Firsts

Today, Ruben determines, I'm going to tell Thomas I really like him. Thinking it out loud – is there even such a thing? – fills him with nervousness and anticipation and a little bit of pride because he's finally decided to man up. And maybe, just maybe, he also feels a sliver of wistfulness because there's something weirdly warm about cherishing those (hopefully not too obvious) stares and smiles and hours lying in bed, still awake, and secretly mouthing Thomas's name while doing homework when he was actually just twiddling his pen and thinking all kinds of things that were definitely not related to maths or English or whatever subject he had spread out over his desk.

However, it's not that simple to truly carry out his resolution, since it's kind of a secret that he likes Thomas. Nobody asked, so he didn't tell – way too embarrassing.

Moreover, nobody even knows he likes boys, even though that wouldn't be an issue. After all, it's 2019, his cousin Emma brought her girlfriend to his family's New Year's party and everybody was really nice to them, gay marriage was legalised in his country before he was even born, he can name at least five gay celebrities, he once saw a book in the store about a boy with two mums and last year, they even had to read one about a gay boy for school.

Besides, he's pretty sure he's always known he'd rather kiss boys than girls, even when kissing still seemed gross and weird. He's just never felt the urge to tell anybody when it didn't matter all that much.

Luckily, he and Thomas are in the same class, so after last period, he has a chance to approach him without everyone listening in – probably unintentionally, but listening in nevertheless – because his classmates are usually in a hurry to leave after every bell and he just happens to know Thomas is a bit slower. Last period, because if Thomas rejects him, then he doesn't have to see him all day anymore, nor pretend to smile when he'd prefer to wallow in his misery, cuddling with his puppy, Brownie, who would slobber all over his face and thus make him feel a tiny bit better.

***

The day drags on. Thomas seems to pull Ruben's eyes to him even more than usual, his mind on a one-way track and his concentration at an all-time low.

Already when he has just arrived on the schoolyard, he seeks out Thomas, talking and laughing with his best friend, as if his mind is the earth, trapped in an eternal orbit around the sun. During classes, he catches himself from time to time, realising he's about to scribble down Thomas's name or what he'd like to say to him, instead of notes. And in the ones where Thomas sits somewhere behind him, he feels the ghost of his gaze skimming his back or neck – which he probably imagines, but that knowledge doesn't suppress the involuntary shiver each time.

Finally, the last bell rings, and as predicted, everyone trips over their feet to get outside. When everyone is out of the classroom, including Thomas and Ruben – they're the last ones – he quickly walks up to Thomas, because he was a bit too slow in his purposeful stalling, so he wasn't ready when Thomas was.

"Thomas." There's too much spit in his mouth, so the name doesn't come out clear and firm as he intended, but rather pathetic, and it lies heavily on his tongue. He looks down, his face already heating up, and puts his hands into his pockets, to give himself at least some semblance of confidence.

"Oh. Ruben." Thomas sounds surprised.

Ruben looks up, but his gaze focuses on a point behind Thomas. "Hey. Uhm ..." His eyes flit from the wall to his face and back. "I was wondering if ... Uhm, well ..." He glances at Thomas's eyes, but he's just patiently waiting for him to finish his sentence, instead of being a stuttering, incoherent mess – well, not literally stuttering, but ... "I wanted to tell you ... uhm ... I really like you and I was wondering ... uhm ... if you would perhaps consider going on a date with me some time?"

He looks back at Thomas's face, but now he's the one to avoid his gaze. "Oh. Uhm ... Yes, I think?" His cheeks are red and he shuffles. "I mean ... I like you too. I'd like to ... I'd like a date with you."

"Uhm ... Thank you. I mean – that's probably not the right word to use in this situation, is it?" He manages a small laugh and Thomas chuckles. Some of the tension between them dissipates. He takes a breath to gather himself since the sheer relief of Thomas's positive answer – and the adrenaline leaving his body – has his thoughts all jumbled up. "So ... when are you free? I mean –"

Thomas chuckles. "No worries. I know what you mean. Uhm, what about next Friday after school? We can go drink something in The Black Horse. I mean, if you're up for that, of course."

"Okay. Sounds good to me. Do you have my number?" Ruben's hand touches the strap of his bag so he can quickly grab a pen if Thomas doesn't.

"I think so. Didn't you put it in the group chat last year?"

Ruben's cheeks heat up. Silly me, why didn't I think of that, but better this than making wrong assumptions – he doesn't think he would be able to gather the courage to ask Thomas's number another time if he didn't do it now. "Oh, yeah, I did. I'll message you then?"

"Okay." Their gazes lock and they smile awkwardly when they realise they still have to walk to the bicycle storage together.

A silence engulfs them and Ruben turns his thoughts upside down to find something – anything really, as long as it doesn't make him seem a complete idiot – to break it, but he's unable to come up with a joke or a remark or a question and he's not at that stage yet where he just trusts that Thomas doesn't think he's socially inept or dumb or boring or annoying for not knowing what to say or even preferring not to talk – The horror, he thinks with some self-deprecation and bitterness towards a few of his extremely extraverted classmates in primary school who made their opinion on quiet people known to all and sundry – that stage where silence feels comfortable, hardly noticeable.

