Closer to T+ rather than T, and some foul language and intense make out scene at the end. Mild homophobic remarks, but only as it pertains to the plot and characters before the end. The opinions expressed aren't mine, but the copyright is! :D


There will always be those moments in life; the ones you can't look beyond. It doesn't matter how many people tell you that it's going to be alright, that even if it goes badly you'll still move on, because you're stuck. Stuck in the instances, the seconds before it occurs. You're trapped in the here and now, and you can't even begin to comprehend a minute past that.

Jake is five hours away from one of those life changing moments.

So, with five hours to go, he sits in his fourth period class and grips the fabric of his jeans so tightly that his hands make fists. They're slimy with sweat, and he feels as though the room is shrinking by the second and is far too warm. He doesn't take his gaze off of his desk, and nervously taps one of his feet against the linoleum floor. One row behind him and two seats to his right, his friend Sam unfolds the note Jake had subtly slipped to him on their way in.

He glances up at Jake, who looks five minutes away from a nervous breakdown. His normally soft brown hair, which typically sticks up at awkward angles, has been flattened against his head. Sam frowns. He loves those unruly chunks, and how they can seemingly defy gravity. He teases Jake about it, having to reach up several feet to pat them down. He'll stand on his tip toes and lean in close to Jake's face—often until their noses pressed together—then run his fingers through it until the hair fell straight again. Never in public, obviously—people would think they were, y'know, queer for each other. Which they weren't.

Sam didn't role like that, and neither did Jake. In fact, they hated 'gays' with every fibre of their being. Sometimes loudly, and in public, they'd announce it, other times it would just be an offhand comment between the two of them as Jake bent down to tie Sam's shoes or when Sam whispered in Jake's ear.

The note reads,

We have to talk.

Now Sam is nervous, and he has no clue why. Maybe it's because Jake's freaking out; like some twin connection or ESP thing. The two of them have been best friends since they were ten and Sam decided that the best place to hide from their neighbour's scary dog was behind Jake. And, well, in his shirt, too. It didn't matter to him that Jake was a total stranger at the time, just some kid that had moved in up the street. It also didn't matter to him that it was Jake's dog he was hiding from.

Jake hadn't yelled or freaked out at him—just laughed. It was a nice, deep, rich laugh, even though Jake hadn't hit puberty yet. It had sent shivers up and down Sam's spine, and it got even worse as the two of them got older. Sam grew taller, he supposed, but Jake had become a male model overnight—his arms more tone, his chest broad and his feet three sizes larger than Sam's. But his personality stayed the same, and Sam found it reassuring to know that he could still tuck into Jake's chest when his parents screamed at each other or when a dog barked too loudly. Or that he was still allowed to slip one of his legs under Jake's during movies, and borrow his clothes without permission. And sleep in his arms.

Quickly, Sam scribbled back,

Why, what's wrong? I'm kinda busy afterschool, but I should be able to sneak out around midnight. Usual spot?

He chose that moment to ask Jake if he could borrow his pencil sharpener, and stuck the note in Jake's back pocket. Jake smiled weakly up at him—not his typical megawatt, shit-eating grin with dimples on his cheeks and bright white teeth, but more of a slight upward turning of his lips.

When Sam got the note back, it read:

Yeah, midnight sounds good. Is the usual spot quiet on Thursdays?

He wasted no time penning his response.

Yeah, I figure most of the couples only come on Friday nights. Remember the sound those two people made last time? God, we should have recorded that, except my phone's fucking busted. What's getting you down? Do you wanna go paint pink penises on some fag's locker?

Jake's half-ass smile flickered into his usual grin as he read the note, sending an elusive wink to Sam that sent his heart fluttering at rates that couldn't be normal. Sam took a shaky inhale before reading the note.

Yeah, that killed me. Could've sold it online as porn. Maybe someday that'll be us that'll be us with girlfriends?

Sam smirked.

Definitely, but probably you before me, you human tank. I don't even want to know the size of your junk, you freaking sex-god.

Jake laughed silently, hiding the paper in his textbook as the teacher walked by, but then writing his response so fast Sam could've sworn he saw spark's coming off of his friend's fingers.

Haha, try to deny it all you want, Sammy, but you've seen the works. You even asked to jack me off when we were drunk.

Sam visibly bristled as he read it, then pressing into the paper so hard in almost tore under the pressure.

You were gonna do it for me too, you freak, until your dad came home. Don't go there, we were just being drunk idiots.

Sam thought the underline was very effective, until he glanced at Jake's snappy remark.

As opposed to just regular idiots?

Sam smiled, and Jake felt that warm, gross feeling trickle through him again as the short blonde wrote his final note.

Well, I was hoping to be a bit of both tonight. See you at midnight, the usual spot. I'll bring beer.

Jake winced, and made a silent memo that vodka would be a hell of a lot more effective.


Broke the fic up into three short chapters instead of one long one, and will post all of it over the next couple of days. Thoughts so far? Not my best work but hey, I wrote it in one sitting.