I can't sleep. Not with my mind running circles around itself. I'm restless, hurling darts at the board above my bed. Each throw hits the mark, but it doesn't settle the noise in my head. The lamp in the corner casts long shadows across the room, making everything feel even bigger, emptier. I should be tired—exhausted—but my body won't shut down. Not tonight.

Grayson's note keeps flashing in my mind. Franklin Park tomorrow morning. His words are a challenge. My hands grip the darts, my breaths come in short bursts. I know what he wants. I know what I want. But damn it, this could be a huge mistake.

If I go to that park... if I meet him, anything could happen. Once we're alone, once we're face-to-face without anyone else around, what's stopping us? My gut twists just thinking about it. What if we... what if it goes further than just kissing?

The thought sends my heart racing, my palms sweat.

Grayson and I... together. It could happen. It could really happen, and I can't decide if that excites me or terrifies me.

I step out onto the porch, needing the cold night air to clear my head. The porch is massive, stretching out wide—big enough to swallow me whole. I sit down on the top step, staring at the street beyond. It's dead quiet, not a single soul in sight, just me and this empty road. I try to concentrate on the calm of the night, but all I can think about is tomorrow.

Going to the park will unlock more of me. I know one step will mean there's no going back.

But then, what if I don't go? What if I stay here, in this box—this life where I'm the straight guy with the perfect girlfriend? Staying home would jail me as heterosexual for eternity. It'll be safe....but suffocating.

I rub my hands over my face, trying to push the thoughts away, but they won't stop. The two versions of myself battle—the one everyone expects me to be and the one I'm terrified to become.

I've already kissed him. I've already crossed that line. What's stopping me from crossing another one?

I sigh, staring out at the dark street, weighing each outcome. I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. The morning's coming, whether I'm ready for it or not. I just have to figure out which side of myself I'm going to listen to—the part that wants to follow the heart or the part that's stuck on a string. The puppet may win.

A wave of pity crash over me. The thought of leaving Grayson standing alone at that park, waiting for me, gnaws at my conscience. I'd be abandoning him...just when he's found a companion. That's cold hearted....

I don't go back inside fearing I'll be heard. I got lucky not being caught sneaking out. I'm not sure how long I peer at the empty street. Hours pass, while I rewind all my inner turmoil on repeat. My mind can't perform obstacle courses as I want it too. Before I know it, dawn is rising. Without thinking too hard, I grab my bike from the side of the garage.

The cold air stings my face as I ride. My legs pump the pedals faster, my chest rumbles not just from the physical exertion but from the decision I've made. I'm going to Franklin Canyon Park.

I coast downhill, the gravel crunching beneath my tires. It's autumn; the park is dressed in all its fall glory. The air smells of damp leaves and earth, a crisp bite hanging in the breeze. The trees are painted in fiery reds, burnt oranges, and deep yellows. Their leaves fluttering down like confetti. There's a lake nearby, the still water reflecting the orange hue of the early morning sky.

It's peaceful, the kind of peaceful that makes you want to stay forever.

The path leading into the park is lined with leaves, crunching softly under my wheels. I slow down, taking in the scene around me. The tall oak trees tower above, their twisted branches reaching up like arms. Sunlight filters through the leaves, casting golden light on the trail. A few benches are scattered around, mostly empty this early in the morning. Except for us.

In a few minutes, I'll see Grayson. We'll be alone, with no restrictions or people to judge.

I peddle deeper into the park, my thoughts tangled, I see him. Grayson. He's striding toward me, pushing his own bike. His shoulders are relaxed, but there's strain in his steps, he's thinking just as hard about what's to come. He sees me too. We keep moving, both of us biking until we're close enough. The space between us is fierce, charged with everything we haven't said.

Somewhere in the middle of the path, our bikes act as a physical barrier. Grayson rests a hand on the seat of his bike, his indigo eyes never leaving mine. "Jace." The sound of my name from his mouth crippled my brain. My soul disintegrates. "The note," he continues, his voice a whisper, "I didn't mean to sound rude...."

"I know."

"It's just...it's not easy finding someone like me." He shifts his weight to the side nervously, "I guess I'm being selfish... I don't want to lose this."

"You won't, we're in this together."

"But you're with her...?" His depression seeps deep to his core. His words are an ache incarnated. A yearning I've usually heard from a girl...not a guy. His irises are so guarded. So raw...he's teetering on the edge, close to breaking.

I swallow hard, unable to look away from his pain. "Grayson..." I start, but I don't know what to say. The truth sits heavy in my throat, too complicated, too messy. "It's not that simple."

His lips tighten into a thin line. "I get it. You don't have to explain. I know it's not easy. But, Jace...I can't help what I feel. I didn't plan this. I didn't plan us. I die every time I see you with her, I'm being erased from the world. I don't know if I can keep going."

He's putting everything out, everything I'm afraid to admit...and to acknowledge. "I don't know what to do." My voice cracks, I sound powerless. "It's not just about Cindy. There's so many pieces. If I go down this way, I don't know if I can come back."

"Then don't." His voice is firm, but his hands tremble on his bike handles. "Don't try to come back. I'm sick of always thinking about what we'll lose. Aren't you tired of playing perfect??"

"Of course, I am...." I bite my lip, eyeing at the ground, trying to breathe through the confusion. "But I'll lose my family...and Cindy."

