Written in the Stars

by someofthissomeofthat310

Season 1, Episode 4: What if Victor doesn't get in the car after his basketball game? Instead, he walks away. He can't go home because he knows that nothing good waits for him there, so he walks around. While he's walking, he finds Benji.

Written in the Stars

Summary: Season 1, Episode 4: What if Victor doesn't get in the car after his basketball game? Instead, he walks away. He can't go home because he knows that nothing good waits for him there, so he walks around. While he's walking, he finds Benji.

A/N: I had this written before season 2 dropped, so anything that remotely lines up with season 2 is purely coincidental

"Victor, get in the car." My dad is using his I'm-putting-my-foot-down voice. Ever since I was little, he's used that voice whenever he didn't have time to argue with us or convince us to do something. Countless church picnics, sleepovers, and hangouts had ended with a nearly identical order to get in the car. I've never, not once, ignored my dad when he's used that voice.

Until now. I start to take a step toward the car, but the idea of getting in the car makes me feel like I'm willingly walking into a cage; I can't do it. "No. I'm sorry, but no. I don't want to get in the car with you; I don't want to talk about this." I turn and start to walk away; I feel like I need to do something to clear my head.

"Victor!" My dad calls. I ignore him. I wish I had my hoodie and headphones because this seems like the perfect opportunity to pull a hood up and drown out the world.

"Victor David Salazar," my mom seethes.

Something about that stops me in my tracks. I think it's that she used my full name, and she only ever does that when she thinks I've done something wrong. The utter absurdity of her thinking I'm wrong to not want to talk about her affair makes anger boil in my blood. A wave of warmth washes over me, bringing with it a newfound fury. I thought I'd reached my anger peak, but what I'm feeling now makes my outburst in the gym seem downright mild.

I spin around. "What?" I yell. "What could you possibly have to say that will make this better? You cheated on dad. With his boss, mom. His boss." I close my eyes and shake my head. "I can't do this."

I hear my mom and dad calling me as I run off. I know it's childish to literally run away from my problems, but I don't think anything they say can make this better, and I don't have it in me to listen to either of them make excuses for this. There are no excuses; there's nothing that could possibly justify her sleeping with someone other than my dad. Eventually, my run slows to a walk, but I keep moving. I feel like as long as I'm moving, I can control all the fear and fury that I'm feeling right now.

I'm not paying attention to where I'm going until I realize that I have no clue where I am. Every part of Atlanta I've been in has been busy and packed with houses, apartments, or stores, but I'm on a long stretch of road with nothing but grass and two barely-lit street lamps on either side.

I feel like I should be scared - I'm God knows where without my phone because it's still securely tucked away in my locker, it's getting really cold and I'm only in my basketball uniform, and it's dark. Yet, I feel nothing; I'm barely aware of the cold, and the dark only makes me feel safe and hidden. The only thing I'm aware of is my anger. It courses through me like it's embedded in my blood. A ridiculous idea occurs to me.

I get off the road and walk through the grass. It's unkempt and thick and wild. As I walk through it, it brushes against my legs making me feel like something is crawling up my shins. I don't stop until I'm in the middle. I think I'm far enough from the main road that no one can see me; I'm definitely far from the illumination of the street lamps. The stars are so bright in the sky, but they don't quite reach where I am standing. I don't mind the darkness that envelops me. My anger makes me feel like I might actually explode in the middle of this random grassy field.

I look around carefully, but I don't see any sign that there's a single other person out here. Because of that, I decide to take a chance. It's a tiny scream at first, born of frustration but tamed by the ridiculous notion that screaming could help anything. Except it helps. With that tiny, frustrated scream, I feel like a weight is lifted off my chest. So I do it again. And again. And again.

My tiny, frustrated scream turns into something primitive and instinctive. I hold out my arms and just let it all out. I look up at the stars as if they are my audience. For a split second, I feel so gloriously empty and free of my anger. Until, "are you okay?" I put my hand over my eyes as a bright light shines on my face. "Victor?"

The light moves so it's illuminating Benji. He looks like he's getting ready to tell a ghost story, but it's undeniably him. "Benji? What are you doing here?" I ask.

"I could ask you the same thing," he points out.

I shrug but realize that he probably can't see me. "I was just taking a walk."

"Through a random grassy field?" Benji asks skeptically.

"Isn't that what you're doing?" I counter.

"Uh… no. I like to come here to think," he admits.

That surprises me. "You do?"

"Yeah. I know it doesn't make sense, but something about the dark… it helps clear my head," he explains.

"I think that makes a lot of sense. What do you usually do out here? Other than scare random people with your flashlight," I tease.

Benji chuckles. "This is actually the first time anyone's ever been here. This might surprise you, but most people don't go on midnight strolls here."

I freeze for a moment. "You're joking, right? It's not midnight," I tell him. There's no way I'd been walking that long.

"Not yet," he agrees. I see the face of his watch briefly light up. "It's 11:30."

"Shit. Do you have your phone on you?"

"Yes," he says slowly.

"Can I borrow it? I need to call my parents."

"Where's yours?"

"In my gym locker at school. Long story. Do you mind?"

He must pull out his phone because his face is briefly illuminated as he unlocks it. He hands it to me, and I quickly type in my dad's number.

"Hello?" my dad answers before I hear any ringing through Benji's phone.

"Hey, dad." I don't know what's about to happen, so my words sound hesitant.

"Victor, where the hell are you?" My dad's voice is so loud, I'm pretty sure Benji can hear him.

"I went for a walk, and I don't have my phone." It's not the answer to his question, but part of me doesn't want him to know. I also have no clue where I am, so I really couldn't tell him even if I wanted to.

"Is that Victor?" I hear my mom ask in the background. The sound of her voice reignites all of my earlier anger. She sounds frantic, and even that's not enough to defuse my irritation. "Tell him to come home."

"You don't need to tell me anything. I'm not ready to come home right now," I tell them. I don't know where I'll go. Maybe I'll get directions from Benji and sit outside my apartment until I'm sure my parents are asleep, but I can't see my mom right now.

"Let us talk about this," my dad suggests.

"What could you possibly say?" I ask.

"We can explain how this happened."

"Right, because that's what I want. I want to hear mom talk about why she slept with your boss and how it happened," I spit sarcastically.

"That's not fair."

"No, you know what's not fair? Us having to find out from mom's FaceBook that she screwed your boss. It's not fair that mom cheated on you. It's not fair that she made this choice." I close my eyes. "This is why I didn't want to talk about it. I'm not ready. I don't know when I'll be home, but it won't be anytime soon; it might not even be tonight."

I think my dad says something, but I'm already ending the call on Benji's phone… Benji! I'd forgotten about him. I'd been pacing when I was on his phone, so I have no idea where he is. I turn on the flashlight on his phone, turn, and nearly have a heart attack when he's standing about half a foot away from me. "Warn a guy, won't you?"

A small smile crosses his face. "I'm exactly where I was when I gave you my phone." He bites his lip nervously. "I've never done this before but…" He looks down at the grass. "When I come here, I usually just lie down and think, so if you want to talk about… that." He motions toward his phone. I hastily turn off the flashlight and give him back his phone.

"Oh, I don't want to get in the way of your thinking," I say self-consciously. It's weird how mentally divided I am. Part of me wants to so badly even though it seems like it would just lead to a spectacularly awkward night.

"I don't mind," he assures me.

"Then that sounds really nice." I'm reasonably confident that this is going to be a disaster, but it could also be an opportunity. An opportunity to get to know Benji more than I can in between orders at Brasstown. Maybe I'll prove once and for all that I don't have feelings for him.

I follow Benji to where he must have been before I started screaming. The grass kind of makes a lima bean around the trees, so this area is entirely hidden. It almost looks like it's in the middle of a circular clearing amongst the trees. He crawls into a large tent. I hesitate only a moment before I crawl in after him. Even with the two of us, it's spacious in here. I'm surprised when I can see through the top of the tent.

Benji flips off his flashlight and lies down so he's looking up. I do the same. For a moment, I'm kind of mesmerized. The world looks so vast from down here. There are so many stars in the sky; they seem brighter than they had when I was outside. In the pure darkness, there's nothing to detract from them. With how bright they look, I'm surprised that it's so dark where we're lying. I don't know if the tent prevents the light from reaching us or what, but I can barely make out Benji in the tent. "Wow," I say softly. "This is kind of incredible."

"Yeah," he agrees.

"Do you come here often?" I ask.

"A couple of times a week." I feel his shoulder shrug.

"Aren't you worried about… I don't know. Bears or snakes or raccoons or something?" I rack my brain to try to remember if I heard anything about what kind of animals are in the area, but aside from a glimpse of raccoons and squirrels by the trash cans outside of my apartment building, I'm not really sure.

Benji chuckles. "Not really. I've been coming out here for almost a year and the worst I've ever seen was a fox," he explains. "Plus, people go camping all the time."

If he says so. I went camping with my church a few times, but it was the kind of camping where you pray around a campfire and sleep in heated cabins, so I'm not sure it counts. "In the winter?" I ask skeptically.

"Are you cold?" He retorts.

I'm a little cold but I think that has more to do with my shorts and basketball jersey than with the actual cold. I'm definitely not as cold as I thought I would be. "Not that cold," I grudgingly admit.

"If it's really cold, I won't come out here, but we've had a pretty mild winter so far. It hasn't been an issue," he explains. "Even at night, as long as I have a blanket, I'm good."

"I did not take you for an outdoors kind of guy."

Benji snorts. "Why?" he asks.

"I don't know," I admit. And I really don't know why I made the assumption.

"My mom used to be really outdoorsy. I feel like I spent most of my childhood outside." He sounds a little sad and wistful.

"What happened?" I wonder.

"Oh, nothing bad. She was a stay-at-home mom, so when I started school, she went back to work. She's a nurse in an oncology ward, and she stopped having time. I still like to get out and do stuff. I'd love to go camping again… real camping, not this, but Derek is not a fan of the great outdoors."

"That kinda sucks."

"It's worth it," he tells me. Something about that makes my heart feel heavy, and I cannot begin to figure out why.

"Why did you start coming out here?" I ask curiously.

"Don't you have something you want to talk about?" he deflects. "It sounds like you have a lot going on with your family."

"Yeah," I agree. At first, I don't know if I can talk about it. But there's something about the darkness that makes it seem like I'm just saying it out loud to myself and not to him. I don't know how long I talk for, but he never once interrupts me.

"That really sucks," he says softly. "I'm sorry this is happening."

"Thanks." I don't know if I feel better, but I'm definitely less angry. Talking freed up a lot of space in my emotional reservoir and it's like I can breathe again.

"I don't have the best relationship with my dad," Benji whispers to the darkness. "It's not the same as what you're going through, but it's why I come out here. I know he loves me, but he doesn't understand me and sometimes it's too much. I start to get this feeling like the walls of our house are closing in on me, so I wait for him to fall asleep and I sneak out to a place where I don't have to think about walls. I feel like I'm free to feel however I do out here." I'm a little surprised he comes here and doesn't go see Derek. I've only met Derek a handful of times when he's visited Benji at work, but they seem really close. And it seems like such a hassle to have to set up a tent every time.

