andy-writes-books

[andy-writes-books]

No Box To Fit Into chapters 21-26

tw: dysphoria, and this is also the end of this short book, ill take requests for my next book in my asks! i might even revisit this book later in life

Chapter 21 – “Where We Are Now” 

Riley didn’t sleep much. 

Not because they didn’t feel safe—but because their mind was still echoing with the press of Andrew’s lips, the way their hands had searched, the way everything had gone from soft to sharp in a blink. They had wanted it. They still wanted it. 

But now that the adrenaline had faded, all that was left was the question echoing in their chest: 

What are we doing? 

The morning light filtered into Andrew’s room slowly, washing everything in gold. Riley lay on their side, facing the wall, their back warm from where Andrew was still curled behind them—just close enough to feel without touching. 

Andrew stirred. “You awake?” 

Riley nodded into the pillow. “Yeah.” 

A pause. 

“Can we talk about last night?” Andrew asked, his voice gentle. 

Riley rolled over, meeting his eyes. “Yeah. I was hoping we would.” 

Andrew sat up a little, pushing his hair out of his face. “I don’t regret anything. Just… I wasn’t expecting it to get that intense so fast.” 

“Same,” Riley said, sitting up too. Their voice was soft but steady. “I liked it. I really liked it. But it surprised me. I didn’t know how much I wanted until it was already happening.” 

Andrew nodded. “It felt like everything hit at once. Like… kissing you made me want all of you, right then. And that kind of scared me.” 

“Me too,” Riley admitted. “Not because I didn’t want it. But because I didn’t know where my boundaries were until we were already brushing up against them.” 

Andrew looked over, eyes warm and worried. “Do you feel like I crossed any?” 

“No,” Riley said quickly. “Not at all. You stopped when I needed to stop. You were gentle. I just… I wasn’t ready for how much I felt.” 

They looked down, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I think I’m still figuring out how I want to be touched. What feels good. What feels like me. Especially now that I’m using they/them. It’s like… I’m learning this whole new version of my body.” 

Andrew was quiet for a moment, then reached out, brushing his pinky against Riley’s hand. “I want to learn that version too. The one that feels like home to you. I don’t care how long it takes.” 

Riley smiled, heart stuttering. “I don’t want to lose this just because we got carried away.” 

“You won’t,” Andrew said firmly. “We don’t have to rush anything. This isn’t about how far we go—it’s about who we are when we’re with each other.” 

They sat in that morning silence for a while, letting the moment stretch and settle. It wasn’t heavy—it was grounding. They weren’t just holding onto each other anymore. They were holding space. 

“Can I ask something dumb?” Riley said. 

“Never dumb.” 

“What are we? I mean… are we dating? Or still just friends-who-kiss? Or…?” 

Andrew leaned his head against Riley’s shoulder. “I don’t know yet. But I know I want this to be something. Something real. Even if we’re still figuring out what it’s called.” 

Riley smiled, letting their head rest on top of Andrew’s. “Okay. Something real sounds good.” 

And maybe that was enough—for now. 

Chapter 22 – “Wrong Skin” 

It hit Riley like a wave. 

They’d had good days—quiet, joyful ones. Days where the name “Riley” settled into their chest like a song they finally knew the words to. Where using they/them felt like slipping into soft clothes, worn and safe. Days where Andrew’s hand on theirs made everything feel steady. 

But today wasn’t one of those days. 

Today, everything felt wrong. 

Their shirt clung in all the wrong places. Their voice felt too sharp, too flat, too not-theirs. Even the way they walked felt off—like they were performing a body that didn’t belong to them. And the mirror? The mirror was unbearable. 

They’d tried. God, they’d tried. Pulled on their loosest hoodie. Wore the beanie that usually helped. But no matter how they adjusted or layered or breathed through it, the feeling was there— 

Too much.  Not enough.  Wrong. 

They sat on the edge of their bed, fingers clenched in the hem of their hoodie, eyes stinging. No tears yet. Just that tight pressure behind their eyes. The kind that builds. 

Their phone buzzed. A message from Andrew. 

andrew: 

hey, you okay? haven’t heard from you today  can I call? 

Riley stared at the screen, thumbs frozen. 

They wanted to say yes. 

