8.
Owen and Conan each had a plastic cup full of game tokens. The arcade was bright with neon lights and dazzling designs decorating the interior. Low music was playing in the background with the aroma of pizza lingering in the air since there was a restaurant attached to the side. Not many people were there as it was a weekday and kids were in school.

At least they were supposed to be.

"What game do you wanna play first?" Owen asked him with an excited look on his chiseled features. It was funny how such an intimidating-looking guy had the personality of a dog.

"I don't know. You pick." Conan shrugged. He had never really been to an arcade before. Even when he was younger he had never been fond of socializing, preferring spending his time indoors instead.

Owen's eyes darted over to the game where you shoot basketballs into the hoop and Conan inwardly cringed. Of course he would pick that first.

"We should shoot hoops," he suggested eagerly.

"Alright," Conan complied, timid. He didn't have the heart to say no. He'd just have to soldier through the embarrassment.

They weaseled through the crowded games until they got to the basketball machine. Owen took two coins out of his cup and slotted them inside, one for himself and one for Conan.

Conan watched in disbelief as Owen hit the start button, immediately tossing a ball through the hoop. Then he repeated the action and got every single shot in without fail.

He nervously picked up his own ball and aimed for the net. It bounced off of the rim, almost whacking him in the face, but Owen reached out and caught it just in time with a loud laugh.

"Have you ever played this before?" Owen ignored his machine as he held Conan's basketball, enjoying the shy blush on the smaller boy's cheeks.

"I don't think I've even played actual basketball before," he admitted sheepishly and fumbled with the bottom of his hoodie.

"It's not too hard." He threw the ball up in the air and caught it as he spoke. "You just need to have the right stance, flex your knees a little, hold it like this, pick your target, and voilà!" It went straight through the basket.

Owen handed him a ball from the bottom of the machine. "Now you try."

Conan took it with shaky hands, already knowing there was no way he was going to make the shot.

"Part your legs a little more," he instructed and slid his hand over Conan's that was holding the ball. "No, you have to hold it like this. Good."

Conan felt lightheaded from their close proximity, struggling to breathe properly as Owen positioned his body correctly. "Try now."

He aimed for the basket and the ball almost made it in, circling around the rim before rolling off to the side.

"Maybe we should play something else," he requested hopefully. He was so embarrassed to not be able to do a simple 'guy thing' like shoot a damn basketball.

"It just takes a little practice," Owen persisted. He could sense the boy's embarrassment and wanted him to at least shoot one basket before moving on to something different. "Just follow my lead."

Owen stood behind him and adjusted the way Conan was holding the ball before using his foot to part Conan's legs slightly. He straightened his posture, telling him to bend slightly and encouraged him to try again.

In Owen's mind, he was telling himself that he was a bro helping out another bro. That he was just helping the boy learn to shoot a basketball and how touching him was completely casual. He still didn't quite comprehend the ulterior motives of his subconscious.

Conan, on the other hand, was more in tune with his emotions and was in a frenzy as Owen's touch sizzled against his skin. It was a foreign feeling but he couldn't get enough of it.

He went for the shot again, focused on Owen's body heat pressing against his back. The ball didn't even make it close to the hoop. It bounced off the edge of the machine, whamming into Owen's face who was equally as distracted and not paying any attention to anything other than the boy in front of him.

"Fuck," Owen swore and stumbled back from the impact, clutching his forehead it had smacked off of.

The spot the ball hit was aching but the pain was soon forgotten when Conan's sweet laughter filled his ears.

The sound was contagious and he found himself imitating it, reveling in the joyous look on Conan's face. His cheeks were slightly tinted pink and it complemented his creamy skin. His teeth were on display as well, pearly white and perfectly aligned. Soon his own laughter has subsided and he was left staring at Conan like a creep.

"Sorry," Conan gulped when the air suddenly grew thick with tension, thinking he had upset the taller boy.

"No worries," he said in a raspy voice. His eyes never left Conan's face as he took note of all his features, memorizing the slight curve of his nose and light layer of faint freckles covering his cheeks.

"Sports aren't really my thing," he muttered lamely, not knowing what to say when Owen was staring at him like that.

"Really?" Owen hummed with a grin, "I didn't notice."

"I, um..." he was at a loss for words. He couldn't think when Owen was staring at him so intently. "What are you doing?"

It was like he had tunnel vision with the way he could only focus on Conan's plump lips. They were a shade of pale pink and looked so soft, inviting even. His mouth was craving for a taste and he wanted nothing more than to press his lips against Conan's in that moment.

"O-Owen?" He gulped, slowly realizing what the boy was thinking.

The basketball machine rang loudly, signaling that the time was up even though the game was the last thing on either of their minds. The sound jolted Owen out of his trance as he jumped back with a yelp.

Conan would've laughed if Owen didn't look so serious. It was a weird emotion on his face and he didn't like it.

"What?" Owen blinked, dazed as he tried processing the fact that he was just staring at another guy's lips.

"Um," Conan searched for something to say. "Did the ball hurt? They probably have ice in the restaurant if you want some."

He shook his head. "It's fine. It doesn't hurt."

He wasn't sure if it actually did hurt or not. He was now hyper-focused on every movement Conan made. The boy was talking again but Owen's brain was in another realm by that point.

He almost just kissed a boy.

He wanted to kiss a boy.

It wasn't anything against gay people, he just wasn't one of them. He liked girls and he always had. Why would it suddenly be different now? And even if he was gay, it wouldn't matter. His parents would disown him. They hated him enough as it was and that would be the last straw for them.

"I've gotta go," he rushed out suddenly, his chest feeling too tight. He couldn't breathe.

"Are you alright?" Conan frowned, reaching out for Owen's wrist when he turned around, but the boy didn't even falter. He sped out of the building as fast as humanly possible.

Conan was left standing in the middle of the arcade, alone with two cups full of unused tokens as he watched his friend disappear.

All the happiness he had been feeling was like it left with Owen's presence. He deflated like a balloon, wanting to cry as he had no idea what he had done wrong. He thought they were having fun together. At least he was. Did that mean Owen wasn't?

A little kid with his father was playing a shooting game inside one of the game machines, laughing loudly inside. Conan left the two cups full of tokens next to them and slipped away before either could notice. At least someone deserved to have a fun day.

Owen sprinted out of the arcade with a racing heart, muttering profanities to himself. He felt like a dick leaving Conan by himself. Especially when it was his own idea and he was the one who got the boy to skip school with him in the first place.

"What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck," he repeated to himself once he was within the safety of his car. He slammed his head against the wheel with a groan, hating himself. "What the fuck did I just do?"