"Your parents don't know you're here?"

"I think they do know… or they at least know I leave the house. I don't see how it's possible that they don't know, but we don't talk about it. They probably assume I'm spending the night with Derek."

"How often does he come out here with you?" I ask curiously.

"He doesn't know about this."

I turn so I'm facing him. "What?"

My eyes have adjusted to the darkness, so I know he props himself up on his elbow. "Have you ever been in a relationship?" he asks quietly.

I mimic his posture. "I mean, I'm dating Mia… sort of. We've been on a date, and we've hung out a few times."

"Is there anything about you that she doesn't know?"

I can't help my chuckle. It's not because I find his question remotely funny but because I could write an entire book series with everything Mia doesn't know about me. Book number one being my messages to Simon and number two being the reason behind those messages. "I see your point," I admit. "So that doesn't go away? I always thought that when I found my person, I'd be able to tell them anything."

"I used to think that too and then I was in a relationship." He sighs. "I love Derek, but he came out when he was thirteen. He doesn't always understand why I had so much difficulty coming out, and it's not his fault, so why am I going to make him feel bad about it? I love that his coming out was so smooth and that he felt like he could tell his parents, but I don't know what that's like."

"Can I ask what happened? Is that okay?"

"I set myself up for that, huh? You don't have to pretend like you want to know."

"I'm not pretending," I assure him.

"But why?"

I fall back so I'm lying on the floor of the tent and look up at the stars. I'm nowhere near ready to say out loud that I'm questioning things, so I give him a different truth. "I didn't realize how nice it would be to talk about what's happening with my mom. You let me get all those things out of my head; I'd like to do that for you if you want to talk about it. I can listen almost as well as I can talk."

"Not tonight," Benji says softly. "I don't want to offend you, but… there are some things that almost no one knows about me, and I don't think I want to talk about them yet."

"Then what do you want to do?"

"Something that's probably too cheesy for you." He nudges me softly as if that will break the uncomfortable tension that sprouted between us.

"Try me," I challenge.

He's quiet so long; I start to think he's not going to tell me. "I like to look at the stars and find shapes. I find that, sometimes, I end up seeing what I need to see."

It's just another thing I have to add to the mystery that is Benji. Confusingly ripped barista with tight tank tops and a stupidly mesmerizing smile. Talented lead singer, guitar player, and music arranger. Outdoors enthusiast. And now he likes to look at the stars. How is it even possible for someone like this to exist? It is not fair.

"I spy a guitar," I say after a moment.

I don't know how much time we pass this way. We go back and forth with trying to find the same shapes that the other saw. It's silly and easy and, Benji's right, helps clear my head.

I expect to have difficulty falling asleep, but I must fall asleep in the middle of our game and when I wake up, the sun is shining brightly and Benji is fast asleep next to me. I don't remember him giving me his jacket and a blanket, so he must have draped them over me after I fell asleep. My arms are nice and warm under his jacket, and I snuggle just a little more into it. It smells good. I wonder if this is what Benji smells like.

Benji sleeps all curled up in himself like he's holding himself together - I wonder if this is normal for him or if it's the result of a cold February night. For the first time, I can see what he's wearing - grey sweatpants and a Dollywood hoodie.

Benji's phone goes off a few minutes later, and he shoots up. He looks disoriented for a second as he fumbles with his phone. His eyes are closed as he answers it. "Hello." He pauses for a minute. "No, I'm not home. I hung out with a friend last night." Another pause as he runs his hand through his hair. His eyes are still closed. "No, no, no. Don't come over. I'm gonna get home and shower and then leave for work. I'll see you later."

I quietly groan. I have to work today.

He hangs up. "What time is it?"

"I don't know. You're the one with the phone," I point out.

"I forgot," he admits sheepishly. He looks at his phone. "We have to be at work in a little over an hour. I have to shower, so we should probably pack up."

I help him fold up the blanket and he stuffs it into a faded blue backpack that I hadn't noticed. The tent is surprisingly easy to collapse and Benji assures me it's just as easy to set up. I put the tent in a big black bag. "How far do you live from here?" I ask.

"Just through there." He points to the trees, so I don't know what he's talking about.

It turns out there's a little trail through the trees and on the other side is a neighborhood. It's the first time since last night that I recognize something, and I'm relieved to realize I know where I am. I never would have guessed what was on the other side of the trees. "I didn't know you lived around here," I say quietly. I'm only a ten-minute walk away from here. "I'll see you at work."

"Hey, before you go. I had fun last night. I never thought I'd like having someone in my safe space, but it wasn't bad. If you ever need to come back, I wouldn't mind."

My heart feels like it's going to leap out of my chest. "Thanks. I might have to take you up on that."

I'm not sure if I'll actually go back but Thursday after our shift, he nonchalantly asks me if I'll be there and I think I'm incapable of saying no to him. Around 11 on Friday, I go to our spot, this time with a jacket and my phone securely in my pocket.

There's kind of something exhilarating about planning to come here. My parents think I'm spending the night with Felix, so they know I won't be back tonight. I walk through Benji's neighborhood to get to the grassy field and I spot Benji almost right away, sitting in the flap of the tent so he's half in and half out. It's incredibly dark - the sky is still full of cloud remnants from the storm today, but he has his flashlight out. I realize with a chill that the light is for me. There's no other reason for him to have it on.

I walk toward the tent, quickly duck inside, and lie down next to him. I'm surprised when the floor crinkles and I realize he put a plastic tarp under the tent. I hadn't considered how the rain would impact the grass, and I'm impressed that he thought of it. Within a couple of seconds, he clicks off the flashlight. For a moment, neither of us speak.

"I'm glad you came," Benji says.

"Me too," I agree. "It's so weird. I've been so keyed up all week, but something about being out here… it's calming."

"That's what I like about it. It puts everything into perspective for me," he explains. "It's like, usually my problems seem so big and consuming, but here? They're small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things."

"Yeah." As I stare up at the stars, I know exactly what he means. I feel so very small right now, but not in a bad way. "All week, I thought that my mom cheating on my dad was the worst thing to ever happen to me. I've been picking fights with everyone."

"Have you talked to them since everything went down last week?

"Yeah. Me and Pilar talked to them on Sunday. I… my parents think that we should just forgive and forget, but I don't know if I can."

"That really sucks. I can't pretend to know what that's like, and I'm not going to tell you that you should forgive them, but I do know that you don't forgive someone for them. You do it for yourself. So you can let go of all the anger and frustration and bad things you're feeling."

"I've never thought about it like that."

"It took me a long time to come around to it," he admits. "Forgiving felt like I was letting someone off the hook but that's not what happens. I've learned it just takes away the power they have to keep hurting you."

"That's deep." I really want to ask and in the darkness, it doesn't seem like such an out-of-place question. I don't think I'd ever be able to ask it in the light of day, but here? In this safe space? "How did you learn that?"

"When I first came out, I had so much trouble letting go of what I knew people had said when I was in the closet," he explains quietly. "Some of the people I used to be really close with were the same people that would make jokes about gay people. When I was in the closet, my frustration with them just built and built. When I came out, part of me expected apologies and, for the most part, I didn't get that. It's like they didn't think it was a big deal just because they stopped when they found out. I didn't know how to explain why it upset me so much, so I went through a period where I withdrew on top of going through a really difficult time in my life because I didn't think I could forgive them without an apology."

"Was it really hard? When you came out?"

"Yes and no. It was harder before I came out," he answers

"How so?" I wonder.

"I know you want to know, but…"

"You're not ready to talk?" I guess.

"I just don't know you that well. People that I've known since I was in kindergarten, my closest friends. They don't even know. I've only known you for a few weeks."

"Well, let's change that," I suggest. "Maybe if we knew each other better, we could talk about these things."

His voice is hesitant when he asks, "what do you want to know?"

I frown. I honestly can't think of a single question right now. I grasp for something, anything, and settle on the first thing that pops in my head. "You play guitar."

"That's not really a question," he points out.

I shrug. "Tell me about it. How long have you been playing? Why did you start?"

"I started playing in the third grade," he answers. "You know how… actually, you might not know this. I don't know what other schools do. At Little Creek, the lower elementary school here, we had a marking-period-long music elective. We had to pick an instrument and the school lent us the instrument to practice. The whole idea was if we liked it, we could sign up to do Band at Big Creek in the fourth grade."

"And you chose guitar?"

"Half my class seemed to choose the flute or the clarinet, but I didn't like the idea of putting my mouth on something someone else's mouth had been on." I raise my eyebrows at him. "Yeah, I outgrew that once I discovered kissing." I snort. "I had no idea that they probably sanitized those instruments in between cycles. That left guitar or piano. I had nightmares from piano lessons as a kid, so I picked guitar."

My chest constricts slightly. "My mom taught us all how to play piano when we were young. She used to give lessons."

"Do you like it?"

"About as much as any kid likes something they are told they have to do. I didn't hate it, but I never felt like I got good enough to enjoy it. Eventually, she settled with using us as piano lesson models."

"Wow. You were a piano lesson model." It's so similar to what Mia said that it simultaneously makes me feel pleased and guilty.

"Oh yeah. I probably still would be, but Adrian's younger and cuter, so she uses him now," I explain.

"Adrian's your little brother?" he confirms. "Is he like you?"

"He's nothing like me. He's so much smarter than me and he's not afraid to be himself. Last summer, he taught himself a bunch of magic tricks. He's pretty good. And he's hilarious." I chuckle as memories come back to me. "He's the best."

"You sound really close with your family."

"We used to be closer," I admit. "In Texas… things were so much simpler. Or, they felt that way. Don't get me wrong, Texas has its flaws, but life was kind of like reading a book. As long as you followed the rules and didn't try something that was too radically new, it was easy."

"It sounds confining," he observes. "If you always follow the rule book, how do you ever find out who you are? I think some of the best moments in life are spontaneous and new and different."

"Convince me," I challenge.

I can practically hear him thinking. "Okay, how about this? When I was twelve, we went on a road trip one summer. My mom and dad took like six weeks off of work and rented an RV. We didn't have a plan in mind, but somehow we ended up in this little town in Indiana. We discovered, and this is really a thing, the world's largest ball of paint."

"The largest ball of paint?" I ask skeptically.

"Yeah, it's this whole thing. You can go see it and make an appointment to paint it. Well, there was this other family there that had made that appointment. They had a kid around my age. Jeremy. His mom was trying to get him to join them and he was just standing to the side shaking his head. Finally, he said, 'I am not painting a giant testicle'." Benji's voice gets high as he imitates the kid. "I lost it. He was right. It did look like a giant testicle. I had a blast with Jeremy that day. I think my parents were excited to see me talk to someone other than them for the first time in weeks, so we ended up hanging out with Jeremy and his family at the campground we were staying at. Jeremey was so… uniquely himself. He made me want that, even if that was easier said than done. It's one of my favorite memories and it happened because Jeremy wasn't afraid to be different."

