Sexuality is - hard. That's the best way Derrick can describe it. He sits on his bed, and carefully does not think about how he wants to kiss his best friend.

See, the thing is, he's always found boys attractive. He's admired the cut of their cheekbones, their broad shoulders, the slope of their butts. It's not like this attraction was something new. It's just that this is the first time he's thought of them romantically, instead of just aesthetically.

Massie and Dylan as girlfriends were as different as could be. Massie was all sharp edges and soft eyes, insecure and put-together simultaneously. He liked the way she softened around him, and her bright eyes, and holding her. Dylan was all loud laughter, wide grins, and crude jokes. She was chill, all the time. He had liked the way her hair fell around her face, and her curves.

Cameron, Cam, Cammie - his best friend, his day one - is different than both of them. Not just because he's a guy, but mainly because he is. Derrick likes the shape of his mouth when he's laughing, and the way he runs his hands through his hair, and the way his fucking shoulders look in a suit. He's not sure if this is an admiration thing, or what, but it's something.

"Yo," Sammi says, looking up from her phone when Derrick slips onto the couch beside her. "What's up?"

They're holed up in the attic of the Harrington house. It used to be their playroom, but the toys and mats have been donated or sold. Their parents redorcated it - filled it with couches, plush floor pillows, and something called gallery wall art. There's a comfortable window seat, too, that has approximately ten throw blankets on it and is Derrick's favourite napping spot.

Derrick looks over at it now, wonders if he can just retreat there and pretend he never said anything. "I think," he begins, then falters. He pushes on because his mom didn't raise a quitter, and he's never made anything easy in his life. You don't date Massie fucking Block and expect easy. "I think," he continues, "I might be gay."

"Oh," says Sammi, very quietly. Derrick grits his teeth. Fuck, he hates feelings.

He plows on. "Or, I mean, I might be bisexual. Too, I guess."

There's a length of silence that has Derrick picking at his Thom Brown shorts. Finally, Sammi nudges him a bit, leaning over so she catches his eyes. "Hey," she says, soft and soothing. "It's okay, Der. It's okay to not be straight, okay?" Something in Derrick relaxes, and he lets out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

"Yeah," he agrees, taking in a deep breath. "I know, it's just. It's Cam."

His sister's eyebrows draw together, concerned. "Did he say something? What happened?"

He fucking hates feelings. "No, dude, he hasn't, like, done anything. I think, I like him?"

Sammi makes a face, all wide eyes, and a smile. She says, "Oh, honey."

He groans, "Yeah, I know." He doesn't really know where to begin. With how hot guys are generally? With how hot Cam is, specifically? How yesterday, when they were sprawled on Derrick's bed after a rough round of Mario Kart, he wanted to hold his hand and not let go?

Sammi puts her phone down, arranges herself so she's leaning against him. Seven languages of love, he remembers, the book his sister ordered last year.

("I think yours is physical touch," Sammi told him, flipping through the book.

Derrick rolled his eyes. "Whatever.")

He says, "Guys are really cute," and Sammi laughs a little.

"Yeah," she agrees, "they really are. Does this mean you'll talk hot guys with me now?"

He rolls his eyes. "No. I don't even know if I'm gay or bi yet. I just. They've always been that way. Guys, I mean. To me." He's not even sure he's making much sense, but Sammi seems to get it, somehow.

"Have you ever thought about them, like, romantically? Not just in like the fuck they're attractive way?"

Derrick shakes his head. "Not really," he says truthfully. It's always been girls - girls to ask out, girls to compliment, girls to kiss. He's never fathomed dating or kissing a boy. "But, like, I have with Cam."

"You've thought about him romantically?" Sammi shifts around, wrapping an arm comfortably around his waist. It's very comforting. A-plus for effort and execution.

He nods again. "Yeah. It's just, like, holding his hand and kissing him and stuff. I wanna take him out on dates and shit. I think."

