chapter thirty - basketball court

*double-update* please read this chapter before the epilogue

chapter thirty— basketball court

I FELT OFF. The whole week had been weird, really, a mostly-sickly blur of colorful hats and crocodile grins. I could still feel the weight of Coach's hand on my shoulder. My eyes were still blinking back the flash of the daily newspaper. And my ears were still ringing. UCLA. I'd finally done it. I'd finally been signed to a school that was competitive enough to see my dreams through.

Well, it would give me a stage. I'd still have to perform, and I was doing my best to make sure I didn't let it all slip through my fingers and end up sitting behind a desk, hating myself.

I'd grown over the past year. More ways than one.

Coach had kindly let me round my height up, and my time in the gym had paid off too— I looked fucking good. I looked proper, like a good, proper, basketball recruit, though the rest of the kids who'd been picked up by UCLA were well past six foot, almost touching seven. The NBA didn't look for draft picks like me: short, but the game was changing and the intensity in the paint was slowly migrating to the points you could get outside the three-point line and the way you thought about the game. I had a lot to prove.

I was ready for all of it. I was set. I was going to go, go to California and push my way to the top. God, I hope so. I was gonna make it.

I'd never been particularly religious but I left a little liquor by the picture of Mother Mary in the living room the night before discussions. Mum had kinda sighed when she saw it but left it be because the holidays had been pretty draining and Mother Mary looked like she needed a pick-me-up.

"You look awful."

"Thanks," I rubbed at my nose, frowning at the feeling of a zit pressing up through the skin. It hurt a little so I pushed on it again like I could flush it out of my system.

"S'more?"

"Thanks."

The girl with the weird bangs, the one from Michael's club who sported a twin zit on her forehead, accepted my peace offering. She slapped the marshmallow on a slab of chocolate and sandwiched it between two graham crackers. Marco always burned his marshmallows to shit, grinning wide with charcoal-stained teeth, but Lukas had taught me how to roast them perfectly, slowly rotating them just over the flame.

'Cause I like you, you idiot.

My shins were maybe on fire. Campfire smoke smelled nice, smelled familiar, but the faint sizzle of my leg hairs made me scoot back. The log I was on rolled a bit, and the girl next to me scowled, readjusting. There was a bit of melted marshmallow stuck to her leggings, right next to a hole in the knee. I waited for her to notice it, but she just tucked a chunk of her fringe behind her ear and fiddled with the little stick she'd been using to poke at the logs.

"Here," I turned my own marshmallow towards her. It was the perfect color, golden brown all over and puffed out in a way that would've made Lukas proud.

Her lips pressed together into a thin line and she took it with a little bob of her head. I'd given her five marshmallows so far, not really sure what else to do since she didn't seem big on conversation. I speared another one and hung it over the flame, rotating it all slow and not taking my eyes off it for a second. I didn't like marshmallows much and the way they stuck to my teeth felt weird, but s'mores were a Schmitt family tradition in the summer and so they'd become mine.

"How many are you going to make?"

"Uh," I blinked, focusing on my marshmallow, "How many do you want?

"None, actually." She blinked.

"But, um, thanks for making them."

I nodded, hair a little too long so it fell in my eyes. Mum had combed it back for the official pictures once I'd signed to my school, convinced that gel was making a comeback in fashion. It really wasn't and all it did was flex the promise of a receding hairline I'd probably inherited from my Dad. We'd laughed about it for an hour afterward and then tucked the picture behind the rest.

"I don't normally spill my heart out to strangers if that's what you're thinking."

"I wasn't thinking that." I shrugged, "Sorry, what were we talking about again?"

She flushed, pink, before ducking low.

"Nevermind, nothing."

"Hey, hey," I fumbled with my marshmallow and dropped it with a splat into the core of the fire, "Wait, we were talking about that chick right? The cheerleader with the freckle on her tit?"

"Oh my god." Her face blanched and she slapped a hand over my mouth. Her palm was sweaty and I shoved it off, looking at her weird as she grimaced in apology. She rubbed her hands against her leggings before breaking her stick in half and tossing it into the fire to join mine. My marshmallow looked like a lump of coal, a burning black tar at the base of the tinder.

"Don't say that out loud. That's confidential."

"But you told me?" I frowned, not getting the concept of her confidentiality.

"I'm drunk," She sighed, dropping forward to press the heels of her hand against her eye sockets. Her hoodie sagged and for a brief second I contemplated picking up some grass to hide in her hood, but I decided against it, then felt proud of my restraint.