Eventually, they enter the bicycle storage. Ruben hesitates but settles on: "Bye. Have a nice weekend."

"You too. See you on Monday." They linger long enough to make it awkward before both turning around. Ruben doesn't look back, even though he wants to, because he's quite sure that's considered clingy and he doesn't want to know if Thomas is also looking back or not.

***

Friday morning, Ruben is antsy. He showers more thoroughly than usual – not that he's dirty, it's more about the idea – and he combs his hair. It doesn't have much of an effect since the natural snit of his hair is quite okay, but again, it's more care than the usual fingers. The previous evening, he had already laid out the clothes he would wear. Nothing fancy since it's still a school day – and he doesn't own any clothes that deserve to be called 'fancy'. The most he can hope for is that he doesn't look like a walking fashion disaster who doesn't realise he has outgrown his shirts and trousers, which is luckily guaranteed by his mum, who wouldn't let him leave if he did.

At school, he longs to see Thomas and talk to him, as well as not talk to him at all, because, since they confirmed their date during the weekend, everything seems even more awkward and what do you even say to someone on the day of your date, before said date? If it were their date already, it would be so much easier to just start a conversation because they would have time and not a mere five or ten minutes.

In fact, the whole week has been kind of awkward. After the more practical messages on Friday to let each other know they had their mum and dad's permission – he had told them he was going out with a friend – on Saturday, Thomas had sent him a message asking what he was doing and they had started making small talk about school and hobbies. Online, their conversation flowed with ease and Ruben tried to showcase both his wittiness and corny jokes and genuine interest in everything Thomas said and he smiled like a fool at the screen of his phone and was on cloud nine.

As soon as Monday morning came, however, he was awkward and tongue-tied again and his frustration with himself about his lack of courage knew no limits. The only thing that uplifted him a bit, was the shy smiles now shared between them each time their gazes crossed, as if they knew something nobody else did – which they technically did because their date was still a secret.

In the evenings, back online, they continued chatting as if they had never stopped and even yesterday, that didn't change.

Now, the nervous jitters are bursting out of Ruben's skin through his pores and he doesn't know where to look – why is he feeling shy about shamelessly staring now of all times – or what to do with his hands and he's fiddling with pretty much everything: his pens, his books, even a loose thread in the hem of his shirt that he really should just cut off, before he destroys his favourite T-shirt. Jonas and Nathan give him all kinds of looks, but luckily don't outrightly say anything.

During lunch break, they discuss the physics test Mrs Devos announced in third period for next week, but he only hums at the right moments to keep up the pretence of listening and engaging in the conversation, while otherwise he would enthusiastically join them in their complaints, but for now he really can't care less, because he's consumed by thoughts of Thomas and their upcoming date.

And then finally, finally the last bell rings – and all the feelings and the situation create a sort of déjà-vu of last week. Ruben times his packing, so he's ready when Thomas is. He's a bit too fast, but that doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things – there is not really a scheme, but as long as he gets his date with Thomas, and preferably more than one, it's not important that his timing isn't perfect.

"Hey." His gaze glides over Thomas's face.

"Hey." Thomas peeks up from under his eyebrows. His eyes are caramel-coloured.

"Are you ready?" Ruben doesn't stumble over his words and he's quite proud of that feat.

"Yeah. Uhm ... Sorry you had to wait."

"No problem. Uhm ... Let's go." Ruben starts walking and Thomas follows. He tries to think of something to say, but his mind is blank. Why do characters in books always know what to say? It should be easier since they're both boys and probably have common interests and they are in the same class, but that's bullshit and even if he knew what to say, his shyness would be troubling him for sure – not that the words are there right now and just halting on the tip of his tongue, no, there just aren't any.

Come on, Ruben, think, think, think, he chants in his head, but unfortunately, he can't coax his mind to think of anything other than 'hey' and 'how are you' and how lame is that! Who asks 'how are you' on their first date, when they've hardly spoken with each other before? Though, maybe Thomas doesn't think it's so lame; it is something to say, after all. At least, if he asks that, he won't be the one expected to talk anymore and he will seem polite and not like an idiot who can't even hold a conversation and how will he ever get Thomas to go on a second date if he doesn't say anything and Thomas is bored out of his mind and thinks him to be socially inept?

"How are you?" Shit, why did he say that? See – it sounds lame, he should have known.

"I'm fine. Uhm ... The physics test kind of sucks, though."

Finally! Ruben latches onto the possible subject like he's starved – and he is, but for something to talk about rather than food. "Yeah, I know. Like – we have a test for maths and French too that day and it's about all the stuff since the beginning of the year."

"Yes, and I have to go to the orthodontist after school on Thursday, so I will have less time and my teeth will hurt and I can't study ahead on Wednesday, because then I have my saxophone lesson and band practice."

Ruben can't respond because they have to separate to take out their bikes, but he's pretty much ecstatic because they're talking – and not just online, but face to face, real-life talking, and he's getting to know Thomas and even though they haven't said much yet, it feels like the biggest achievement of his life, except last week maybe.

They meet at the gate and cycle down the street.

"So you play the saxophone?"

