TWs: Trent has a smidge of PTSD. Also, in conversation between two characters, there is a super brief recap of the bullying that went on in the first chapter.

University was the opposite of the whole of previous schooling for Trent. People liked his writing—both professors and classmates—and he was actively encouraged to share his work. His observations were appreciated and celebrated. You should do that for a living, they said. Just give it a thought.

In addition to the support in the classroom, it felt odd being asked to gatherings and outings outside of it, but Trent tried to take it in stride. He learned to quell his Who, me? gut instinct and would nod and smile instead. He still kept his head down and worked hard, but his social skills were being worked in a way they never had when he was a kid.

It was the first month of his undergraduate studies when Trent felt like he was finally figuring things out. He had rung his sister up late one night to drunkenly tell her something she already knew—he definitely liked boys. A bit of new information: Trent specifically liked a boy called Thomas. "I'm going to fall in love with him," Trent had slurred into the phone.

Trent had known he liked boys since his early teens. It was something he thought about often ever since that conversation he had with his sister when he was 10—about how being gay wasn't a bad thing, it was just there were bad people who thought it was. So when he realized being only interested in staring at boys he considered to be pleasant looking meant that he was gay, it wasn't something he was ashamed of. It was just something he kept to himself because he didn't want to prove that his bullies had been right all along. He was also scared about what his dad would do or say if he knew.

It was easy to keep his secret throughout grade school—his parents believed him when he said he was going to the library to study, even though about 25% of the time he was going to gay clubs a couple towns over. His first kiss was with some stranger on a dance floor. The first time someone's hand was on him was in a bathroom just after Margaret Thatcher left Downing Street for good. It was weird feeling so alive where no one really knew him. He wanted more, though. Something different. Deeper.

But, as time passed at university, Trent knew he didn't want to be anything but unequivocally himself—especially because he had fellow classmates who were out. It wasn't easy opening up to his friends, but it was a relief after he did it toward the end of his first year. No one judged him for it. No one turned him away. Acceptance was becoming less foreign to Trent, but it was still a bit of a shock that absolutely nothing had changed within his friend group.

There was a core group of six of them from his sports journalism course who would get together on weekends to complain about assignments, drink, and go on mini adventures to mix things up. Trent had gravitated toward the group's unofficial ringleader, Thomas Nickleby, right away, laughing easily at his bad jokes and falling fast for the care and passion he put into his work for class. Thomas craved attention in a way Trent did not and had a knack for getting the others to go along with whatever it was he preferred to do.

A born tastemaker with an eye for truth and beauty, Thomas's opinions mattered to all. One time, Trent had overslept and came rushing into an early morning lecture without the enormous amount of product he usually used to keep his hair tamed and Thomas offhandedly told Trent he liked the disheveled look. Trent stopped wearing any product after that. He also let his hair grow out a bit, embracing the thick curls he had hacked off half a lifetime ago.

Trent had been looking forward to a picnic the group had planned for Sunday brunch. The weather was nice for once. He was ahead on his assignments. (He fucking loved writing about sports even though he hated playing them.) And any reason to see Thomas outside of class was welcome. But when he showed up to the designated location with a sack full of drinks and food to share, his stomach dropped at the sight of six bicycles lined up in a row.

One of the girls in the group, Mary, thought it would be a fun idea to cycle to some spot along the river, so she went ahead and rented bikes for the group.

While they were waiting for the perpetually late Margo to show up, Thomas noticed how Trent's entire body seemed to have closed in on itself. His hand was grasped so tightly around his tote bag that his knuckles were white. Even his glasses couldn't hide the fear in Trent's eyes.

Thomas walked over to Trent and gently nudged the other man's shoulder. "Oi, you okay, mate?"

Trent locked eyes with Thomas and saw a genuine look of concern for him there. If he weren't so distracted by/terrified of the bikes and the individual attention from Thomas, he might have realized that that was, in fact, a moment between them.

"No," Trent admitted. "Maybe I should… I'm going to go back to my flat." He blinked and addressed the rest of the group. "I just remembered I have to finish my…" he shook his head, not even knowing what he could lie about having to finish up because everyone knew he always got his assignments done early. "Well… anyway… you lot have fun. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah? Cheers."

