was sharing some incredible secret, and Andrew didn’t know why it made his chest feel weirdly tight. Probably just second hand embarrassment for the poor guy. Wimp.
Andrew took a long drag on his cigarette, staring at the guy blankly. He had no idea what this guy was talking about—birds, sure, but he couldn’t figure out why the guy assumed Andrew gave a shit. He didn’t.
“You… want to see?” the guy asked, holding out his binoculars to Andrew like it was no big deal to hand them over to a complete stranger.
Andrew didn’t say anything, just kept looking at him, half-expecting him to take it back. But the guy’s expression stayed open, like he really wanted Andrew to take a look. So Andrew did. He took the binoculars forcefully from him, holding them awkwardly against his eyes, not sure what he was supposed to be looking for.
"There—right over the treetops,” the guy said, pointing. “See that one, with the stripes on its tail? That’s the broad-winged hawk.”
Andrew followed the line of the guy’s finger, finally focusing in on a bird gliding in slow circles against the sky. It was… a bird, alright. Bigger than the pigeons and sparrows he was used to seeing, with wings that spread wide and flat. He let out a small huff, passing the binoculars back.
“You see it?” the guy pressed, his eyes bright and hopeful. “Isn’t it amazing how they can just… disappear in the sky like that?”
Andrew just shrugged. “It’s a bird,” he said flatly.
The guy laughed, like Andrew was joking, and took the binoculars back. “Yeah, it’s a bird. But it’s a cool bird.”
Andrew didn’t respond, just kept smoking his cigarette in silence while the guy stood there, watching the hawk. For some reason, Andrew stayed. He couldn’t figure out why, but there was something weirdly… easy about this guy. He talked about birds like they were the most important thing in the world, like nothing else mattered. There was no edge to him, no sharp undercurrent of tension or frustration.
Not like Kevin, who swung between drowning in a bottle and ranting about everything wrong with the world—and Andrew specifically—like it was some kind of hobby. One minute, it was Andrew’s diet; the next, his mannerisms, like Kevin had a running list of grievances he couldn’t wait to air. And definitely not like Aaron, whose constant drama hovered just below the surface, always one wrong word away from exploding, dragging Katelyn and their latest mess into Andrew’s already overburdened lap.
Too messy, Andrew thought. Always too messy.
But this guy? This guy was different. No games, no veiled jabs, no drama simmering beneath the surface. Just a guy, completely absorbed in whatever bird he was watching, like it was the highlight of his day. And as much as Andrew hated to admit it, it was… nice. For once, he didn’t have to brace himself, didn’t have to be on guard or measure every word.
And so they stayed like that—Andrew smoking in silence, and the guy with his binoculars, completely lost in the sky. The space between them felt calm, uncomplicated, like a bubble where the rest of the world didn’t matter. Andrew found himself breathing a little easier, the tension in his shoulders loosening as he watched the guy point excitedly at a hawk circling high above the trees.
Andrew didn’t really care about the bird. He didn’t even pretend to look where the guy was pointing. But for some reason, he stayed, quietly appreciating the strange peace of the moment. It wasn’t about the bird—or even the guy, really—but about the fact that, for once, he didn’t have to pretend.
Andrew smoking, the guy completely wrapped up in the sky, obliviously pointing out hawks to someone who couldn’t have cared less. The silence between them felt a little less empty, though Andrew wasn’t sure if it was because of the peace or because this guy just didn’t seem to notice how much Andrew wasn’t looking.
It had become a strange routine—Andrew showing up to that same spot in the park every day, and the bird guy (Neil, as Andrew later found out) always being there, with his binoculars and endless supply of bird facts. Over time, it wasn’t just the broad-winged hawk that got Neil talking; it was every bird that crossed his line of sight. Red-tailed hawks, warblers, peregrines—Neil had stories and facts for all of them, spitting them out with an enthusiasm that would’ve been annoying if it came from anyone else. But Andrew kept showing up, kept listening, and kept pretending he was only there to smoke in peace.
Then one day, Neil did something that stuck in Andrew’s head.
Neil had been watching a kestrel perched up on a telephone wire, holding the binoculars up to Andrew’s face to get him to see how it moved. They were close, close enough that Andrew could smell the faint trace of sweat from Neil’s run, the way his voice dropped a little when he was whispering excitedly. And then Neil turned to him suddenly, eyes lit up in that stupid way they always did when he was talking about birds.
“Do you want to keep up with the migration? I could text you when something cool comes through,” Neil said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “You know, if you’re interested.”
