Jake

> I just checked online and guess who got a B- on the test yesterday

Kyle

> Probably a lot of people

> Can't be me though, I got an A

Jake

> Haha, yeah yeah, we all know you're super smart

> Seriously though thank you SO MUCH for your help

> I couldn't have done it without you

Kyle

> I just helped you study. When it came down to the test, it was all you

> Congratulations :)

Jake

> Is this what it feels like to be smart?

Kyle

> If you're so smart, I guess you won't need me to tutor you anymore

Jake

> NO

> KYLE DON'T EVEN JOKE

> ONE B- ISN'T GOING TO RAISE MY GPA ALL THE WAY

> HELP ME OBI-WAN KYLENOBI, YOU'RE MY ONLY HOPE

Kyle

> I can't believe you just quoted Star Wars at me, but people think I'M the nerd

Jake

> Don't knock the classics, dude

Kyle

> I will attempt to refrain

Jake

> Seriously though, we should go out and celebrate

> Wanna grab a drink later? Like tonight?

Kyle

> I don't really... drink

Jake

> Ever?

Kyle

> Not really, no. Not in public, anyway. And I don't really do... bars. I don't know if that's a good idea

Jake

> Have you ever TRIED?

Kyle

> Well... no

Jake

> Come out and try it, just this once

> Just you and me

> No one will try to mess with you when I'm there

> Lets just go out and hang and relax, we both deserve it

> My treat

> Kyle?? Hello?

> You can't just ghost me, man, that's not cool

Kyle

> Fine

Jake

> Wait really?

Kyle

> Yeah, I guess. But just this once

Jake

> FUCK YEAH

> I'll pick you up around seven. We can grab food in the cafeteria before we go?

Kyle

> Okay

Jake

> See you then

Kyle

> Yeah, see you

* * *

Being with Jake in public feels strange.

He hadn't realized how incredibly vulnerable he would feel sitting with Jake at a table without the protective wall of his laptop to dive into whenever he felt uncomfortable or when he felt things he shouldn't. He hadn't realized how exposed he would feel without books and notebooks spread out over their table to clearly indicate that they're studying, not just hanging out. Without those things, and in a bar rather than a coffee shop, people might confuse them for being on a date.

And it's definitely not a date. Not at all. It can't and wouldn't be a date because for one, Jake isn't gay, and for two, he wouldn't be into someone like Kyle anyway. Not when he could have nearly anyone else.

It doesn't help that the night feels like it almost could be a date. Jake had picked him up, looking nice in jeans that fit snuggly to his legs and ass, along with a shirt that was tight across his shoulders and chest. Kyle had even spent far more time than usual trying to find something to wear, only to realize he doesn't really have nice clothes. They had gone out to eat, and while it hadn't been fancy or anything, it had felt cozy and intimate in ways Kyle hadn't expected.

And now they're at a bar together, in public, sitting at a table in the corner with a drink in front of each of them.

It feels surreal.

Kyle isn't even old enough to drink legally, but Jake had sat him down and went to buy them both drinks. Now he's sitting alone in a corner with the school's rising star of a baseball player on a Saturday night.

Kyle tucks his feet under his chair, leaning forward just slightly and hunching his shoulders, trying to blend into the background as much as he can. His fingers trail along the condensation clinging to the outside of his plastic cup. He requested a vodka cranberry because it's cheap and he's not a huge fan of beer.

Jake sits across from him and appears far more relaxed than Kyle could ever hope to be. He leans back in his chair, one arm draped across the back of the chair. His long legs stretch out by the table, crossed at the ankles, and his other hand lays lazily on the tabletop, fingers idly playing with his beer bottle.

His gaze idly sweeps across the room, and while he seems at ease, Kyle feels awkward in the silence, with the general din of conversation and clanking glasses around them. He clears his throat, eyes on his drink as he licks his lips before saying. "This was a smart place to come to."

He doesn't look up, but in his peripheral vision, he can see Jake turn to look at him. "Hmm? Why's that?"

Kyle shrugs with one shoulder, wrapping both hands around his cup as he glances around the room. "It's not really... a college bar." The bar itself is close enough to campus for them to walk, but by no means convenient. Because of that, its patrons aren't the usual college bar crowd. It's quieter, with less energy and more of a relaxed vibe. The music isn't too loud, and the patrons look older. They look like more grad students than typical undergrads. It's a crowd more willing to stick to their own individual groups than mingle. That, at least, he's grateful for. "People are less likely to recognize us here. You don't have to worry about people seeing you with me."

"That's— Kyle, that's not why I chose this place."

Kyle tilts his head up, just enough to look at Jake through his lashes. He looks genuinely confused, gazing at Kyle with a furrowed brow and lips pursed into a small frown. He turns square towards Kyle, pulling his legs up and putting both arms on the table to lean forward. Kyle sits a little straighter, heart beating a little faster. "It's... not?"