With a firm nod, Trent turned and quickly walked away, tote bag in hand and jaw clenched. He made it maybe 100 meters when he heard footsteps coming up quickly behind him. He didn't even slow down when Thomas called out to him.

"Trent, wait," Thomas said, a bit out of breath. "I just want to talk. Please?"

It was the please that made Trent stop. He sighed and angled his body slightly toward Thomas, too embarrassed to face him. "What?"

"Are you really going back to your flat?" Thomas asked.

"Yes," Trent replied.

"Can I come?"

Without really thinking it over, Trent nodded. The two of them walked in silence the short distance to where Trent was staying during his tenure at university.

As Trent keyed his way into his flat, he realized it was the first time Thomas was there with him alone. The whole group had been over several times when it was Trent's turn to host study groups and post-exam parties, but he hadn't had anyone over otherwise. He did a quick scan of the small living room, relieved to find there wasn't anything potentially embarrassing like dirty laundry or unwashed dishes lying about.

"Would you like a drink or something?" Trent asked, defaulting to host-mode because it was easier than thinking about how the man he had a crush on was in his flat instead of out with the rest of their friends enjoying his Sunday.

Thomas smiled and nodded toward Trent's hand. "What've you got for me in that bag?"

Trent looked down at the sack he was still holding, which contained half of the food and drinks the group was to have for brunch. "Shit! I should have given this to Mary." He looked up at Thomas who was now full-on chuckling at him. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Thomas shook his head. "You were too far gone, mate. You saw those bikes and then checked out." When Trent's eyes dropped and he grimaced, Thomas knew he had said the wrong thing. "It's all right, Trent." When Trent didn't move, Thomas tried a new approach. "Look… I'm starving. Let's have our own picnic in here, yeah?" He grabbed a blanket off the back of Trent's two-seater and spread it on the floor next to the coffee table. Space was tight, but there was enough room for two people so long as said two people didn't mind being all but on top of each other. Thomas sat down and made a production out of making himself comfortable. "Join me? Please?"

There was that please again.

Trent begrudgingly walked the several steps toward Thomas and handed him the bag before sitting down as far away from Thomas as he could while still being somewhat on the blanket. He touched the frame of his glasses—a nervous tic he had developed ever since he was forced to wear them. It was his own way of trying to ground himself in a moment. Everything about the impromptu picnic already made Trent feel flustered and they had been in his flat for less than five minutes.

One by one, Thomas dug cans of alcohol, a fresh loaf of bread, spreadable cheese, and an already prepared fruit platter out of Trent's bag, followed by a tin of brownies Trent had baked the night before. He wasn't the best in the kitchen, but it was a boxed mix and he hoped he was competent enough at following directions that he hadn't messed anything up too badly.

"Trent Crimm, this is quite a feast," Thomas mused as he surveyed the offerings before them. He handed one of the cans to Trent and took one for himself, cracking open the top. He held it up for Trent to cheers and waited while Trent opened his own can. They clinked their cans together and nodded at each other. "Cheers."

"Cheers," Trent replied before sighing and taking a long sip. Canned G&Ts weren't his favorite, but any alcohol was a blessing at this point, as he was feeling a heady mix of embarrassment and excitement.

He was grateful when Thomas kicked off some innocuous conversation about classes and the football game they all attended earlier in the week on assignment for their sports journalism course. The comments Thomas made were all rather surface. It allowed Trent to calm down, eat, and take in the man sitting across from him. Thomas smiled easily and would knock his foot against Trent's every now and again. It was all quite tame, but at the same time it felt like something big… or at least the lead up to something bigger. Trent hoped that was mutual and not all in his head.

Two cans in apiece of the G&Ts and the only thing left to eat from the feast was brownies, and Trent and Thomas were smiling at each other like fools. Thomas popped the lid off the tin and loudly admired its contents. "Did you make these?!"

"I did," Trent said, reaching for a third G&T can, but not opening it. "It's just from a box, though."

"Just," Thomas said teasingly. "What other hidden talents have you been hiding from me?"

Trent's eyebrows slid up. "Hidden talents?" He laughed. "I haven't got any of those."

"That's too bad," Thomas said softly. "Here I was, hoping you were secretly good at snogging."