"That sounds like it was really fun," I acknowledge.

"Have I convinced you yet?" he asks hopefully.

"I don't know. Don't you think just as many bad things happen?" I ask. "Take my family. We moved away from our home and all of our friends because of some spontaneous affair my mom had."

"It hasn't been all bad, has it? Atlanta's not a bad place to live."

I look over at what I can make out of Benji's silhouette. "No, it's not," I agree. "I guess I see where you're coming from. I don't hate it here."

Benji chuckles. "What a compliment to the great city of Atlanta."

"Have you always lived here?" I question.

"My parents moved here when my mom was pregnant with me. They used to live in Wyoming, but then my dad got a job doing accounting for Coca-Cola," he explains. "My mom still complains about how hard it was to move when she was seven months pregnant, but they couldn't pass up the offer my dad got." He sighs. "Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I'd grown up in Wyoming in some tiny town with only ten other kids my age."

"Do you think you would have liked that?" I wonder.

He doesn't hesitate. "No. My whole life has been in Atlanta. All of the people I've met and Derek. I may have made some mistakes, but I wouldn't take them back because I've met some really incredible people because of them. And I get to be me here. I don't think that ever would have happened in Wyoming. I think it was my destiny to be here. And maybe it's yours too," he suggests. "Maybe everything with your mom happened for a reason… so you could come here to this place."

"I hope I see it that way one day."

"Do you believe in destiny?" he asks.

I focus on the stars. "I think so. Sometimes I think about just how much needed to happen for me to meet someone or do something. Take this. We're here looking up at the stars but think about everything that went into making this moment. I moved here from Texas; your parents moved from Wyoming and then stayed here; my dad told me I needed to get a job to play basketball; the place you work happened to be hiring; I ended up in the same place as you after I found out about my mom's affair; you let me into your safe space and for some reason, wanted me to come back. There's so much that went into this moment. It's hard not to believe that even something as small as this was meant to be."

"Wow," Benji says.

Silence wraps around us, but I don't feel a need to break it. Within minutes, Benji's breathing slows. Because I fell asleep before him last week, I had no idea that he snores when he first falls asleep. It's not particularly loud or anything like that. He has these tiny, sleepy snores that escape him; it's actually kind of cute.

I drift off to sleep to the sound of his snores.

When we wake up and finish folding everything, he asks, "same time, same place, next week?" I try not to be overly enthusiastic when I agree.

We don't talk about it while we're working, but I think it takes the pressure off the small conversations we have in between making cups of coffee.

I'm constantly aware that once Friday rolls around, it will just be me and Benji under the stars. There's something about being with him that makes me feel calm and weightless and like I don't have to hold myself back.

The only dark spot in my week is trying to figure out if I like my time with Benji because he's my friend or because I want more than that. I try to figure out how my feelings for Mia compare, but it's like comparing apples and antelopes. I really like Mia, I like spending time with her, and I think I like kissing her. The time I spend with her is so different from the time I spend with Benji. I spend so much time doing stuff with Mia - watching movies, making small talk over a cup of coffee, hanging out with Lake or Felix or one of the hundred people at Creekwood that think Mia is their best friend, listening to Mia complain about all the people that are only friends with her because her dad's loaded. With Benji, we spend all our time together talking about the big stuff. After only two weeks, I feel like I've learned so much about him. I don't know what this all means for me or which one is the way I'm supposed to feel.

The moment I spot Benji on Friday, all those fears and uncertainties are pushed aside. I don't think I have room for things like that with Benji. I lie down next to him and it's like I deflate. "What's the plan for today?" I ask. "Are we playing I Spy? 20 questions?"

"I was thinking we could listen to some music," Benji tells me. "Maybe dance a little." He looks at me hopefully. "Other than Baby Shark and Call Me Maybe, I don't really know what you listen to."

"You want us to have a dance party?" I ask uncertainly. "We're in public."

"Do you think the owls are going to judge you or something?" Benji teases. He has a point there. We may be outside, but we are far from judgmental eyes. "Come on. What do you say we dance like no one is watching?"

He climbs to his feet and offers me his hand. I reluctantly take it.

It takes me a few songs to really let loose and melt into the chaotic atmosphere Benji has created, but once I do, the night flies by. I'm not aware of anything except the joyous laughter that escapes us, the teasing comments we toss back and forth, and our running argument about what the greatest song ever written is.

Like every moment with Benji, it's easy to lose myself. It's nearly 2 am before we climb into the tent. My stomach hurts from laughing so hard, and Benji's face has been in a perpetual state of red since the second or third song. I also feel lighter. When he'd first suggested it, I expected it to be wildly uncomfortable, but it was actually really nice.

I feel wide awake even if my limbs feel sore and tired. "Are you gonna fall asleep?" Benji asks quietly.

"I'm not really that tired," I tell him honestly.

He opens his newly created Spotify playlist. It only makes me a little flattered (ok, I'm massively flattered) that he now has a playlist titled, 'Benji's and Vic's Jamz' (he really does spell it with a 'z'). Every song that we'd mutually liked from tonight is on that playlist. "Must be from all that basketball. I thought for sure you weren't going to last that long."

I smiled into the darkness. "What about you? Where'd your stamina come from?"

Benji turns so he's facing me and wags his eyebrows suggestively. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

I can't help the laughter that peels out of me. Benji laughs along with me. "You have a nice laugh."

His comment makes butterflies swirl in my stomach and dries up my laugh right away. Heat floods to my face, and I feel oddly flustered. "Uh… thanks."

If he notices my sudden change, he doesn't say anything. "In all seriousness, I like being active."

"Do you play any sports?" I ask curiously.

"No. My parents forced me into every sport imaginable when I was young. I tried them all. Soccer, basketball, football, baseball, lacrosse. I was bad at all of them. I did okay with cross country and track, but I don't really like running. I mostly do it as a necessity."

"Then what do you like to do?"

"Weights," Benji answers. When he sees the look on my face he grins. "What? Do you think I got these -" he flexes his arm in front of my face "- by lifting bags of coffee beans?"

I snort. "Okay, Hercules. Put those away," I say as I move to push his arm down. I freeze when I touch his arm because I suddenly feel very, very warm. Those butterflies are flapping erratically right now as if they're trying to escape the fire that seems to be spreading through me. I withdraw my hand quickly. I cough to hide what just happened.

Benji laughs. "What about you? I know you play basketball. Do you have any other hidden talents?"

"I don't know that I'd call them hidden talents. I can hold my own in most sports if I'm just playing against friends, but basketball is the only one I'm really good at."

"What about outside of sports?" Benji asks. "I've got my music. What do you do other than throw around a piece of rubber?"

"I don't know." I frown as I consider his question.

"Come on. There's gotta be something you're good at," he says. "I won't judge. Even if it's something really weird like…" his eyes get big and a mischievous smile crosses his face. "Making necklaces out of baby teeth."

"Ew. Do people actually do that?" I ask.

Benji's grin gets bigger. "I've read about it.

"Well, I can promise I do not make necklaces out of baby teeth." I can't fully say it with a straight face. "I guess… I make pretty decent pancakes. I used to go over to my grandparents' house every Saturday for breakfast. My abuela taught me her recipe for pancakes one of those weeks and we started making breakfast together." I look up at the sky. In so many ways, my life before I moved here was so complicated, but I missed parts of it. Cooking with my abuelos was the one time I didn't feel like I needed to hide myself from them. For a few minutes, they weren't my highly conservative grandparents and I wasn't their questioning grandson; they could just be my grandparents and I could pretend that I was unconditionally loved by them even as I was harboring a secret I knew they hated.

"Are you close with your grandparents?" Benji asks.

"They used to live around the corner from us," I tell him. "My aunt did too. We saw them all the time."

"You miss them?"

"Yeah. I do." We sink into a comfortable silence after that while I try to figure out if that's a lie. Part of me does miss my grandparents, but I don't miss the pressure they put on us to be their perfect grandchildren.

Benji falls asleep long before I do. When his alarm goes off the next morning, I feel like I've just closed my eyes.

Next Friday, Benji is sitting on a blanket outside of the tent when I walk up.

"Escuse moi, sir," I say, mimicking a girl that had come into Brasstown yesterday. She'd put on a noticeably fake French accent and then had forgotten to keep it up when she put in her actual order. It had been hilarious. When she realized she dropped her accent, she immediately started using what we could only describe as an Irish Australian hybrid accent. Benji had to step into the back room so she wouldn't see him laugh at her and we spent the rest of the night talking in funny accents.

Benji chuckles. "Hey, I'm glad you're here." His voice sounds weird.

"Are you okay?" I ask. He sighs and shakes his head. I sit down on the blanket next to him. "What's wrong?"

He runs his hand through his hair. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I've been picking fights with everyone."

That surprises me because I thought he'd been totally normal this past week. I don't think he's even raised his voice in front of me this past week. "You've been fine to me," I point out.

"When I say everyone, I really mean Derek," he admits.

How in love with someone must you be that they're everyone to you? Not for the first time, I wonder if I'll ever feel that way about Mia; I wonder if I'll ever get to the point where she feels like my whole world. "What are you fighting about?"

"That's the thing. Literally nothing. A few days ago, we were watching a Disney movie with his little sister. Derek hates Disney, but he'd do anything for his sister. He made a comment about how unrealistic the movie was and it got to me because it's an animated movie with talking animals. It got to the point where we were actually fighting over it; we still are. And why? Do either of us really care about this?."

I frown. "When I was in the eighth grade, Pilar and I had a huge showdown at a church barbeque," I tell him. "It looked like we were just fighting over the last piece of corn on the cob, but there was so much more to our fight. It took me a long time to figure out that I was fighting with her because I was jealous. One of my friends had started to hang out with her and it seemed like I never saw him anymore." I don't tell the full story, which is that I was in the process of trying to figure out if I had a crush on that friend and he was so clearly into Pilar. I don't think we're quite there yet. "Maybe you and Derek aren't really mad about the Disney movie and that's just where it's coming out. Has anything been bothering you recently?"

"Not recently." There's something about how he says it. There's enough defensiveness and emphasis on his words for me to think that he wants me to ask.

"Okay, then what's been bothering you… not recently?" I pry.

"I've known Derek since I started high school," he starts. "I came out to him a little over a year ago and it was… rocky. I don't think he understands why I didn't tell him sooner, especially because he was out and we were friends before we started dating. Sometimes, I really want to talk about it, but I can't talk to him."

"Maybe you can talk to him. If you try, he might surprise you," I point out.

"No. I've tried. It just upsets him."

"So instead, you pick fights and make yourself upset?" I question. "Sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I just meant…"

"No, you're right. My thing is… I don't want to make him feel bad. It doesn't feel worth it."

"I think if there was something that was upsetting Mia, I'd want her to tell me. If she felt like she couldn't, that would only make me feel worse."

"Maybe," he says reluctantly.

He shifts slightly, and I'm suddenly aware that his pinky is almost touching mine. It's close enough that I know exactly where his hand is. It's all I can think about. I think about how easy it would be to shift my hand a millimeter and be touching his hand.