Andrew’s mind moved faster than it had in a long time. Text me. He fought the urge to react, forcing himself to nod nonchalantly. “Sure. Whatever.”
He expected Neil to just tell him to give over his number, but instead, Neil handed his phone right over to Andrew, already open to a new contact screen. Andrew’s fingers moved fast, putting in his number without thinking too much about it, saving it under “Andrew” Then he handed the phone back, feeling an odd twist in his gut as Neil smiled down at the screen, typing quickly. Andrew’s phone buzzed almost immediately.
Unknown: hey, it’s neilio. kestrels like to hunt in the morning, so i’ll text you if I see one!
Neil looked up from his phone, waiting for Andrew to respond. Andrew barely looked at the message before tucking his phone back in his pocket. “Okay,” he said, short and to the point. Neil just grinned and turned back to his binoculars, eyes fixed on the kestrel, and Andrew felt a weird warmth spread across his chest—an actual giddiness that made him want to punch something. Kevin, perhaps.
After that, Andrew found himself taking pictures of birds. It wasn’t intentional at first—just a way to keep the texts going. He’d see a bird while out at the park or running errands, and without thinking, he’d snap a photo and send it over.
Red-tailed hawk, he’d send, attaching a blurry picture of a bird high up in a tree.
wow, great shot! Neil would reply, his enthusiasm bleeding through the screen.
Sometimes, Andrew would barely catch a bird’s wing in the frame, and Neil would still identify it within seconds, texting back things like, that’s totally a cooper’s hawk! you can tell by the long tail.
Neil sent photos too, but they were way better than Andrew’s. He’d send detailed close-ups of bright yellow warblers, or the sharp silhouette of a peregrine falcon against the sky. And every time, he’d add some fact, like, These guys dive faster than any other bird on the planet, and Andrew would pretend he didn’t look forward to those messages.
For Neil, it was just about birds and finding a friend who shared his excitement—someone who didn’t brush him off when he went on and on about migration patterns or the shapes of different beaks. And it wasn’t like Andrew was ever rude; he never told Neil to shut up or said he didn’t care. Andrew was just… always there, always ready to receive whatever random bird news Neil felt like sharing.
Neil figured that meant they were friends, and he was excited to have someone to talk to who didn’t get tired of him.
Andrew, on the other hand, was acutely aware of how much he liked Neil—the way he got so into birds, the way he smiled when he handed over the binoculars, the way he seemed to understand Andrew without asking for anything more than a shared silence. But Neil was completely oblivious, just happy to have a “bird buddy,” and it drove Andrew absolutely insane.
Yet, every time he thought about telling Neil what he really meant by sending those pictures—how they weren’t just about birds—he’d get another text like, look at this osprey I saw today! and then Andrew would decide that maybe it was enough just to keep texting.
For now.
–*-
Neil: hey! saw a kestrel today
Andrew: Great.
Neil: i took a picture! [image sent] look at that sharp beak, right? soo fierce xd
Andrew: Yeah. Fierce.
Neil: it’s like, if a kestrel had hands, it would definitely punch someone in the face
Andrew: Pretty sure that’s not how birds work.
Neil: well mayb not. but if any bird wud it’d be a kestrel
Andrew: You want to meet up tomorrow?
Neil: sure!!!!! I’ll bring my binoculars there’s been this osprey sighted by the lake, and i’ve been trying to get a good look at it
Andrew: Or we could do something else.
Neil: like look for different birds? yyeah, sounds fun ;p we could go a bit earlier if you want to catch them while they’re more active
Andrew: Or we could... not look for birds.
Neil: ooh, do you prefer bird-watching in the afternoon? i know it's kind of early for some people. i get it :)
Andrew: Sure. That's totally what I meant.
–*-
Andrew: What are you doing right now?
Neil: researching! found this article about owls and their silent flight it’s insane how their feathers are designed for stealth
Andrew: [eye-roll emoji]
Neil: ??
Andrew: Nothing. You know it’s like... 1 a.m., right?
Neil: yeah, so? the best articles are written at night….
Andrew: What if I was there instead?
Neil: you want me to send you the article?
Andrew: ... Not exactly.
Neil: ooooh! are you more of a video guy? there’s this great docuseries about owls can find the link , 2 mins
Andrew: I don’t give a shit about owls, Neil.
Neil: y are we even friends then…….
Andrew: Good question.
–*-
Andrew: Do you know you're a massive idiot?
Neil: u tell me often enough, so yeah?
Andrew: Just checking.
Neil: whyyy, what'd I do this time?