"But it's like, just Cam?" she clarifies, and squirms a little more. Derrick grunts an affirmative, moving around too. She's jostling him, and while it's not super inconvenient or anything, he just plays it up to be funny. "Derrick," she says, delicately, and then stops.

He huffs. "What," he says. No dice. Sammi stays suspiciously silent. "I'm going through my sexual awakening, hit me with it."

She says, "You're really fuckin' bad with emotions," and he shrugs. "And I was going to ask if you considered that you were demiromanticl?"

"Demiromantic," he repeats, feeling the word out in his mouth. It's a little foreign, but not unwelcome. "Like, attracted to specific people? I don't - "

"Not really," interrupts Sammi. "It's more like, you don't feel romantic attraction until you form a strong emotional connection to the person."

"Isn't that normal, though?"

There's another lengthy pause. "I think it's more different that you'd think," she says, finally. "As a straight person, I can't really say, though."

"Demiromantic," says Derrick again, and hugs Sammi a little tighter. "Huh."

It takes a lot of work to feel out his sexuality. A lot of work and a lot of time on the Internet, searching up terms and sexual idenitities and shit. The hardest part is not being able to talk to Cam about it, because he talks to Cam about everything.

Derrick also lies on his bed a lot, thinking about Massie, Dylan, and Cam. He thinks about everyone he's ever felt attracted to, the things he's jerked off to, and the people he's actually had crushes on - really liked.

It's a lot of self-reflection and, unfortunately, having to deal with feelings. But he's never liked leaving loose ends untied. It's why he liked Massie - she always dealt with things, wrapped situations off in neat little bows just the way she liked them.

Cam is much different than her. Derrick thinks about him a lot, too. How kind he is. What a good boyfriend he was to Claire. Cam's a good person, that's the thing, he likes to do as much for his partner as possible without sacrificing his own dignity. He's sweet, funny, and chill one hundred percent of the time. He's always been there, Derrick knows this. He's been beside Derrick through Massie, Dylan, and Claire; through soccer and school; and through every late-night conversation, three in the morning Snap, and Sunday dinner.

He thinks of Cam: his if you're happy I'm happy persona, steady at Derrick's side, pulling Derrick into the pool with him when Cam gets shoved in because he's an asshole, eagerly feeding any animal within sight because he's soft-hearted, plucking out a riff on the guitar, standing up for Layne.

Fuck, Derrick thinks. I really like him.

He comes out to Sammi first, a couple weeks after his epiphany. Cammie's his best friend, always will be, but so is Sammi. She's known him since birth. Blood-bound and annoying, she's never failed him. She continues not to, by giving him a tight hug and reassuring smile.

Next are his parents. It's still not Cam, because Derrick's not quite prepared for the hey I really like you romantically, and I mean all the fuckin' homo, and I don't know how you're going to react because you caused me to question my sexuality. I know you're straight, sorry.

He doesn't know how his parents are going to react either, not really. He suspects it's going to go well, because his parents are Liberal, open-minded and have never said a single word of prejudice, and, true to his suspicions, him coming out does go well. His mother goes all soft, hugging him and saying we love you, of course we do, we always will. His father claps him on the shoulder. There are new rules about keeping the door open when the guys are over, and about Cam sleeping over.

Derrick almost snorts.

He can't tell the guys, the soccer team, before he tells Cam. It doesn't feel right. It feels a fucking lot like betrayal, to be honest, and Derrick's an asshole but he's not a shit friend.

Derrick [12:01 P.M.]: u still coming over?

Cammie [12:03 P.M.]: yeah man be there soon

Derrick sends a string of kissy-face emojis, and tries not to think about why he's so nervous for their allotted Saturday bro-time.

Cam sends back a series of blue hearts.