I move my hands so they're over my knees. I cough as if it will help me refocus my mind. It kind of helps. "Did something happen recently?" I ask as if nothing out of the ordinary just transpired. "That you wanted to talk about?"

"It's not that something happened; it's old stuff that's been on my mind a lot lately." For a minute, all that is audible is the sound of our slow breathing. "When I was in the closet, I dated a couple of girls," he explains.

"That doesn't sound so bad," I tell him. I'm instantly on edge because I'm pretty sure this doesn't bode well for me or my relationship with Mia.

"I go back and forth about it. Sometimes, I think it's okay because I never meant to hurt them, and I've apologized. I try to convince myself that I was trying to find out if I could have feelings for them but that's not what I was doing. I was trying to make myself have feelings for them."

I frown. "Is there a difference?"

"A really big one. I thought if I pretended long enough, I would feel something. I didn't think it would happen naturally."

"Lots of people date around; that seems harmless enough."

"It wasn't harmless," he contradicts. My heart sinks; I really needed to hear him say that there was something else. He sighs. "It's really hard to explain this to someone that hasn't been through it. It's kind of like if you found out that Mia was only sleeping with you because she didn't want to be herself."

I'm sure his words are supposed to fill me with rage or something at the thought of Mia's hypothetical betrayal, but the only emotion I am capable of feeling is guilt. Is that what I'm doing with Mia? Am I just trying to avoid my truth or am I trying to figure out what my truth is?

I think he misunderstands my silence because he quickly says, "I'm not saying that's what's happening. I'm sure Mia's sleeping with you because she wants to sleep with you."

"We're not sleeping together," I quickly correct him. "I haven't… I'm not… Do people think we're sleeping together? Why do you think we're sleeping together?"

"Why are you freaking out?" he counters. "I just figured that you've been together… what? Almost two and a half months, right?"

"I, um, I haven't exactly… ever," I said slowly.

"You're a virgin," he realizes. He sounds surprised, and I wonder if I should be flattered. "Sorry. I shouldn't have assumed."

I sigh. "Where I'm from, sex is a really big deal."

"You don't need to get defensive; it's better to wait until you're ready. Trust me. I wish I'd waited to sleep with someone until I finished figuring my stuff out. I regret the girls I slept with."

"You've… but you're…" I don't know when I lost my ability to formulate a full sentence, but it's really annoying.

"I'm gay?" he guesses.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, well I was chasing something. I thought if I could make myself feel something with them, then I could pretend this part of me didn't exist. I could pretend my feelings for my bandmate didn't exist."

"You liked Derek when you were with those girls?" I confirm. I'm starting to piece together his guilt and I think it's contagious.

"Some of them, yeah. That's the other thing. I knew I liked Derek, but the idea of being with someone that was so out was intimidating," he explains.

I almost laugh because I actually feel like I know what he means. "I get that." And then, because I'm terrified that he'll read the right amount into what I said, I quickly add, "I mean, I can imagine. It seems like it would be difficult to see someone living the life you want without worrying about what other people might think."

"Yeah." He sounds surprised. "It was. It felt like I was being forced to confront myself when I was with him, so until I came out, I tried to avoid him."

Maybe it's a little different than I was thinking because I never feel like I'm being forced to confront myself. I just feel really confused when I'm with Benji. It's almost a relief to know I'm different because maybe it means I'm not like him. "I guess you just couldn't stay away from him," I tease.

He chuckles. "Something like that." He rolls over so he's facing me, but I stay where I am. If I have to look at him while he talks about Derek, I don't think I'll be able to uphold the magic of this space we share every week. "Even after I was out, I was terrified at the idea of being in a relationship. Everything I'd known about relationships, I'd learned from my girlfriends and those had been such disasters. I thought that's what being with Derek would be like. Does it make you uncomfortable that I'm talking about this?"

"No," I lie. On the bright side, I think I'm convincing.

"Okay. I couldn't tell 'cuz you're turtling up right now."

"I'm sorry… I'm what?" I ask. What the hell does that even mean?

"You're turtling. Your shoulders are getting all hunched."

I don't realize it until he points it out, and I feel weirdly stiff as I force myself to stretch out. I prop myself up on my arm to hopefully maintain a more casual pose. "Sorry. That really had nothing to do with what you were saying," I assure him. It's a half-truth. "You're the first person I've ever talked to like this. My guy friends in Texas… we weren't exactly known for sharing our feelings, but then I come out here and I feel like I'm a different Victor than I was in Texas, and I'm a different Victor than everyone at Creekwood sees. It's kind of scary, but I really like being able to talk like this, so I try to push it aside."

"We don't have to do this," Benji tells me. I don't know if the disappointment in his voice is actually there or if I'm imagining it because I want him to be upset at the thought of not talking to me.

"No, seriously. I want to be here. I like the Victor I am when I'm here," I assure him. And it's the truth. When I'm with him, I feel most of the pressure I put on myself dissipate. Sure, my questions and uncertainties are always there, but they're much quieter when I'm with him.

"And who are you when you're here?" He asks. "You've talked a lot about your family and your mom especially and a little about Mia, but I don't know much about who you are."

I frown. "I don't think anyone's ever asked me that before." It's so strange to me because I don't know who I am. My family and my secret seem to be the only things that make up who I am. They've always been a big part of me. As I think more about Benji's question, I have no idea how to answer him. I decide to answer him honestly. "I don't know who I am when I'm here. I just know that… I feel like myself out here. I don't feel like I have to act like a guy on the basketball team or a responsible big brother; I don't have to be my family's fixer and pretend that I'm okay with what my mom did; I don't have to spend all my time trying to figure out the right thing to say or the right way to act. I get to just be me, and I get to figure out who that is."

"I feel the same way… like I just get to be myself," he says. He flops back down, but I stay in the same position I'm in.

"I'm glad."

"Tell me something about you," he requests. "Something that has nothing to do with your family."

I look over at him. He kind of set me up perfectly. It should theoretically be so easy to tell him after everything we've talked about, but I feel like the words are stuck in my throat. Instead of giving him the obvious answer, I choose something a little safer. "Did I ever tell you about how I got into basketball?" I know I haven't talked about it, but I feel self-conscious jumping into my story. Almost like I need his validation that he actually wants to hear about it.

"No. How'd it happen?"

I lie back down and close my eyes for a second. I can still remember it so vividly. "My dad really wanted me to play soccer when I was a kid. He loved watching soccer and I think he'd hoped it could be our thing, but I hated it… so, so, so much. My dad doesn't believe in quitting, so I was stuck playing it. He registered me every year. My mom could see how miserable I was playing soccer, so she made me a deal. She said if I could find another sport I liked to play, she'd talk to my dad. I started dabbling in a bunch of different things. It seemed like nothing was going to work out. I didn't like most of them and my mom couldn't handle football; she was too afraid I'd break myself. One day I was goofing around and playing basketball with some of my friends. We'd played basketball hundreds of times together. One of my friends had tried to make a basket, but he missed. The ball hit another one of my friends in the head. I was practically crying because it was so funny. Cory did not find it funny, so he threw the ball at me. I caught it and immediately went for the shot. It went in. I remember thinking that it felt right; I didn't have to think about it. It was the first time I gave actual consideration to basketball outside of messing around with my friends. My mom signed me up for basketball and when I got to middle school, I joined the school team; I found out I was actually good at it. Basketball is the one thing about my life that has always made sense."

"I don't know that it really has nothing to do with your family," Benji points out.

"I guess. There's not much that my family hasn't been involved in to some point. We've always been really close." It occurs to me that I've never heard him talk about his family outside of his mom and dad. I think I know the answer, but I ask anyway, "do you have any sisters or brothers?"

"No." He sounds disappointed. "I always wanted to be a big brother, but it didn't work out for my parents. I was a surprise and when they tried to have another baby, they found out I never should have been possible. My mom always told me that I was her little miracle."

"That really sucks. I'm sorry." I can't imagine my life without Pilar or Adrian. Pilar and I don't always agree on everything, but we're always there for each other. "You would have made a really great big brother."

"I don't know," he sighs. "I like to think I would have, but I sometimes think that maybe I ended up being enough of a handful for my parents."

"You're a handful?" I ask skeptically. He kind of seems like the perfect person sometimes.

"I can be." I can hear his discomfort and I so badly want to ask, but I don't want to push him to tell me something he's not ready for. I wonder if this all has to do with the big secret. The one he's totally fine with me knowing exists but isn't fine with me knowing (which isn't frustrating at all). It must be because he quickly changes the subject. "Do you ever think about the future?"

"Do you mean like college?" I ask uncertainly.

"Like if you ever want to be a dad, what kind of person you want to be in the future."

"Oh, huh. A little, I guess. Have you?"

"Yeah," he admits. "It was all part of what I went through when I was in the closet. I want to be a dad one day; I wanted to look at a baby and be able to see some of myself in him. It was one of the things I needed to let go of. That might not happen for me."

"Why not?" I ask. I'd read about gay couples having kids or adopting, so it didn't seem like it was impossible.

"It's a whole process and not everyone wants to go through it," he explains. "Surrogacy is really expensive and most people have to take out loans to go through the process, so odds are that will never be a possibility. If I have kids, I'll have to adopt and even that is complicated because I'm gay."

"Does Derek want kids?" I wonder.

"We haven't talked about it much, but I don't think so. I think he got his fill of kids with his little sister. What about you? Do you want kids?"

"I think so. I don't want them right now, but someday."

I fall asleep thinking babies and Benji and my future hypothetical family. In my sleep world, anything feels possible. Even this impossible future with Benji.

I wake up to the sound of an owl.

I'm disoriented for a moment because it's still really dark. As I get my bearings, I become aware of warm breath on the back of my neck and Benji's arm draped over my shoulder.

I couldn't move if I wanted to. Part of me knows that I should shake him off or get out of his embrace, but I really don't want to. He's so warm, and I feel like the butterflies in my stomach might actually make me fly away. I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep again, but something about the safety of Benji's hold makes me feel sleepy and comfortable.

When I wake up again, Benji's already sitting up. He doesn't say anything about what happened last night, so I don't either. I can't let it go though; I can't forget how amazing it felt to wake up in his arms even if it was a mistake. It's really an obsession

The night before my birthday, I go to our spot. I'm not sure if he'll be there because we had a huge fight at Brasstown on Wednesday and I haven't seen him since. I mean, I technically saw him around school but that didn't seem like the time or the place to talk about what happened.

I think I might actually fly when I see the beam of his flashlight. I'm so relieved. Like, so relieved. I don't even have words. I just have this sudden, glorious empty feeling because my fear that I irreparably broke something between us is gone. Or mostly gone. I register that he could be here to yell at me but that doesn't really seem like something he would do. He's standing outside the tent and is staring straight up at the stars.

"I wasn't sure if you'd come."

"I almost didn't," he admits. "I'm still really mad at you, but… I don't know. When I thought about not coming here, I only got in a worse mood."

