Four days had passed since I had met the strange man. Four days, and I still didn't know what to do about anything. Still didn't know if I was brave enough for it all. Brave enough to admit everything, even to myself.

Some moments I thought I was, but then I'd stop the thoughts before they got anywhere. Though I was miserable without Errol, though I knew he was hurting, I desperately held on to the one thing which felt like it had always and without fail been a constant in my life. The identity I had shaped for myself about myself.

With everything else which had happened to me, that was something stable. If I questioned that, I had no idea what would happen to me, who I would become. Literally.

We had just had a feedback seminar. Kenna had asked if I wanted to go for a coffee to complain a bit about Dereck with her. I had agreed. It wasn't like I had anything better to do.

During the seminar, she had as always pointed out details she thought made it seem like my two characters were more than friends. Every time she did that, it annoyed me slightly. But today the annoyance had felt different. More like I had got annoyed with myself than annoyed with her.

We sat in a rustic café near the university. She was in the middle of saying something about Dereck when I interrupted her, "Why do you think my two characters are more than friends? They've never done anything friends wouldn't do."

She grew quiet, but it was a loud type of silence. One which felt loaded while she scrutinised me. I got the distinct feeling she was carefully choosing what to say, how to phrase what was on her mind.

"I've told you what details it is during the seminars," she pointed out.

"Aye, I know. But I don't get it. Like hand holding. I know not all friends do that, but some do. So why would that mean they are more than just friends?" I continued questioning her.

She nodded. "You're right. That alone isn't what makes it seem like there's more than friendship. It's more all those small moments combined. One or two wouldn't cause me to think anything. But five, ten, all the time, that's when it becomes something more."

"But me and..." I bit my tongue. I had been on my way to say that it was exactly like how me and Errol acted, but I realised what a stupid comparison that was. Errol didn't view me as just a friend. And I...

Kenna seemed to have understood what I had been about to say, however. "Yeah, I mean, I haven't seen you and Errol interact that much. But your characters' relationship is similar to how you two act around each other. It was quite obvious at the party, really. It was as if you both orbited around the other."

"But I'm not..." I swallowed, unable to finish the sentence. I had said it earlier to her. Thought it so many times. But I couldn't anymore. It didn't feel truthful anymore.

"Yeah, you said so during our first real conversation," Kenna went on, again seeming to understand what I had been about to say without me saying it. "After the party, I just assumed you, quite understandably, hadn't felt comfortable telling practically a stranger. But I'm guessing now you've been lying about it to yourself as well." She took a sip of her coffee. My mind was still trying to process what she had just said when she spoke again. "You and Errol are having some type of fight again, right? If the fight stems from the fact that you won't admit your own feelings to even yourself, then do yourself a favour and just do it. Whatever you think you're gaining by continuing to deny yourself is just an illusion."

She took up her cup again. Finished what was left. Then she said she was heading home and that we would see each other on Monday.

When she was gone, I finished my cup as well and went home. As I walked, I pushed the thoughts her words had caused down. Pushed them down by focusing on what I walked past. The bare trees. The people wrapped in scarves. The slow traffic. I pushed and pushed the thoughts away until I finally reached home.

It wasn't until I sat on my bed that I allowed myself to consider them. Until I was in the safety of my apartment with the door firmly locked.

And I was terrified.

But finally I knew what I was terrified of. I was terrified of what it would mean about me. About how big a change it would mean to me. Not just in the sense of how much my sense of self would change, my identity, and who I was. But also society's view of me. As I was now, I was safe according to society. It was the right way of being. The norm. Questioning that, admitting I maybe wasn't, it was the scariest thing I had ever done.

And the potential change it would cause between me and Errol scared me as well. Of course, our relationship couldn't exactly become any worse than it already was. But if I admitted it, the whole dynamic of our relationship would change. Not in a major way, since we would still be us. Another dimension would just be added. But that was enough for me to be scared. Especially because of what it could lead to, but how that maybe wouldn't end up working out. Yes, our friendship was destroyed beyond repair, and all of this could fix it. But that meant it could potentially be destroyed at some point in the future again. I would still be me, after all. I would still be a mess. And I still wouldn't understand why he felt what he did for me.

