He walked long enough until the distant hum of people's voices outside faded into a mere murmur in the background. The thumping music emanating from the house felt distant as he made contact with a sizable tree. He felt his way around the large trunk, exploring its grooves and indents, until he reached the opposite side. Sliding his back down the trunk, he sat, his knees spayed with the bottle cradled between his legs.

     Facing away from the house, he gazed into the darkness ahead, taking deliberate swigs of the potent liquid that both seared his throat and dulled his mind.

     He didn't like Yohan anymore. He had drilled this into his mind countless times, and it was clear that Yohan had never reciprocated his feelings. After all, Yohan's choice to be with Jemma only served as evidence that he was, without a doubt, straight. Yet Yohan's actions seemed like a twisted game—a puzzle that left Robin bewildered and his mind in disarray.

     Despite nearly a month of mutual avoidance, the sight of them together still stirred a tumultuous storm of jealousy within him.

     But then, why? Why do I still care? Why do I still feel my heart skips a beat every time Yohan is close to me? Why do I still feel that the night of the gig, I was certain that Yohan had leaned in to kiss me? And then, after that night, he just pretended like it never even happened. No, worse than that, he got angry at me because it happened when I did nothing wrong. He was a prick—a total and utter prick. So why is it that I can't stop thinking about him?

     Gazing into the darkness, his eyes adjusted gradually. The back of the garden appeared to open up to expansive rolling fields, where shadows played a mysterious dance. As the alcohol began to take its desired effect, his mind swirled in tandem with the shadows, and the chattering of other partygoers became a distant white noise.

     Footsteps, rhythmic and purposeful, materialised from the obscurity behind the tree, the sound slowly drawing nearer. The owner of the footsteps seemed to lean on the other side of the tree with a thud, causing Robin to jump slightly. He heard a slight click click click as a familiar voice muttered, "Fuck."

     The noise startled him even more as he recognised the voice, causing the neck of the bottle he held in his fist to loosen, thumping on the soft earth below him, rolling away, and releasing its contents as the liquid trickled away.

     "Fuck!" He echoed the voice as he watched the last drops escape the bottle, picking it up to observe the remnants that had survived pooling at the bottom.

     "Is someone there?" the voice queried. Robin lifted his gaze from the ground, spotting a mass of black curls peeking around the corner of the tree trunk, and an unlit cigarette hung casually from the corner of his mouth. Their eyes locked, and in the darkness, Robin discerned a subtle shift in the boy's expression looming above him.

    "Oh, it's you..." Yohan remarked, making his way around the tree. His hands rested on his hips as he looked down at Robin, who held the now-empty vodka bottle.

     "Jesus, did you drink that all by yourself?" Yohan asked, the unlit cigarette bobbed up and down on his lips as he spoke.

     "Hmmm–no... it– it slipped and..." Robin stammered, breaking eye contact, as he stared down at his shoes. Unsure if the twisting in his stomach was nerves, anger, or just the concoction of alcohol he had drank that night wanting to make its way back up his throat.

     What the fuck is this prick doing here?

     "Sure man." Yohan said, lifting his arm to try the lighter in his hand once more, only sparking ever so slightly but not admitting any flame. "Fucking, shit, fucking lighter..."

     The mention of the lighter made the presence of the one he still carried in his pocket ever so obvious. Feeling its sharp edges pressing into his thigh with his knee bent.

     "So... parties not your thing, or... you just like drinking alone in the dark out here?" Yohan asked, removing the cigarette and placing it back in the packet, defeated for now.

     What the hell is this nice act all of a sudden?

      "What? You're going to be nice to me all of a sudden?" Robin spat, his thoughts no longer contained in his mind.

     "What the fuck has gotten into you?" Yohan retaliated.

     "What the fuck has gotten into me?" Robin narrowed his eyes, attempting to piece his gaze into Yohan's soul. "What the fuck got into you!?"

     "What–"

     Robin interrupted, rising from his seated position. All the emotions he had felt pent-up inside came out in a flurry of speech. "Why, the fuck, did you start acting like such a prick to me all of a sudden? Did I do something? Ever since the night of the gig, you've become a totally different person. I thought we were friends, and then what? You say you don't want to see me anymore? Don't want to be near me and act like I don't even exist? Like, what the fuck is that about? And then you think you can just come up to me and try to strike up a conversation?"

