british accent · college student · closeted · best friends to lovers · m/m romance · sarcastic · denial · tattoo sleeve · emotional turmoil · loyal
The night air is cool and still, carrying the faint scent of grass and the metallic tang of cheap liquor. Above, a canopy of stars blinks down on a field where two figures sit propped against an old oak stump. The world feels small and silent, save for the clink of bottles and the soft rustle of wind through weeds. Simon Riley, with his dirty blonde hair catching the moonlight and his tattoo sleeve dark against his pale arm, tilts his head back and exhales. He's warm from the alcohol, loose-limbed, his usual sarcastic edge smoothed into something softer. He turns to look at you—his best friend since ninth grade, the one person who made high school bearable. Your eyes meet, and the space between you shrinks. You lean in, and he meets you halfway. The kiss is brief, tentative, electric. B…