Cam lets himself in with a key Derrick gave him when they were twelve, and pushes his way into Derrick's room. They do their special handshake, complete with fancy footwork and an exaggerated hipbump for the comedic effect, before Cam settles down on Derrick's unmade bed. He's looking at him with disturbingly curious eyes. He needs new, less perceptive friends.

"What's wrong?" asks Cam. Predictably. "You're being weird."

"Maybe you're the weird one," Derrick replies reflexively. Cam gives him this soft, disapproving look. Yeah, Derrick definitely needs new friends. "Hey, look, nothing's wrong, man."

Cam raises both eyebrows at him, and he suddenly has this weirdly existential feeling. For a second, he's so aware of himself: a sixteen-year-old boy, leaning against the wall in his own bedroom, looking at his childhood best friend that he's in love with, about to come out. It only lasts for that second, though, before he blinks and is able to focus back on Cam.

He crosses his arms, makes himself comfortable. Chill, he tells himself, before saying, "You look like I killed a puppy, dude. Stop. I've just got something to tell you."

"Yeah?" Cam arranges himself a little more comfortably, stretching out his long, muscular legs. It's May, and he's forgone his usual hipster beanie-oversized leather jacket combo for Adidas shorts and a white Hugo Boss shirt that stretches around his biceps, fits snugly at his waist.

Derrick looks at him for a moment. He's your best friend, he thinks. And then, relax. For a little bit, he just breathes, and steels himself, and Cam lets him. Of course Cam lets him. He's always know what Derrick needs. Seven love languages, he remembers, and pushes it away.

Fuck it, he thinks, just say it. "I'm not straight," Derrick says, abruptly. "I'm demiromantic bisexual. I think." He closes his eyes, briefly, and when he opens them, Cam is smiling at him.

"Hey, Der, dude," he says, soothing, like the way Sammi's voice had been, "thanks for sharing that with me." The tension in Derrick's shoulders and arms escapes. He sags back against the wall.

"Yeah," he says, for lack of anything better to say. He's got his eyes trained on Cam when Cam shifts around, and runs a hand through his hair.

He says, "I've got something to tell you too."

"What is it?"

Cam locks eyes with him, looking down, and then back up. "I'm not straight either," he says, and Derrick's heart stops for a second. "I'm pansexual."

"Oh," he says, and then shakes his head. "Fuck, Cammie, that's a problem." Cam's eyes widen, and he looks so stricken, it takes everything in Derrick to remain casual. "We can't both not be straight. There's only room for one gay in this town." Relief, sharp and bright, cracks over his best friend's face.

He says, "You're such a dick," but he's smiling, soft and pleased.

It simultaneously gets more difficult and easier to be around Cam after coming out. Easier because he doesn't have to hide anything anymore, and the weird tension between them from Derrick's Exploration of His Sexuality dissipates. Difficult because Cam also likes guys and Derrick is a guy who likes guys too and he might have a shot.

Exams are full of reviews, stress, and Cam, always Cam, pressed beside him, hovering in his peripheral vision, drinking coffee and looking tired. Derrick runs through ten different exam reviews for three exams. He's pretty sure Kristen Gregory only slept an hour during exam week. Cam drinks Red Bull, dark roast coffee, or something sugar-packed and syrupy every other hour. Chris Plovert goes into total hermit mode, and only emerges for the exams themselves.

When exams are over, though, it's so easy to relax. The first two weeks of summer are spent with the guys. They like playing soccer shirtless in the summer, because New York gets hot as balls and it's too much laundry with shirts on.

One time, Kemp catches his eyes, and winks. "See something you like?" he smirks, stripping off his shirt with flair and gyrating his hips.

Derrick laughs. "Oh yeah," he says, "I love skinny, pale men with no coordination. It's a kink." Kemp narrows his eyes, and whips his shirt at the blond. Derrick grins, all teeth, and catches it.

"Fuck you," Kemp says, without real heat.

Cam leans into Derrick, all lean muscle and warm skin, and Derrick is fucking dying suddenly. "Not cool, man," says Cam, solemn. "Don't kinkshame him."

