A/N: Thank you to the beautiful commenters! I'm glad to hear that this story is giving people feels (whether it's fear or love or sadness ALL THE FEELS! And welcome to the ship Eleanor! Hope you enjoy the rest of this story. I was a little uneasy about this chapter, I kept feeling something was missing. Please leave your comments and let me know what you think! Also, I love telling my husband I got reviews, so lets make his day! Keep being awesome!

Chapter Eighteen: What He Did

I'm being honest when I say, I never felt this way about anyone. Not Zack, whose name I have buried in the back of my mind for so long he feels like a phantom. Or dream. Maybe even a nightmare.

No. Zack wasn't entirely bad. He was confused in much the same way I was; but he was older. I thought wiser. And I willfully offered him trust with my body that he didn't know how to handle. So he cracked it, in his fist. And it took Reno to repair that trust.

I don't compare the two. It's not fair to either. Minus their sense of fashion and preferred sport, Reno and Zack are two completely different souls. And I also try to limit how much I think about Zack. But his face has popped up in flashes when certain conversations arise between the red-head and I. And I remember the smell first. The mysterious whiff of summer air. Sun block. The musky stench of lake water. His black hair over pale blue eyes (I have a type) beading with water.

But that's all. Then. Black. Like I drank all the whiskey in the cabinet and don't remember my name. And I like it better that way.

And I don't tell Reno any of this, which sometimes makes me feel like I'm holding on to a weaponized secret. He never asks about Zack either, so I rationalize that maybe he doesn't know all the things I've done before him. He knows enough of what I did with girls.

But sometimes I wonder, when we're kissing like two desperate humans starved for touch, does something-a thought, or notion, or misconception, or tragic memory- pierce his head to cause him to shut down. When this happens, and it's every time, I don't ask. When my hands travel up his shirt and hits a certain spot, and he pushes me off him- gently though- then goes for a cigarette; I don't probe as to why my hands suddenly hurt him. And when I kiss along his jaw, and he offers my name from his throat that sends shivers down the entire length of my body that I have no control and buck my hips against his- and we touch in a way that I know we both want- but he goes completely rigid like I've just stab him. And he doesn't even have to tell me to stop, because I'm already crawling off him, and he's back out to smoke.

And I know an anxiety attack when I see one. But his hit different. It's his eyes looking into space, completely devoid of any sign of life. But I can see his chest rise and fall as if he's running. Sweat appearing on his forehead. And the times I'm granted the privilege of resting my head on his chest, I feel his heart slamming against my ear like it holds all the words trapped in his throat. And during those times he grips my arm so tight, I fear he might actually leave a bruise- like he's trying to root me against him. Like he can't bear to let me go. That maybe I'll never come back.

Sometimes he just ups and leaves for the night. That usually happens when things get more intense and he doesn't stop me when my hand glides over his pants. Or he dares himself, to get on top, straddle me, take my shirt off like if he doesn't touch my bare chest it'll cease to exist. And just when I think, and my stomach starts to flutter, and I want to tell him he can do anything he wants- because I trust him- he freezes completely. And can't look into my eyes. They're stuck staring at something else, or someone else, that I can't see.

I learned early not to try to touch him when this happens. Made the mistake the first time and I thought he would break my wrist with how hard and fast he grabbed it and yanked. And from how his eyes suddenly came home. And he saw what he did. I realized he was the one who disappeared. He left that day. He didn't call the rest of the night. When I saw him the next day at school, he pretended nothing happened, and we never talked about it again.

Another time, same thing, minus the physical attack because I didn't touch him. But he still dragged himself off my body, mumbled he needed to go and vanished out the door. No call. Two days. Monday, I found him in our bathroom, sitting on the sill, smoking a cigarette, looking as displaced as ever. And I confronted him as to why he left and didn't call. That I was worried.

And he threw all my insecurities in my face. He reminded me that I was the one who freaked out in this very spot. That when he tried kissing me in the car, I pulled away. That I told him I wasn't into guys.