"Well, I'm glad you came. And I am really sorry. I know you have every right to be mad at me. I'd like to explain if you'll listen," I offer.

He nods and ducks into the tent. I follow him in and lie down next to him. For a moment, I allow myself to feel how surreal it is that in a matter of weeks, I've gotten this close with Benji. What started as a potentially awkward night after a disastrous basketball game turned into one of the best things to ever happen to me. I'm terrified it's all going to change tonight.

"I know that I've been coming out here for five weeks," I start to say.

"Four weeks," he corrects.

"No. This is definitely my fifth time coming out here," I point out. I am supremely confident in that; every night out here has been life-changing in its own way.

"Yeah," he agrees. "But the first time you came out here was four weeks ago."

I don't know if that actually doesn't make sense or if I'm just so preoccupied because I have this whole thing planned about coming out to him and explaining this to him. Even as my attention waivers just slightly, I can feel the words I had planned getting away from me. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Yes, it does." I think he's actually arguing with me. "Think about floors. If you live on the fifth floor of your apartment, you only have to climb four flights of stairs to get there."

I frown and lose a solid five minutes counting the weeks on my fingers to try to understand how that's possible. When it clicks, I don't understand what was so difficult about it. It does make complete sense.

"Weren't you going to explain?" he asks after I've been silent for a few minutes.

"Yeah. I will. I just don't know how to do this." I focus on the stars and try to find the sense of calm they usually instill in me.

"Why don't you start with why you freaked out so much when I asked why you clearly don't want me and Derek at your birthday party?" he suggests.

"It's not that I don't want you there," I object.

"That's funny because a little birdie told me that you just weren't sure if you were comfortable having us at your party."

I wince. I did say that and I can't take those words back. "I know but that doesn't have anything to do with you."

"So, it doesn't have anything to do with how you 'love' me and Derek?"

Ah. The lie that launched our whole fight. Apparently, my feigned enthusiasm had been really obvious when Benji had been invited to my party. "But that's not what I meant. I think you are really great, and I love spending time with you. In theory, I would love nothing more than to have you at my party."

"Then what's the problem?" I can hear the frustration in his voice.

"There's something I haven't told you, and I want to tell you about this. Before I explain, can I ask you a question?" I'm stalling in the hopes that my plan will come back, but my mind remains blank.

"Sure thing."

"Do you remember a few weeks ago when you were talking about your friends and how they talked about people like you?" I question.

"Yes," he says slowly as if he's trying to connect my question to a possible explanation for my behavior on Wednesday.

"Do you remember how it felt when they talked about it and you knew they were talking about you, but they didn't know they were talking about you?" I feel so sure he's going to connect the final dot and figure out why I'm asking this.

He doesn't. Instead, he offers another drawn-out, "yes."

"Did you ever defend yourself?"

"This has been more than one question," Benji grumbles.

"It's part of my explanation," I assure him.

"No, I never defended myself," he says reluctantly.

"Why not?"

"I don't really know. I guess something stopped me. Maybe I wasn't ready or it was just too hard of a conversation. Will you explain what's going on?"

"I'm asking you this because I need you to remember how hard it was to hear people talk about you like that. My grandparents are going to be at my birthday party. They're really conservative."

"Okay?"

I let out a frustrated sigh. I've known I need to tell him the truth since our fight; I'd even made a deal with myself that if he showed up today, I'd really do it. I'd actually practiced what to say, but I can't remember a single word of it. "If you and Derek come, I'm afraid of what they'll say. In their mind, it's wrong for boys to like boys. If they know about you and Derek, it's going to start this huge fight between them and my parents. I don't know if I can handle that."

"I get that," he grudgingly admits. "I know there's been a lot going on with your family."

"There's that too but that's not the whole reason. This is really hard to tell you. I… I've been questioning some things about myself. Like, I've been trying to figure out…" I cut myself off. How am I supposed to get these words out? Benji will be the first person, other than Simon, to see this part of me and he'll be the first person I'll say it out loud to. Simon's essentially a phantom in my cell phone; I've never actually met him so, in a weird way, it's easier to tell him stuff. I know Benji; I like Benji. It makes this so much more high stakes. Yet, I feel like I want him to know; I just wish I didn't have to tell him. My life would be so much easier if we could fast forward to the part where he knows without me having to tell him. "I've been trying to figure out if I'm like you and into guys or if I like Mia."

He's quiet for such a long time, I start to think that maybe I didn't actually say it aloud. Maybe it all happened in my head. "Thank you for telling me," he says when he finally ends my torment. For just a split second, his hand covers one of mine and he squeezes. I'm suddenly really grateful that the darkness means he can't see how much that simple action makes me smile.

"It was easier than I thought," I tell him. "You're really easy to talk to."

"I feel the same way." We're both silent for a few minutes. "You can talk about this if you want to. Whatever this has been like for you; I don't want you to feel like you can't. It's been a while since I was in the closet, but I still remember what it was like."

"I don't really know how to talk about it," I admit. And it's true. Just the idea of voicing some of the fragmented thoughts that have broken through my self-control makes my chest feel tight, like I'm doing something wrong by merely thinking them. "I think I've spent all of my time trying not to think or talk about it. It's surreal to think that there might be a space that's big enough for all those thoughts."

"You can talk about anything here."

That kind of hangs in between us before I said, "I don't know how to be sure. I really like Mia, and the physical stuff is great, but when I think about doing more than kissing with her, it makes me want to run away. I have no idea how to find out how much of that is normal and how much of it is because I'm not ready and how much of it is because I might not be attracted to her."

"Does anyone else know?" he asks.

"Just you… and Simon Spier." I don't need to look at him to know that there will be a question burning behind his eyes. "I messaged him on Instagram after my first day here. I don't really know why. I think I had such a shitty first day and I was so confused because Ms. Albright made Creekwood seem like it was this magical accepting place but that's not how I felt. I needed to know that I wasn't alone."

"You're not alone, Victor," Benji tells me. "I'm here. I can't pretend that I'll understand everything, but I know a thing or two about coming out."

"I know. I know you're out, but… I don't know." I try to figure out how to explain what I'm feeling, but it's kind of like trying to explain what water smells like or what sounds look like. "It's like, you're living a life that I might want, but I'm not sure. I just don't know how to figure this out. I don't know what I feel because I want to feel it or because I feel like I should. Some of the time, I think I really like Mia, and I think maybe things could work between us."

"Then what's the problem?" he wonders.

"I don't know if I'm feeling the things I'm supposed to feel with her." I sigh. "When I'm with her, things are great and easy. I don't have to think about things like coming out or how miserably my parents will take that. I don't know if I like her or how easy it is to be with her."

"I'm not going to lie; it's going to be really hard to figure that out. Are there any guys you're interested in?"

I have no clue how to answer that. It seems like the more I try to sort out my feelings, the more jumbled and confusing they get. "I'm not sure." This seems like really dangerous territory, especially with Benji being the subject of my confusion. "I don't know how to know for sure."

"Trust me. When it's the real deal, you'll know," he tells me. "Just… let it happen naturally. When you're ready to know, you'll know."

"How did you know you were into guys?"

"I realized in middle school," he answers. "Summer before I started 8th grade, Amy Jenkins had a birthday party. I don't know if you've heard about her yet. She has a… reputation around school." I vaguely recognize the name. I think Mia's mentioned her before. "At her party, we were playing all kinds of old games and we started playing truth or dare. Well, you remember middle school, right? I couldn't pick truth without getting slack from everyone, so I picked dare. This kid, Nico, and I were dared to kiss each other in the shed in Amy's backyard. Before that, I'd kissed two different girls so I thought I knew what it felt like, but this was so different. For, like, six months after that, all I could think about was that kiss. I spent almost two years trying to feel that same thing with a girl before I accepted that just because I didn't want to be gay didn't mean I wasn't."

"Why didn't you want to be?" I ask curiously.

"Do you really need to ask that?" he deflects defensively.

"No," I acknowledge. "I guess I don't. I was just curious."

He sighs. "It felt like my life was perfect until I kissed Nico. I wish I had a better reason, but I was comfortable with my life, and I didn't want anything to change. I thought if I could avoid this complication, why wouldn't I? When I come out here by myself, that's what I think about. I think about how there was no reason for me to try so hard not to be myself aside from my own entitlement. Everything I did could have been prevented if I'd just accepted myself."

"Everything you did? Are you talking about the girls?" I ask.

"No, I'm not."

I hear him shift and then see the glow of his flashlight. Benji sits up and aims the light away from us. I mimic his position. For the first time, I get a good look at his face and I'm surprised by the fear I see.

"What is it?"

"There's something that I did," he starts. "When I was in the closet. Only Derek and my parents know this… and a judge and a few lawyers… I don't really talk about it."

"You can tell me," I assure him. I feel like there's a ball of lead growing in my stomach. This must be serious if lawyers were involved.

He nods. "I know I can. I just… It's hard to admit it, and I think it will change this." He motions to the space between us.

I feel like my heart is pounding. "Maybe this won't be the same but that doesn't have to be a bad thing," I tell him gently. I feel a nearly overwhelming need to hold his hand; instead, I hold my hands behind my back. "There is nothing that you could have done that will change what I think of you."

"I hope you're right," he says softly. He takes a deep breath. "Fourteen months ago, I got really drunk one night. It wasn't the first time; I'd been drinking regularly since before I started high school. I was drunk more than I wasn't, but I told myself I was functional, so it wasn't a problem. One night, I decided I wanted Wendy's real bad, so I took my dad's car and… I drove through. The Wendys."

I try not to let him see the shock on my face. "Were you okay? Was everyone else…"

"Yeah, everyone was fine. I was too drunk to realize that Wendy's was closed by the time I'd decided that was what I wanted. I woke up in the hospital the next day. I was a little beaten up, but I was alive. I realized I could have died, and I never would have been honest about who I am, so I came out." He's shaking and, this time, I can't resist covering his hand with mine.

"That's intense." I can't wrap my head around the fact that Benji could have died before I'd ever had a chance to meet him. The idea of never having met Benji and never having spent these nights with him makes my chest feel hot and hollow. I know that what he did is really serious, but I'm so relieved that he's still here to tell me about it.

"That's not the worst part. Victor, I could have killed someone. I drove three and a half miles to that Wendy's. Anyone could have been in my way while I was driving." He's still shaking and he sniffs. Is he crying? He sniffs again. "If I had hit someone… I don't think I'm ever going to get over that."

I don't think, I just shift to my knees and hug him tightly. For a moment, Benji is just limp in my arms. Then he hugs me back. "You didn't though," I whisper in his ear. "You didn't hurt anyone."

"But I could have. I still have nightmares where I do. I have nightmares where there were people inside or in the parking lot or walking along the sidewalk on the way," he tells me. I feel him shudder in my hold. "There could have been someone at the end of my driveway or crossing the street at a stop sign I blew through. The worst part was I didn't remember enough of my drive to know that I hadn't hit someone. The police did a preliminary search, but every time the phone rang for weeks, we thought it might be the police telling us they'd found someone."