But something in their chest twisted. 

Instead, they typed: 

riley: 

idk  today sucks  I feel like a stranger in my own skin 

Andrew didn’t respond with questions. No long paragraphs. Just: 

andrew: 

can I come over? 

A pause. Then: 

riley: 

yeah  but I don’t want to talk right away 

Ten minutes later, Andrew was sitting beside them on the floor of their bedroom, backs against the wall, shoulders barely touching. He didn’t say anything. Just sat there. Breathing. Waiting. 

Riley’s voice broke the silence. 

“I hate feeling like this. I feel like I’m fighting with my own body. I know who I am, but my skin doesn’t know it yet. And some days it’s just… loud.” 

Andrew didn’t look away. “I get it. I don’t know exactly what it feels like for you, but… I’ve had days where my body felt like a costume. Where I felt like I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t allowed to be.” 

Riley’s breath caught. “I thought figuring out my name and pronouns would make it easier. And sometimes it does. But not today.” 

“It doesn’t mean you’re going backwards,” Andrew said quietly. “Bad days don’t erase who you are. They just mean you’re human. And maybe hurting. But not broken.” 

Riley finally looked at him. “I just want to feel okay. I want to look in the mirror and see myself—not what other people expect.” 

Andrew’s hand found theirs. “Then we’ll find ways to get there. Little things that help. And I’ll remind you when you forget.” 

Riley didn’t say anything for a long time. Just squeezed Andrew’s hand tight. 

Eventually, they stood and went to the mirror. Not to fix anything. Just to look—with Andrew behind them, not judging. Just there. 

And even though they didn’t feel beautiful, or whole, or even okay, they didn’t feel alone. 

And that was something. 

Chapter 23 – “Back Then” 

Riley sat on the floor of their bedroom, knees pulled to their chest, the light from the hallway spilling in through the half-open door. Their sketchbook was in their lap, open but forgotten. Pencil loose in their hand. 

They were supposed to be drawing—supposed to be doing something. But their mind was somewhere else. 

Some when else. 

It started with a scent. Someone outside had lit a barbecue, and the smell of charcoal hit just right—hot pavement, melting popsicle memory. Suddenly, they were back there. 

Third grade. 

They were eight, sitting at a red picnic bench during recess. Feet swinging. Hair short, but not short enough. Shoulders tense in a shirt they didn’t pick. Some kid—Marcus or maybe Dillon—had pointed at them and laughed. 

“Are you a boy or a girl?” 

Riley remembered freezing. Not because they didn’t know. But because they didn’t know how to answer. Not then. Not with everyone watching. Not with the kids already starting to laugh like it was a joke they weren’t in on. 

“Can’t tell,” the kid sneered. “Maybe it’s both. Or neither. Like an alien.” 

Riley hadn’t said a word. 

They’d just gone quiet. Still. 

Like disappearing might make it stop. 

Fourth grade. 

They remembered being called to line up in the girls’ line—and hesitating. Not because they didn’t want to follow the rule, but because it felt… wrong. Not wrong like “break the rules,” but wrong like “why am I standing in a space that doesn’t feel like mine?” 

The teacher had called their name twice. Loudly. Impatiently. Riley had stepped forward, face burning, stomach churning, and said nothing. 

They hadn’t had the language then. 

Only the shame. 

Now, back in the present, Riley stared down at their sketchbook. 

They began to draw. 

Not a perfect picture. Just… lines. Shapes. A small figure on a bench, alone. Another line of kids, pointing. A younger version of themself, sitting very still, too quiet. 

Riley’s pencil hovered—then moved again. Slowly, they added something new. 

A second figure, sitting beside the first. No face. Just a presence. Someone older. Maybe Andrew. Maybe D. Maybe just anyone. 

Someone safe. 

They swallowed hard. 

Because maybe, now, they could be that person for themself. 

Maybe healing didn’t erase the past—but maybe it gave them the tools to talk back to it. To say: 

I see you. You were real. And you didn’t deserve that. 

Later that night, Riley texted Andrew. 

riley: 

had a weird memory from when I was a kid  remembered being called an alien  I think I’ve been carrying it for a long time 

andrew: 

I’m sorry  do you want to talk about it? 

riley: 

not really  just wanted someone to know it happened 

andrew: 

I’m glad you told me  you’re not an alien  you’re real  and you’re mine 

Riley stared at the last message, lips curving slowly. 