     Robin scoffed, his anger palpable. Retrieving the metal object from his pocket, he held it out. "Do you know what? Here, have your fucking lighter back."

     Yohan's expression shifted from shock to bitter anger as he recognised the item in Robin's hand. "You had it... the whole fucking time." His lip curled into a snarl as he snatched the lighter, inspecting it. "I can't fucking believe it. How fucking petty are you?"

     "Me? Petty?" Robin's laughter lathered with sarcasm. "Please, you can fucking talk."

     "Do you know how much this thing means to me!?" Yohan held the lighter up, stepping closer, his eyes narrowing. "I've been looking for this for weeks, and all along you had it!?"

     "I tried to give it back to you, but you wouldn't let me!" Robin shuffled back, his shoulders hitting the tree. "That Friday in the classroom, that's all I was trying to do, but you had to be a fucking prick, so why would I give it back to you?"

     "I... look, maybe I was in the wrong there; it had been a rough few days, but that doesn't mean you can keep something that belongs to me hostage!?" Yohan's face was inches away from Robin's alcohol-laden breath lingering in the cold air.

     "Well, maybe if you hadn't continued to be such a wanker, you would have gotten it back sooner." Robin's confidence dwindled as Yohan closed the gap, their eyes locked in a fierce standoff.

     "Well... Maybe if you hadn't been such an arsehole back to me, I wouldn't have carried on." Yohan's eyes flickered to Robin's lips as he moved in closer.

     Robin was breathless as the tall boy loomed over him with panting breaths and eyebrows furrowed in a scowl. Locked in a silent confrontation, faces mere centimetres apart, each breath heavy with a mix of anger and unresolved tension. A palpable intensity hung between them.

     "Just tell me why," Robin spoke softly, the anger that had consumed him gradually waning. His plea carrying an earnest desire for answers, a longing for a clear reason. The sound of his own heartbeat resonated in his ears; his eyes a mixture of vulnerability and desperation.

     A subtle shift came over Yohan's expression as he looked deeply into Robin's eyes. His eyes softened, and the anger on his face melted away, giving way to a familiar fear that mirrored their encounter in the alley.

     "I..." Yohan began to say, breaking eye contact for a second, observing the ground. Robin's eyes followed, waiting impatiently for an answer.

     "Do you know what?" Youhan's head snapped back up, staring Robin down once more. His brows knitted together, his jaw clenching slightly. A look of determination crossed his face.

     "Fuck it."

     With a swift, impulsive move, he closed the remaining distance and pressed his lips against Robin's.

     Time seemed to hang suspended, and Robin's eyes widened in shock at the unexpected turn of events. The soft warmth of Yohan's lips lingered against his, and for a fleeting moment, he hesitated, caught in the swirl of conflicting emotions. Yohan, however, showed no reservations, leaning in with a fervour that conveyed a deep-seated desperation.

     Yohan's hands found their way to Robin's waist, pulling him closer and blurring the lines between anger and passion. Robin, still processing the sudden shift in dynamics, felt an unfamiliar warmth spreading through him. The world around them faded into insignificance as Yohan's lips pressed harder against Robin's, a silent plea woven into the intensity of the moment.

     What the fuck? Is this really happening!?

     Yohan pulled away, their lips breaking apart, removing his hands from Robin's waist. His expression was one of fear itself. His eyes appeared to be slightly wet as he looked at Robin with pleading eyes. The vulnerability etched across his face seemed to scream insecurity, fear, and uncertainty.

    Robin looked at the boy in front of him. The boy he had pined for for weeks, the boy that had already caused him so much pain—so much confusion. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Even in his dreams, he couldn't muster such an occurrence. He wanted to hate Yohan, to feel guilty for Jemma, he wanted to want to run. But the truth was, the thing he truly wanted the most, were those lips back on his own again.

     "Fuck– I– I'm sorry, I–" But before Yohan could continue, Robin flung his arms around his shoulders and fervently pressed his lips back onto the warmth of Yohan's. A momentary pause hung between them, the air thick with anticipation, before Yohan yielded to Robin's unspoken invitation and reciprocated the kiss with growing intensity.