I feel so helpless. I don't know what to say to make this better; I don't know if something exists. I had no idea that this was his secret. I wonder how I've missed the guilt that seems to be pouring out of him right now. I just hug him a little tighter. "I want to make this better for you," I whisper. "But I don't know how." We stay like that for several minutes. I feel like it should be uncomfortable, but my potential feelings for Benji are so far from my mind right now. As he calms down, I pull back from our hug. "Benji, you need to forgive yourself. If you keep punishing yourself for what could have been, you're never going to fully move past this and you deserve to move past this."

"I don't know if I can."

"Someone once told me that forgiveness takes away something's power over us. It's a choice you make," I point out. I shiver. "I didn't know you when all of that was happening, but I know you pretty well now. You're a good guy.

"I think you're the only one that feels that way," he says bitterly.

"What makes you say that?" I wonder.

"After everything happened, I had to go to court for sentencing. The judge hated me. It was really obvious. He told me he was sick of entitled, rich boys thinking that they could 'get away with murder', and he was right. He hit me with everything he could. My license got suspended for eighteen months, I got a ton of fines, and I had to enroll in a Risk Reduction program. Because of how high my BAC was, he could have justified jail time. Instead, he ordered me to ongoing psychological services in the hope that it would 'save me before I was beyond help'."

"Ongoing psychological services?" I question.

"Yeah. It's kind of what it sounds like. I met with a counselor to talk through some of my options for therapy. When I told him I was gay, he found an LGBT support group for me," he explains. "I still go."

"Really? You must like it," I observe.

"Yeah. I thought I was going to mindlessly hate it, but it's really nice to have a bunch of people my age that get what it's like to be different. I wish I had known it existed before. Maybe I wouldn't have gotten as messed up as I did. I only go once or twice a month now because it's 45 minutes away and my dad doesn't like making that trip often."

I'm about to ask him why he doesn't drive himself when I remember that his license is suspended. "Is there a bus that goes to wherever your support group is?" I ask curiously.

"I don't know," he admits. "I've never really looked into it. Mostly because my dad will drive me if I ask. It's just sometimes not worth an awkward 90 minutes in the car with him." I don't ask him why Derek doesn't take him.

"How's your mom with everything?" I ask. Every time he talks about it, it's always his dad.

"I think she's better than my dad is, but she struggles with what I did almost as much as I do. I think she was really offended that it took an accident for me to come out to her. They didn't even know I'd left and, all of a sudden, they were woken up by a phone call that I was in the hospital." I watch as Benji twists his hands in his lap. "I think it was too much all at once. I sometimes wonder if they would have taken it differently if I'd come out to them on my own terms. If it hadn't happened at the same time that they stopped trusting me, maybe it would have been easier on them."

I frown. I feel like I have half a thought matched to a feeling of frustration, and I'm struggling to find the second half of my thought. "It's not your job to make it easier for them," I tell him. "You know that, right?"

He shrugs. "It kind of feels like it's on me that I had to come out the way I did," he argues.

"The accident you got in? Yeah, that's on you. But the rest isn't. How can you say that I get to come out when I'm ready and then put yourself down because you weren't ready?" I challenge. "Have you talked to your support group about this?"

"No. I've talked about my girlfriends but this? How can I?"

"I would think if you can tell me, you can tell a group of people that have been sharing their lives with you for a year," I point out. "Maybe talking about it will help you move on from it."

He sighs. "You don't know what it's like there. I mean, maybe if there was someone like you in the group, but they all have their eggs in one basket."

I choose not to take offense to the fact that he doesn't think my eggs are all in one basket - he's not wrong. "I seriously doubt that." An idea suddenly occurs to me. It makes me feel terrified and excited all at once. "What if I go with you?"

He stares at me. "You'd do that?" He asks.

"I think maybe I'd get something out of it too. And if it means that you'll see that there's nothing for you to be ashamed of, then I'll go. When does it meet?"

He bites his lip. "Every Wednesday."

"Great. We'll go this Wednesday. We can look at the bus schedule during work on Monday," I suggest.

"Are you really sure about this?" he asks. "The first time I went… it was intense. You'll feel like you're in a fishbowl. There will be a bunch of people you don't know staring at you as you talk about yourself. I don't think I would have gone back if I hadn't had to."

"I'm sure." It's weird but I feel really confident in this decision. I know it might be awkward or uncomfortable, probably both, but I feel like it's the right move.

Benji yawns really big. I think it's contagious because I yawn so hard my eyes water. "Hey, Victor?"

"Yeah?"

"Happy birthday."

I smile. "Thanks."

I feel like I've just closed my eyes when Benji's phone goes off. I genuinely think I'm too tired to function. I'm aware that Benji is having a conversation, but I cannot begin to process anything outside of my desire to succumb to sleep.

I try to open my eyes, and I'm disoriented when it's still dark out. Who would be calling Benji when it's still dark? I sit up and look at Benji. I'm a little worried that something is wrong. I find it in me to focus just as Benji says, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Who was that?" I ask. My words sound fuzzy to me.

"Derek. He went to a concert with some of his friends tonight and he just got home," he explains. He sounds as sleepy as I feel. He yawns. "Are you awake or can we go back to sleep?"

"Sleep please," I say. I think I'm asleep before I'm fully lying down again.

When I wake up again, the sun is high in the sky. It's so bright, it takes a second for my eyes to adjust.

Benji is still asleep next to me. He's all curled up and something about him sleeping makes him look so vulnerable. I think about everything I learned last night. In a way, I feel like Benji telling me about it makes him seem so much more human and makes me feel so much closer to him. I feel butterflies in my stomach as if my body thinks something is going to happen but has not yet told my brain. Benji shifts a little in his sleep and stretches out his arm so it's practically reaching toward me. I think about what it would feel like to hold that hand, what it would feel like to trace the lines in his palm.

I start to reach for him but, before I can do something stupid, he wakes up. The butterflies do not go away which isn't inconvenient at all. I try to ignore them.

"Morning, birthday boy," he says with a huge smile that makes my heart beat just slightly faster than normal. It really isn't fair. Isn't the universe supposed to be nice to me today? Instead, it's given me Benji with his stupid sleepy smile and the frustrating confusion that always accompanies it. As Benji looks at me through his half-open eyes, I think my discomfort may be worth it.

"Morning." I sit up and stretch my arms a little. It always amazes me how well-rested I feel after a night out here. I always expect to be stiff and tired because I'm essentially sleeping on a blanket on the floor of the tent, but it's surprisingly comfortable.

Benji pushes himself to a sitting position. He leans his arms behind him and closes his eyes as the sun washes over his face. The sun gives his hair a golden tinge and makes him look like he's glowing. "How are you feeling this morning? I know last night got intense."

I shrug. "I feel good about last night," I tell him sincerely. "I'm glad I told you about me, and I'm glad you told me what happened."

Benji looks relieved. "Good. I'm really happy we talked last night too." He does look a little freer as if telling me his secret was literally a weight off his shoulders. It occurs to me that outside of this stupid crush, Benji really knows me. It makes me terrified and giddy all at the same time.

We kind of sit basking in the sunlight for a few minutes. Benji looks like the epitome of zen right now which seems a stark contrast to the bundle of nerves I feel like. There's one thing we didn't talk about last night. My birthday party. I don't know how to ask, but I feel like I need to know. I'm worried that any mention of my party or my grandparents will break this magical closeness I've started to feel. Right now, unobstructed by family drama, I feel like I can tell Benji anything. Well, aside from the whole I-might-have-a-crush-on-him thing.

"What has you so nervous?" Benji asks. I'm so in my head, I'm taken aback when he asks.

"Huh?" I ask.

"You're getting that scrunched-up uncomfortable look," he points out.

"I'm not scrunched up," I contradict. Except, I totally am; it's just disconcerting that he's picked up on it.

He snorts. "Right. So, what's going on?"

I bite my lip. "What are you going to do about my party? Are you and Derek going to come?"

Benji clasps his hands together on his lap and looks at them intently as if they hold the answers to my questions. "I didn't tell Derek about it. After we fought on Wednesday, I didn't think I was going to go."

"Okay." I feel incredibly disappointed. As much as I was afraid for Benji to go to my party, it feels like a loss that he won't be there.

He starts to do that thing with his hands that he does when he's nervous. "I want to come… what if I don't bring Derek? Then, you don't have to worry about anything, right? Your grandparents will have no reason to think anything of me being there."

I look at him appalled. "You don't have to do that," I tell him.

He shrugs. "If we have to pretend to not be together, it's going to lead to a huge fight. I… I don't want to keep fighting with him."

"Don't you think it will cause a fight if you tell him not to come?" I challenge.

Benji shakes his head. "Derek isn't the biggest fan of high school stuff," he explains. "He essentially spent four years just waiting to be done with high school. He puts up with it for me, but he doesn't like it. Honestly, I think he'll be relieved when I tell him he doesn't have to go." He has a troubled look on his face, so I'm thinking Derek is not going to take it as well as he's trying to make it seem.

"If you're sure. I don't want to cause problems between you two."

"You won't."

Despite his assurance, I feel guilt and fear gnaw at my stomach as we start to roll up our blankets.

Benji is lying on a blanket right on the grass when I get there on Friday. I feel like so much has changed in the last week between my birthday party and his support group. Even though my birthday passed without the slightest hiccup (partially thanks to Benji carrying a conversation with my abuelo about music while Mia handled Pilar and Lake and Felix ran to fix my mom's tres leches cake… other than that, no hiccups), I feel like I couldn't relax for days afterwards because I was so sure that there was going to be some kind of fallout with Benji.

It never happened and then suddenly, we were on our way to his support group. Just as Benji had warned, his support group meeting got intense. He ended up not sharing, but I understand why. It's not really what I imagined when I pictured a support group. They spent nearly twenty minutes doing a bonding activity where we were split into groups, then went around the circle and gave everyone a chance to share. I didn't share anything outside of my name, but I wasn't alone in that. Only a few people really talked and it felt like their night. It's kind of mindblowing to me that some people feel that comfortable sharing their lives with a group of strangers. At the same time, I thought it was nice. It made me feel included and about 1000 times less alone.

The full moon is shining brightly on Benji, illuminating him in a spooky way. When he spots me, he pats the blanket next to him. The blanket isn't particularly big, so when I lie down, my arm is pressed right against his.

It apparently has no effect on him, but it has my heart pounding with anticipation. Part of my brain knows that there are a million and one reasons why this will never happen, but the bigger part of my brain is apparently connected to the nerves in my arm.

We don't talk about last week or his support group meeting or Derek and Mia. Instead, I feel like we get to know the small things. Everything we've talked about so far has been so big and life-altering; I feel like we need a week like this, a reminder that there's more than the big things.

We need a week to talk about some of our embarrassing moments.

Benji has me cackling when he talks about his 'audition' for Derek's band. He'd tripped over a wire and managed to fall in the most spectacularly extravagant way where he managed to take Derek, their drummer, and a small bookshelf of sheet music with him. As he describes the sheer amount of sheet music that went flying all over the garage they were in, I can see it.