He dictated my feelings. Told me that I needed to be sure.

But I think he's the one unsure.

And I fucking hate how he thinks he can tell me what my emotions are. Who the fuck gave him that right?

We had our first real fight that day. And I stormed out of the bathroom a second time.

And for a second time, he ended up in my basement, against the bannister, apologizing.

I accepted and didn't ask the other questions that rolled through my head. Because he was back, and that was enough. But that doesn't mean those questions don't still burn in me. And I want to find the right words to ask him without chasing him away.

I mean, is there a right way to ask your boyfriend "why don't you want to have sex?" without coming off like a fucking creep? And when is the right time?

We're on my bed. Which is dangerous. Because more room means more access. And my parents aren't home. Saturday afternoon is now dedicated to couples counseling and date night. Trying to repair their broken relationship that shattered like the picture I punched- which dad never even mentioned. Neither of them mentioned anything about Thanksgiving. Mom came home the following day, we ended up not going to my aunts because they hate each other, and we decorated the Christmas tree when I got home from the mall- with Reno. And my mom was all smiles, and made up some story about her hand, that she sliced it cutting apples even though the cut is directly on her palm. And I made up an equally weak story that I punched a wall in my room when I lost a video game.

And that was the end of all the conversations. And I'm getting real tired of not getting answers.

But right now, with Reno's hands in my hair pulling me closer to him, and my tongue in his mouth, because I want to feel in control this time. I don't care about anything. Except that he tastes like Marlboro Reds and his tongue is soft and inviting. I keep pulling away slightly to smirk at how dumb my parents are; leaving the two of us alone, none the wiser. Because we're boys. I push him down with my body. Run my fingers against his face. Moan something along the lines of:

"God, you're so fucking hot."

And he smirks. "God had nothing to do with this." And he does look absolutely like the devil against the cloudy winter light that leaks into my room. Like all the thoughts that plague his head are written on his face. And I want to hear them in his throat, telling me all the things he wants to do to me.

But I'm on top of him. Pressing him down and he isn't running this time. And I move my lips down to his neck. And he doesn't stop me. I glide my hands over his pants, where I feel him, and he responds by moving his hips into my touch and moaning my name softly. And he isn't freezing up. I unbutton his jeans. And he moves to capture my lips again. I slip my hand into his jeans. But he while groans something that sounds like a muted yes, his hand snatches my wrists and stops me from going any further.

Almost like it was programmed.

I pull away from him. I study his face which creases with confusion at his own actions as he narrows his eyes at the offending limb. His eyes dart to the ceiling; his breath harsh and angry.

"Do you want me to stop?" I ask.

He shakes his head no. But what comes out is a frustrated, "Yes."

I pull my hand from his pants, and move so he can sit up sharply. I lay my head on the pillow and watch him. He buttons his jeans and sits on the bed, in silence, with just his strangled breaths. He runs his fingers through his fire of hair which stands out against his white T-shirt and pale skin shimmering against the light. He looks towards the window and I can see the side of his face, eyes completely torn, eyebrows slanted, jaw so tense I'm afraid he's going to break all his teeth. I see all the conversations he's having with himself. I see them, but can't hear them. And I would give anything to run my hand along his back and bring him back down to me, hold him. Assure him I won't do that again, if he doesn't want me to.

But I know he's about to bail.

"I have to go," he says and starts sliding off the bed.

"Wait." And, like I'm also programmed, I jump off the bed and beat him to the door which I block.

Mistake.

He has the look of a trapped animal. I swear his eyes flash a crimson read. Fists clenched. He's resisting the urge to attack- because he's no longer standing in front of his boyfriend. He's standing in front of a stranger. I move out of the way of the door, silently telling him he can leave at any time. But he doesn't move.

"Reno-"

"Cloud." His voice rumbles with anger.

"Can you please…" I put my hands on my hips like that's going to help me find the words. And he arches an eyebrow at me like he's confused at my sudden outburst. "I mean, can we talk about what's going on with you?"

"What do you mean?" he nearly growls.