"No, dude. I just thought this would be more your speed. Like... quieter and stuff." A sheepish smile pulls up the edges of his lips. It makes Kyle's heart flutter and his skin tingle with heat. Jake glances away, scratching the back of his neck with one hand. "Plus I figured if it's quieter, then we can actually, you know, talk."

"We talk," Kyle argues, struggling to keep that wall in place around himself. He can feel it crumbling, brick by brick. He knows his protests are a desperate attempt to block out his feelings, because the fact that Jake can make them start to crumble with a simple smile and innocent declaration is terrifying.

Jake's smile quirks a little wider, eyes finding Kyle's once again. "I mean really talk. Not studying or whatever. We don't really know much about each other."

Kyle's eyes tilt down to settle on his drink. The condensation is cold on his fingertips, but his skin feels far too warm. "I don't see why we need to."

Jake reaches out then, hand coming down gently on Kyle's forearm. He jumps, startled, but doesn't pull away. His head snaps up, eyes widening as they meet Jake's. His smile is small and genuine and creates chaos in Kyle's chest. "Like it or not, man, we're friends now. And friends get to know each other."

The walls around him start to crumble, withering at a rate that he can't even hope to put them back up in time. He feels himself smile before he even realizes he's doing it, and he sighs, letting his body sag with the long exhale. "Okay."

Jake's smile is blinding and should be illegal. It makes it hard for Kyle to breathe. He pulls away, sitting up straighter and letting go of Kyle's arm. There's a knot of disappointment in his stomach, and his arm feels cold at the absence. But Jake remains sitting forward, elbows on the table, leaning forward eagerly. "So tell me about you. Where are you from? What's your family like?"

Kyle sighs, feeling the rest of his walls crumble to ash in the wake of Jake's earnest smile. He lifts his drink to his lips, drinking half of it in one go and making a twisted face as it pulls it away. Jake chuckles as Kyle coughs. He sets the cup down, takes in a deep breath, and talks.

He starts out stuttering and halting, uncertainty fringing his words, but he gains confidence as he peeks up at Jake, at his gentle, encouraging smile and the genuine interest in his eyes.

He tells Jake that his family is from one of the bigger cities in the state, about a two hour drive from their university. He tells him what his parents do. He tells him that they have two dogs, a Labrador and a boxer. He tells him that his dad always comes off as really reserved and quiet but has a whiplash humor if you're lucky enough to hear his mumbling. He tells him that his mom is incredibly nice, but her desperate need to coddle him can be overwhelming and overbearing.

He briefly covers high school and moving here for college but doesn't mention any friends. He hopes Jake doesn't pick up on it, hopes that argument won't be reignited, but instead Jake surprises him by touching on a topic that's far more taboo.

"What about brothers or sisters, got any?"

The question is so unexpected and comes with such genuine innocence and curiosity that Kyle finds himself answering honesty. Where he normally would close off, say no, or redirect the conversation, he finds himself saying, "I... had a brother."

It's quiet, hesitant, and Kyle's gaze remains fixed on the table between them. Judging from Jake's soft, "Oh," he understands the weight of Kyle's choice of words perfectly. "I'm so sorry, dude." He watches Jake's hand reach across the table once more, coming to rest on his wrist. Goosebumps rise on his skin when Jake's thumb slowly rubs against his knuckles. "You don't have to talk about it."

Kyle's lips twitch into a small, sardonic smile, edged with bitterness as he chuckles. "I understand. It's heavy stuff. No one wants to hear about that." He doesn't move and feels rooted to the spot by Jake's hand, but he lets himself wonder what it would be like to reach for him. To place his hand over Jake's. To feel the ridges of his knuckles and the valleys of his fingers.

He wishes he was brave enough.

He's surprised when Jake's hand squeezes, fingers digging just slightly into his skin. "That's not what I meant." Jake's voice is hard enough to make Kyle look up, blinking in confusion at the angry and pinched scowl on Jake's face. For just a second, he wonders what he's done wrong, but then Jake continues, and as he talks, his expression softens. "It's not that I don't want to hear it, man. It's that I don't want to force you to talk about it if you don't want to." Kyle isn't sure what expression he's wearing, too surprised and concentrated on how rapid his heartbeat is to notice much else, but whatever Jake sees makes his face soften more. His brows furrow in concern, and his voice drops lower with worry. "Have you talked about it with anyone?"

Kyle licks his lips, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat. The look in Jake's eyes is far too intense, far too genuine, and threatening to shatter the last of Kyle's defenses. He looks away, lowering his eyes to where his hand still rests on Kyle's wrist. "I... haven't really had the time. Besides, it's not like talking is going to fix anything."

"You should tell me about him." Kyle starts to pull away, breath shuddering in his lungs and Jake's touch too warm, burning his skin. But Jake's grip tightens, and Kyle too easily gives into it. He glances up, but Jake just smiles that lopsided smile. "You don't have to talk about what happened but tell me about him. What was he like?"