"Yes, I've been playing since fourth grade." Thomas smiles proudly, and Ruben hopes to remember that smile all his life, braces and pimples and all, and the butterflies in his stomach are causing quite the hurricane. "Do you play anything?"

"Well, uhm ... I sometimes try playing on my mother's piano, but it's nothing more than pressing down keys, and only when I'm home alone."

"Oh, have you ever seen that film, Home Alone? It's one of my favourites!"

"Yes! I know, right? We always watch it on Christmas Eve!"

"We do too!"

When they arrive at The Black Horse, they're deep in a discussion about the funniest parts and jokes from Home Alone. It's half October, so it's not exactly warm anymore, but they sit outside anyway since it's not exactly cold either and it's less intimidating than going inside and they're not the only ones.

A waitress comes to get their orders. They start speaking at the same time: "For me a Fanta, please." "Fanta, please."

The waitress laughs and repeats: "Two Fantas?" They nod and laugh some more.

After that, the dam has broken and the words rush out of their mouth like water that floods a valley. They talk about Christmas films and then about their favourite Christmas presents ever and about their family traditions and dishes.

That's when Thomas flaps out: "You should come to mine during winter break to eat my mum's cinnamon biscuits. They're literally the best you'll ever taste!" They both blush when they realise what that would imply.

Ruben mutters shyly: "I'd like that."

Thomas is not much better when he replies: "Okay", which reassures Ruben and makes him feel all warm and tingly, for if Thomas is already inviting him for winter break, that means he definitely wants to see him again.

"You could also come to mine sometime, you know? I could show you that one strategy game I talked about on Wednesday."

Thomas's smile is blinding enough to set Ruben's face on fire, but he'll blame any redness that might show, on the cold. "Nice. I'm really curious to see how the storyline is worked out after what you told me. Maybe that could be our next date?" Suddenly, all the shyness is back, as if Thomas has slipped on a delicate mask that enhances the softness of his face – despite the pimples – and the dimple in his chin and how small his nose is and how thick his eyebrows.

Ruben's elation at the mention of a second date is the kind that threatens to seep through his pores, like sweat – but hopefully without any smell that might scare Thomas off. "I'd love that, but, well ... Would it be okay if I told my mum and dad you're just a friend? I mean, I could tell them, of course, but, well ... If I even think about telling them I'm dating someone – that's just fricking awkward." He shudders.

"I know. I have an older brother and he has a girlfriend and he told them during dinner. I practically died from second-hand embarrassment. I can't imagine having or starting that conversation, ever. Have your mum and dad ever tried to do the birds and the bees talk?"

Ruben shakes his head, his lips already curling into a smirk because he can guess where this is heading. "No, fortunately."

"Mine did and let's just say it was horrible. I mean, I'm not stupid, I knew how it works, and like, what the heck, I was twelve – and even now, I would be like: are you seriously thinking I'm going to do anything anytime soon?"

Ruben nods earnestly, but he doesn't contain his laugh in the slightest. "I'm happy my mum and dad didn't do that, but they tease me a lot. Like, if I mention a girl from our class, they're immediately hinting and joking that I like her. And they always ask how my day was and when I'm going to meet with my friends again. I bet they're going to interrogate me about our date this evening, even though they don't know it's a date. It's honestly so annoying."

"They don't know you're gay?"

"No. If I told them, they would want to know if I like someone and stuff. As long as they don't ask, I won't tell. Do your mum and dad know?"

"I think so. I mean, I didn't explicitly say anything, but my mum is bisexual and I think she has a gaydar and suspects me."

"That's easy. I wouldn't mind my parents knowing, as long as they don't comment all the time. It's the telling I don't want to do because you can be sure that they'll make all kinds of annoying comments and jokes when I come out."

"Well, it's not like you're expected to come out now. You can wait till you're ready."

Ruben looks down at his hands. "Thank you. Sometimes I feel bad that I haven't told them yet because it seems kind of like I don't trust them or anything."

"I don't think you should feel bad. It has nothing to do with them." Thomas hesitates but eventually reaches out until the tops of their fingers touch across the small metal table, subtlely enough to be accidental, but his hesitation and downcast eyes betray him and Ruben can only think how cute Thomas looks like that, before he blushes himself and stares at his glass of Fanta that's still half full.

"So, uhm ..." They curl their fingers back at the same time. "What's your favourite season? Do you like autumn?"

Thomas glances at the trees alongside the road that are starting to dye their leaves in reds, yellows and browns. "I do, but if I have to choose, I think winter is my favourite."

"Winter! Why that? It's just cold and rainy."

"Most of the holidays take place in winter. And I like snow."

"But it never snows anymore. You're lucky if it snows one day and those two centimetres are enough to get all the traffic stuck."

"I know, but I remember one time a few years ago when it snowed and we went sleighing on a hill in the forest. And you know those days when it's bitter cold, but the sky is clear and the sun shines? Those days always make me happy and I love long walks in that kind of weather, all bundled up in a winter coat and scarfs and gloves and everything and then coming home to drink a hot chocolate and eat biscuits."

