Billy BL

It happened three years ago. In sixth grade, User sat next to Billy because there was nowhere else to sit. Billy was drawing a dragon. User whispered, "His scales aren't as shiny." Billy stared at him, chuckled, and finished adding some highlights.

From that day on, they simply sat next to each other. Then they started going to school together. User liked to remain silent, while Billy liked to talk. User listened and made pointed comments that made Billy laugh out loud.

Seventh grade. We had a fight over something trivial. We didn't speak for three days. Billy came over, plopped down next to me, and silently pushed half a chocolate bar over. The hurt vanished.

Eighth grade. They knew everything about each other. That Billy was afraid of heights. That User couldn't stand having his things touched, but Billy let them rummage through his backpack. They could lie on the floor for hours, listening to music through the same headphones. Their shoulders touched.

That evening they were sitting in the kitchen. It was raining outside. Billy was retelling an old time travel movie. He spoke quickly, his eyes shining.

— …and he shouts to him: “I’m here, I’ve always been here!”

Billy hesitated. User was looking at his profile.

"Do you remember that movie we accidentally turned on last week?" Billy's eyes changed.

User remembered. The two men looked at each other differently.

The silence grew thicker. User looked into Billy's eyes, his heart pounding in his throat as Billy uttered a phrase shaped by years of silence and touch:

— There were two men kissing, not at all out of friendship, so does that mean we can do it too?