Andrew: [typing…]
Andrew: Nothing. See you tomorrow.
Neil: kewl don’t forget the coffee! and maybe we’ll see those kestrels again! <333 :3
Andrew: Can’t wait.
–*-
It was a cloudy afternoon when Neil convinced Andrew to come to the park with him to check out some songbirds he swore were nesting nearby. Andrew had rolled his eyes but followed, leaning against a tree and half-listening while Neil rambled on about some bird he'd seen the day before. Andrew had his cigarette, Neil had his binoculars, and it should’ve been another normal day out for them—if you could call Neil’s obsession with birds "normal." But the weather had different plans.
A single raindrop hit Andrew’s arm, then another, and within seconds, the sky ripped open and rain came pouring down in heavy sheets.
“Shit,” Neil said, blinking water out of his eyes. He tried to shield the binoculars under his shirt, but it was useless. The rain was coming down so hard they could barely see, both of them drenched in seconds. Andrew just stood there, looking completely unimpressed, his cigarette instantly soggy and useless.
Neil grabbed Andrew’s wrist suddenly, fingers tight around his arm. “Come on!” Neil shouted over the pounding rain, a wide grin spreading across his face. “We can’t just stand here getting soaked—my place is close. You’ll be more comfortable there.”
Andrew blinked, caught off guard by the phrasing, but didn’t fight it. Neil’s hand slid down to his, fingers lacing briefly before tugging him forward. “Let’s go,” Neil added, throwing a look over his shoulder with what Andrew could’ve sworn was a playful smirk.
They sprinted through the rain, Neil practically pulling Andrew along as they weaved through the slick park paths and darted across the street. Andrew’s mind raced faster than his feet. We’ll be more comfortable? Neil’s hand was warm and steady in his own, not letting go, not even when they reached the covered stairwell of a small apartment complex. The rain dripped from Neil’s hair and onto his flushed face as he glanced at Andrew with a breathless laugh, his grip only loosening when he finally fumbled for his keys.
Andrew stood there, soaked to the bone but buzzing with anticipation. This was it, he thought. Neil had brought him to his place, grinning and holding his hand like it was nothing, dragging him through the rain with promises of getting “comfortable.” That had to mean something.
Andrew half-smirked, stuffing his hands into his wet pockets as he leaned casually against the doorframe. Neil was probably nervous, trying to be subtle about it, but Andrew didn’t mind. He could work with that. After all, Neil hadn’t needed to make up excuses—Andrew would’ve said yes to coming back here no matter how awkwardly Neil asked.
By the time Neil got the door open, Andrew’s mind was already filling in the blanks. Finally, he thought, stepping inside. The guy’s been flirting for weeks. Could’ve just said he wanted to get laid instead of this whole rain-soaked rescue act.
The door opened, and Neil pulled Andrew inside, flicking on the light. It was a small, cramped apartment, cluttered but lived-in, with furniture that clearly didn’t belong to just one person. Andrew’s eyes darted around, taking in the mismatched decor—the piles of sports gear stacked haphazardly in one corner, the shelves filled with books and posters on the walls that seemed to clash in style. One side of the apartment looked cleaner, more organized, while the other had a more chaotic feel, like someone had rushed to tidy up but given up halfway through.
Two rooms branched off from the main living area. Andrew caught sight of a door with a silly, hand-drawn sign taped to it—“Neil” written in large, messy letters, and next to it, a cartoon fox that looked like it had been scribbled there for a laugh. Andrew smirked at the sight, because of course Neil would have something ridiculous like that marking his space.
Neil didn’t seem to notice Andrew staring; he was too busy tugging off his wet jacket and tossing it over a chair. “C’mon, my room’s this way,” he said, grabbing Andrew’s wrist again and pulling him toward the door with the sign. Andrew let himself be dragged along, the grip warm and sure around his arm, even though his mind was already whirring.
The second Neil swung the door open, Andrew’s eyes went straight to the bed shoved against the wall. A single bed. A very small single bed.
Shit.
The bed—a tiny, cramped thing shoved into the corner, barely big enough for one person, let alone two. His brain short-circuited for a moment, caught between a sharp electric thrill and the logistical nightmare of the situation. How the hell are we both supposed to fit on that? he thought, his eyes flicking over the rumpled sheets like they held some secret to solving this puzzle.
He could already picture it: Neil awkwardly shifting around, one of them probably falling off, maybe Neil ending up sprawled half on top of him. Not that Andrew would complain, but still. Is this… part of his plan?