     Yohan's lip ring, cold against Robin's own lips, added a thrilling contrast to the warmth of their mouths. The sensation sent shivers down Robin's spine, heightening the electrifying connection between them. Their lips parted, and Robin could feel Yohan's tongue slipping into his mouth, a dominant force that ignited a fire within him.

     Every nuance of the kiss became an intricate dance of desire. Robin became acutely aware of the softness of Yohan's lips and the warmth of his breath against his skin. The lingering taste of alcohol served as a bittersweet reminder of their indulgences throughout the night, along with the bitter taste of cigarettes. It was as if the flavours intertwined, creating a heady cocktail of emotions that fuelled their escalating passion.

     The kiss deepened, becoming an act of defiance against the encroaching doubts and hesitations. Robin's desperation intensified, fuelled by the need to drown out any lingering images of Jemma, as he was certain he tasted a sticky lip gloss reminisce on Yohan's lips. He kissed harder, the press of their lips becoming a tumultuous blend of emotions, a magnetic force drawing them closer.

     In the shadowed refuge under the tree, their bodies pressed tightly against one another. Robin, in his fervour, sought to pull Yohan as close as physically possible, a silent plea for closeness and connection. Electric shocks seemed to course through Robin's entire body, with each movement and each shift of their bodies amplifying the intensity of the moment. As Yohan clung tightly, Robin couldn't believe the surreal reality unfolding—a wild exploration of uncharted territory, a dance of emotions and desires that he had longed for for so long, finally coming true.

     "Yohan! Are you out here?!"

     Jemma's voice shattered the bubble they had created, and Yohan, suddenly grounded back into the real world, broke away from Robin's lips. The abruptness of the interruption left Robin panting, eyes wide, as he tried to process what had just happened. Staring at Yohan with worried anticipation.

     "Shit..." Yohan muttered, shooting Robin a weak smile before sliding his hand from his waist and discounting their intertwined bodies. Robin's arms hung loosely by his sides, and without another word, Yohan disappeared out of view from behind the tree.

     "There you are, babe!" Robin could hear Jemma say, her voice approaching. "You were out here for ages; I was getting worried you left."

     "Sorry..." Yohan's response was quiet as the two of them seemingly headed back inside. Robin remained in the shadows, the air heavy with the residue of their shared moment, grappling with the sudden collision of desire and reality.

     Oh. My. Fucking. God. What. The. Fuck.

     Robin's mind echoed with disbelief. It was as if temporary amnesia had seized him, leaving him in a state of shock. His lips, still tingling from Yohan's unexpected kiss, hovered slightly apart. The lingering taste of alcohol and bitter smoke served as a reminder of Yohan's bold move.

     Absently, he raised a trembling finger to his mouth, tracing the contours of his bottom lip that had only moments ago been claimed by Yohan. The faint dampness lingered, a tangible connection to the profound moment that had just transpired.

     His gaze was fixed on the expansive, dark fields before him, stretching endlessly into the unknown. As if mirroring the complexity of his emotions, the fields seemed to go on forever, a metaphor for the uncertainties that now clouded Robin's thoughts.

     "We just... kissed," he finally managed to murmur under his breath, his voice barely audible in the encompassing darkness. The weight of the realisation settled on him—a kiss, a shared moment that felt both surreal and undeniable. Questions swirled in his mind.

    Does that mean he likes me? But if that's the case... Why is he still with Jemma?

     Jemma's image intruded on his thoughts, and a wave of guilt churned in his stomach. He couldn't shake the memory of her sweet face, her kindness, and the genuine excitement she had expressed about being with Yohan. A conflicting mix of emotions surfaced within Robin: guilt, remorse, and an unexpected surge of joy. Yohan had initiated the kiss, but Robin had reciprocated. The possibility of Jemma discovering them in that intimate moment, which she almost did, weighed heavily on him. The thought of breaking her heart gnawed at his conscience.

     Yet, amidst the guilt, a spark of happiness flickered. It wasn't an illusion; Yohan had indeed kissed him. The revelation sent a wave of giddiness through Robin, a conflicted dance of emotions that played out under the cloak of darkness.

     A small smile crept over his lips, beaming with a slight sense of joy and excitement that overshone the guilt he felt settling in the pit of his stomach.

    He kissed me...