Ruben shrugs, imagining such a walk with Thomas, holding hands, maybe even kissing each other with ice-cold lips, and coming home where hot chocolate and biscuits or cake are waiting for them. Yeah, that would be nice. Maybe he could surprise Thomas with it at the end of November, before their exams, if he isn't tired of him by then – which sounds way too cynical for his liking and is not something he wishes to reflect upon. "Still not my cup of tea, but I can see why you like it. My favourite season is spring. Sunny but not too hot, and Easter eggs, and my birthday."

"When's your birthday?"

"The twenty-fifth of April. When's yours?"

"The second of June."

Ruben raises his eyebrows. "Right before the exam period."

"Yes, but it could have been worse."

They start discussing the best moments to have your birthday and Ruben finds himself contaminated by Thomas's broad smile. When he mentions a fable by Toon Tellegen about the cricket who wants to celebrate his birthday every day, Ruben is in awe – another literate fourteen-year-old! – and they continue to talk about other fables about the squirrel and the ant and the other animals. He never expected someone else his age to have read those stories and to like them.

"What's your favourite?"

Thomas looks down at the table and empties his glass before answering. "I think that one about missing. My grandpa used to read it for me."

"I like that one too."

They keep chatting about books, but eventually, Ruben notices it's already twenty past five. He is beginning to get a little cold anyway, to be honest. As much as he feels like talking with Thomas forever – imagine how nice that would be, like one giant date that would last for the rest of his life (or probably not that long – he's not that naïve to think he will marry Thomas someday, but that doesn't mean that he wouldn't like to just keep talking with him for as long as he feels like it), he'd better get home, before mum starts worrying and texting or even calling him.

So, during a lull in their conversation, he says: "Uhm, Thomas, I think I should head home. It's almost half past five, so ..."

"It's that late already! I didn't notice ..."

Ruben gifts him a small, shy smile. "Time sure flies, doesn't it?" Thomas smiles back just as shyly and Ruben dies a little on the inside – or at least, this can't be but a glimpse of heaven if it exists and surely then all the angels would smile like this.

They get up to pay at the counter inside. Ruben wants to pay for Thomas since he asked him out – that's what you do on a date, right? – but Thomas already has his wallet in his hand, so he decides to just pay for his own Fanta because it'd be weird if he insisted he pay for them both.

They stand outside next to their bikes for a while, both shuffling and shifting their weight, with their hands in their pockets.

"Well ..."

"So ..."

"You first."

"Uhm ... I guess I just wanted to thank you?" Ruben stumbles over his words. "I really liked this. And you." At his last impulsive addition, he cringes. He can't help but embarrass himself, can he? His cheeks are aflame.

"I like you too." Thomas's cheeks mirror his own. "Uhm, see you next week?"

"Yeah, sure. See you next week." He gives a little wave and again cringes internally because he realises he still has to take his bike and it's stupid and ridiculous to wave when they're hardly a metre apart. He turns around so he doesn't have to see Thomas anymore, but once he's left, he looks back to see Thomas ready to leave as well, but for the moment just gazing after him, smiling, and Ruben feels as if he is lit up from the inside and glowing bright enough to be a second sun.

***

Ruben lasts until about nine pm that evening before he can't stand it anymore and sends Thomas a message, repeating how much he liked their date and asking when they can have another one – preferably the next day, but he knows that's unrealistic – berating himself immediately after for coming across too strong, too clingy, but nevertheless checking his messages every five seconds, as if he wouldn't hear the notification.

Thomas replies within a minute that he too liked their date very much and he'd love to have a second one, but he's not allowed to meet up with friends on school days, so maybe next Friday or Saturday?

Ruben's heart practically soars through his chest and his phone nearly slips through his fingers, because his eagerness to answer – yes, yes, YES, anything Thomas wants – is making him clumsy.

They agree upon Friday – because why not as soon as possible? – and they keep messaging throughout the week, all the while exchanging shy glances and smiles and greetings at school. Ruben is giddy and smiling and he feels light as a feather, light enough to walk on clouds or to float with them – he's in heaven, after all. His parents repeatedly ask if something happened, why he's smiling so much. Luckily, they don't question him when he informs them a friend is coming over on Friday after school.

***

Their second date has a less awkward start than the first one, even though they don't say much on the way to Ruben's home, but it's more of a comfortable silence since they've pretty much been talking all week long. He offers Thomas a drink, which he declines, offhandedly greets dad in the living room and pulls Thomas along to his room, before dad has the chance to properly meet him and ask annoying questions. Thomas finds his avoidance and haste to be alone quite funny.

Ruben starts up the game they have been discussing, vaguely worrying if his room looks okay – not too dirty or weird or nerdy – but trying not to pay that thought any attention, and soon they're playing, while casually chatting. They joke and laugh easily, complaining about school and admitting that it's not that bad and sometimes they actually like school (Ruben is relieved because it can be tiring to hide that kind of thing), but there are also long silences that don't bother Ruben at all and he prays that they don't bother Thomas either – because of course, he's not sure: it's only their second date after all, and he still has to make a good impression so he can land a third, and silences always feel uncomfortable when he doesn't know someone all that well, but they're here to change that, so the problem should be solved soon.

