The echoes of a party rang from outside the door to the empty apartment. The noise was faint, but the slight pounding of rhythm in the floor suggested that, a few floors below, the music was being played quite loudly. The only other noises that could be heard from inside the door, other than the distant murmurs of human noises, were those of two pairs of feet bounding up a staircase.

The footsteps grew louder and closer, until finally, they stopped, and were replaced by the jingle of keys in the front door. A few moments later, the door swung open and two boys of about fifteen stumbled into the room, attached by the hand.

The boys were quite different in appearance. One, tall and lean, but covered in muscle, was the very picture of athleticism. His features were defined, as if cut in stone, and his biceps were the Classical male ideal. His nose was a bit too large for his face, but barely noticeably so, and a rather unfortunate mop of black hair was rumpled about his head. The other boy was taller, but larger. He didn't have much fat on him, but he was proportionately wider, with less muscle lining his bones. His face was softer, and rounder, and his brown hair was straight and prone to hat hair. His hands were rough and large, and he had a sort of gentleness about him, much tamer looking than the other boy.

The second boy reached back to the door, reluctantly letting go of the hand of the other, and removed the keys from the lock. The first boy spoke up, in a cracked voice. "Hey Paul, your parents aren't home, are they?"

"No," said Paul. His voice was sweet, melodious. "They're going to some soccer tournament with my brother. I said I had too much work, and since I can cook and take care of myself, I'm alone for two nights."

"Cool," said the first boy, running his thin hands through his hair awkwardly. The two, having entered so comfortable with each other, now seemed not to know what to do.

"It's so funny that you know my neighbors," said Paul. "I was worried I wouldn't know anyone at the party, and then I look across the room, and hey, there's Dylan."

"Yeah…" said Dylan. "It's funny how that happens. New York, with all of the eight million or whatever people…I mean, you'd think that coincidences like that wouldn't happen, but it's really a pretty small world."

Paul nodded. They both stood there in silence for a while, shifting feet and fiddling with various things. Paul adjusted his shirt. Dylan ran his hand through his hair again.

"Liz is going to kill us, if she ever finds out," said Dylan finally breaking the silence.

"Naw, she wouldn't," said Paul, with a slight tone of doubt in his voice. "I mean, she likes you and all, but…well, this sounds kind of awful, but she's had a hell of a lot of romantic tragedy in her life, and she's dealt with it okay, I think. So her crush and her best guy friend hooking up won't matter that much." He laughed sarcastically. "Though, no offense, you haven't really been making it easier on her, hitting on her all the time."

"I oughtta stop doing that, shouldn't I?" Dylan let out a short, uneasy laugh. "Girls just don't get it…if I hit on them, that doesn't mean I always like them. I hit on teachers, for God's sake. Guys are so much easier, clean cut…I mean, not that I've ever…have you?"

"Once before," said Paul, "but that was different, I mean, I didn't really like him that much, he was just someone to hook up with, you know? But I think now's a good time to try it for real."

The room was silent again, but a different kind of quiet. The tension was practically tangible as the two looked at each other, moving slowly towards the other with anticipatory steps, until finally, the two met at the center of the living room. They tilted heads slightly to the right, and with one swift motion, wrapped their arms around each other and touched lips in a kiss.

The kiss was chaste at first, just lip against lip, until the two simultaneously opened their mouths and, with hesitance, gradually inched their tongue into the other's mouth.

The two had both had their fair share of making out, and sometimes more than that, but those experiences had, with the exception of Paul's singular experience, been exclusively with girls. With guys, it was similar, but yet different; the tongue moved in the same way, and the basics of it were quite similar, but the feeling, the surroundings, were entirely different. This was strange, new, exciting, and both wondered silently why they had not thought to do so before.

They closed their mouths, and opened them again, settling into the basic rhythm of making out. Paul's hands were rough and male on Dylan's cheeks, and he felt the brush of unshaved teenage stubble as his hands reached up to Dylan's hairline. Dylan's hands were sprawled across Paul's undefined waist, and they deepened the kiss, pulling each other closer. Paul pulled away.

"I don't mean to seem too forward," said Paul breathlessly. "But would you rather continue this in my bedroom? Only, the center of the floor isn't exactly the best place to make out."

"Yeah," said Dylan, and the two joined hands again, running down the hall to Paul's bedroom. They passed through the threshold, and this time, there was no hesitation; they were glued together once more as they fell onto Paul's bed. They lay this way, half on the bed, half off, as their tongues pulled in and out and their hands ran frantically up the other's bossomless chest.