Warmth spread fast across Trent's cheeks and straight down his neck to his chest. For a moment, he forgot how words worked while his brain tried to process what seemed to be the brightest green light in the history of signals.

When he did blink back into reality, Trent put his unopened can of G&T down and scooted himself in a rather graceless way nearer to Thomas. Eyes on the other man the whole time, Trent's breath caught when he saw Thomas bite his lip in anticipation of what Trent knew he needed to do next.

Slowly bringing a hand up to cup Thomas's jaw, Trent leaned in and pressed his lips to the other man's. It was so gentle at first, soundlessly sighing into each other. Trent was also the one who deepened the kiss, eagerly tasting the strawberry that lingered on Thomas's tongue. When he pulled away and Thomas's eyelids eased open as Trent's hand slid from his face, Trent wondered if his own pupils were just as lust-blown as the ones he was staring at.

"Was that all right?" Trent whispered, flexing the hand that had been on Thomas's face over his own knee.

"If I hadn't said anything, would you have kissed me eventually?" Thomas asked, not answering Trent's question.

"Don't know," Trent replied, honestly. "I would have wanted to." He shook his head and touched his glasses. "I, mean, I have wanted to."

Thomas grinned. "Since when?"

"Since the first day of class when you sat next to me," Trent admitted. "You said you liked my glasses. And I… liked… you. Instantly."

"Well, they are solid glasses, mate," Thomas said, matter-of-factly as he carefully took them off Trent's face and closed them up, holding them in his hand so he could see all of Trent. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"It was only the first week of uni!" Trent said with a scoff that screamed obviously.

"So?" Thomas chuckled.

"So," Trent said slowly, his smile completely leaving his face. "I didn't know if it was safe yet."

The mood shifted in the room from playful to something more fragile. Thomas could see pain in Trent's eyes that he was desperately trying to hide. Putting Trent's glasses on the coffee table, Thomas shifted so he could sit directly in front of the other man. He pulled both of Trent's hands in his own.

"Do you I make you feel safe?" Thomas asked gently. It took a moment, but Trent nodded. Thomas exhaled the breath he didn't realize he had been holding in. "The bicycles earlier…" Trent's entire body involuntarily shivered. "Let me in, Trent. Please?"

A tear slid out of Trent's eye, down the side of his nose, and was making its way to his mouth when Thomas let go of one of Trent's hands and brushed his thumb across Trent's upper lip to wipe it away. It was more intimate than the kiss had been and made Trent's heart race.

"Why do you keep asking that?"

"Asking what?" Thomas replied.

"Please," Trent said.

Thomas was confused. "Would you rather I didn't?"

Trent wiped at his eyes with his free hand. "No, it's just that I'm not used to someone being this way around me."

"What way?"

"Insistent, I guess?" Trent settled on. "You make these little demands of me for you—not that they're anything I wouldn't be willing to meet—but then you ask me 'Please?' And I can't figure out if I'm being strung along for your pleasure or if mine is being considered as well." When Trent saw Thomas look slightly horrified, he continued. "I've spent so long making sure to keep the peace. It's exhausting. I like you, Thomas. A lot. And I'd like to talk to you about things, but it's got to be because I want to share them. Not because you want me to. You're here because you invited yourself over. I'm on the floor with you because you wanted me to join you. We kissed because you teased me into it. And I've wanted all those things. I have. Lord, I have. But I can't let it get to a point where I only follow or wait for someone else to break me open." Tears were rolling down Trent's cheeks again, but Thomas didn't make a move to stop them this time. "Thank you for today. I hope I haven't completely ruined things between us."

Thomas dropped Trent's other hand and scrambled to his feet. "I just wanted to know you more, Trent."

"I know." Trent sniffled. "I'm so sorry."

With a wordless nod, Thomas walked out of the flat, leaving Trent on his blanket on the floor among empty G&T cans, rubbish from their meal, and an open tin of brownies. Trent looked at the mess around him, knowing he felt the same on the inside. He wasn't mad at Thomas—not at all. He was mad at himself. Thomas was being nice. Thomas was being flirty. Thomas was trying to be there for him. But Trent just couldn't get past how everything had been worded.

Words mattered to Trent.