I bite my lip. I think it's going to bleed. "Can we talk about why...you may not want to have sex?" I scrunch my nose up because-wow-that sounded straight up dumb.

But his response infuriates me. "Who said I don't want to have sex?"

I squint my eyes at him waiting for him to change that answer. He just stands there, now with his arms over his chest, as if I am the one in the room not making any sense. "You...just told me to stop. Which, is fine-"

"Is it?" He asks like it's an accusation.

"It is," I reply with a sharp edge to my voice so he understands how much I actually mean those words. And he looks away for a moment and swallows back, probably another, insult. "But...I just want to make sure I'm not doing something wrong. Or doing something that makes you uncomfortable. And what I can do-"

"Do you even know how to have sex with a guy?" He snaps. His eyes back on me and filled with judgement that I don't even recognize him. "Have you ever had sex with a guy?"

"N-no," I stutter, "But-"

"Well I have," he counters, "So you're pretty much a virgin."

"Well I'm not…"

"You are when it comes to sex with a guy. Which means I'll be your first." His face relaxes, finally, I see some of my boyfriend return. He drops his arms, "which means one of two things will happen. Either you'll get clingy as fuck. Start planning our entire future. Get mad if I don't call you back. All that stupid shit. Or," he pauses, and I see his eyes break in front of me. "Or you'll realize your not gay. And it was all a mistake and blame me for...everything."

If I didn't think he would punch me in the face, I would pull him into my arms. But that's not what he wants from me right now. I'm not even sure how to respond. I'm sure I'm looking at him like he sprouted a second head, because he avoids my gaze and stares at the door knob- his exit. But when the first rush of sympathy washes over me, a rogue wave of resentment follows. And we're back at square one with him dictating how I should be feeling. Making assumptions about my reactions. And while I understood the first time he's done this, when I came out a week after telling him I wasn't gay, this time…

It's been almost two months And I've wanted him .day.

I cross my arms over my chest and nod my head to acknowledge that I've listened to him. "Okay." I start, but take a minute to ease my tone. "Do I get a say in how I feel?" He brings his fractured eyes to me. Trembling blue marbles that look faded and worn. And offers a solemn nod. "Yes? Good. Then can I present you with a third option- and neither one of those things happen and instead I just fall more in love with you than I already have?"

Some of the deeper hues return. He opens his mouth then closes it tightly. Swallowing hard. And I think back to when he first told me he was hitting on me, and how confused I was. How much I wanted to believe those words and reject them at the same time.

"You're in love with me?" he questions.

"Is that okay?"

"Isn't it too soon?"

"Maybe it is for you. And that's okay. I didn't say it for you to say it back. And I didn't say it so you'll have sex with me. I just don't want you to think I'll reject you." I scan his face for a response. But he continues to look me directly into my eyes as if waiting for me to take everything back. Snatch it away as soon as I relinquish it. And I wonder if that's what happened to him. "Reno, I was gay before you. And I'll still be gay if there's an after you. And right now, today, I want you- all the time. No matter what."

He blinks a few times. "That's….a line."

"You don't like?"

"A little corny."

I snort- and finally a soft smile tugs at his lips. "Yeah, fine, it's corny. But I mean it."

"Always?" And I hate the uncertainty that crushes his voice.

So I respond with enough conviction for the both of us: "All the time."

There's still a heavy weight in the room. And a wall built around him. I know I meant every word, but his eyes glitter with doubt.

He curls his lips and takes a deep breath. "Right. Uhm. I'm still going to mosey home though…"

My heart cracks. "Got it."

And he walks out the room, slamming the door behind him. And I try to pinpoint the exact moment that I ruined everything we tried to build.

The vacant house seems to tremble with ghouls. And voices that want to tear me down. And I want to be anyplace else.

There's no telling if or when Reno will call. And waiting seems self-destructive. I start making a string of phone calls, frantic almost, because if I have to stay in this house for another minute, I might set the whole place on fire. But even with every phone call, I feel worse. Because I can't tell them why I am suddenly desperate for company.