This time, it was Dylan who broke the kiss. He was on the bottom, and his legs and back were bent into a position normally occupied by a contortionist. "We should probably get into a bit more comfortable position," he suggested.

Paul replied worldlessly, picking himself off Dylan as the latter adjusted himself on the bed, and then climbed on, lying on top of Dylan with his legs outside of the other boy's, propping himself up on his elbows. He moved in this time for Dylan's neck, attacking it with a vengeance, and then moving up to his earlobes, licking and sucking on them as Dylan shuddered underneath him. They met at the mouth again, moving more quickly this time than before as all care was abandoned and lips were bitten, and teeth clacked. They were feeling up and down more, hands down the chest, in back to the ass, and finally back around to the front, brushing tantalizingly over the fronts of each others jeans. As time went on, the hands returned here more often, until Dylan pushed Paul away breathlessly, and asked a question through swollen lips and tongue. "Do you wanna…?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so. That is…yeah, I do."

"You got a rubber?"

"Hope so." Paul rolled off Dylan to the edge of the bed, reaching under and rummaging until he came up with a cardboard box. Tearing one square package off the row of many, he set the condom aside on his bedroom table as he started to unbuckle his belt.

"Liz is gonna kill us," said Dylan again, as he followed Paul's example.

"Probably," said Paul, "But I don't want to think about that right now."

Dylan woke up inexplicably early the next morning, just as the sun was rising. Paul's room had been torn asunder; there were clothes lying all over the floor, and the dropped, open box of condoms had spilled, leaving small wrapped packages askew all over the floor. The bedclothes were hanging off the ends of Paul's bed by the very edges. Paul himself, mouth open and drooling slightly, was about to fall off his small twin bed onto the floor. Dylan rolled over, shaking Paul awake.

"Wha…?" said Paul, lifting his torso back up to the bed and rubbing his eyes blearily.

"You were falling off," said Dylan. "I thought it only right to wake you up before you completely crashed to the floor. Wouldn't be much use to me if you were concussed, would you?"

"No, guess not." Paul laughed sleepily, leaning against Dylan's shoulder. They sat like that for a while in tired, content silence. "Did that really happen?" asked Paul, once a few minutes had passed.

"What?"

"You know. Last night."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it did," said Dylan, rubbing his sore ass unconsciously.

Paul laughed at Dylan's motions. "I never would've thought you were a bottom."

"It's not so bad. You should try it next time. Get better lube, though."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I'll go shopping after breakfast."

"Have fun with that."

The awkward morning-after silence hung heavy but content over the room. The two boys looked out the window at the faint rays of sunlight that were slowly shooting up over to the east.

"I really meant what I said the other day, Dylan, about wanting to get to know you better."

"Yeah, I'd like that too."

"I mean, this doesn't seem like a one time thing…I—I feel something a bit more than that, you know?"

"I feel you." A pause. "What…when was the first time that you knew?"

"Awhile, I think. Not my whole life…I felt pretty straight for most of my life, despite that everyone else seemed to know to the contrary. But about a year, I suppose."

"I—I've not known that long. It's probably only been three or four months, for me. I haven't told anyone yet, besides you and my parents."

"All my closest friends and family know, except for Liz. I haven't told her yet…because of you, really, but I will soon. It's not as if she doesn't suspect it."

"You're lucky, that everyone already thinks you're, you know, gay or bi or whatever. I've got the basketball team to contend with, and the baseball team…and those guys, well, they're not really as accepting as your crowd."

"So, if they don't like who you are, then they're not you're real friends, are they?"

"Yeah. Guess you're right."

They kissed, and Paul got up to make breakfast. By ten, Dylan was gone. Paul did the dishes, straightened out the living room, and returned to the mess that was his room. He put the condoms back in their box, shoved them under his bed, and picked up his clothes from last night, folding up what was clean, and putting what wasn't into his laundry hamper. He went back to his bed to make it, but decided to tear off the crusty sheets and replace them with clean ones. The sheets, too, went in the hamper. Once his bed was made and his floor cleared, Paul walked over to the window. It was a promising summer day, and Paul opened the window, sticking his head out and breathing in the warm air. He wasn't sure what was happening, but one thing was for sure…it was new, it was exciting, and Paul couldn't wait to see what happened next.