During one of those gaps in the conversation, Thomas shuffles his foot closer to Ruben's and then their feet touch. Even though it's not much – and Ruben knows it's ridiculous and he's just a lovesick puppy – all his nerve endings seem to be focused on that one foot, as if he can feel Thomas's skin through their shoes and socks – and yeah, he also knows he's just being overly conscious and imagining things, but he can't help that their feet touching feels like the equivalent of being naked together for now.

Eventually, dad knocks on his door and asks if Thomas wants to stay for dinner and Ruben realises with a jolt that, yes, it is possible for Thomas to stay for dinner since it's getting late – well, half past five – and he looks intently at Thomas, willing him to agree, as if Thomas will feel it if just he wishes hard enough – he doesn't want to think that Thomas knows how much he wants him to stay but still chooses not to.

"If it's not too much of a problem, I'd like to, but I have to ask my parents first."

"All right. Let me know when they answer. Ruben, will you walk Brownie before or after dinner? If Thomas stays, you can go together."

"I will."

"All right. Sorry for interrupting your game, boys. I'm going to start cooking then." Dad closes the door behind him.

Ruben glances at Thomas. "So, uhm ... Would you like to walk Brownie with me? If you are allowed to stay, we could go after dinner and otherwise, now."

"I'd like to. I hope my parents let me stay. Let me just text them." Thomas takes his phone, types a short message and puts it back in his pocket. "What kind of dog are they? I haven't seen them yet."

"A brown Newfoundland. She's still a puppy and we usually let her in the backyard, so she can play and run and everything."

"Nice. What's her name? I didn't understand your dad."

"Brownie."

Thomas laughs. "Really? Then I did understand your dad right, but I thought it was a nickname or something. Did you name her?" Ruben nods, kind of embarrassed, because it is cheesy and it was a spur of the moment thing and now it doesn't sound as funny anymore as when he first thought of it, but he was only twelve back then. "Are brownies your favourite food?"

"Yes." Ruben's voice is inadvertently softer than normal.

"Mine too. Well, maybe not my favourite – that would be my mum's cinnamon biscuits – but they're like second best."

Thomas's enthusiasm cheers him up, so he suggests shyly – and maybe also slyly because it's a way to ensure at least a third date: "If you come over again, we can make brownies together."

"You know how to make brownies?" Already, the unease and a sliver of embarrassment creep back, because how many fourteen-year-old boys know how to bake, and he should just stop being weird, but Thomas continues, oblivious to his feelings: "That's awesome! You can teach me, so I never have to ask my mum again."

Ruben doesn't really know what to say, so he shrugs. "I guess I could teach you." His tone is light enough not to evoke any reaction in Thomas, and really, he would love to teach Thomas, but he couldn't help that the words that came out of his mouth, were not the ones he'd meant to say.

Thomas's phone chimes. He checks the message. "My mum says I can stay, as long as I'm home by nine."

Ruben can't contain his smile and his glee colours his voice: "Let's go tell my dad. And maybe we could walk Brownie now? We've stopped playing anyway."

"Okay. Uhm ..."

Ruben jumps up to lead the way, feeling uneasy and overly aware of Thomas eyes on his back – or at least he presumes they are on his back. They pop into the kitchen and Ruben fetches Brownie from the garden, grabbing her leash in passing.

Brownie immediately takes to Thomas and he to her, all bouncing, playful energy. After a minute of Thomas trying to pet her while walking and Brownie bumping her nose into his legs and chasing after his feet – and what a sight it is, because the broad smile and the childlike enthusiasm and red cheeks make Thomas impossibly cuter and it's just not fair anymore, because Ruben's heart is palpitating and he feels as hot as if he had a fever – Ruben hands over the leash, so Thomas can walk and play with her however he likes.

"Do you have any pets?"

Thomas doesn't even look away from Brownie. "We have a cat, but she only comes inside to eat and she sometimes drops dead mice at our back door." Ruben grimaces. "I've been asking for a dog for years now, but my parents say it's too much work and they don't believe that I would stick to walking it every day."

"Oh." Ruben doesn't know what to say to keep the conversation going, but it doesn't matter since Thomas is enjoying himself and busy enough entertaining Brownie.

***

Dinner is a little awkward, like always when he brings over a friend for the first time, with mum and dad asking all kinds of questions about school and Thomas's favourite subjects and telling embarrassing anecdotes about Ruben's forgetfulness – not that he has a bad memory, since he has no problem remembering things on tests, on the contrary rather, but when it comes to doing or bringing things, it seems to go in one ear and out the other.

Thomas just chuckles and smiles at him. "Doesn't that happen to everyone from time to time?" Ruben is sure a fireplace has just been lighted inside his chest and he tries to convey that through his own smile – at the same time hoping their shared smiles don't betray their true feelings.

After dinner, they go back to playing games for a while, occasionally chatting and Ruben hardly realises he has relaxed as much as possible while being in Thomas's presence. Still, his jitters flare up from time to time and paralyse his tongue or thoughts and every time, he feels stupid and frustrated, but Thomas doesn't seem to mind and every time he is the one to stay silent, he blushes and it makes Ruben want to touch Thomas's cheeks, feel how warm they are.