"Well, I'm tipsy," She clarified with a not-sober nod, "You're gonna have to forget everything I said."

Everything?

I just hummed, feet kicking. I felt off. I felt jittery. Like I wanted to travel the world in one night. With all the stupid college meetings and signings, I hadn't been able to play basketball on the outside courts and now it was cold enough for my balls to shrivel unless I was sat right next to the fire or a warm body.

Since when has that stopped you before?

She didn't radiate the kind of superhuman warmth other teenage boys did, and I could picture the outline of my friends perched on the log next to me instead of her. I could picture Lukas clearly, but that had never been out of the ordinary. I could always see him in my periphery, like some kind of good luck charm.

"Hey," I tried again, jerking upright to my feet before I started using marshmallows to dunk on the girl's hood. Or before I started to let my thoughts spiral.

"That thing you were talking about, what was it?"

She looked at me blearily.

"You're a bicycle?"

"Bisexual," She annunciated like I was an idiot before her lips split apart to reveal a wide, gap-toothed grin.

"Not 'bicycle', Keke."

"Yeah," I murmured, feeling kinda like I'd found something, "That's the word."

"I'm gonna go now," I edged back, unsure if I could leave her be and if she'd be okay enough to just leave be.

"I'll get my friend to take care of me," She chuckled, waving me off, "I always know where to find her."

"Right," I nodded because I could understand that, "Your, um, friend?"

I grabbed my chest through my shirt and gave it a squeeze, looking at her pointedly.

"Freckles?"

"Go find Lukas, Kieran!"

And I was laughing, jogging backward as I left Paisley Robert's house on a December night no colder than one in May. I hadn't seen Lukas in weeks, though it'd felt like longer with all the skipped practices and classes— all for my goal. In the cold, I let myself wonder when I'd become that stupidly easy to read, but maybe hiding my thoughts had never been an option when it came down to Lukas.

'Cause I like you, you idiot.

"Idiot," I echoed, spotting the run-down community basketball court come into view around the corner.

But it wasn't Lukas standing there, shrouded in the thin radiating circle of the streetlight.

"Arrigo?" I called out, confused. The figure turned, their breath heavier than mine and lingering in the air.

"Henry?" I tried again. He was shivering, his game-day sweatshirt made of that cold, sweat-proof material that never warmed up quite right. His legs were bare, hairy as all hell, but bare, and I could see the goosebumps running the length of his calves.

"What are you doing here, Mogan?" He spat, tired, and the words flew at me sluggishly so I could dodge them with ease.

"Basketball court," I answered like he was dumb, getting closer until I could see the way all the color in Henry's skin pooled into deep circles under the sockets of his eyes.

"You're gonna freeze to death."

Henry turned away from me, walking the length of the court as I followed him. I felt like I was following an exotic bird, tip-toeing on the blacktop.

"Shouldn't you be following Schmitt around or something? Or did you two break up already?"

I waited for anger to wash over me, relieved when I could only feel the cold, and the wind. I sniffed, wiping my nose on my sleeve.

"I'm actually looking for him. Seen him around?"

"No," Henry laughed, more a soft sound than anything with humor, and then he sank down, pressed against the chain-link fence. He looked bitter and even with the chill he let both legs fall to the frigid tarmac.

I'd sat like that before, defeated and staring up.

Oh. And I suddenly understood Henry deeper than I ever had.

"I'm sorry about your game," I nodded my head, easing myself onto the blacktop. The gravel embedded in my palm before rolling out of the skin, coating my legs instead. I could feel the cold sink in through my pants and I wondered how Henry dealt with the grass, ice under his thin, athletic shorts.

"You guys played like hell."

"You watched?" Henry looked up, "Didn't think you knew anything but basketball." And Lukas. The comment blurred off his lips, no noise to it, and I wondered if he'd only ever bothered me because I let myself be bothered.

"Yeah, well," I shrugged, not really wanting to rise to the taunt. The truth was, I'd only caught the last few minutes of the game. But I'd seen Henry on the field, I'd seen him at work, and I could only guess at the shit he'd put himself through just to get there. States were always broadcast on the smaller sports channels and people loved to make a big deal about it until you lost and it was all brushed aside like dust.

I wonder if Dad watched the game? He'd always liked football.

A few seconds of silence passed between Henry and me, and I wondered when I'd stopped hating it, the quiet.

"States was my last shot," Henry breathed, heavy, and then he was looking up, blowing breaths at a cloudless night sky. And I knew what that meant, to look up and breathe deep.

