Race and Albert had known each other for years. Their friendship had developed from kindergarten buddies who scraped their knees together, to third graders that had their Warrior Cats phase together, to ride or die allies and joined at the hip and at the soul companions. Alongside their friendship a romance had budded, and it was on the verge of blooming.

In second grade they got married at lunch time by giggly girls, Katherine and Sarah, who swathed them in crowns made of white flowers speckled with maroon. The boys had gleefully played along until it was time for them to kiss so that they would become "husbands". They were shocked, their friendship hung on a precipice that they were too young to understand. Soon enough they wouldn't be able to get away with kissing on the playground, it'd be deemed dirty and unworthy, but for now their childhood innocence would remain uncorrupted by hatefulness. They leaned in for their first kiss.

The nickname Racetrack had actually come from the Warrior Cats books. The clan name they'd come up for him was Horserace but eventually, and fortunately, it had dissolved into Racetrack due to his ambition on the track team. As soon as Antonio Higgins had sprinted up Cancer Hill, named by students who felt like they were dying on the run up it, in under three minutes, faster than anyone had ever made it up the grueling hill, the name Racer was plastered to him for the rest of his high school career.

That was freshman year though, now Albert and Race were seniors, and although Albert was not on the track team, he stayed for the duration of each and every minute of each and every meet to cheer Race on and support him.

Like always.

Contrary to how this sounded Albert was not bitter. Nothing made him happy than being there for Race. He peaked whenever he was lucky enough to witness the beautiful boy's smile. Albert's only regret was not having made his feeling for Racetrack clear. While they were both safely out of the closet, they had never acted on their mutual feelings because each believed that the other's feelings didn't exist. In their minds it was impossible, for someone as perfect as the other could love someone as wrong as them.

…

Albert opened up a bag of Fritos and big into one of the chips. "I hate these. They taste like corn syrup and dirt, I know you like them though. Do you want one?"

"I can't right now, my race is in 104 minutes according to your watch. When I finish my last event I'll eat them, save them for me."

"Of course lo-" Albert stopped himself from calling Race the precious diminutive, from calling him his love. "Of course loser." Albert punched him in the arm, while holding in his heart wrenching inner turmoil. They both laughed. "Go start your warm up Racer, or you'll pull a muscle on your sprint."

"Haha, okay," Anthony agreed before jogging away, leaving Albert alone on an all too familiar concrete stadium bench that he'd never sat on before. If you've spent six hours at a high school in the sun watching a track meet, you've done it a million times. Maybe that was why Race's parents had never showed up once in four years of track.

…

The whole scene had been witnessed by Medda Larkin, the coach of the girl's throwers. She had been on the bleachers to fetch a knockoff hydro flask for Smalls, their smallest thrower who still possessed an impressive amount of strength, when she saw the moment between the two. So sad. I wish those two would just act on it. They deserve to make senior year one spent without hopelessly pining. Not that Medda could ever consider interfering in her student's love lives. As a coach that'd be hugely out of line and controlling. Medda grabbed the bottle and returned to the thrower's section of the meet.

…

Race shot his 100 meter sprint off in twelve seconds, it was a good time but he could do better and he had in the past. Albert hugged him at the end of the 100 meters, he still congratulated him, he still loved him.

They had about fifteen minutes til Race had to start his next warm up and walked back to the bleachers together. Albert carried Racetrack's sprinting spikes. "Great job out there Horserace."

"God no! Don't remind me of that. We paraded around Burnquist Elementary like a bunch of fucking furries."

"What aren't you proud of it? I was a medicine cat!" Albert excitedly chirped.

"Do you think people hear our conversations and think we're crazy?" Race asked.

"Probably. I'm okay with that." Albert began to feel himself reaching for his friends hand but ended the motion faster than Race could ever run. No! Albert thought. Don't ruin everything. He's your friend, don't ruin it with your useless feelings.

Soon enough Race was leaving Albert again for another warm up. They didn't get another moment together until after the meet. Race had led his relay group to a victory in the 4x400 and he was absolutely wiped out by the meet. Fortunately Albert let him ride home in his car instead of having to take the bus and wait for his parents to pick him up from the school.

Race began to doze, like any other night, but Albert stopped him. "I have something I wanna tell you," he mumbled fearfully. He could feel their relationship hanging on a precipice, the pressure of their situation choked him.

Race removed an earbud, "What's up?" he asked, unsuspecting.

"You and I, I think that we should maybe go out sometime. Like a date."

A smile cracked Race's face. He was overjoyed at the prospect of his relationship with his lifelong best friend becoming one that incorporated the romance he'd so long tried to suppress. "Yeah." Race took one of Albert's hands, leaving him one hand to drive with. "I think we should go out too."

In the end the boys knew the way the other felt about them, just as the observant had been able to do for years.