A huge headache woke Dylan up. He was sure someone was hammering his head just for fun or something like that, and to make matters worse, the sun was shining brightly outside, its sunrays hitting him straight in the face through the windows - right, he forgot to close the curtains.

Wait, why did I forget to close them?, he thought, finding it strange that something he was used to do every night before going to bed, wasn't done now.

He closed his eyes and groaned because of the pounding headache he was having. With his eyes still closed, he tried to grab the covers to put them over his entire body like an armour that protected him from the horrible and shiny sun; but just when his hands found them, they shifted along the mattress, and it wasn't him the one who moved. He opened his eyes and frowned, wondering what the hell was going on.

When he rolled over to his side, he saw a naked back, milky soft skin with some moles scattered all over the place. His eyes followed the boy's neck until he came across a head of dirty blonde hair - messy and familiar to him. So it suddenly hit him, and he wasn't so sure of the way he should react. Should he panic? Maybe. Should he wake Thomas up and pretend nothing happened, asking him to leave or something? No, probably he remembered every single thing, besides, it would be kind of stupid to ask him to leave when all Dylan wanted to do was to enjoy the moment.

He moved a little more and looked at Thomas' back, running his fingers so slightly through the blonde's hair so he wouldn't wake him up and ruin the moment. It was exactly what he wanted: Thomas sleeping peacefully on his bed, waking up by his side and the bedroom so quiet - his headache was almost forgotten by the time he realized he felt so content.

Did we have sex?, he asked himself and furrowed his eyebrows. Then, the panic emerged again and he stopped playing with Thomas' hair only to lay on his back and fix his eyes on the ceiling.

What if Thomas didn't want to sleep with him? What if he was drunk as well? Alcohol makes you do crazy stuff like dancing naked, saying things you don't really mean or sleeping with your best friend, so Dylan wouldn't be surprised if Thomas told him it was a mistake. Also, he wouldn't be so surprised if he had to fake it didn't mean a thing to him, so both could agree to pretend nothing happened, even if a lot happened, all for their friendship's sake.

The worst of it all was that Dylan couldn't remember much. All the memories were hazy and it was like watching images through a fogged window, which he couldn't seem to clean, but he was sure they did something. Maybe they'd kissed or... or maybe they'd had sex - just from trying to remember his headache came back and got worse. So he sat at the edge of the bed for a while, decided to put on a pair of clean boxers and once he closed the curtains, much to his relief, he stood next to the window and stared at Thomas from there.

The British boy hadn't moved, not even a bit, and Dylan's brain couldn't stop being so intrigued. Well, he wanted to be optimistic about the situation, although all he could think of was the worst case-scenario like... Thomas rejecting him. No, that wasn't the worst. Thomas telling him he is disgusting or... anything similar just because they slept together and maybe Thomas isn't gay or bisexual... or maybe he doesn't even see Dylan as an exception, although Dylan saw him as one of the greatest exceptions he'd ever made without even choosing to make it.

No, he's not like that, he reminded himself. He's not going to do that.

He turned around, and just when he was about to get out of the bedroom,  the mattress crunched and Thomas' raspy voice made Dylan stop dead in his tracks at the frame of the door. "Dyl?"

Dylan turned around and faced Thomas, the latter yawning and sitting on the bed. The sheets covered half of his body - Dylan wondered if he was fully naked - leaving his torso in plain view.

"What?" Thomas asked, a grin on his lips and his eyes sparkling. "Do I have something on my face or...?"

"Um, no. No, it's just..." Dylan replied, having trouble with the words he wanted to put together in only one sentence. "It's just..."

"Just...?"

"Do you remember anything of what happened, um... last night?" Thomas frowned, looking down and back at Dylan again.

"Do you?"

"Err... No," Dylan answered, still unsure of his words. "I mean, I... I remember something but..."

"Oh," was all Thomas said, not letting him finish.

Dylan watched as Thomas looked down again, sighing and licking his lips the way he always did. An awkward silence filled the room and Dylan wanted to end it so badly - he didn't know how, though.

"I was drunk, wasn't I?"

"Well, if not remembering anything of what you did last night makes you think that, then you're right." Thomas responded and looked up, dark brown meeting hazel.

"Were you drunk? Did we... kiss?"

"Um, well..." Thomas scratched the back of his neck and gulped. "Yeah, we kinda snogged here in your bedroom and..."

"But did we... I mean, you and me. Did we have...?"

"Yes, Dylan" Thomas interrupted mid-sentence. He was feeling sort of impatient and the way Dylan acted made him anxious. "We had sex."

Dylan opened and closed his mouth over and over, but the words just didn't come out, as usual. He hated that part of himself, or he just kind of hated the effect Thomas had in him because it was like his neurons suddenly died, so his body didn't work the way it should - all because Thomas confirmed him that, yes, they slept together. Despite this being, somehow, a positive feeling, it was misunderstood by Thomas, who knitted his eyebrows in confusion and a bit of disappointment.

