Jesus creeping shit. The thing that's haunted me for months on end ... tormented me ... and here it is, the realization of my worst nightmare ...

I wondered. All this time I wondered – angrily and repeatedly kicked the thought away with both feet, but the bloody thing kept resurfacing, and now ...

My god.

Maxxie's lips ... Maxxie's motherfucking lips ...

What did Oscar Wilde say ? "The curves of your lips rewrite history" ? That's about right.

Sweet christ. Only fucking magic. Soft, supple, full, fantastic. About a thousand times better than I'd remembered. Bastard even smells good.

Last person who snogged me was Michelle – many moons ago, now, and it was hurried and frantic, stressful, even. Nothing behind it, or, as it turns out, ahead of it, either.

Maxxie kissing you, by contrast, is like ... wow ! ...throwing open a door into a room, into a brain which has been sealed off tight. Totally fucking amazing - unhurried. Sweet. Oddly comfortable- like we've been doing this for years, yet with just enough intensity to let you know he fucking well means it.

Who knew ? Here I am, outside, in full view of the world ... kissing a boy ! ... and it feels GOOD ! ! Really fucking good !

Which is all such a completely insane freakout, cuz ... I'm not supposed to like this ! I'm supposed to be repulsed by this ! As in, not leaning into like I am ! Not getting tingly !

I mean ... what in hell do you call this ?

Abruptly, before I have time give it a name, it all comes to a screeching halt, as Max goes to pull back. For a brief second though, our lips cling, still hanging onto the kiss ... but the bastard stands away.

Already I miss it. Already there's a void.

So here's where he realizes what he's done, and like the disgustingly decent schmuck that Maxxie always must be, apologizes for losing his head, and tries to reason with me. Tries to talk me out of everything.

Which, I'm telling you right now, ain't gonna happen.

Of all the truths in this world, in the history of this world, here is one: that I would not only somehow get up the balls to kiss Tony, for real ... but that Tony would kiss back – press those full, soft, ruby red, insanely scrumptious lips into mine ... with no intention of taking the mick, with no one paying him ...

That Tony would not push me away or, even, on instinct, punch me in the face, is surely proof, it has to be ...

... that he must really be in love with me.

Nothing else on earth explains it.

How can I possibly get my head around it ?

But alas ... I'm distracted. Muscle Man is nosily hovering, looking annoyed, having followed me out here apparently intent on staking his claim, only to find me brazenly kissing some other bloke ?

I break from this warm, magnificent mouth and turn, rather indignant and annoyed myself ...

"Sod off back to the gym," I snap. "I'm not in love with you." I point. "I'm in love with him."

Tony looks at me in shock.

By christ, he said it right out loud ! In public !

The behemoth snorts.

"Ya, well fuck you, then."

Tony snarls, "No, fuck you, tosser !" and begins walking threateningly, with one finger pointing at the guy, who has to be twice his weight. "Maxxie's not interested, capiche ?"

"Tony, don't !" I shout, jumping to his side, but it isn't necessary. The bloke chuckles sarcastically, and duly fucks off.

Tony turns to me, flustered and flushed. He runs a shaky hand up into his hair. He looks a right mess. A breathtaking one. When he speaks, his voice cracks.

"Don't fuck with me, Max. I swear."

I take his hand. I speak softly.

"I wouldn't do that to you, Tone. You know I wouldn't. I've felt this way for ages. Been too chickenshit to let on, terrified you'd run a mile."

We study each other for long moments, neither knowing what to say. It goes on forever, this mutual, careful inquiry into the other's sincerity.

Finally, Tony speaks.

"Me, too."

Christ, my head's spinning. Just in total shock. How could it actually be ? ? Any of it ?

Yet here we stand, watching each other's faces, and it's slowly sinking in.

Maxxie's in love with me.

Half of me wants to jump out of my skin, the other half's terrified.

Meanwhile, Maxxie's calm, the bastard.

But then, he's used to boys declaring their love.

"So ... what does this mean ?"

I take a slow, steady breath. The whole world feels different right now, is different; the air, the scent of things.

"It means what you want it to mean, Tone."

We're each back to the extended facial search.

"What do you want it to mean ?" I finally ask.

Another breath.

"I guess ... I guess I sorta need to ask you that question."

Of course. He's gay, he's known all along he's gay. A friend falling for him is normal. Just not a straight friend. Just not me.

Thing is, for the whole time I've had these feelings, I've tried to kill then, smother them, ignore them, explain them away. I've agonized over them, and haven't allowed them any light, or air, or respect.

But what's hitting me, now that they're out in the open, is that, like the kiss, they're actually weirdly comfortable. Something you could fall down inside of. Not something to fear or be freaked by. And, in fact, at the moment, they're sort of flooding me with ... joy, it has to be admitted. Giddiness. Happiness. Hope.

Fear, yes; nervousness – all that. Confusion, though ?

No.

It's all making sense, suddenly. Perfect frigging sense. It's quite simple, in fact.