Andrew stole a glance at Neil, half-expecting him to say something—an explanation, an offer to figure out the logistics of sharing the bed—but Neil was completely unfazed. He was already kicking off his shoes and peeling off his soaked shirt, like this was just another day, like he hadn’t just dragged Andrew to his apartment with this ridiculously small bed as the centerpiece of their night.
Andrew stared, his mind doing backflips trying to make sense of it. Is this his move? The ‘tiny bed proximity’ trick? Bold choice, Neil. He cleared his throat and tried to keep his face neutral, but all he could think was, At least this’ll be interesting.
“Here,” Neil said, “There’s towels in the bathroom, door on the left outside. You can grab one to dry off.” He didn’t seem nervous—actually, he looked pretty relaxed, like this whole thing was normal, like he hadn’t just dragged Andrew up to his room in the middle of a downpour.
Andrew raised an eyebrow. “And then what?” he asked, his voice flat, but his eyes dark. He was sure Neil could pick up on the implication. They were in Neil’s room. In front of a bed. Soaked to the skin. There was no way Neil wasn’t on the same page.
“What do you mean?” Neil said, shaking the water out of his hair. He went straight to the small closet, rummaging around for something dry to wear.
Andrew’s patience, already hanging by a thread, started to fray. He gave the bed a pointed look, tilting his head toward it. “You only have a single bed.”
Neil followed his gaze, then looked back at Andrew, blinking like he didn’t understand why this was even worth mentioning. “Yeah? I mean, only I sleep in it. Why would I need a massive bed for no reason?”
Andrew stared at him, incredulous, as Neil shrugged and tossed a dry shirt at his chest like they were talking about the weather. “You can sit on it while you dry off if you want,” Neil added casually, already moving back to the closet. “I’ll grab some pants you can borrow.”
Andrew caught the shirt automatically, but his mind was too busy short-circuiting to respond. Sit on it? While I dry off? He glanced back at the bed, his brain spinning through increasingly ridiculous scenarios.
Neil, oblivious as ever, crouched down to dig through the bottom of the closet. “I’ve got some sweats that might fit you… or shorts,” he called over his shoulder. Andrew pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. This guy can’t seriously be this dense.
Andrew stared at Neil, who was now pawing through his drawer, completely oblivious. This can't be real, Andrew thought, the realization hitting him like a punch. He watched Neil fuss over finding something dry to wear like they weren’t supposed to be stripping each other down right now.
“Wait,” Andrew said finally, voice cutting through the room, harsher than he intended. “You really brought me here to—what, dry off?”
Neil turned around, eyes wide, holding faded old running shorts in his hands. “Uh, yeah?” he said slowly, like he couldn’t figure out what Andrew was getting at. “I mean, you were soaked, and I’m just down the street, so I figured... it’d be easier than standing around in the rain?”
Andrew didn't move for a second. He ran a hand through his wet hair, glancing from the bed to Neil and back to the bed again. “Easier,” he repeated flatly, trying to process that he’d just spent the last twenty minutes getting all worked up for nothing. Neil wasn't trying to hook up. He was just being, in his own Neil way, thoughtful.
If you put Neil’s brain in a bird it would fly backwards, Andrew thought cruelly.
Neil frowned, tilting his head slightly. “What... Did you think was going to happen?” he asked, clearly confused.
Andrew didn’t let his face show anything, but inside he wanted to scream. He wanted to grab Neil by the shoulders and shake him and tell him that no one drags someone back to their place in the pouring rain with shitty smiles and giggles unless they're about to jump their bones. But Neil didn’t seem to have any clue, already throwing Andrew the dry shorts and some fluffy socks.
“Here,” Neil said, still smiling, still so annoyingly earnest. “You can change in the bathroom. We’ll wait out the rain.”
Andrew took the clothes without a word, glaring at Neil’s oblivious, innocent grin, and made his way to the bathroom. He shut the door harder than necessary, letting the click of the lock echo in the tiny space. He wanted to be mad, but it was hard when Neil was just... Neil. And apparently, in Neil’s mind, a “new friend” meant dragging you out of a downpour, into his apartment, and handing you their clothes without a second thought. Andrew was the horny freak, not Neil. He was just being a normal friend. He wanted to break the mirror.
Andrew let out a slow breath, trying to let go of the tension coiling in his chest. He’d wait out the rain, sure. And in the meantime, he’d have to figure out how to get Neil on the same page. Eventually. If he could even read.