Vinny suggests we all go to his house- strictly because he doesn't feel like moving from his bed and leave Halo 2- which is logical since everyone else lives in that general area. Cid and Barret are down, as usual. I even try Seph, purely for the ride. He picks up, grumbles about Vinny being a weirdo who smells and he has better things to do on a Saturday than play video games. I don't bother with the argument. I stare at my phone, and look at Aerith's contact. She knows more than the rest of my friends. And I want to be around someone I can talk to, freely, about what's happening. Besides...she's my friend.

She picks up on the first ring, apparently shocked I called. I invite her to Vinny's and I hear the way her tone becomes inquisitive; as if she suspects I have selfish reasons for inviting her to join the fun. But she accepts the invite and even gets us a ride through Elmyra.

Finally, I call Tifa- regretfully noting, to myself, that she was the last one on the list. Freaking, Aerith beat her. I bite my lip when she answers with a short tone.

"Why are you still mad at me?" I blurt out instead of the original question.

There's a long pause. "I'm not mad," she clearly lies.

"Is it because of Biggs?" I press.

"Well, you called him a pussy and Cid punched him…"

"Is he your boyfriend?"

Another pause. "We're just friends."

"So what's the problem?"

She lets out a loud exhale. "Nothing-a." I want to chuck the phone out the window. But I swallow all other inquiries into my friend's personal life. I invite her to Vinny's and she genuinely seems shocked. She asks if Yuffie and Jessie can come, as if I have control over Vinny's house. I tell her yes because, really, I don't care.

I text my parents to let them know I'll be at Vinny's with the rest of the gang. And before Aerith and Elmyra pull up, I text Reno: You don't have to hide from me. It takes forever because I don't think text speak is appropriate for something so personal. And I even take another second to look at it before I hit send; recalling one of the rules. But if he can use my words against me, then I should use his against him. I hit send. And I'll accept the consequences.

I get in the car as soon as the text is sent. Elmyra immediately turns around with a curious look. "So, Aerith tells me you didn't realize me and Iflana were together?"

My cheeks burn and I glare at Aerith who turns in her seat to smirk.

Elmyra shakes her head at Aerith, "Men."

We have her drop us off at a deli down the block from Vinny's house, on the pretense that we are getting snacks. Which is half true. I also need cigarettes. Aerith grimaces when I ask for the pack of Menthols and I feel the lecture that she unleashes as huff. But she doesn't say a word, not really her problem anymore. Vinny lives at the end of aptly named High Street. The winter chill breaks through my leather jacket and gloves like a sword. Aerith comments at my lack of weather appropriate clothing as she wraps her small arms around herself. And like instinct, or maybe the familiarity of the situation, I put my arm around her shoulder as an extra layer of protection against the wind.

She doesn't even flinch. Just nuzzles her face into my chest to keep the ice laced air from pricking her skin. But there's no butterflies that erupt in my stomach. Or even pleasurable vibrations. But that's also familiar.

Everyone's eyes burn into us when we walk into the warmth of the small house. Especially Jessie, who hides her vengeful expression by darting her eyes back to Yuffie to continue their conversation. Tifa looks more confused than anything else. While the boys in the group pull me into dramatic handshake/hugs and whisper suggestive implications in my ear. Tifa greets Aerith warmly, the two having mended that fractured bridge the night of the party. And the brunette doesn't seem bothered by Jessie's cold hello. Vinny emerges from his bedroom staring at all of us silently until we quiet down.

"You want to see something cool." He announces as a statement rather than a question.

"Not really," Barret hesitates, "The last time you said that, you showed us horse porn."

"This is not as cool as the horse porn," he smirks, "trust me."

Everyone exchanges a concerned look, but we follow him out the door- figuring that it can't be something from his porn collection if it resides outside. We go through the side of his house, which stinks of trash, stepping over forgotten projects his trucker uncle leaves behind when he makes a rare appearance. He leads the way into the backyard, which is oddly larger compared to the rest of the house- Yuffie complaining about the cold as if we forced her to wear a skirt in the middle of winter.