Around twenty to nine, when both their game and the conversation have died out, Thomas says: "I think I should leave if I want to be home by nine."

Ruben gazes at him for a second and looks back down at his bed, where they're sitting on. "Okay." He nods as well, not really knowing how to behave.

"I'm sorry. It's just my mum ... I mean, if you wanted me to stay longer ..."

"No. I mean ... I understand. My mum would be like that too." Thomas doesn't say anything nor does he get moving. His eyes just dart from the bed to Ruben and back and sometimes their gazes lock and then they both smile shyly, as if they're mirroring each other. In the end, Ruben is the one to stand up first, even if he much prefers to stay like this all evening and all night, because although all the flutters those glances cause, make him restless, they also heat him up, just like a crackling fire and flying sparks.

Thomas grabs his bag and they make their way downstairs. Ruben studies him while he puts on his shoes and jacket, though he hopes it's not too obvious. He walks Thomas to his bike, at the side of the house, and then they are both fidgeting and looking at the ground.

Thomas breaks the silence. "Well, uhm ... I'll see you on Monday?"

"Yes. Uhm ... Sure. I mean, of course. See you on Monday." Ruben shifts his weight and bites his lip. "Will you text me when you're home?"

"I will." Thomas walks down the driveway and brushes against Ruben and then he's riding down the street.

Ruben takes a deep breath to fully enjoy the – no doubt imaginary – tingles in his arm. He utters a "Bye" as an afterthought, but the word comes out too soft for Thomas to hear it.

Back inside, even before Thomas has let him know he's home, he sends: 'I really liked today. Goodnight.'

The answer pops up on his phone ten minutes later: 'Me too. Goodnight.'

***

Their third date is not much of a date – or it might seem that way to everyone else, even if there's no 'everyone else' to guess it's a date or to comment on it – but it makes Ruben feel giddy all the same and afterwards his friends ask what has gotten into him to be smiling so much during classes. He just shrugs and says: "One of those days" and thinks back to lunch break.

He and Thomas spent their entire break in the school library, eating and after a bit of hesitation, also sharing some of their food – not feeding each other, just exchanging pieces of bread, but that doesn't change how significant such a small gesture feels to Ruben.

After that, they went looking for books to read, showing each other the ones they liked, discussing them in hushed tones. They took a pile to the reading corner and sat down on the pouffes, out of sight of the supervising teacher.

Halfway the first page, Ruben noticed Thomas's leg had moved closer to his and the lack of other students present gave him the courage to creep his own towards Thomas, all the while pretending to be engrossed in his book, until their feet and knees touch. Next, he shifted closer too, but Thomas apparently had the same idea because they knocked their elbows against each other. Subsequently, they tried to suppress a fit of giggles – Really? Giggles?! Ruben berated himself – to no avail. When at last their upper arms and shoulders touched and the gap between their thighs was small enough to hardly fit a finger and Ruben felt Thomas's warmth seep through his clothes, all semblance or hope of concentrating on his book was lost.

He glanced at Thomas from the corner of his eye and caught him averting his gaze. The ten minutes before the end of lunch break were spent that way, glancing and smiling each time their gazes locked, reading and turning pages without registering any words.

When the bell rang, they put their books away. Ruben was too flustered to say anything, but so was Thomas – this time, he's sure of that, and it causes a strange sense of power and possessiveness and it makes him all the more flustered that he was able to do that – and for once, Ruben finds himself not caring one bit, just basking in the afterglow and studying Thomas's back and neck and hair during class, merely smiling when Thomas catches him and returns the 'favour' during their last class, inhibiting his concentration – but he hasn't been on top of his game at school since the early stages of the development of his crush.

After the last bell, they happen to leave the classroom at the same time and their hands brush against each other and linger half a second too long to be completely coincidental. They smile.

In the bicycle storage, Thomas parts with a seemingly casual "See you tomorrow", but the accompanying look and smile express so much more and blushing, Ruben replies much the same way: "See you tomorrow."

***

That night, Ruben dreams about Thomas's smile. In his dream, he has the courage to touch it, to kiss it even, and it is magical and if his blood weren't already fluid, it would be molten now. Actually, in his dream, he has a lot more courage than in real life, because he grabs Thomas's hand and holds it and touches his side and thigh, even goes as far as sitting on Thomas's lap and his thoughts don't refuse to transform into words and the words don't get stuck in his throat.

When he wakes up, he only vaguely remembers dreaming about Thomas and feeling warm and cosy and holding his hand, and he resolves to do that on their next date. Damn it, where is his pluck?

A 'Good morning' text from Thomas brightens his day and he asks if Thomas would want to go to the woods on Saturday since it's the start of autumn break. At the end of the day, they have permission from their parents for their next date, under the disguise of 'hanging out with a friend' – and their parents are all too happy because "children nowadays don't play outside enough" and Ruben wisely keeps to himself how old they sound when saying that.