Neil, meanwhile, was feeling pretty pleased with himself. He’d managed to get them both out of the rain before they got completely soaked through, and now they could just dry off and wait it out. He thought he’d done the right thing—helpful, logical, no big deal. So why did Andrew look so annoyed?
Neil sat on the edge of his bed, drying his hair with an old shirt, not wanting to disturb Andrew in the bathroom. He tried to figure out where he’d gone wrong. Andrew hadn’t said much on the way up to the apartment, but the second they got inside, something seemed off. Neil replayed their conversation in his head, trying to decipher it. Andrew had been all weird about the single bed, asking "and then what?" in this low, flat voice, and Neil couldn’t figure out why. He was just offering the guy a chance to get dry, right?
Then it hit him. Oh.
Neil’s mind flashed back to the way Andrew had looked at him—up and down, eyes lingering just a little too long—and then to the way he’d stood so close, soaking wet and intense, asking questions that sounded... loaded, now that Neil thought about it. It all started to fall into place with a speed that made his heart race.
He thought I brought him back here to hook up.
Neil froze, shirt hanging in his hand, and suddenly the whole scene felt different. He replayed Andrew’s every move: the way he’d stood by the door, the way he’d stared at the bed, the way he’d asked “..then what.” Neil’s stomach dropped, and he felt a flush rise to his face. He’d been so stupidly oblivious, thinking they were just hanging out, like friends do.
Neil was about to stand up, maybe try to practice what to say, to explain himself or at least mutter something—anything—to cut through the awkward silence that had somehow crept into the room. But before he could work up the nerve, the door swung open, and Andrew stepped inside.
Neil startled so hard he practically launched himself off the edge of the bed, tripping over his own feet as he scrambled to stand upright. “Jesus—” he blurted, stumbling forward and barely catching his footing in time to avoid face-planting. His heart pounded in his chest as he straightened, brushing himself off like nothing had happened.
Andrew just stood there, eyebrow raised, arms crossed, as if Neil’s little one-man show was the most predictable thing in the world. “You good?” Andrew asked flatly, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Neil cleared his throat, trying and failing to regain some dignity. “Yeah. Fine. Totally fine,” he said quickly, though his ears were burning. Great start, he thought. Very smooth.
Andrew stepped in, wearing the dry t-shirt and shorts Neil had given him. The shirt clung to his arms, just slightly too tight, and his wet hair was tousled, sticking up in all directions. Neil’s mouth went dry. He tried to keep his eyes on Andrew’s face, but his gaze kept flickering downward, catching on Andrew’s collarbone peeking out from the neckline, the way the fabric stretched across his chest, the way his skin looked damp and warm.
For the first time, Neil really looked at Andrew—not as some guy he was trying to befriend, not as the kid who stood around smoking while he bird-watched—but as Andrew. He’d always known that Andrew was objectively good-looking, in that rough-around-the-edges kind of way, but this was different. This was his brain struggling to catch up with the realization that maybe—no, definitely—he found Andrew attractive.
Neil’s heart pounded in his chest as he tried to figure out what to do with this new, panicky feeling. Andrew was looking at him with that same sharp, knowing gaze, like he could see right through Neil, like he already knew what Neil had just figured out for himself. Neil wanted to look away, wanted to keep himself from getting any more flustered, but Andrew kept walking toward him, closing the space between them until he was standing right in front of Neil, closer than before.
“Didn’t realize what you were doing, did you?” Andrew asked, voice low, eyes fixed on Neil’s face. There was a hint of amusement in his voice, something Neil couldn't quite pin down.
“No, I—I didn’t,” Neil admitted, feeling his face heat up. He tried to laugh it off, but it came out shaky. “I thought you just... needed to get dry.”
Andrew’s mouth twitched like he was fighting back a smirk. “Sure you did.”
Neil could feel his nerves creeping up his spine, that jittery sensation making his hands restless, like he should be doing something. He didn't know what to do with this tension between them—tension he hadn’t even realized was there until now. Part of him wanted to move away, to put some space between them and think, but another part of him didn’t. That part wanted to lean into the way Andrew was looking at him, like he was the most fascinating thing in the room.
“I didn’t mean—” Neil started, voice quiet. He didn’t know how to finish the sentence. I didn’t mean to lead you on? I didn’t mean to make you think this was going somewhere? Or maybe... I didn’t mean to find you this attractive?
Andrew raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from sharp to something softer, almost curious. “What do you want, Neil?”