"Heard you got signed to UCLA," He said after a minute, not quite meeting my eye but getting close enough that I could appreciate it.

"Congratulations."

"Thanks," I nodded stiffly, pausing and choosing my next words carefully.

"Have you been home since you got back?"

The football coach had taken the team out for a week following the game. It was supposed to be a victory present if they'd one, but it had devolved into something more like a pity prize and the whispers that went around the school were more rude than accurate. I'd steered clear of most people, only catching the end of those conversations after my signing.

Henry shook his head no, exhaling slow, "I should go home, right?"

I pursed my lips, "Honestly? No clue, you decide for yourself."

He looked surprised.

"But put a pair of pants on before you freeze your balls off."

A bark of laughter, and then Henry was pushing off his ass and reaching out towards me. I'd never been big on half-hugs, but Henry was cold to the touch and my palm felt like fire against the bit of his spine that lay between his shoulders. He was warm, but not what I'd been looking for.

"I hope you find Lukas," Henry muttered from somewhere above my head.

"I will," I answered, confident, before pushing him back with a grin.

"No jokes today, bastard?"

Henry coughed, looking warm and rolling his eyes.

"What's there to joke about?" He smiled, a little crooked, walking away in the direction of his house.

"You're in love with him, right? Fruity little bitch. I hope you're happy."

And it was genuine.

"Fuck off," I slapped my hands over my face, the words not leaving with the amount of bite I'd intended for them too. Henry could sense it, and he laughed, mocking, and shook his head.

"You didn't say no," He shrugged, walking backward, legs cold and unsteady.

"I didn't," I confirmed, face hot and flushed, "Not that it's any of your fucking business."

He put his hands up in mock surrender and I smiled.

"Keep playing football, Henry!" I cupped my hands around my mouth as he passed the fence, moving the gate with an audible clang.

"Yeah, yeah," He flipped me off, fingers little smudges of shadows as he moved down the street. His voice almost lost itself in the wind.

"See you in the big leagues, Mogan."

Δ     Δ     Δ     Δ     Δ     Δ     Δ

I'd lost track of how long I'd been sitting on the court. There was a neat little pile of gravel by my feet, sorted in size, and I rolled the bouncy bits in between my fingers. Global warming was a mean turd, but it kept me from dying outright, plastered on the gravel like an ugly gnome. The fence cut cold brands into my spine and I leaned into it, looking up and trying to spell Lukas' name in the air with the fog of my breath.

"Lukas." I tried again, dragging the 's' until a thin line of vapor escaped my lips. I hoped I'd send off a smoke signal strong enough to summon him.

"Kieran?"

I jolted, cold bones creaking as I sprung to my feet, dusting my hands down the front of my thighs.

"Lukas." I breathed, short and staccato.

He stood at the entrance of the court, bundled and familiar. There was his hat, raggedly little pompom, and his mouth, screwed into something tight and unreadable. I walked towards him before embarrassment could make me freeze, and he stood still, unsure and hovering by the gate of the basketball court.

"Hi." He said, soft and shy, lips relaxing into something I could place all too well.

And then I was running, wrapping my arms around him and pushing him into the fence with a loud noise that echoed. My head hit his chin, made him bite his tongue, and I forced an apology out before stuffing my face into the puffy material of his jacket.

Slowly, his arms wrapped around me and gripped me tight. And I'd never felt warmer.

"Missed you," I mumbled, just loud enough that he could hear it.

Another beat of silence, and then a laugh. Soft again. Fond. And I'd missed that too.

"Missed you too, Keke."

Missed all of you. It was hard to explain the weird gaping hole not having Lukas as a constant had left in my stomach. But I tried my best, mouthing an apology into Lukas' shoulder, over and over as he steered me over to the basketball nets and sat me down, leaning against the fence. He sat beside me and I pulled him closer to me, stopping a second later because missing someone wasn't the same as liking someone.

"Missed you," I repeated because I needed him to understand what it meant to me.

"It's only been three weeks," Lukas said quietly, and the words weighed down. He looked out at an angle, not quite straight up, but towards the top of the treeline and I copied him, knocking our shoes together.

"Did you know?"

"Huh?" I looked at him, but Lukas stayed facing forward. He repeated it so I could read his lips, didn't spell it out though so I knew he didn't think I was stupid. He'd never thought that. Never let others say that about me either.

"Did you know that I was gay?"