Derrick grins at him, and hopes nobody can hear his heart beating out of his chest as Cam smiles back.

ME: hey u wanna go on a trip

Cammie: sure man, where to?

ME: boston

ME: dad's got a business thing there

Cammie: yeah, but only if you come to singapore with me in august

ME: lets go

Boston is nice. They've both been before, so they check out their favourite places: Fenway Park, the public garden, Gracenote Coffee. There's a little coffee house, with hardwood everything and an open mic, that they go to for Cam. It's all poetry readings and acoustic musicians there. It's so hipster, it makes Derrick's head hurt.

They drive out to Foxborough for the Taylor Swift Reputation stadium tour. It's a guilty pleasure both of them have. They do the whole shebang: purchase matching tour merch, Snap a good third of the concert, wear glow-in-the-dark bracelets and necklaces. They find a party after, which turns out to be more of a rave, and they fit right in with their bright accessories.

Derrick and Cam both shove their wallets, shirts, and their T-Swift merch, into a backpack they leave in their hotel room, and only carry cash to the party. Derrick lets a girl paint his chest with glow-in-the dark paint. In the spacious, UV-lit room, his chest and abs glow with an elaborate nature painting she'd smeared on him. They're both pretty pleased with it. Cam, meanwhile, has procured a flower crown from somewhere, and two jello shots. They party until dawn, and Uber back to the hotel.

Derrick is drunk and kind of deliriously happy, shirtless and leaning against a warm, smiling, pretty boy.

When he wakes up at one in the afternoon, though, he kind of wants to fucking kill himself. There's a pounding headache starting at the base of his neck, and his mouth feels like someone scraped it clean with thirty cotton balls before shoving them down his throat. He lies back down, and closes his eyes. He feels very tired, and very still.

Eventually, Derrick will get up gingerly, and drink half a bottle of water. He'll leave another bottle out for Cam, and take a shower to get rid of the paint covering him, and the feeling of filth in the beds of his fingernails. He'll come out to Cam waking up blearily, which is always a nice sight. He'll kiss him on the cheek. He'll drawl no homo, and I'm gonna Postmate us some breakfast.

Eventually, Derrick will remember the events of last night. Him and Cam, pouring shots into each other's mouths. Him and Cam, doing body shots off each other's abs. Him and Cam, grinding on each other on the dance floor. But he doesn't bring it up, and neither does Cam.

Singapore is wonderful. Cam's been before, a few years back, but not Derrick, so they do all the touristy things together. They hit up Chinatown, and get fourty-eight keychains for ten bucks. They eat chicken rice, and ice cream with graham crackers and bread. They go to Marina Bay Sands for the the art and science musuem, and the giantass mall. In Clarke Quay, they take a boat tour of Singapore.

It's warm and sunny twenty-four seven. Derrick buys a pair of two hundred-dollar Gucci sunglasses, and poses with them underneath the arch of pink flowers inside the mall. His phone is filled with pictures of Singapore and Cam - eating, shopping, walking, smiling.

They're in Singapore for a whole week, because that's how long Cam's mom is there. Every day, and even night, is something new. They check out the trees that light up, the nightlife, and the botanic garden where Cam looks soft and peaceful. They go see the symphony perform, one night, and hear a girl sing jazz in the concert hall. Derrick's not really a fan, but Cam is, so they go.

They hold hands a lot, which is somewhat normal for them, and Derrick's grown into the habit of kissing Cam on the cheek. His crush is easier to deal with now. He's kind of accepted it, at this point, and the fact that Cam is basically irresistible to him. What's new, and frightening, is the fact that Derrick might be kind of romantically in love with his best friend. This is only reaffirmed every time he sees Cam blink his eyes open in the morning, soft and plaint, and Derrick thinks, without his own consent, I'd do anything for you.