"Look," he points to the center of the yard, and surrounded by half broken chairs rests a new fire pit that looks oddly familiar.

"Is that Johnny's fire pit?" I ask.

"Yes.' He responds with an uncharacteristic smile upon his face.

"He sold it to you?" Aerith inquires.

But Vinny slowly shakes his head with a dangerous expression on his face and mouths a creepy "no."

"Vin," Cid's turn to question him, "Did you kill Johnny and take his fire pit?"

There's entirely too long of a pause. Vinny just stares at us with that same cheshire grin as his red eyes move to each and everyone one of us that it sends shivers down our spine. The wind howls, whipping his dark, greasy locks of hair around like snakes that slither.

Then his smile fades and his face returns to stone. "Come help me light this up." He says to the group and walks towards a shed where...well...I hope there's fire wood. But he never answers Cid's question. We all exchange concerned glances which run down the entire conversation we wish to have- is he being serious? Is he being Vinny? He likes getting a rise out of people. Is it better to just follow along?

Really, do we want to know?

Do we care? There's a fucking fire pit.

We gather the supplies. Cid and Barret argue about how to light up the Home Depot fire wood. The girls gather some of the junk from the side of the house to use when the fire wood expires. Vinny and I use our wicked good looks (and the hundred dollars my dad left me) to convince his aunt to get us beer. And we celebrate with a disgusting vodka and lemonade drink Vin creates- that I even hesitate to consume more because I think Vincent Valentine might be actually trying to kill us. The fire pit ignites the cold afternoon air. The cloudy sky shimmering against the black smoke that rises. The smell of burning wood fills our nose mixed with the tobacco from our cigarettes. The frigid wind only a slight inconvenience, but Vin supplies the girls with blankets, and even kindly offers Yuffie some sweat pants to shield her legs. And she blushes when he smiles at her.

Even I feel a small bit of electricity charge my chest when I see everyone talking and getting along. My cold beer clutch in my gloved hand as I stand next to Cid and Barett, all three of us chatting about the New York Giants completely failing this season after a promising start. Jessie finally warms back up to Aerith after some liquid courage, and already planning some girls trips with Tifa and Yuffie. Vinny, ever the silent type even when he's trying to frighten us, sits next to the smaller of the raven haired girls, and looks around at his handy work. He nods approvingly when our eyes meet and raises his beer to me. He's so weird. But I return the gesture.

And then my phone starts vibrating.

I dig it out of my pants and my heart halts when R-Money shows up on the screen. I excuse myself from the group, and dip next to the shed out of earshot.

"Hey," I answer.

"Hey…." his voice hitches, "Where are you?"

"Vin's house with everyone…"

"Oh," I hear the disappointment in his tone. "W-What are you guys doing?"

"Vinny might have killed Johnny and stole his fire pit, so we're all hanging out around it, drinking, smoking, you know."

"I'm sorry, Vinny did what?"

"Stole a fire pit."

"Before that."

"Killed Johnny?"

There's a pause. "You and your friends are fucking weird."

"If by weird, you mean awesome because now we have a fire pit, then you're right," I laugh and I can hear his soft chuckle echo through the phone. "Why don't you come by?" I bite my lip; this isn't a party. This is a small get-to-gether with the core group of friends. But...even if I can't be close to him, I don't want the conversation in our room to be our last exchange for the night. And maybe we need a distraction from the cloud hovering over us.

He sighs, "I don't know."

"I really want to see you," I confess, even if my voice sounds pathetic and pained. "I mean, if you want to."

"I want to see you. But, I don't know. Kinda weird if I come by, right? Like who am I to you?"

"You're my friend, and that's all they need to know." The pause on the other end of the phone is deafening. So I double down. "Tifa's here. Maybe Rude might want to come...and Aerith to, don't tell me Tseng isn't interested in her. And Reeve is a weird bitch like Vinny, they'd probably get along."