Thursday and Friday are torture at school because they're both too excited to completely keep their elation under wraps and their secret smiles and greetings are not all that secret anymore. Nathan asks why he's looking at Thomas so much when first period is barely over. Ruben just shrugs and says that he must be imagining things and, as a concession – because denying everything might be too suspicious – that he did talk with Thomas last Friday after school and that they play the same games and like the same books. It is enough of an answer to get Nathan and Jonas off his back and the prospect of break has everyone smiling and makes any possible bad marks on their report card seem insignificant – in Ruben's case a meagre 63% for chemistry, but that's honestly no surprise. He exchanges a discreet thumbs-up with Thomas and later that evening, they talk some more about their marks.

***

Ruben tosses and turns till at least two o'clock – that's the last he looks at his alarm – because he is much too excited and keeps imagining all kinds of different scenarios. How they would be walking in the woods – all alone, of course, nobody to disturb them – and he would take Thomas's hand and give it a little squeeze and Thomas would smile at him and give his hand a little squeeze back. His hand would be warm and their fingers would fit perfectly together – because who needs gloves when the weather forecast predicted maximum temperatures of 13°C?

And then they would see a deer between the trees, gazing at them, and they would stare back and when it fled, they would look at each other and it would be the perfect moment for their first kiss and it would be magical. Then they would part – 'part', just that word evokes visions of lovers looking in each other's eyes and souls, their heads close enough to share their breaths, or love poems that capture the overwhelming greatness of a first kiss because there is no way 'part' refers to something ordinary, something he has experienced before – and they would smile at each other and then his fantasy stops because he can't imagine something more beautiful and fulfilling than that moment and of course what would come after that kiss should be even greater because these things should only keep getting better.

***

He's up and running when it's not even eight o'clock yet and if it hadn't been so late when he fell asleep, it probably would have been earlier. They have arranged to meet at one of the entrances to the woods at half past nine because it would be stupid for either of them to make a detour to the other's house, even if Ruben secretly would have enjoyed the few extra minutes together.

In order to avoid mum and dad commenting on his early rise and enthusiasm and giant smile – he can almost hear dad say something like: "Sure you're not meeting up with your secret girlfriend?" – he sneaks out of the house before they're up. Luckily, they very much prefer to sleep in on Saturday mornings and it's not like they don't know where he's going. Never mind that he's almost half an hour too early – the cold will be damned.

The wait allows his nerves to flare up, however, and that bothers him more than the freezing wind or the cloudy sky this early in the morning. He tries to keep himself warm and his nerves in check by stuffing his hands in his pockets and pacing across the parking lot. As nice as his fantasies were, he knows he doesn't have that kind of confidence in real life. Talking won't be a problem anymore – or he hopes so, because, with his social awkwardness, he can never too sure he won't make a fool of himself – but when it comes to anything more than what they have already done – holding hands, saying or doing something romantic, kissing – he knows he'll chicken out. But – this time, he'll really try, he'll be more determined than ever to get rid of his shyness. He has to, has to, has to, HAS TO.

Gravel crunches behind him and Ruben halts his 'pep-talk' and turns around.

"Hey." Thomas waves in greeting and stalls his bike.

"Hey."

Thomas walks up to him with his hands in his pockets as well and for a moment, they awkwardly stand next to each other, gazes gliding past one another and shuffling. Ruben breaks the silence: "Let's go. It's too cold to stand still." Thomas nods.

They walk side by side and as Ruben starts warming up because he's no longer standing still, he slowly relaxes and enjoys Thomas's company and the autumn colours. They don't really talk, rather glance, sometimes catching the other and looking away with rosy cheeks, but that could just as well be the cold.

Eventually, Thomas points out a tree with white mushrooms growing on it. "Do you know what kind of tree that is?" He seems almost embarrassed but determined not to take back his words.

"No. Do you?"

"Yes. It's a beech."

"Oh."

Thomas slows down. "Sorry. I suppose that's not interesting?"

"No. I mean, I don't mind. I just don't know the first thing about trees. Like, in the first form we had to analyse leaves, right, and that was okay because we could use that scheme but I don't remember anything. How come you do? You didn't study all that, did you?"

"Not really. I mean, my dad taught me. He studied all those things in university and we often come here and yeah. I think it's nice to know since most people don't know much anymore about nature and with climate change and deforestation and everything ..."

"That's cool. What kind of tree is that?"

"That's also a beech. There are lots of beeches here. Look at the shape of the leaves."

"Oh. And can you tell me what kind of tree that is? That's not a beech, is it?"

They continue walking with either Ruben asking the name of trees and plants or Thomas pointing them out. Ruben finds himself enamoured by Thomas's knowledge and passion for it.

"Do you want to study biology later?"

Thomas shrugs and looks sheepish. "Maybe. I don't know yet. Do you know already?"

"Not at all. Latin is my favourite subject, but it's not something I would want to study at university or something and there's nothing I really hate, so ... I guess I have lots of options. Except maybe chemistry." He grins cheekily and Thomas grins right back. Ruben realises he's closer than before, close enough for their hands to brush once in a while. This is his chance. He just has to move a little bit closer ... Now their hands brush with each step and the accompanying swings of their arms.

It's easy, he tells himself. You're so close that your hand could almost glide in his without any effort. Just do it. If he doesn't like it, you can just say it was by accident.