The new school year is about to start, and the annual, high school White Out party is being held in honour of the finishing summer. Last year, Sammi held it at their house. It had been all strobe lights, finger foods, people crowding the backyard and dancing in their living room.

This year, Alicia Rivera is holding it. It's formal, and Derrick seriously considers just not going. Sammi's graduated, so she won't even be there.

"It's going to be lame," groans Derrick. "Come on, dude. Skip with me." They're at the Fisher house today, lounging by the pool. Kendrick Lamar is rapping in the background, and Cam has a damp towel around his neck. Derrick is wearing a too small swimsuit, and not really caring. Cam has seen him in a Speedo, but also completely nude. It's nothing he hasn't witnessed before.

"Will that be rude?" Cam frowns.

Derrick rolls his eyes. "Rude would be if we hosted our own party," he says. "I just don't wanna go this year." He flops belly-down on a pool chaise, stretching out his long legs. He's grown, again, reaching a grand height of six-foot-two. Cam, much to Derrick's delight and Cam's grievance, is two inches shorter than Derrick.

Derrick closes his eyes. He casually angles his head away from Cam, and swallows the lump in his throat at the sudden thought of Cam, smaller and narrower than him, fitting into the crevices and creases that make up Derrick's body.

"Hey," Cam says, sounding kind of soft, and kind of strangled. "You okay, bro?"

He turns his head, eyes fluttering open in time to see Cam's eyes most certainly not on a PG-13 place of his body. Derrick raises an eyebrow, and flexes a little. "Yeah, man," he says, casual, and watches as Cam's eyes trail down his body, then back up. "I'm fine. Why?"

"You've seemed a bit out of it lately," he tells him, a little gentle, and walks closer. Derrick resists the urge to lick Cam's abs. Instead, he reaches out a hand to tug Cam onto the chaise with him.

It turns out to be a bit small for two six-feet-tall guys, but they make it work, curling around each other.

Derrick looks at Cam, and thinks you know me inside and out.

Derrick looks at Cam, and thnks you're my best fucking friend, and we're basically dating.

Derrick looks at Cam, and completely loses his train of thought. He blames that as the reason he closes the five inches of space between them to kiss him.

Cam's always found Derrick to be gorgeous, that's the thing.

He looks soft and pretty in the morning sunlight, hair pale gold and eyes sleepy. He looks absolutely dapper in a suit. He looks fucking edible in his tiny, tiny shorts - Cam wants to eat him up, keep this sight to himself.

You've gotta chill, he thinks. He knows Derrick is his own person, not an object of sexual attraction for Cam, but damn if Derrick isn't attractive. Cam's been nursing half-feelings for him for the past three years.

He kind of fell in love with him somewhere between when they first met at the tender age of 6 years old, to now. It's why he had to break up with Claire. He couldn't love her the way she deserved to be loved. He was already in love with Derrick, even if he hadn't realized it, and, when he did realize it, he swallowed his secret, wrote a lot of songs, and wondered how to come out to his best friend.

When Derrick kisses him, on a hot, late August day, Cam kisses back. It's gentle and soft, just a dry press of mouths.

They end up going to Alicia's White Out party as boyfriends, because Cam is an absolute sucker for Derrick in a suit. (And vice versa, but Derrick has made his attraction to Cam very explicitly clear to him already).

"Hey, baby," Derrick drawls in front of all their friends. "Do you mind grabbing me some more caviar and crackers?" Their friend group all freezes, staring at Derrick like he's grown a second head.

Cam doesn't even miss a beat. "Sure," he says, "sweetheart." He smiles at him, a sliver of something pleased and warm that makes Derrick smile back.

written for the c/p moc for may. prompt was "Write about a diverse character. In this context diverse can mean whatever you want it to mean- race, sexual orientation, gender identity, religion, and anything and everything else you can think of." im a lil late and this is terribly unedited but it is what it is. disclaimer that i dont own anything that lisi harrison created, rights to her.