I tell Benji about the time I accidentally turned in my paper for health class instead of my poem for English and my teacher still insisted on reading every cringy word about my assigned STD - everyone in my class thought it was hilarious to hear my teacher talk about Herpes, but it was deeply uncomfortable for me. Benji gets a good laugh out of that.

We need a week to share some of our favorite memories.

I talk about one of my earliest memories. I don't know how old Pilar was; she was young enough that she was still sleeping in her crib but old enough that I could remember this happening. She was taking a nap and woke up shrieking. I got to her room before my mom did, so I sat down outside her crib and started talking to her. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I remember that she stopped screaming. I stuck my tongue out at her and she started giggling. It became my mission to keep her laughing. It's the very first memory I have of Pilar and the first time I remember feeling like a big brother.

Benji tries to cheat and use his road trip with his parents, but I point out that he's already told me that one. Instead, he tells me about the time that he spent a couple of nights at his aunt's house when his parents went away for their anniversary. She has four kids - a son who's three years older than Benji and a set of triplets that are a little over a year older than Benji. They spent the entire time watching movies, staying up too late, and goofing off; they'd even built what eight-year-old Benji thought was the most epic pillow fort in existence. It was so different from how quiet things were with his parents and he loved every second of it.

We need a week to make up jobs for the other person.

I still don't quite know how we get there, but Benji insists my perfect job would be basketball therapy. Pretending that's a thing, he thinks that I'd be able to teach people to play basketball and simultaneously help them with their problems. I can't even figure my own stuff out; I don't know where Benji gets the idea that I'm in any position to help other people. He's so proud of it; I can't bring myself to disagree with him.

I choose guitar-playing astronomer for him. I figure he can teach people about the stars and shit with his guitar. I think I win because he actually looks intrigued by that suggestion. I find out that Benji might want to be a music teacher, so my made-up job isn't far off from his actual plan.

We need a week to talk about our favorite teachers, and movies, and books. Adding to the never-ending list of plot twists, Benji loves to read.

We need a week to play 'I Spy' in the stars again and fall asleep to the sounds of crickets around us.

I carry that night with me all week. It was so silly and carefree and utterly necessary.

When I get there on Friday, I expect another week like that, but Benji is lying down on the blanket. He's doing something on his phone, and I can see how splotchy his face looks in the illumination of his screen.

I lie down next to him. I want to ask him so badly, but I don't know if he wants to talk about it. I open my mouth to ask him if he's okay about 100 times.

We're surrounded by the sound of crickets and rustling leaves when he finally talks. "Derek and I broke up."

I sit up and look at him. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay? What happened?" Then I bite my lip because it occurs to me that he might not want to talk about it. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No, I want to talk about it. We've been fighting a lot lately; we've both been picking these stupid little fights, and after I got home on Wednesday, we picked a pretty big fight."

"What happened?" I asked.

Benji shifts a little and I'm not sure if it's because he's uncomfortable or what. "You know that I talked about… well, you were there on Wednesday; you know."

I nod. We'd been going around the room and there was a new kid there. He was talking about how he was recently out and, because it was so anticlimactic and it seemed like everyone that knew him already suspected he was gay, he was struggling to come to terms with everything he had done to stay in the closet. Benji had put his hand on my shoulder and whispered that he was going to tell them. And he did. It launched an amazing conversation. "Of course."

"It changed a lot for me. Telling everyone in there about myself… I thought it was going to be a massive mistake, but… I don't even know how to explain it. It's like having twenty people know this thing took away its power. I think… I think it helped me start to forgive myself."

I turn to him. We hadn't really talked after our meeting on Wednesday. He'd seemed preoccupied, and I hadn't wanted to push him. I'm kind of relieved it was a good kind of preoccupied. "Benji, that's great!" I tell him.

He smiles slightly. "I walked to Derek's once we got back because I didn't want to keep secrets from him anymore. I didn't realize how hard it was to keep pieces of myself locked away until I started to open up. When I told him about coming out here and spending these nights with you, he was pissed. He asked me how we were supposed to be together if we couldn't trust each other and told me he felt like I wasn't invested in our relationship."

"What a dick," I say without thinking. "Just say the word and I can put salt in his next cup of coffee instead of sugar." I only offer it because I think there's a nonexistent chance of Derek coming in for coffee while Benji is working and, with few exceptions, that's the only time I work.

Benji chuckles. "No. If I'm being honest, he's not wrong. There's so much that I've kept from him because I was afraid of how he'd react. That's not a healthy relationship. It's why I broke up with him."

My eyebrows furrow. "But I thought… he didn't break up with you?" I question.

Benji shakes his head. "I didn't realize until we were in the process of breaking up, but we're not right for each other. It was so much work to be with him, and I bet he felt the same way… or he would have if I ever gave him the chance to. I took the decision away from him and decided what parts of me he deserved to see. I want to be with someone that can really see me; someone that I don't have to be afraid to be myself around."

I bite my lip because I'm so tempted to tell him that I see him, and I know that's not what he needs to hear right now. Instead, I say, "Give it some time and you'll find him. You deserve to be with a really great guy."

I know he's not going to say it, but part of me really hopes that he'll say something like, you're a really great guy, Victor. Without giving myself permission to think it, an image of Benji saying those words and leaning over to kiss me pops into my head. It's so vivid and real; it makes me feel excited and nauseated all at the same time.

He doesn't do that. Instead, he agrees, "yeah. I just need to give it some time." I feel inexplicably disappointed even though I know it's for the best. I'm still figuring things out and the last thing Benji needs is that complication.

I'm not sure what to say to that, so I lay down. The silence seems to stretch. If there were more stars in the sky, I'd try to play a game of 'I Spy', but right now, the game would consist of 'I spy a dot.'

"What do you want to do?" I ask.

"I just want to be here," he says softly. His hand finds mine. "I don't want to be alone."

"You're not alone," I promise. I squeeze his hand before I close my eyes. It's so easy to pretend that this hand-holding is more than a comforting gesture for someone that doesn't want to be alone.

"Thanks."

We don't really talk after that and it's somehow just as intense as our deepest conversations.

Next Friday, it's kind of like our night of hand-holding never happened. We talk about the most random things - what our spirit animals would be, what a movie of our lives would be titled, and whether mint chocolate chip or cookie dough ice cream is better (we unanimously decide that soft-serve ice cream is superior). We play a few rounds of would you rather before we start playing this game where we go back and forth to create a song. It gets so ridiculous because Benji insists on rhyming everything I say and I give him the most random lines to rhyme.

It's easy and nice. We get two more weeks like that, and it's everything.

Then, four weeks after Benji breaks up with Derek, everything changes. I'm pacing in circles while I wait for him to show up. I'm practically shaking while I wait for him, and I cannot fathom standing still right now.

"How's it going?" He asks casually when he gets here. I've been here for hours because I didn't feel like going home after I talked to Mia. I feel awful. I thought part of me would feel relieved because I know I did the right thing, but there's no room for any semblance of a happy emotion.

"I broke up with Mia," I told him in a rush. I still feel jittery. "After school today, I walked her home and I did it."

"Oh, wow," Benji says surprised. He dumps his bags on the ground and makes no attempt to take out his blankets or set up the tent. "I thought you weren't going to break up with her until you figured your stuff out."

I shake my head. "I thought that too, but after I shared that stuff about Mia on Wednesday, I realized it didn't feel right. Everyone kept telling me that it should come so easily. Even if I was afraid, there should be a desire to do more." I need to do something with my hands. Anything that can be remotely distracting, so I unzip the bag with the tent and focus on that. "Mia told me she was ready for sex and it just turned into something I didn't want it to be." Benji starts to help me and in less than two minutes, we have a tent. He was right; it's easier to set up than I thought it would be. I go inside the tent and instantly feel like I'm in my safe space. I hear Benji enter, but I don't look over at him. "I didn't know how I felt about Mia until we talked about sex last night and I realized… I'm not attracted to her. Not in the right way, so I broke up with her after school today."

"Did you tell her that?" He wonders.

"Not in so many words. I should have, but I couldn't."

"It's okay to not be ready," Benji assures me. "Just don't let that change you. If you want to tell Mia the truth, tell her when you're ready."

"I will tell her. Eventually. I guess I don't know who I'm looking for, but I know it's not her. In a weird way, I don't know if I'd be telling her the truth if I told her I don't like girls." I groan because why is life so complicated? "I've been getting so much out of that group, but it feels like I'm also getting so many more questions out of it."

"That's a good thing," Benji points out. "Do you remember the new kid? Noah?"

I grimace. How could I forget? Benji and Noah had been partnered up with this card activity - we were all given a single card from a deck and we had to pair up with whoever had the same number and color as us. Then we'd been given a list of prompts to talk about to get to know each other a little better. I'd been partnered up with a really sweet girl, Virginia. She also likes another person in our group, so we essentially spent the whole night spying on our crushes and complaining about how difficult it is to like someone, or in my case potentially like someone. Because I'd been spying on him, I'm hyper-aware that Benji and Noah were constantly laughing, and Noah's hand practically lived on Benji's knee; Benji did nothing to stop him. Not that he needed to. It's so great that he likes someone again. Even if it's so soon after Derek. It's great; it's really great.

"Yeah, I remember him." I wonder if my voice only sounds weird to me.

"When we were going through the prompts, Noah said that he thought he'd find all the answers going to group and, instead, he got to ask questions he never knew he needed to ask himself. Questions don't have to be a bad thing."

I really want to argue that, but I think it has less to do with Noah being wrong and more to do with my reluctance to agree with anything that Noah said. "It seems you had a really good talk with him," I observe.

"What do you mean?"

I shrug. "You just seem to really like him. I mean, you spent the whole night flirting with him," I point out."

"You think I was flirting? I wasn't flirting." He's way too defensive right now, only furthering my belief that he was obviously flirting. He's not particularly subtle.

"You don't need to pretend. It's great that you're getting over Derek. And if…" I can't even get the name out. What is wrong with me? "This guy makes you happy, you should go for it." I don't think I could sound more jealous if I tried. It's really frustrating because I have no right to be jealous. And no reason. Benji deserves to find happiness with a really great guy that has all his eggs in one basket. And I don't even know if my eggs are attracted to his eggs. No, it would be best for everyone if Benji found someone great.

"Oh my God. I was not flirting with him. You're joking, right?"

"What do you mean?"

I hear Benji groan. "I need some air." That might be the strangest thing he's ever said because we're literally surrounded by air. I follow him out because I know we're not done talking about this. "There is someone I've been flirting with, but it's not Noah or Derek or any other guy." He's looking at me like he's waiting for something to click for me, but I don't know what it is. Is he annoyed that I've missed that he likes another guy? I wrack my brain but I don't remember him ever talking about someone else… well, there was that kid from his road trip, but he seems like an unlikely possibility.

"I don't understand," I admit frustratedly.

