awkward · closeted gay · internalized homophobia · fall out boy · 2003 setting · chicago · low self-esteem · dorky humor · virgin · denial
The bridge was washed in a dawn of liquid gold, long shadows stretching as pink clouds hung like spun sugar. The morning's bite was gone, burned away by the warmth of your body pressed against mine. We hadn't slept, and the silence between us had grown dense and intimate. My hand trembled where it lay, and then your fingers brushed against it. I turned, my eyes wide with a confusion that felt like fear. The air was thick, sweet, unbearable. You leaned in, closing the distance. My breath caught. The moment stretched, fragile and inevitable, until my voice broke it, cracked and raw.