The question hit Neil square in the chest. What did he want? He wanted to keep things simple, to stay on the same page, to just have a friend without complications—but that was a lie, wasn’t it? Because he was drawn to Andrew, in a way he hadn’t let himself consider before, in a way that made his palms sweat and his heart race.
“I don’t know,” Neil said finally, voice almost a whisper. It was the truth, at least. And Andrew seemed to understand that, tilting his head like he was weighing his options, deciding whether to push further or let Neil sit in his confusion.
“Okay,” Andrew said after a long moment, stepping back just slightly, but not enough to break the tension between them. “Figure it out.”
And with that, he turned and sat down on the bed, leaning back on his elbows, like he was perfectly content to wait. And Neil was left standing there, trying to understand how he’d gone from drying off in his tiny apartment to thinking about kissing the guy on his bed, all in the span of a rainstorm.
Neil stood there, frozen in place, as his thoughts churned in circles. Andrew sat back farther on the bed, like he had all the time in the world, staring at Neil like he was something interesting to watch. The air between them was thick and heavy, and Neil could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, his heart beating so loudly he thought Andrew might hear it. He didn’t know why this felt so impossible, but the moment seemed to stretch on and on, every second amplifying the nerves crawling up his spine.
And all he could think about was how Andrew looked—how he’d never really noticed the sharpness of Andrew’s jaw, the way his eyes stayed so focused, like they could cut right through whatever was in front of him. And now that gaze was all on Neil, waiting, daring him to say something.
Neil’s mouth felt dry. He swallowed, shifting his weight on his feet. He knew what he wanted, what he’d wanted since the realization hit him like a train in this tiny room. Andrew was here, and he was looking at Neil in a way that felt like an invitation—open, challenging, leaving Neil to take the next step. And God, he wanted to take it.
Neil let out a shaky breath, eyes flicking down to Andrew’s mouth, then back up to meet his eyes. “I—” he started, and then had to stop to catch his breath. He let the words tumble out before he lost the courage. “I want to kiss you.”
Andrew’s expression didn’t change, but something about him seemed to settle, like he’d been waiting for Neil to get to this point all along. He straightened up slightly, moving his elbows from behind him to rest his arms casually on his knees, leaning forward just enough to close some of the distance between them.
“Come kiss me then,” Andrew said, his voice low, steady. It wasn’t a question—it was a demand, and a promise all at once. And the way he said it—like it was simple, like all Neil had to do was do it—made the nervousness snap into something sharper, something more electric.
Neil hesitated for just a moment longer, his brain scrambling to make sense of everything. Then he took a step forward, and another, until he was standing right in front of Andrew, so close he could see the wet still clinging to Andrew’s hair, the way his breathing was calm and even, unlike Neil’s.
Andrew didn’t move, didn’t pull him down—just sat there, looking up at Neil with steady, expectant eyes, letting him make the choice. Neil’s pulse was racing, his nerves sparking, and he suddenly felt the urge to be on the same level as Andrew, to meet him fully, face to face. So, he slowly lowered himself to the bed, sitting down next to Andrew, close enough that their legs brushed together, the warmth of it spreading up through Neil’s side.
The tension between them hung heavy, thick like a storm, and all Neil could do was stare at Andrew. He was sitting so close now that he could see the curve of Andrew’s lashes, the little droplets of rain catching the light as they clung to his skin. He felt drawn in, like there was no other choice but to close the distance between them.
Andrew turned slightly to face Neil, their knees touching, and the air felt charged, like an electric current was coursing through it. Neil’s heart pounded in his chest, palms sweaty as he fisted the sheets beside him. The way Andrew looked at him—completely unguarded, eyes dark with anticipation—made Neil feel breathless, like the moment could break at any second.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, without warning, like something had finally clicked inside of him, Neil leaned in, closing that last gap between them, and pressed his lips against Andrew’s.
It was soft at first, tentative and exploring, like Neil couldn’t believe this was really happening, but the sensation was intoxicating. Andrew's lips were warm, familiar yet brand new, and Neil let himself melt into the kiss, the weight of all his nerves and hesitation finally giving way to something deeper.
He felt Andrew shift beside him, leaning in, and suddenly the kiss deepened, growing hungrier, more certain. Neil felt the heat spread through his body, making his heart race even faster, and he slid one hand up to cup Andrew’s jaw, feeling the wetness of the rain still lingering on his skin. They were so close, the world around them seemed to disappear, leaving only the warmth and taste of each other in the small, enclosed space of the room.