"Hmm," he muses, "Are you pimping out your friends so we can spend time together?"

"It's not pimping. It's matchmaking." I argue, "Tifa's hung up on some bitch ass right now, I think Rude's a better guy. Maybe I'm just helping a brother out?"

"Don't...ever say it like that again," he laughs and I feel a semblance of normalcy return, "Okay. I'll ask them, but either way, I'll be there."

I give him directions to Vinny's place and hang up. I'm suddenly completely overwhelmed with heat that burns my cheeks. But also overwhelmed by the several sets of eyes resting on me like lasers ready to strike. My heart doesn't know if it wants to beat for the anticipation of seeing him or if it's actually a panic attack from having to confront my friends. Guys are allowed to be friends. I'm only nervous because I think they can read my thoughts. They can't. Reno's my friend and that's it.

I return to the group, trying to be as aloof as possible. Everyone's staring at me but I direct my attention to Vinny, who has his head cocked to the side with another sneaky smile on his face. "Reno and a couple of other guys from school are coming by."

"Which other guys?" Barret asks..

"Rude, Tseng, Reeve," I respond with a tone as chilled as the brisk breeze.

And everyone lingers on me for two excruciating seconds. And then return to their original conversations.

As if this announcement is completely normal.

Reno shows up twenty minutes later with his group and more beer; so they are welcomed with opened arms. His group assimilates effortlessly with ours. Rude and Barret discuss their disappointing loss against Xavier that knocked them out of the playoffs this year. Reeve and Cid both are on Lacrosse, so they gravitate immediately; Cid also pleased that Reeve stuck by him in the fight against Biggs (though reluctantly). Tseng makes himself comfortable, dangerously, close to Aerith, who blushes when he greets her. He also doesn't seem to mind when the rest of the girls, sans Yuffie who remains attached to Vinny's hip, gravitate towards his demeanor of apathy.

I sense the tense aura around Reno when he takes a seat next to me. Out of our element. We play it chill. Aloof handshake as a greeting. Like we didn't just have our tongues in each other's mouths a few hours ago. He remarks on the beanie on my head, nice beanie, he tries to mock but there's the infliction in his voice that makes it sound sincere. I dart my eyes at him, briefly. His beer in his hand, leg bouncing which I can tell are his nerves betraying him, and head resting in his fist with a look of boredom etched on his face. And maybe this wasn't what he had planned for the rest of tonight.

I start rolling a few joints, getting a plan I have in motion. He makes small talk with me, his voice soft as a whisper so the rest of the group doesn't take notice. But everyone continues to engross themselves in their conversations. They also do not notice that he and I are slowly moving our seats away from the fire, replacing the warmth of flame with the chill of the blackening sky.

Cid, now a few beers and two vodka drinks in, announces we should play "Never have I Ever."

"Out," I say immediately.

"You suck, why?" He chastises.

"Games stupid." I reply as I complete the third joint. He waves me off, knowing this is a losing battle. But the rest of the rosy cheeked gang feel good enough to play- except Vinny who has disappeared into the house with Yuffie. And they all close themselves into a circle, with Reno and I pushed out. And I see the wave of relief rush Reno's face. I lift up the joint at him, "Wanna get fucked up, bro?"

The first smile of the night cracks along his features, "Yeah, bro."

We grab our beer and walk a little further from the group, enough that it doesn't look too suspect. Covered by the darkened backyard. We lean against the rusted chain link fence that surrounds Vinny's house.

"I hate playing this game," he nods over to the group who are getting ready to reveal their deep dark secrets.

"Yeah? Why?" I spark the joint.

"Can't stand lyin'" he smirks.

Then Cid begins with the typical, "Never have I ever sucked a dick!"

We both snort laugh as the girls protest how boring the question is, obviously head hunting, even as they take their respective sips.

"See what I mean," he continues. Our eyes meet. And slowly bring our beers to our lips and take a sip. And I see the way his eyes twinkle before he looks away, with red cheeks and a snarky smile.