He doesn't want to. He hasn't talked about his brother in a long, long. He's forced himself not to talk about it. The wound of his loss is too much. But Jake is looking at him so earnestly, his hold firm but grounding, and he's just so goddamn patient— Kyle feels the last of his resistance melting away, leaving him tired and exhausted but ready to talk.

Besides, talking about his brother is the easy part. The accident is the hard part. He can do this. If it's with Jake, he can do this.

Using his free hand, he lifts his cup to his lips, downing the rest of his drink and shuddering as the vodka bites too strongly. Jake's hand squeezes gently, and Kyle's breath hitches into a small hiccup as Jake's hand slides down from his wrist, easily laying overtop his, thumb brushing the back of his hand and fingers messily and lazily laying over the slots between Kyle's fingers.

He ignores it as best he can while still committing the feeling to memory. And with a burn in his throat, warmth in his belly, and a prickling heat rising up the back of his neck, he talks.

And talks.

And talks.

He talks about how his brother was always smart, got top grades, and was far better than Kyle could ever hope to be. He was more sociable, kinder, and incredibly charismatic. He had so many friends and so many connections. He was terrible at sports but wasn't afraid to make a fool of himself to have fun. He was older than Kyle, and everything Kyle aspired to be. He was Kyle's only real friend.

He was the only one Kyle ever told about liking guys before Jake. He was the only one he told about his dreams and ideas for a new MMORPG, bouncing ideas between them until the dream became both of theirs. He was the only one who ever encouraged Kyle to chase that dream, and the only one who believed he could. He was the only one who ever really saw Kyle for how he was, never tried to change him, but always encouraged him.

He talks on and on, flood gates opening and the dam bursting forth. He rambles, and he knows he's rambling, but he can't stop it. He starts a story and barely finishes before he's off on a tangent. Before he's distracted by stories of things his brother has said or done or things they used to do. In the back of his mind he screams, telling himself to stop before Jake gets bored.

But Jake never gets bored. He listens. He actually listens. He listens and laughs and asks questions. The whole time his eyes never leave Kyle, never look bored or annoyed.

His hand never leaves Kyle's either, and as he rambles, he starts to idly pick at and play with Jake's fingers. He traces his knuckles and the shape of his hand, and his heart beats a little harder and a little faster when Jake doesn't pull away. When Jake lazily turns his hand over for Kyle to trace the lines of his palm, Kyle's breath momentarily shudders, words falling over each other before he pushes on in an attempt to distract from the physical intimacy.

Jake only interrupts Kyle to buy them more drinks, and every time they finish a round, Jake is up to buy more.

They stay out until it's late and Kyle has lost count of his drinks. Until the room spins and his words stumble much easily if not more lazily. He doesn't know how long he talks about his brother, but eventually the conversation switches elsewhere. To Jake's life. To his family. To his best friend Liddy, who he says would like Kyle a lot. The conversation moves and morphs and flows so easily from one topic to the next, and Kyle can barely keep up, but it's incredible.

He hasn't talked with anyone this easily and long since his brother was around.

It's past midnight by the time they leave the bar, and the cool night air is a balm on his heated skin. He stands on the sidewalk, eyes closed, breathing in the crisp air. He sways but thinks little of it. He feels lighter than he has in months.

Then Jake is pulling him into a hug. One moment he's standing there, trying to stay upright, and the next he's in Jake's arms. His body is warm and incredibly firm. Kyle melts into him. Jake's arms are strong around him, tight as they pull Kyle flush against his body. Kyle can feel it all. The firm and fit body beneath the softness of his shirt. He buries his face in Jake's chest, breathes in the scent of his cologne and sweat, and exhales with a sigh.

It's then that he catches himself— he can't do this. No, Jake isn't his. Jake can't be his. He can enjoy Jake's company, but this is... he has to be crossing some sort of line.

Kyle is the first to pull away, ignoring the way Jake's arms linger. He looks up, smiling sheepishly as the world around him spins. "I guess I'll see you later?"

Jake smiles, arms dropping back to his sides, hands shoving deep in his pockets. "Yeah, I'll text you?"

Kyle can feel his smile ache in his cheeks, unable to be restrained in his drunken state. "Okay." He takes a few steps back, grin dimming as he glances away. "And... thanks. For everything. For... being a friend."

He turns quickly, intent on fleeing from Jake, his gentleness, his smell, his arms, and Kyle's own complicated emotions. But as he turns, the world keeps on spinning. His focus blurs, and his balance wavers. He must've drank more than he thought.

He stumbles, and he hears a car horn blare as a hand comes down on his arm, pulling him back. He stumbles backwards, landing against a firm chest. A warm, solid arm wraps around his waist, and he prays that Jake can't feel his heartbeat.

Jake chuckles, the sound low and breathless in Kyle's ear, rumbling deep in his chest. "Let's get you home, buddy."

Kyle doesn't protest as Jake leads him down the sidewalk, arm kept around his waist for balance. And Jake says nothing as Kyle leans into him, letting himself enjoy this, if only for tonight.