The past hadn’t disappeared. But it didn’t own them anymore. 

Chapter 24 – “The Queer Gathering” 

Riley had almost backed out. 

They stood at the entrance of the small community center, watching people trickle in—some in colorful clothes, others with shirts bearing slogans they didn’t know, all carrying something in their smiles that made Riley’s chest feel a little lighter. 

They’d texted Andrew—again—two minutes ago. 

riley: 

I’m not sure about this. It feels too big. 

andrew: 

You can leave whenever you want. But I’m proud of you for being here. We’ll stick together, okay? You’ll be fine. We’ve got this. 

Riley paused, letting out a shaky breath. They hadn’t thought it would be this overwhelming—despite all the hype and the good intentions. The idea of being surrounded by people who “got it” was supposed to feel freeing. But in the moment, it was like a weight was pressing down on them—too many eyes, too many potential labels, too much expectation. 

But Andrew had promised to meet them, so Riley had to try. 

They walked inside, their hand sweating slightly as they clutched their phone, eyes darting around. 

“Hey!” a voice called from the side, warm and inviting. 

It was D, with Eli standing beside them, hand wrapped around their waist. Their faces lit up when they saw Riley. 

“Didn’t think we were going to see you here!” D grinned, stepping over to pull Riley into a hug. Riley was stiff at first but soon relaxed. D’s hug felt grounding, safe. 

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to come,” Riley admitted, stepping back to look around, eyes still wide. “It’s a lot.” 

“It is a lot,” D agreed. “But it’s also a place where you don’t have to explain anything. Just be yourself. It’s what we all need.” 

Eli smiled at them warmly. “I’m glad you came. Really. It’s okay to feel a little overwhelmed.” 

Riley gave a small nod, trying to relax. “I’m just… not sure I belong here. You know?” 

“Hey,” Eli said, his voice calm. “Everyone belongs. You don’t need to have everything figured out. Not even me, and I’ve been here forever.” 

Riley couldn’t help but smile, appreciating the honesty. 

“Thanks,” they said quietly. 

“Anytime,” D said, clapping them on the back. “Let’s grab some drinks. It’ll be chill once you get used to it.” 

They wandered over to the snack table, Riley feeling a little more at ease as they did. The space was lively, but in a warm, inclusive way. Music played softly in the background, and the laughter was easy—not forced. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. 

“Want to hang out with us for a bit?” D asked, gesturing to a circle of people a few feet away. They were sitting on the floor, chatting about different queer identities and their experiences. 

Riley glanced over, hesitating for a second. But then, feeling a little more confident than they had in the past few weeks, nodded. “Yeah. I think I’m ready.” 

And so, they sat down. 

At first, it was small talk, a little tentative. But as time passed, Riley began to feel something they hadn’t felt in a long time: ease. The people around them shared stories, laughed, joked, and never once questioned each other’s identities. There were people with different pronouns, different names, different ways of expressing themselves—and no one seemed out of place. Everyone was allowed to just be. 

Riley leaned back, a soft smile playing at the edges of their mouth. For the first time in a while, they didn’t feel like they were trying to prove anything. No one was expecting them to fit into some box. No one was asking them to explain themselves. 

They were just Riley. Not too much, not too little, just them. 

The rest of the night passed in a blur of conversation, laughter, and a surprising amount of comfort. As the event began to wind down, people started gathering their things, slowly preparing to head out. 

Andrew found Riley near the door, waiting for them with a soft smile. “So? How was it?” 

Riley took a deep breath, grinning. “It was… good. Actually, it was great.” 

Andrew’s face lit up. “I knew you’d like it.” 

Riley turned to face him, something warm blossoming in their chest. “You were right,” they said, voice quieter now, a little more confident. “I didn’t need to have it all figured out to feel like I fit in. I don’t even know where I’m going with this whole ‘gender’ thing, but… tonight, I felt like I could just exist without feeling like I was wrong for it.” 

Andrew took a step closer, his hand brushing against Riley’s, fingers brushing lightly. “I’m so proud of you. This is just the start, you know? You’re already so much further along than you think.” 