"Look, we... We can..." Thomas hesitated and got up, searching for his underwear on the floor. He didn't care if Dylan was seeing him naked because he didn't feel exposed or embarrassed at all. "Ugh, where are my fucking briefs," he muttered, looking irritated

"Tom..." Dylan spoke in an attempt to get his attention. His gaze followed Thomas through the room, watching him as he found his underwear and put it on. "Thomas, I-"

"Don't worry, it's... Um, It's okay," Thomas stuttered, running a hand through his hair. He started looking for his clothes, avoiding Dylan's gaze, and then quickly put on his pants as he began talking again. "We can forget everything and... And we can pretend it never happened. Nothing happened, yeah," he added while buttoning up his jeans, eyebrows still furrowed, and it was more like he was talking to himself than to Dylan.

"Thomas, can you-"

"Leave? Yeah, of course. I'll leave," Thomas said, still looking down and moving around the room with nervousness. "Just let me find my..."

"Oh my god," Dylan mumbled and rolled his eyes. Then he spoke, louder this time. "Thomas, can you please listen to me?"

Thomas stopped pacing around the room, realizing how he let all those feelings overtake him. His eyes fixed on the brunette's ones and he sighed, letting all the anxiety go away in one breath.

"I don't want to pretend that anything of this didn't happen, okay?" Dylan stated. "I don't wanna forget either. Well, I wish I could remember more, I swear, but I don't want to forget the few memories that still remain in my brain."

"Are you sure?" Thomas asked in a whisper, and Dylan got closer.

"Do you know how long I waited for something like that? I thought... I thought you'd never feel the same way I do." He admitted, a tiny smile upon his face. Then, the smile disappeared and was replaced by a frown. "That's why I got drunk, I wanted to... God, I was so stupid. If it weren't because I-"

"If it weren't because you decided to drink like the world was going to end, I don't think this could've happened," Thomas said, interrupting him for the third or fourth time in their conversation. This time, Dylan didn't mind.

Thomas got closer, and Dylan wanted to speak, to tell him all he'd been hiding inside him for months, 'cause it was the moment to do it. Nevertheless, he resolved it would be much better to summarize it all in one action. He grabbed Thomas by his waist, the feeling of soft skin under his fingertips being something really nice, and stared straight into those chocolate brown eyes. Finally, Dylan kissed him.

It wasn't like in the movies, where they get closer and closer until their mouths are barely brushing because none of them knows when to take the final next step. No, since Dylan was sober, he wanted to know what it really felt like to kiss Thomas and he just couldn't wait much longer. It was like their real first kiss, at least to Dylan, and he was glad to know he could remember from now on how it was to taste his lips, to explore his mouth, to feel his stomach exploding from the warm feeling inside of it, to smile in between kisses just because the happiness was too much to contain it.

And they ended up on the bed, kissing, cuddling, losing track of time, wanting to make the day to last forever. The covers were over half of their bodies, their legs intertwined under them, and Dylan leaned his head on Thomas' chest. He listened to his  heartbeat, something quite relaxing, and draw imaginary patterns with his fingertips on Thomas' stomach, the smooth skin being such a pleasant feeling.

"I shouldn't have drunk that much," Dylan spoke after a while, his eyes staring at the wall and then at Thomas' abdomen as he kept caressing the tender flesh.

"But..." Thomas started, trying to find the words to answer. He ran his hand through Dylan's hair, which was longer than he remembered, and played with it. "You have to look on the bright side: if it wasn't for that, I wouldn't have known about your feelings. Maybe this would've never happened 'cause I have to admit that I was, and still would be, too much of a coward to tell you how much I like you without the fear of being rejected."

Dylan looked up, staring straight at Thomas' eyes, and the latter took Dylan's hand, interlacing their fingers as he kept talking.

"If you wouldn't have drunk that much I'd be in my hotel room now or... I'd probably be waking up on your couch. Without you." Dylan wanted to smile at his words 'cause they were just everything he ever wanted to hear from Thomas, but the fact that he couldn't recall what happened made him upset.

"But if it wasn't because I was drunk, I could remember something, you know?" Dylan said, his eyebrows a bit furrowed and his hazel eyes still gazing at Thomas.

"Why are you so upset about it?

"I just wanted to remember a moment like that." He replied immediately, resting his head back on Thomas' chest and closing his eyes with a sigh. Thomas stroke his hair and back, gentle touches that made Dylan feel like he was dreaming.

"Well, y'know... " Thomas broke the silence, making Dylan look up at him one more time. "We can always do it all again if you want to remember. We have plenty of time, so..."

All Dylan did was laugh, his teeth showing and his eyes lighting up, little wrinkles forming around them, and Thomas couldn't have felt happier. He just felt so lucky to have this man in his life and, finally, in his arms.

"How about later?" Dylan suggested with an everlasting grin on his lips. Then Thomas surprised him, grabbing him by the waist and pinning him to the bed, a sweet smile upon his face that made Dylan melt inside.

"How about now?" Inquired Thomas, his voice so soft and lustful at the same time. Dylan giggled and gave him a short kiss on the lips.

"Guess I'm fine with whatever you want, Tommy."