"What about what you want? Are you going to keep sacrificing everything just to make them happy??" I shake my head, the word no refuses to come out. "How long will we stay trapped? When can we choose? The fact that we're both here...that we got this far...says something."

"Yeah...it says that we're about to burn everything," I retort, the weight of it all crushing me.

"No...it says that we've found a way." His hand tightens on the bike seat, knuckles white. "I'm not saying you should drop your girlfriend. But you can't keep living a lie."

"I know," I give a shaky mutter. "But...if I do...what am I left with? What will I have?"

"You'll have me. We don't have to know what happens next. That's out of our hands." He steps closer, his gaze intense. Gray pivots his neck to capture my lips. A slow kiss.

The warmth of the day cocoons me, a lovely reminder of this new beginning. I'm weightless as a bird, floating on a cloud. The brush of his lips taunt me. It's dizzying, so much that I nearly forget about Cindy.

I shake my head, deciding to visit a flower shop. I've got to make things right, I at least need to balance out this situation. I can't give Gray more than I give my girlfriend. I step inside, browsing vibrant bouquets. She loves pink roses. I get why. They're sweet and delicate. I grab the bouquet and pay.

I arrive at Cindy's house with the roses in hand. I send her a text: I'm outside. I hear her feet plattering fast down the steps. I hold out the flowers so they're the first thing she sees. "Jace! They're beautiful!" She tiptoes to kiss me.

"I'm sorry for being distant," I say, handing her the bouquet. "I've had a lot on my mind."

She smells the roses, her eyes twinkling. "It's okay...let's forget it. We can watch a movie."

"Sure." We settle on her couch, she grab the remote to flip through the channels. "How about tristan and isolde." She snuggles me. 

"It fits the mood." I wrap my arms around her waist.

I can't help but get lost in the story. Tristan, the warrior, falls for Isolde after she saves his life, but they're from opposing worlds. They can't be together, yet fate binds them.

The two drink a love potion, sealing their bond. This strikes a punch to my gut. It's a perfect metaphor. That potion—is the duties society assigns. What of Cindy is my only option?? But then again, Isolde was promised to another man. Maybe I'm in her place. I'm the one breaking the trust with broken passion.

After the movie, I head home, my mind still a blur. I have lessons. I sit at the piano, my fingers hovering over the keys as Mr. Scott, monitors me with an encouraging smile. "Tonight we'll learn to read sheet music." Mr. Scott opens the book. "Ode to Joy" by Beethoven. He taps his pencil on the page. "This one's great for reading and playing simultaneously."

I glance a bit of nervousness. The notes look foreign.

"Let's start with the treble clef," he says, pointing to the top staff. "Remember, the notes on the lines are E, G, B, D, F—'Every Good Boy Does Fine.' And the spaces are F, A, C, E—spelling out 'FACE. "Position your thumb on Middle C, and your second finger will be on E. Try it."

I place my hands on the keys, the feel of the smooth ivory. I press the E, it rings out clear and bright. I begin to follow the notes slowly—E, E, F, G—carefully pressing each key in time with his counting.

"One, two, three, four."

By the end of the lesson, I've managed to play through a rough version of the song. It's not perfect, but it's progress.

"See? You've got it!" Mr. Scott beams. "Just keep practicing."

Afterwards, I head over to the backyard. Sam is setting up the patio for a trick shots session. He lines red cups along the pavement.

"Ready to get schooled?" Sam teases, picking up a golf ball.

"In your dreams," I retort roughly, grabbing a ball to compete. We step back 30 feet. I focus on a cup. I can't miss or knock it over. I flick the ball ahead. It glides fast, knocking the first cup down. "Shit!"

Tom lands his ball into a cup without wobbling it. Not even an inch. "You're up Sam."

We take turns in the night. Even though I'm losing and being tease, I don't mind. Sometimes it's about bonding not the score. 

"Remember last summer?" I ask, reminiscing.

"Yeah, I broke Dad's coffee cup," Sam laugh, recalling the mishap. "We got better."

"Ehh...I was always good," Tom fables.

"You dented mom's car." I call him out.

"That...didn't count." He sniggers.

"Yes it did, don't try to erase it to look cool." I bicker.

Tom goes silent, admitting his defeat. Sam and I troll him by laughing. Our big brother's shrugs. "Okay we all got better...but I'm top dog."

Sam makes him eat his words by hitting three balls in a row. "What was that? I couldn't hear you over the applause."

"Well...I have you beat in boxing."

"Cus you cheat by going for the nuts."

"That's a dick move, bro." I second.

"Okay..." Tom drops the ball and spread out his arms. "2 against 1. You'll still lose."

Sam moves first, jabbing Tom's shoulder with quick fists. "Getting slow, old man?"

Tom yawns loudly. "Slow, so slow!" I step in with a quick fake and catch Tom with a hook to the ribs. He grunts, surprised. "Alright, now it's on." Tom throws a combo—left hook, right cross—my way. I stumble back, laughing.

Sam rushes him from behind, locking his arms around Tom's neck. Tom growls, trying to shake him off, but Sam holds him in a tight headlock.

"That's illegal!" He argues, huffing loud.

"So is kicking our balls." Sam pulls Tom's arms up to expose his stomach. So I can lay blows there. We tag team our big bro, loving his downfall.