"Was?" I latched onto that part of the sentence dumbly, part of me freezing because Lukas had finally said what I'd been thinking about for weeks. Gay. No part of him liked girls. Lukas liked guys. Lukas liked me.

I wondered if he was in love with me the way people were in movies. Like the ones Mum watched late at night, blanket wrapped tight and wedding band set on the table next to her.

"I am." Lukas corrected with a huff. He sounded impatient and I imagined I'd be too.

"I am gay."

I let the silence calm me down before bunching my shirt in my hand, tight.

"I think so," I nodded as I spoke, mind cycling, "I think I knew."

Lukas laughed, light, but nice, never not nice.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I swallowed, "You and Michael always act weird around each other."

He went stiff but I continued.

"I think you both reminded me of..." I trailed off, not sure If I could say it.

"It was just...tension. I just didn't realize it until now."

"Oh," Lukas said, soft. And the word floated up in a breath.

"And you blushed whenever Roger drew dicks for art class, so—"

Lukas coughed, choking on an inhale and I rubbed his back through his jacket, trying not to smile. I'd never been much good at controlling my face though, and I could feel my lips pull up, skin tight when I'd bitten the skin raw.

Slowly, Lukas turned his head, started to straighten up, and met my eyes for the first time in three weeks. My hand was still on his back, and I wondered if it burned through his jacket like a cliché.

"You like boys, Lukas?" I whispered into the space between us.

I wasn't sure if it was growing smaller, but I could see the patch of skin around his cheeks which had started to go pink from the cold. I imagined I could count his eyelashes too, measure his heart rate like we were in the movies and we were horribly in love and allowed to be.

"Yeah," Lukas swallowed, muscles moving under his scarf. His eyes slipped from mine, fell a little below my nose.

"And you like me?"

His eyes moved back up and I startled at his stare, intense and honest. I met it equally, blue on brown, and took a deep breath.

"Yeah," Lukas nodded, "But just 'cause I'm gay doesn't mean I like eve—"

"'Cause I like you too."

He blinked and I counted a hundred and three on his right, one hundred on his left.

"Kieran."

I didn't mind the way he said my full name. It wasn't to make me feel small. Lukas made me feel important, individual, and he said my name like he liked me for being me and nothing else.

"I think," I fumbled over my words, the gap between us already narrowing and I saw his eyes flit around my face in disbelief. I imagined he was counting my freckles and that our love was okay, even if it would never be shown in movies Mum watched.

"I think I've wanted to do this ever since you hit those free throws."

"Do what?" Lukas was grinning big and dazed and it made my heart jump.

"You know what." I scowled, and let the romance on my face drop.

And then he moved in and I met him halfway because we had a romance of our own that was far better.

"Cold," Lukas murmured against my mouth.

I hummed in agreement and then pressed forward. Cold. Lukas' lips were cold against mine, chapped and rough where I'd bitten the skin down to blood. But, his breath was warm, hands wrapping around me and pulling me the last few inches between us. He smelled familiar, kind of like a bonfire, and when I put my hand on his jaw I could feel the press of stubble, just popping up.

Lukas is a boy, my hand confirmed, scraping against the soft angle chin and down to his shoulders, broad and round.

And I like him, I settled for a smile, Lukas smiling back, and both of us smiling into our kiss as we adjusted. I moved one knee between his legs, pushed him back into the fence, and leaned my forehead against his.

"You like me?" Lukas blinked up at me and my hands cupped his face like he was something precious.

"You're Lukas-fucking-Schmitt," I whispered, leaning down because I'd never liked kissing before but liking someone made all the difference.

"My bestest fucking friend." I pulled back with a grin because I could finally say the words that applied to us.

"And I love you."

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3508 words

:) There it is.

I've been grappling with this moment for years now, and no way I wrote it seemed to do the amount of love these boys have for each other justice. Then, I realized I didn't need to make all their love show in one interaction. They love each other, they've confessed, and now they have the rest of their lives together to express it.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and stick around for the epilogue (also updated!)

Editing NOTE: Hey everyone! I noticed a discrepancy when I was re-reading chapter twenty-eight "thaw". Kieran states that he's bored and lonely over "winter recess" and then in the next chapter, chapter twenty-nine "i know", Lukas says winter break is coming up. I just wanted to clarify that these are supposed to be two different holidays - Thanksgiving break and Winter break, one of which is short and towards the end of November, and the other of which is longer and lasts from mid-December until the day after New Year. I mistakenly wrote "winter recess" in Kieran's part, though it was actually around Thanksgiving time.