Pete Grey sighed, drumming his fingers to the soft whir of the ceiling fan above him. The room smelled like cigarettes, hairspray and Michael, who sat on the floor near the bed, a look of apathy on his face that made Pete question whether he even had emotions. The only sign of life was the familiar drone of: "What time is it?"
It was difficult to breathe. Still, he wasn't too inclined to get up and open a window. Instead he lay back on his bed and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand while the other reached for the phone next to him. He cringed at the glaring light of the screen as he read the time aloud.
03:47AM
"Is this what sleepovers are like?" Michael asked, nonchalantly flipping through one of Pete's miscellaneous paperbacks, "or do we have to get even more inebriated and talk shit about people?"
The shorter of the two shifted his gaze to the half empty bottle of vodka between them. Reluctantly, he stood up and shuffled over to the other side of the room to open the window before turning the ceiling fan off and sitting down next to Michael. The boy in question reached a hand out and tapped the excess ash from his cigarette into an empty mug they used as a makeshift ashtray.
"This light makes your hair look orange," he commented, taking a drag and holding it for a second before exhaling, "it's somewhat endearing."
"Or you're drunk," he retaliated, reaching for the bottle next to them and fidgeting with the cap. He tipped the bottle back and took a couple of steady gulps, hissing out a 'fuck' as he passed it over to Michael who did the same, "do you want me to turn it off?"
"If you do I might be inclined to touch you," the taller of the two answered as he picked at his chipping nail polish.
"I might be inclined to let you," the alcohol left Pete's mouth feeling numb but speaking was easier, inhibitions buried under a soft haze that left him feeling like he could do anything. He stood up and reached for the light switch before plopping back down on the floor and noticing the tip of Michael's cigarette move in the darkness. He felt the other exhale smoke in his general vicinity before putting the cigarette out and moving closer.
The ghost of Michael's lips neared his own and he felt a hand grab his arm, holding him in place. All he could hear was his heartbeat and the muffled sound of crickets outside. He felt Michael leave a peck on the side of his mouth before kissing him properly, the way he wanted. The room felt hotter than before.
Pete shifted in place and gently scraped his teeth against the other's bottom lip, who sighed in response and gingerly ran his tongue along Pete's front teeth, testing the waters. It was hard to breathe and Pete gave a sharp inhale when he felt Michael's tongue brush against his own.
It seemed like ages when they finally pulled apart, though Pete quickly leaned forward and gave the other a soft peck. He returned it and Pete felt him smile. The air felt easier to breathe again and Pete couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up in his throat, his chest felt warm and unusual as he grabbed Michael's hand, intertwining their fingers and resting his head on his shoulder. He thought about turning the lights on, but he wasn't too inclined to move. Instead, he squeezed the other's hand and sighed, shutting his eyes. It felt like he could sit there forever. He thought about the Sun swallowing the Earth and decided he'd be fine with those being his last moments.