"You really are oblivious. I like you, Victor," he says. "I have been flirting with you. I've been dropping hints since I broke up with Derek and you told me that I should take some time to get over Derek and that I deserve a great guy. You are a great guy."

I freeze where I'm standing. "You like me?"

Benji is suddenly right in front of me. "Of course I like you." I can see him run his hand through his hair. "How could I not? You're funny and sweet and such a good listener. Meeting you? Getting to spend these nights with you? It's been one of the best things to ever happen to me."

I stare at him for a moment, my eyes straining to see if there's any sign that he doesn't mean his words. It's too dark for me to tell and, honestly, it doesn't matter. I trust Benji more than I've ever trusted anyone in my life. I know his words are true even if my brain is having trouble wrapping itself around that.

I find his face with my hand and when he doesn't pull back or push me away, I lean over to kiss him. I thought I knew what kissing Benji would feel like. Surely, I'd dreamt about kissing him enough that nothing could take me by surprise.

I'm so wrong. Dream Benji doesn't compare to the tangible Benji that is kissing me back. In my dreams, it felt like kissing Mia because that was the only frame of reference I had for what a kiss could feel like. I wish I had the words to describe it because if I had the words, I could live in this moment even when it inevitably must end. But how do you describe something this overwhelming?

Euphoric isn't a strong enough word to describe how unbelievably amazing this kiss makes me feel. It's way more than butterflies and more than getting caught in a wave and more than jet fighters. It's more than weightless and more than feeling like I'm made of cotton candy. It's so much more than I'm prepared to feel.

Safe isn't a strong enough word to describe how grounded and protected Benji makes me feel. I feel like Benji has seen me; he's seen my flaws and my mistakes and he somehow inexplicably likes me anyway. I don't have to be someone else with him. I don't have to know where all of my eggs or all of my baskets are. I get to just be.

Terrified isn't a strong enough word to describe how I feel now that I have to confront the truth about who I am. And it is undeniable now. The feelings I've been chasing with Mia are nothing compared to this. I figured that my first kiss with a guy would only add to my confusion, but it doesn't. It wipes away the slightest doubt and in its place, fear and terror grow. I can no more deny the feelings of this kiss than I could deny that it's dark right now.

Lust and longing aren't strong enough to describe how much I NEED more. With nothing but the stars as my witness, I give in to the desire to be as close to him as possible. My hands find their way around his waist and I tug him closer. I think he wants it too because his hand is grasping at my hair and his arm wraps around my back to hold me to him.

I forget to be self-conscious that Benji has so much more experience than me. He doesn't have a bunch of half-assed kisses like I do, but I don't feel like that makes the slightest difference right now. There's little room for me to think about anything other than his seriously magical lips. Magical lips that are kissing me in a way I've never been kissed before. Magical lips that leave me warm and cold and hungry all at once.

I get this almost lightheaded feeling and I feel like I'm on the verge of losing my balance, so I put one foot back to try to steady myself. It doesn't work. If anything, it makes me feel like I'm in danger of toppling to the ground at any second.

I pull back because I realize I'm not breathing. My hands are still on either side of his head and for a moment, neither of us move. I don't know if it actually gets brighter or if my eyes adapt or if maybe the back of my eyelids are darker than the night, but I can most definitely see him more clearly now. He bites his lip and looks at me nervously. "How was that?" he asks.

I don't understand his question or why he's looking at me so strangely. My brain still feels a little fuzzy, as if it is still processing my new truth. "What do you mean?" Part of me recognizes I should probably drop my hands, but I don't. They remain firmly on the sides of his head as I try to understand him.

"How do you feel right now?" he asks. "Was that okay?"

At that moment, it dawns on me that Benji wasn't privy to everything going through my head while we kissed; he might not realize that his kiss was the confirmation I needed to know I'm into guys. "It was perfect. So perfect."

His answering smile has my heart racing again. I can't imagine anything more perfect than this tiny, yet life-changing, moment with Benji. I feel almost giddy as my brain supplies me with all the hope I've been repressing. I can picture it. Benji and I going on dates, Benji hanging out with me and Felix, meeting my parents. Just like that, I feel like the hope is suctioned out of me. I drop my hands and look away from him. "What's wrong?" he asks.

"We can't do this," I whisper.

"What?" he asks. I'm not looking at him, but I don't need to. I know it's cruel, but I also know it's what's best for him.

"I… I can't do this to you. It's too much like how you and Derek started and I can't do that to you again."

"It's not the same," he says slowly. "We are not me and Derek."

"Aren't we though?" I say slowly. Everything we've ever talked about regarding Derek comes back to me. "What is really so different about me right now and you fourteen months ago?"

"Do you really need to ask that?" he asks. He actually looks a little mad.

"Yeah, I do. Think about it. I've been with Mia; you dated those girls. You felt like you started something with Derek while you were still working on putting your life back together and you always regretted it. I don't want you to regret being with me. I'm not ready to be out… I don't know when I will be ready for my family to know, but you can bet when it happens, it's not going to be great. And when I come out to Felix and at school… I'm not where you are right now. I'm not out or ready for people to see me. I'm going to be picking up the pieces of my life for a long time and that's not fair for you."

"I don't care." He says it so convincingly; I have trouble doubting him. "I want to help you pick up those pieces. Victor, you're not me. I spent years trying to convince myself I could be different and, even when I almost died, I chose to go through that alone. I chose what parts of myself I let people see. You are not me, and honestly, I'm not that me anymore either. For a long time, I didn't see that. If you don't want to be with me, fine. I'll be upset, but I'll understand. But if you're just afraid that we might not work out or like you might be too much for me or something… I can't say we'll last forever, but I want to give us a shot. I really like you, and…" he chews on his lip. "I'm scared to be with you too, but I'm more scared that we'll never find out what we could be together."

I look him in the eyes and try to find any of the doubt that I feel. I don't see it. I guess, in the end, he said exactly what I needed to hear. "Okay." I feel like his words warrant a better response from me, but it's all I'm capable of saying. I can't say I'm not scared to be with Benji, but he's right. I like him more than I've ever liked anyone before and it seems silly to let something as trivial as fear get in the way of that. I lean down and kiss him.

At some point, we break apart and climb back into the tent. At some point, we exchange small stolen kisses between small quiet conversations. At some point, I realize they're not stolen kisses anymore; he's eagerly offering them to me. At some point, Benji falls asleep securely tucked into my arms. At some point, lulled by Benji's soft breathing, I drift off to a dream world where only Benji and I exist.

After that, our Friday nights are so much more than they've ever been. I thought they'd maybe be awkward or uncomfortable, but they're kinda exactly like they were before. Except with more kissing. I never thought I'd be the kind of guy that liked cuddling, but I could spend my life with Benji in my arms and feel utterly content. It was everything.

We spend an entire Friday just holding each other. We share small kisses, but mostly, we just enjoy being together.

Benji brings his guitar out another Friday and spends the night playing different songs for me. He teaches me a few chords, but my fingers are slow and clumsy whereas his seem to fly across the guitar strings.

We spend another Friday cuddled close to each other while we watch some crime show on Benji's phone. His commentary is hilarious.

Five blissful weeks. We live in a bubble for five weeks. Benji doesn't broach the topic of me coming out. I think he's just as content as I am to avoid that complication.

But one Saturday, my bubble pops. Benji meets me at our spot that night. It's the first time I've come out here when it's not a Friday. It seems like an entirely new world to me. I'd texted him hours ago when I fled my apartment. I'm pacing in circles when he shows up because I'm too antsy to lie down. "My parents know," I tell him before he even has the chance to say 'hi'.

I don't need to see him to know he's staring at me. I can practically feel his eyes boring into me. "What happened?"

"I got home from work today and my parents were waiting for me. I've been using Felix as an excuse for our Friday nights, but they saw him when he was taking out trash and asked if I was up in his apartment, and he told them I'd never been to his apartment before. They knew I was lying, and I didn't know what to do. They kept asking me where I was and why I lied to them. They thought I was sneaking out to see Mia which somehow started this whole conversation about how I'm not ready to be a dad, so I told them the truth." I'm speaking so fast that I can't even keep track of my words, but I feel like my heart hasn't slowed down since I talked to my parents. "I still don't know how it happened."

"What did they say?" Benji asks.

"Nothing, really. They were just… quiet. They stared at me for a few minutes before they went to their room," I tell him. It had been eerie and a little unsettling.

"Are you okay?" Benji grabs my wrist, so I have no choice but to stop my frantic pacing.

"I don't know."

He pulls me toward him and wraps his arms around me. "Do you want to talk about this?"

"I don't know," I repeat.

"If you want to, we can talk about this… or we could make out," Benji says suggestively.

How is anything supposed to exist in this world after a suggestion like that? Now all I can think about is Benji and his stupid lips, and I know that's exactly what he wants. And honestly? I want nothing more than to escape my reality for a little while.

"Okay," I agree.

I follow Benji into the tent. When his eager lips meet mine, the rest of the world fades away.

When next Friday rolls around, Benji is waiting outside with hot chocolate and has his guitar strung across his shoulder. He hands me the hot chocolate and I take a sip. He kisses me quickly before he puts his hands in his pocket. "I know you had a bad week."

I shrug. "It wasn't so bad." And it's true. Things are weird with my parents, but it's kind of freeing to have the whole school know about me. I don't feel like I have to be on guard anymore. I just hate that, somehow, coming out gives everyone an opinion on my life - whether that opinion is their support, their excitement that I found someone like Benji, or their disgust. I'd tried not to complain about it too much, but Benji definitely bore the brunt of my frustration.

Benji rolls his eyes. "I know how overwhelming it is when you're suddenly out," he says softly. "You seem like you're handling it all."

"I am." I think I sound surprised. "Thanks to you. I haven't thanked you for everything you've done for me this past week. You've been there for everything. You let me complain the whole week."

"You don't need to thank me for that," he tells me. "That's what boyfriends do." He bites his lip. "This is also what boyfriends do."

I raise my eyebrows at him as he positions his guitar. He starts playing a song and when he sings, his voice wraps around me.

A smile spreads across my face as he sings. It's slower than Rihanna's original version, but no offense to her, I prefer Benji's.

When he finishes with a slow, "our love is written in the stars. Oh, oh, eh, eh, eh. It's written in the stars. Oh, oh, eh, eh. It's written in the stars. Our love is written in the stars tonight."

I'm in serious danger of crying. I feel so full of warmth and emotion. I expect it to just overflow out of me. Benji barely lets his guitar fall to his side before I have him in my arms. I press my lips to his and let my eyes flutter shut.

I wasn't sure I was ready until this exact moment. I've known that I'm in love with Benji for a while now, but knowing it and being ready to tell someone are different things. Now, I'm sure. I'm ready for him to know; I'm ready for all the things you do with someone you love. I pull back from the kiss and I can see so clearly how much he loves me. It makes the words come easy. "I love it. And I love you," I say seriously.

His answering smile practically lights up his face. "I love you too."

When he stands on his tippy toes to kiss me, I feel like his earlier words might be true. Our love might be written in the stars.