And though there was a part of him kicking himself for unloading on Thomas like that, he felt he had done the right thing, acknowledging that his agency mattered. And that even if their wants were shared, it didn't sit right with him that Thomas phrased almost everything about or around himself. Maybe it was his way of letting Trent know that any advances would be appreciated or reciprocated, especially since Trent hadn't made any sort of move to progress their friendship into something more. Or maybe it was because he saw Trent as someone who he could easily boss about like the rest of the group.

Trent slowly cleaned up his flat and then picked up the phone. He was mostly sober when he rung up his sister.

"Hello?"

"Allie, it's me," Trent said somberly. "You need to tell me if I was being a right knob or if you think I did the right thing."

"What are you going on about?" Allie asked. "Hang on—aren't you supposed to be off with your mates doing your Sunday brunch thing?"

Trent shut his eyes and, back against the wall, slid onto the floor of his bedroom. "I left. They wanted to ride bikes to the picnic spot."

"Oh," Allie said, instantly understanding. "Well, that's not worthy of being called a knob, little brother."

"That's not the knob-worthy part, Al," Trent grumbled. "Remember how I told you about Thomas?"

"That boy you said you were going to be in love with for the past year and a half? Yes, I do recall hearing about him."

"He kissed me," Trent said. "Or, rather, I kissed him."

"Oh…" Allie tried to cover her surprise, but wasn't quick enough. "Well, so long as he wanted you to, I don't see anything wrong with that. You've fancied him for ages."

"That's the thing… he wanted it."

"And you didn't?"

"No, I did. Fuck, Al, I've wanted to snog him since the day I met him."

"So what's the problem?"

He recounted the whole ordeal from when Thomas asked to come to his flat through when Trent told Thomas he couldn't just follow along to his every whim (even though they were things he wanted). It all sounded silly, saying everything out loud to his sister. That maybe he had overreacted.

"Have I messed everything up?" Trent asked, tears welling up in his eyes yet again.

"Trent, no," Allie said softly. "What you did took proper courage. You stood up for yourself, yeah? You felt something was off and you were honest about it."

"But he probably hates me now," Trent said.

"I somehow doubt that," Allie said. "But even if he did… wouldn't you rather he hate you than you hate yourself? I know you, Trent. I've seen you let yourself disappear to make other people happy."

"I'm so lonely, Al," Trent whispered into the phone. "And I pushed away the only person who has ever shown me any interest."

"I know it seems that way now," Allie said sadly. "But I promise you that you're going to realize you did yourself a favor. Someone, someday, is going to want to share their whole world with you and build a new combined one together. Okay? He's not going to tell you take his and that's the one you live in, as-is."

"Is that what you and Antony have? A combined world?" Trent asked hopefully. His sister had gotten married the year before after only a few months of dating a man she met during a First Aid course. And though Trent didn't know his brother-in-law all that well, he had nothing but pleasant encounters with him. As long as his sister was genuinely happy, he vowed to be happy for her.

"It is," Allie replied. Trent could all but hear her smiling. "The phrase sharing a life always made me want to gag, but I get it now. He shares himself with me and I do the same. He doesn't demand anything of me, Trent. Even if he knows it's something I would be willing to give."

"You two are disgusting, you know that, right?" Trent said with a laugh.

"Just wait until you find your person," Allie teased. "But for now, be yourself, yeah? Figure out what you need for you and don't second guess your feelings."

"So you're saying just move on from Thomas? Or should I talk things over with him?"

"Talk things over with him if you want to. But don't just smooth things over for his sake—this is about you. He might not have known what he was doing. But, at the same time, maybe he did. You won't know until you ask. But you also don't have to ask if you don't want to."

Trent sighed. "I probably should talk to him. It's either that or find a new friend group and that was hard enough to do the first time around."

"I believe in you, little brother."

"Thanks," Trent said. "That makes one of us."

Surprising to Trent, it was Thomas who reached out first the following morning. Trent found a two page letter shoved under his front door written in enviably neat cursive. I did not realize what a twat I've been toward you, it started. I'm so sorry…

He had to read through the letter a few times just to make sure he wasn't projecting his own wants into the words Thomas had woven together just for him. Letter in hand, Trent walked into their first shared class of the day and wrapped his arms firmly around Thomas.

"Thank you," Trent whispered. "I need a little more time, but I promise to have my shit together before the week's end. Would you be able to come over on Friday after class?"