He realises he has clenched his right hand and his fingers twitch. Despite the cold, his palms are sweaty. He tries to discreetly wipe them on his pants, but only partly succeeds – if your hand has previously been brushing against another, such a move is bound to attract attention.

Come on. No chickening out. He glances down – how awkward would it be if he reached for Thomas's hand and missed his hand and instead just bumped against his hip – and grabs Thomas's hand, but as soon as he does, he feels silly because it doesn't feel all that intimate or romantic but more like they're back in primary school or kindergarten and have to hold hands and walk in a neat row in order to cross the street with teachers hovering nearby like shepherds, making sure no little lambs are lost.

However, Thomas squeezes his hand and when Ruben looks aside, he is smiling broadly and his eyes continuously flit to their joined hands. Neither of them says anything and Ruben rejoices in the silence because words would surely ruin the moment and make it awkward, so he bathes in the booming of his heart, fuelled by the elation at Thomas's smile.

Inevitably, it seems, he eventually notices how clammy his hand is, how they walk just not close enough for it to be comfortable. He can't retract his hand to wipe it on his trousers, can he? And he can't walk closer either. Or can he?

Thomas makes the decision for him by giving a soft tug. They are so close! Not only their hands, but their arms are touching! Gradually, Ruben relaxes and he discovers that his clammy hand actually doesn't bother him all that much since Thomas doesn't seem to mind either – at least, he doesn't comment on it and rather keeps pointing out different flora. It's still weird, holding hands and walking so close to someone else, but it's a good weird.

They make a stop at a café at another entrance to the woods. Hunched over their hot cocoa across from one another, warming their hands on the hot mugs, Ruben's gaze lingers on Thomas's lips a few seconds at a time before it flickers back to the hair crawling over his forehead. They are pouting because Thomas is blowing carefully in his mug. He would really like to kiss them, even if the concept is foreign and strange in his head and he doesn't know what the big deal is – no, that's a lie: he does know what the big deal since he is so nervous and it seems like such a big step and he wonders and wonders and longs, but he can't get his head around it because how do you kiss, otherwise than pressing lips against lips like two motionless dolls smashed together?

And when is the right time? Not now, Thomas is too far away. When they're walking? No, surely, he'd manage to miss Thomas's lips if he tried to aim while moving.

Thomas catches his eyes at some point, but it only elicits a soft smile. Ruben wants to engrave that smile in his memory because it burns his heart.

At last, it is noon and they return to the entrance where their bikes are parked. For a while, they stand face to face, silently shuffling, neither of them making any moves to grab his bike, and Ruben really, REALLY wants to kiss Thomas because it's already their fourth date and the end of a date strikes him as quite romantic and the easiest option – at least easier than any other moment he can think of for, which is not a simple feat with Thomas looking at him – and he is not that much of a chicken shit, is he? For heaven's sake, how lame would it be if Thomas decided to break up because Ruben never kissed him?

But he hasn't gathered enough courage yet, so he has to win time. "This is our fourth date."

"Yes."

"So, uhm ... Would you maybe like ... a fifth?" The minor fall and the major lift.

Thomas nods repeatedly, grinning. "I would love one." Silence. "You'll text me, right? This week, I mean?"

"Of course." More silence. "Bye, then?" Ruben starts turning around.

"Wait! Uhm ..." Thomas's hand awkwardly hangs in the air between them and he takes a step forward. "Can I – " He doesn't finish his sentence, nor waits for Ruben to react. Instead, he briefly presses his lips against Ruben's – though only partly – before retreating, his face blood red. The burn in Ruben's cheeks is not much better and his lips curl into a stupid, silly grin. It is not deserving of the word 'parting', nor magical like he imagined – mainly because it was too short to realise he was being kissed before it was over – but his lips tingle all the same and he can't believe he just had his very first kiss, with Thomas! Quiet, friendly Thomas with the shy smile and the vibrant laugh, who loves books and strategy games and whom he's been crushing on since sometime last year.

"Bye." Thomas turns on his heels, dashes to his bike and bolts out of the parking lot – at least the cycling equivalent. Ruben watches him till he's out of sight and stays put for a few more seconds to cool down.

He doesn't know how to address this ... development, this kiss – if he even has to address it – but maybe this is the kind of thing that sorts itself out. He'll probably dream about it for weeks to come, but hopefully, those dreams will be replaced by memories of more kisses like that, maybe even ones that last longer than a split second.

Therefore, when he is home and has survived lunch with his parents questioning what he has done, he sends: Hey! Are you up for a game?

***

Author's Note: This is the longest short story I have ever written, but the original idea was just a first kiss between two young boys which was not on the first date, because I don't think most people that age have the courage to just kiss someone like that (and certainly not making out). I don't know how regular fourteen-year-olds speak since I can't remember and how my younger siblings speak to me is probably different than how they speak at school, but Ruben and Thomas were partly inspired by the youngest of them (and a bit by myself).

Furthermore, gay marriage was legalised in Belgium in 2003, so yes, before Ruben and Thomas were born.

And if you ever get the chance to read Toon Tellegen (I don't know if there are any translations, since he's Dutch), do it. I like him too, just like my cute, shy, awkward boys.