Tifa counters, mocking tone and all, with the second most typical question: "Never have I ever ate pussy!"

I sigh for this one and take a hidden sip. I look at him, but he shakes his head.

Reeve up; he's fumbling. Reno mouths a don't do it man. But Reeve does, "Never have I ever had sex." The girls, like a chorus, yell "aw" which must make the poor guy feel ridiculously small. And the guys try not to laugh. Barret going as far as to comfort the clearly embarrassed Tuesti. Reno and I exchange a shrug and both take a sip.

"Girl," I murmur.

He pauses, "Both."

I knit my brows together. I realize he isn't having fun listening to our friends regal tales of their debauchery. Now with Tseng up boredly professing, "Never have I ever kissed a guy." Which means Cid has to drink with a narrowed look at the other boy. Reno shifts his eyes to me as I take a small sip.

"Did you and Highwind make out?"

"What? You don't make out with your friends?"

And I know where this is going. And eventually Barret will do his usual "Never have I ever hooked up with Cloud Strife" and then half the group will need to drink. I tap Reno's hand with my beer and nod over to a bench a little further away from the group so we can talk with more privacy.

I take a long hit to kill the nerves with white smoke that fill my lungs, and pass it to Reno. I watch as he looks at the small white stick for a second, running his teeth over his bottom lip with a distressed expression plaguing his eyes. And before I can make a playful jab at him wasting my weed, he says as if choking on the words, "I think I've been projecting my last relationship on this one."

He takes a hit and blows the smoke away with his apprehension. Continuing, with his voice hidden under the raucous laughter of our friends. "And I'm not really good at talking about shit. I've just been pushing it away-it's a waste of my time to dwell on what happened."

"We don't have to talk about this now," I assure him, "if you're not ready-"

"Nah, this is the perfect night for this conversation," he jokes, "sitting in thirty degree weather, with all our friends a few yards away, under a starless sky with a fire pit that may or may not have been stolen." His voice laced with strained sarcasm. The smile on his face drenched with pain. Like it's part of a mask and not his own.

"He begged for it, you know," he continues, "said that it would bring us closer together or some pathetic shit that like. And I held off because I knew it would be a disaster. And boy howdy was it ever." He shakes his head at the memory, rough breaths escape his lungs, "I did everything to make him comfortable. I asked if he was sure until it wasn't sexy anymore." He unleashes an unceremonious laugh, that sounds riddled with knives, as he chugs half his beer. "I mean. It's fucking traumatic but if it didn't happen to me, I'd probably think it was the funniest shit ever.

"Like, I'm fucking in this kid and he starts begging God for forgiveness. Who the fuck does that?" He runs his fingers through his hair and I watch as his blue eyes well with harsh wet tears. Then his voice drops, the laugh dies against his throat. He crushes the rest of his beer and chases it with a long hit from the joint so his coughing could be an excuse for the water in his eyes. And when his throat recovers from the onslaught, he whispers to no one. "Stop would have been better. I stopped anyway, but shit, could have said anything else but that."

I struggle for something to say. "Damn," comes out first, "I'm really fucking sorry, Reno."

He passes the joint back to me, his eyes bearing into mine. "It's not you. I don't want you thinking it's you."

I take it with a nod. "You know we don't have to do anything."

"Yeah, I know that," he shrugs, "But I don't think it's fair that he gets to have that much control over me. It's fucking bullshit." he bites his lip, "And I also don't think it's fair that you have to deal with this-"

"Deal with what? Your trauma?" He offers a half nod, "Like you deal with mine? This isn't some one sided relationship, you know. I'll take anything you have. All the time."

Before he turns his face away, I see his lips try to curve and the hot red tint glow on his face. He mumbles about me being corny, again.

"Reno," I start again, "What are you really worried about with me?

He stares into the black abyss overhead with a frown that crushes my chest "You were in denial too, Cloud. What if you freak out?"

I figured out that was coming. And maybe in this circumstance, it's fair. "Well, I don't know if I believe in God, so I don't expect asking for forgiveness-"

"Seriously, Cloud." He shoots me an incredulous look.