But as terrified as I was, I also felt done with running. I was done with putting up a wall of obliviousness in an attempt to keep myself safe. Done keeping him out.

So I jumped, let go of everything holding me back, and allowed myself to think about Errol in a way I hadn't ever done before.

I started with just thinking about how he made me feel. Completely calm and content. Safe from everything. Nothing bad could ever happen to me when he was around. Not because he would shield and protect me from everything, but because his mere presence, his existence in my life, meant everything was okay.

He only needed to look at me with his gentle eyes to remind me of that. Those gentle brown eyes. They always held such warmth, so much love. They made me feel seen like nothing else could.

And a bit below them were his lips. Those soft and perfect looking lips, which I had wanted to kiss when in a drunken stupor. Which I had wanted to kiss many times after only I hadn't allowed myself to think it.

My eyes were closed, and I was taking deep and calm breaths. I knew I was right at the edge, one more step in the direction I was going, and there wouldn't be any turning back.

One more calming breath and I took the step.

I let myself wonder what his lips would feel like. How it would be kissing him. Would it be fiery and filled with passion? Or more gentle like the way he looked at me? Maybe a bit of both. Gentle in some moments, passionate in others.

Right now, I wanted him to be there with me and kiss me with passion. Wanted him on top of me, kissing me like his life depended on it because it felt like mine did.

I imagined I was back in his bed. We had our arms around each other. My hand under his clothes like it had been that night. But in my mind, as he asked if I knew what I was doing, I didn't pull away. Instead, I answered him that I did, followed by kissing him.

And not just kiss him. I wanted to go back to that moment, to that night, and do so much more with him. Peel off layer after layer from both of us until we were bare in front of each other in every possible way.

I unzipped my pants as my fantasies continued. I thought about how I wanted his hands to touch me everywhere and how I wanted to touch him in the same way. Wanted to explore his body, and not just with my hands but with my lips, with my everything. I wanted to feel, memorise every part of him, every curve of his body. Enough so I could write an epic poem filled with descriptions of him.

I wanted us to take each other, claim the other as our own. Make some form of statement to the world that we belonged together. Always had and always would. That we would never be apart, that I would never lose him. That I didn't need to be afraid of anything anymore because I was his and he was mine.

And I wanted us to explore the term pleasure together. Bring it to one another and find new heights together. Soar into the heavens side by side.

My mind was filled with everything I wanted us to do together, fantasy after fantasy of how it could be. Wild and passionate. Sweet and romantic. And always all-consuming.

My breaths were coming out with a mix of gasps and moans. And my heart beat erratic. My hand, which wasn't busy, held the sheets on my bed in an iron grip. The only thing stopping me from floating away and disappearing in the sky.

And Ididn't disappear in them, didn't crash. I was flying through the sky. Free for the first time in my life. I felt light and strong with nothing holding me back, nothing trying to pull me into darkness. Instead, I flew higher than I ever had before. High enough to touch the sun.

When I found my release, my mind went blank. For a while I lay on my bed, unable to think a single coherent thought until one finally surfaced.

I had just had the best orgasm of my life.

The thought made me smile, made me even laugh with how freeing it all felt. As if I had been keeping myself shackled in a prison, starving for everything, and had finally managed to rip myself loose and climb to the surface.

And in the aftermath of it all, the way I viewed Errol blossomed into something new.

He was still what he had always been. My best friend, my protector. Someone strong who would always be there for me, always fight on my side and for me. Like Achilles had always protected Patroclus. But just like their relationship had more layers, so had mine and Errol's. It really was so much more than a friendship. It went bone deep, soul binding. And though parts of my mind whispered I was unworthy of it, of him, I felt ready to claim it all. Because it was a relationship not even time could destroy because it was pure love.

I opened my eyes to my ceiling. Still smiling, I spoke. "I love ye, Errol Aitken. An' not just as a friend. I'm in love with ye. An' I think I always have been. I've just been an oblivious fool."