Trent accepted the bottle of wine Thomas held out as he ushered the other man into his flat.

"Would you like something to drink?" Trent asked, holding up the bottle as he walked toward his kitchen. "This? Water? Tea? I think there's still some G&Ts from when you were here last weekend…"

"Wine would be great, if you were going to have some too," Thomas said. "Thanks."

Trent heavily poured them each a glass and brought it back into his living room where Thomas was sitting on the two-seater. After handing Thomas one of the glasses, Trent sat down next to him. He took a long sip of his wine and then set the glass on his coffee table.

"Thank you for your letter," Trent said softly. "And for coming over tonight. I know things have been weird this week and I'm sorry for that."

Thomas shook his head. "Don't be. I shouldn't have done what I did. Said what I said, you know? No one had ever called me out on it before, but you were right—I was making everything about me. I seem to do that a lot. I'm so sorry, Trent."

"I meant what I said… I wanted everything you were asking of me. I wanted your company. I wanted to kiss you. I want to share things with you. But you were the one instigating everything that day and I was going along with it. And I just… snapped. I should have handled that better."

"It's okay," Thomas said. "I do have a question, though. What did you mean when you said that you've spent so long keeping the peace? Is that all right of me to ask?"

Trent touched the frames of his glasses and then ran a hand through his hair. It wasn't as long as it had been when he was a kid, but it did curl wildly over his ears.

"I got picked on… a lot… when I was a kid. Other kids called me names and stuff. Kept their distance from me at school. I was quiet. A bit of a loner. Always jotting things down in a notebook."

"Sounds familiar," Thomas said with a small smile.

Trent nodded. "Some of the guys from school got a hold of me one day. I was alone—trying to teach myself how to ride a bike—when they came across me in a car park. They knocked me about. Grabbed at me and kicked me. Broke my leg and left me there."

"Christ, Trent," Thomas whispered.

Trent shrugged and shook his head. "After that, I did everything I could to just stay out of everyone's way. I cut off all my hair so no one could pull at it. Kept to myself even more. Didn't come out to anyone at school when I realized I was gay. My dad told me over and over again to stop being a target, so I became a ghost instead. It's been different being at uni. But not different enough, I guess, because I still haven't really been myself."

"Why?" Thomas asked.

"I think because I'm still not quite sure who I actually am," Trent admitted. "I know I'm not that scared little kid anymore, but he's still in there somewhere. Or maybe he's just grown into a scared adult who still doesn't know how to ride a bike. Last weekend really tripped me up."

"But you stood up to me," Thomas said.

"But I wouldn't have had to if I had expressed myself, out loud, literally at all before that," Trent said. "I fancied you for over a year, Thomas, and I didn't say anything. Hell, I didn't even come out to any of you until the end of first year."

"Which makes sense in hindsight, mate," Thomas said. "You went through some serious shit and then suffered in silence for it. I'm bloody amazed you're as social and outspoken in class as you have been." Trent's cheeks flushed from the compliment and he took another sip of wine to try to hide his face. "Thank you for telling me. And thanks for putting me in my place. I've been a right prat."

"Thank you for listening," Trent said, as he put his glass down and took off his glasses. "Prat or not, I'd like to kiss you again, if that's all right."

Thomas smiled. "It's more than all right."

After putting his glasses on the coffee table, Trent took Thomas's wine glass out of his hand and placed that on the table next to his own glass. He slid over on the two-seater until he was all but in Thomas's lap and leaned in.

This second kiss started slow. Trent could tell Thomas was letting him lead and he felt empowered to go for broke. Just as Thomas began to stutter in a breath through his nose, Trent pulled away, eliciting a small whine from the depths of Thomas's throat.

"Can we take this into my room?" Thomas nodded quickly.

With a sly grin, Trent grabbed Thomas by the hand and led him into his bedroom. He hadn't really planned that this was where the evening would take them, but it felt right and it was what he wanted.

As they laid in bed after taking their time to explore and taste each other, Trent snuggled into Thomas, resting his head on the other man's chest. Thomas ran his fingers lazily through Trent's hair, twirling the ends each time.

"I can show you, you know," Thomas said softly.

"Show me what?" Trent asked, tracing a random pattern across Thomas's bare stomach.

"How to ride a bike."