As they both began to relax into it, their lips parted slightly, allowing their tongues to dance together. Neil felt a rush of heat spread through his body, from his core to the tips of his toes. He hadn't even realized how much he'd been craving this moment. Neil couldn't help but feel a growing desire between them. It was as if Andrew could sense it too, because he pulled Neil closer, practically sitting him in his lap as they continued to kiss.
Neil was lost in the kiss, letting himself drown in it, when suddenly, he felt something cool and hard against his tongue—something unexpected. He pulled back, just an inch, breaking the kiss enough to look at Andrew with wide eyes. He didn't know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't that.
"Wait," Neil said, catching his breath, his fingers gripping the back of Andrew's neck. He licked his own lips, trying to make sure he hadn't just imagined it. "Do you... do you have a tongue piercing?"
Andrew just stared back at him, expression completely neutral, like this revelation was no big deal. He didn't say anything at first, and for a second, Neil thought maybe he'd gotten it wrong. But then Andrew stuck his tongue out, a glint of silver catching the light as the barbell slid across his bottom lip before disappearing back into his mouth.
Neil's jaw dropped. "How have I never noticed that?" he blurted out.
He realized how ridiculous the question was the moment he said it; Andrew barely smiled, and when he did, it was always quick, more of a smirk than anything else. But now that he knew it was there, he wondered how he'd missed it—how he'd never noticed the way it subtly changed the way Andrew spoke or moved his mouth.
Andrew's smirk grew, just a little, and he raised an eyebrow. "You don't pay attention," he said, his voice rough from the kiss. And then he leaned in again, capturing Neil’s lips and sliding his tongue against his, letting Neil feel the piercing all over again—the cool metal mixed with the heat of Andrew's mouth sending a shiver down Neil's spine.
It was different, and it was hot, and Neil found himself wanting more—more of the taste of metal and Andrew, more of the things Andrew kept hidden, more of everything.
Neil's hands found their way to Andrew's hair, tangling in the soft strands as he deepened the kiss even further. Andrew moaned into his mouth, encouraging him to take more. And so, Neil did. He slid his tongue along Andrew's bottom lip, teasing him before slipping it inside once again.
Their make out session had turned into something more, something intense. As they rocked back and forth, grinding together, it was clear that they were both lost in the moment. Andrew's hands roamed over Neil's back, tracing lines of desire down his spine, trailing down to the swell of his ass as he grabbed a handful to pull Neil closer, pulling a whine from his lips without breaking away.
He couldn't believe he had Neil in his arms like this. He'd been lusting after him for so long, and now, he was finally getting the chance to explore those feelings further. Neil felt the same way. The way Andrew's hands moved over him, the way his lips felt against his own...it was all too much.
Neil could feel himself getting harder by the second, his shorts growing tight around his growing erection.
Neil could hardly think straight with Andrew this close, the heat of his body, the firm grip on his shirt, the softness of his mouth—it was all too much. And then Andrew pulled away, just slightly, their lips barely brushing, and looked into Neil's eyes, a look that seemed to burn right through him.
"Are you okay?" Andrew asked, his voice low, husky, and somehow both gentle and demanding all at once.
Neil nodded quickly, but the truth was, he was barely holding it together. His voice was shaky, breathless, as he managed to say, "Yeah, I'm just... really turned on right now. This has never happened to me before." His cheeks flushed with a mix of nerves and excitement, feeling like he'd just blurted out something huge and stupid all at once, but it was true. He'd never felt anything like this before—never with anyone else, and definitely not like this.
Andrew stared at him for a long second, eyes flicking down to Neil's mouth and then back up to his eyes. And then Andrew did something that made Neil's pulse skip—he smiled, small and real, like Neil had said exactly what he wanted to hear.
"Me too," Andrew admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper, but it had all the weight of a promise.
There was a hint of something else in his eyes— want, hunger, maybe even relief.
And then he leaned in, closing the space between them again in an instant, capturing Neil's lips with his own. This time, the kiss wasn't tentative or soft—it was deep, needy, and fierce. Neil gasped into it, his hands flying up to grab at Andrew's shoulders, needing to feel more, to close any remaining distance between them.
Andrew's hands were everywhere at once-one fisted in Neil's hair, tugging gently, the other sliding down to pull their hips together. And Neil melted into it, the kiss sending shockwaves of heat down his spine, until all he could think, all he could feel, was Andrew.
The bed shifted under their combined weight, rocking gently as they moved together, mouths parting only to come back even hungrier than before. Neil's nerves had disappeared completely, replaced by a fire that he never expected, and he poured it all into Andrew—into the way his lips moved, the way his body pressed against Andrew's, needing to feel closer, deeper.