"Sorry, right," I sigh- fuck I suck at this-, "my...being in denial had nothing to do with religion. I wasn't even afraid at first. I knew what I was attracted to..." I look over at my friends, completely engaged in their game. Their laughter. Some of the flirtatious banter from Tifa and Cid that no one would bat an eye at, not even me. Tseng leaning over to Aerith and whispering something in her ear that causes her to blush. No one gives that a second look. It's all… "but it was one more thing that made me...different. Everyone's parents are normal. Mine are a mess. My head is a mess. And then, on top of all of that, I don't like girls. It's not the norm. Nothing about me is normal…

"It's stupid now to even say it out loud. But...I just wanted one thing to be the same as everyone else. And then my first experience was not pleasant. Zack," I cringe when his name touches my lips, "he just...didn't handle it well when people started giving him a second look for hanging around the weird kid."

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad," his voice cracks, and I feel worse than bad, but he doesn't look at me anymore. He stares daggers at the empty space above. "I don't want to go through that shit again."

"You're not making me feel bad," I respond quickly, "Nothing you could do could make me feel bad. But, look, if giving my first blow job in a canoe by a lake when I was thirteen didn't entirely freak me out, then I think we're in decent shape." I roll my eyes at the memory; and he tears his glare from the offending sky to me mouthing what the fuck. "The point is," I rush past his question, "I've done some shit. With lesser boys. And I'd rather do those things with you."

"Damn, you and these lines today." He tries to hide the smile that threatens to expose him.

"Working?"

"Kinda…." his voice trails off, "Kinda wish we were alone."

"Oh? What would you do if we were alone?"

"I don't know, maybe let you suck my dick so you stop dropping corny ass lines."

"Let me, huh? You're going to have to ask nicer than that!"

Some of the noise from our rowdy group travels to our ears and both jump as if exposed. But it's just Cid ripping his shirt off and yelling: "I don't give a fuck, I'll give all of you a lap dance" and then charges for Reeve.

Reno shakes his head."Why do we have these conversations around all these people," he laughs.

"I don't know, maybe we like the feeling of danger?" I acknowledge with a grin.

"Now I can't hold your hand without it being weird," he sighs as he leans back against the cold fence.

"Do you feel any better by the way? I know I fail at this kind of stuff."

"Hit or miss." He pulls out a cigarette, his eyes on the black sky. The moon casting shadows long his face giving him a cold blue hue that enhances the glow in his eyes. And he smirks. His typical look. "But, yeah, I do, actually- feel better. I never told anyone. But...I trust you. And it's nice knowing I'm not the only one who went through this shit." He lights his reds, "and you're not weird, babe- well you are- but I laaaa," he rolls his eyes with a huff, "Like that about you."

I wish we were anywhere else but here. So I can kiss his head and tell him that means everything to me. But I settled for shooting him a warm smile .And I whisper "I love you," so the wind carries it to his ears. Watch as he hides his smile with his cigarette. And he returns with I feel it too. But he's not ready to say it and that's fine. More than fine.

We bask in the fleeting moments of our shared existence away from the eyes of our friends. Until the inevitable demand of our return from their shouts across the yard. The night air has gotten too frigid, and hunger has attacked most the group and the promise of pizza and more cold beers, in the warmth of the Vinnny's house, proves to be alluring. They extinguish the fire and we all make our way inside, Reno and I drifting behind with the rest of the group. The sounds of their drunken laughter offer a second layer of protection. And when Aerith, who is in front of us, steps in the house with a wink directed us, Reno takes a risk-

And grabs my hand-

His leather gloves warm against my fingerless ones

And he pulls me against him, our chapped lips crashing together like a hot solar flare that destroys all logic.

But we pull away as fast as we came together. Because there's still risks.

He whispers against my lips, "Thank you."

And my smile against his, stealing a moment to caress his face, "I'm in this, okay? Always."

And he releases my hand, "All the time."