I love Maxxie. He's the best mate I will ever have, amazing in every measurable way, he's fit, he's just admitted he loves me ... and ... if I were to confess my most deeply hidden secret, hidden, even, largely from myself, the one that, to now, has genuinely flipped me out, it would be this:

That I want him.

God ... how do you breathe normally, again ?

In response to my asking what he might want these earth shattering co-revelations to mean ... Tony shrugs.

"I guess ... I guess I don't know. I guess I still don't understand it, any of it ... but at the same time ... I don't give a toss. Sort of going with my gut, here."

He looks at me earnestly.

"So ... it must make me a bit bi, or like, gay or whatever, though, huh ?"

My brain winces.

Gay ?

You don't just start being gay, claim that prize, Tone, overnight. You have to be born with it, but if not, then you sort of have to earn it.

Okay, yes, a preposterous notion, but at the same time, there is a grain of truth to it ... and so I'm having a hard time letting go of the voice in my head which reminds me I've known all my life I was gay. I didn't jump to that conclusion, following a year of involuntary sexual starvation, at the first crush I had over a friend.

He's standing, eyes anxious, trusting that I'll know, that I can sort out this frightening, confusing mess for him.

God, but he is achingly beautiful, though, in the soft glow of the moon, with still-moist lips, is he not ? Talk about a vision. And with that added hint of vulnerability, and a warm breeze gently tossing about his hair ... positively breathtaking.

Okay. Stop it. You've fallen in love here, with a beautiful boy, because it's in your nature. It's not in Tony's. He's still bloody recovering, to a degree. Still figuring out the world. You know this.

And you know this, or at least, you're pretty sure: had Marie been at the club tonite, you wouldn't even be having this conversation.

"Tone ..." Christ I'm nervous. I don't want to push him away, for fuck's sake, I mean, my lips are still warm from before, but ... I have to put it out there, if only to quiet my guilty conscience.

How does one put this, exactly ?

"I don't think you're gay."

"Okay, well, whatever. Bi, then."

"But ... it doesn't, y'know, happen just like that."

"Ya, but Max, this has been building for months."

Okay ... Say that again, Tony. Please ? ?

I try, once again, gently as I can.

"Still, I-I think we have to consider that-"

His face changes.

"-You don't believe me."

"It's not that I don't believe you, Tone, I just can't help but remember, I mean, given your past ..."

"I'm not that guy, anymore, Max. He's dead. Too much fucking water under the bridge."

"Okay, but I mean," ... my brain scrambling to catch up to everything that's happening ... "Tony, look ... don't you think, honestly, deep down, that if we'd encountered Marie tonite-"

His face colours. He shouts.

"-I don't give a toss about Marie ! I don't want her ! I want YOU ! !"

Gulp ... ! !

Okay ! Just spin my head around seventeen times ...

What ... a ... fucking ... evening ! Just minutes ago, an exchanged blurting of the world's most sought after trio of words, and now THIS ! ?

Am I permitted to stop arguing with him now ?

I lean in, before the sanctimonious twat can open that pretty mouth again, and lay one on him. Yes. Good and fucking proper.

Don't believe me, Max ? Try this !

To emphasize my point, I push him straight back into the wall behind, and proceed to kiss him, hard, and for real; openly, honestly, throwing everything I have into it – love, hope, desire.

There is something utterly surreal and fantastically overwhelming about being snogged to within an inch of your life ... by the person you're in love with ... who just happens to be your best mate ...who is in possession of the singular goal of proving you wrong.

If I had any idea that Tony could kiss like this, I might've leapt on him months ago.

I can't help but reflect on our last, and only other kiss (not counting the brief, chaste one I planted on him a few months back which I'm sure he doesn't remember) ... in other words, Russia, and the person he was, then, a whole lifetime ago, now.

That kiss, directly in front of his girlfriend, had purpose, had meaning only in that it satisfied a curiosity. A fleeting, opportunistic dare. It involved, in other words, taking.

The boy before me now, ever ornery and willful, ever fond of difficult concepts, is, in so many ways, (despite what he thinks), the old Tony, and yet ... absolutely is not, as illustrated so beautifully by this open, full bodied, freely given kiss; anything but a means to an end.

Said kiss, meanwhile, quickly deepens, and, as he lays one hand against my chest and runs the other softly up into my hair ... I'm in bad trouble.

Suddenly, before I have time to realize what's happened, I'm spun round, my back pushed firmly into the wall as Maxxie proceeds to absolutely lose it - grabs my face with both hands, presses his body close, and genuinely and expertly mauls me ... very shortly after which, okay ... you are permitted to sound the horns and ring the church bells, for a minor miracle, of a genuinely earth shattering quality, has occurred.

The discovery of the source of the strange but exceedingly pleasant sensation emanating from below ...

We stop dead. We stand slightly back, staring, positively stunned over not one, but two freshly budding erections.

We look up, mouthes hung wide.

"Get a fucking room !" Some passerby cracks.

I jerk my head to the side. Other people exist ? !

Before I look back, Maxxie's grabbed my hand, and we're running.