Their passion only grew stronger as they continued to kiss, their bodies pressed tightly together. Andrew couldn't help but wonder what else Neil would be like in bed, if he were ever brave enough to take things further.
As if reading his mind, Neil leaned back on the bed, breaking the kiss. "I want you," he whispered, his voice shaking with desire. "I want you so bad."
Andrew's heart skipped a beat. This was it. He nodded. Running his hands from Neil’s ass back up to his shoulders, turning him so he could lie down on the tiny single bed as Andrew awkwardly maneuvered to kneel above him. His thighs were covering Neil’s hips, almost trapping him in place. From his position he could feel how turned on Neil was and it filled his gut with heat. He did that.
Once they were both settled, Andrew turned to face Neil, looking at his flushed debauched face, his hands tracing down Neil's chest and stopping at his waistband as he followed his movements down. He looked up at him, waiting for permission, and when he received it, he slipped Neil's shorts down over his hips. Neil gasped as he felt Andrew's warm breath against his cock, circling the head with his tongue, the cool metal of his piercing brushing against him. He moaned loudly, arching back against Andrew's touch.
Andrew looked up at him, his eyes filled with lust. "You're so beautiful," he whispered before taking Neil's cock into his mouth, sucking gently on the head. Neil's hips bucked and he felt a jolt every time the piercing rolled around his cock with Andrew’s tongue.
It was more intense than anything he'd ever imagined. He reached down to run his fingers through Andrew's hair, guiding him up and down but not pushing, just grounding himself with the soft touch of Andrew’s hair. Heat in his gut tightening as he felt himself coming apart. Andrew's mouth was so hot and wet as he continued taking Neil down his throat.
"Fuck.. Andrew, so good," Neil murmured, feeling Andrew take him deeper, preening at the affection. He decided that he would definitely tell Andrew what a good boy he had been when he finished, possibly on his face. The thought caused his hips to twitch and Andrew to moan around his cock.
As they both became lost in the sensation, neither of them registered the knock at the door. It wasn’t until it swung open, far too quickly to react, that the world came crashing back in.
Andrew froze, breathless, his hand still tangled in Neil’s shorts, which were pooled awkwardly around his knees. Spit dripping from his lips. For a split second, they just stared at each other, chests heaving, faces flushed, caught somewhere between shock and horror.
“NEIL! OH MY GOD!”
Matt’s voice exploded into the room, loud enough to rattle the walls. He stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes wide as dinner plates, mouth hanging open in complete disbelief.
Neil’s face went scarlet as he scrambled, trying to hide as much of himself as he could under the blanket. He could feel the heat creeping all the way up to his ears. Andrew had already sat up, completely unruffled by the intrusion, looking more annoyed than embarrassed. Still hard in his shorts, that was very clearly giving away to what they had been doing.
“Matt!” Neil hissed, still trying to collect himself, brushing his hands over his sheets pulling them over himself like that would somehow erase what had just happened. “Can you—? Just— close the door!”
“Dude, I—” Matt peeked again between his fingers, then quickly looked away, still keeping his hand firmly over his eyes. “You never have anyone over!
Andrew, somehow only managing to look irritated, fixed Neil’s shorts over his crotch angrily, fixing his hard on back into place with an almost comical efficiency. “Why didn’t you wait for an answer before barging in?” he snapped, his voice low and sharp.
“I KNOCKED!” Matt yelled, still shielding his eyes. “I DIDN’T THINK I NEEDED A DAMN APPOINTMENT!”
“YOU DO NOW!” Neil shouted back, but there was no anger in it, just sheer panic and disbelief that this was happening right now.
Andrew, meanwhile, had an unreadable expression on his face. He stood up slowly, stretching like he wasn’t just making out with Neil’s cock moments before. “Okay. Maybe I should’ve locked the door,” he said dryly, clearly amused despite the situation, not an ounce of shame in his voice.
“Ohh, my God, who is he, Neil?” Matt muttered, eyes squeezed shut now. “I’m leaving. I’m just—gonna be gone, and when I come back, I hope this is... resolved!” He turned around quickly, hands still over his eyes as he shuffled backward out of the room, muttering something about “knowing too much” and “needing therapy.”
As the door slammed shut behind Matt, Neil just buried his face in his hands, half-laughing, half-mortified. “I’m never gonna hear the end of this.”
Andrew’s eyes were fixed on him, something amused and dark playing at the corners of his mouth. “You didn’t finish,” he said, and Neil felt the thrill all over again—like this was far from over.