Riley looked up at him, feeling their heart thud against their ribcage. They didn’t feel rushed. They didn’t feel confused. They felt seen. 

The world wasn’t going to be perfect. Their journey was still unfolding. But tonight? They felt like they belonged somewhere. For the first time in a long time, they didn’t have to justify themselves. 

“Thanks for coming with me,” Riley said, looking up at Andrew with a gentle smile. 

“No need to thank me,” Andrew replied softly, squeezing their hand. “You’re more than enough. Just like this.” 

Chapter 25 “Full Circle” 

The apartment was cozy, the kind of place that smelled like home—like familiarity and laughter. There was the distinct hum of a city just outside the window, but inside it was warm, welcoming. A couch piled with mismatched cushions, a kitchen full of takeaway boxes from their favorite late-night spots, and four friends sitting around a coffee table that had seen its share of deep conversations and spontaneous movie marathons. 

Riley, now comfortably settled into their own skin, stretched out on the couch, their legs draped over the side. The group had gathered again for the first time in months—busy lives and new cities had kept everyone apart, but tonight felt like a reunion in the best way. 

They smiled, looking around at their friends—Andrew, D, and Eli—and felt that same sense of safety they had felt years ago at that small queer gathering. But this time, it wasn’t just the comfort of acceptance. It was the comfort of knowing they had truly grown into themselves, together. 

"So," D said, popping a piece of popcorn into their mouth and leaning back against the cushions, "what’s been the highlight of your year?" 

Andrew chuckled, glancing at Riley. "I think I know where this is going." 

Riley raised an eyebrow, shifting to sit up. "Why’s that? Are you gonna say 'seeing me finally get my crap together'?" 

D snorted. "I mean, yeah. That, too. But I was thinking more like..." They paused, looking at Riley with a knowing smile. "How’s the whole gender thing been going? You've been a lot more confident lately." 

Riley chuckled, settling back against the couch, a little bashful but warmed by D's words. "Yeah, I guess I have been. Honestly, I’m still figuring out some things, but I don’t feel as lost as I used to. I think, for me, it's just about letting things be fluid. Like, it’s not about fitting in a box. It's about being able to just... exist." 

Andrew smiled at them, a little proud. "You’ve come a long way, Riley. I remember when you were so uncertain about everything." 

"I think we all were," Riley replied, glancing at Eli, who was lazily sitting next to D, his head resting on their shoulder. 

Eli raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, but you’ve definitely figured it out more than I have. I’m still on the 'let’s see where the journey takes me' train." He paused, grinning. "But I’ll get there." 

The group shared a comfortable laugh, and for a moment, the weight of the years seemed to disappear. The college years, the awkwardness of transition, the uncertainty of what it meant to truly be themselves—it all seemed so far behind them now. What had once been a complicated mess of self-doubt and questioning had settled into a kind of quiet understanding. Each of them was still figuring out what their identities meant, but they no longer felt like the answers needed to come quickly, or at all. 

Riley smiled, leaning back into the couch, eyes catching Andrew’s. They’d been through so much together—those late-night conversations where neither of them quite knew where the other was going with their words, those kisses they had shared that had never quite fit into a box, the way their friendship had slowly blossomed into something deeper, something more unspoken. 

"What about you?" Riley asked Andrew, looking at him with that familiar tenderness. "How’s everything been for you? After... all of it?" 

Andrew, who had been quietly sipping his drink, looked up and met Riley’s gaze. There was no rush in his answer, just a thoughtful pause. 

"It’s been good," he said, smiling. "I guess I’ve learned to just... let things be. Let myself be, y’know? I never expected to be so okay with not knowing where things are going. But I guess that's just life, right? We’re all figuring it out. Together, and on our own." 

The words struck a chord with Riley, and they nodded slowly. "I get that." 

A comfortable silence fell between them, one that spoke volumes. Riley thought back to their journey—when the simple question of ‘who am I?’ had felt insurmountable. But now, here, with their closest friends, they realized it didn’t need to be answered all at once. And maybe it never would be. Maybe it was okay to just let it all unfold. 

D leaned forward, breaking the silence. "So, do we wanna take a shot at actually figuring out what we're doing with our lives, or should we just keep living like it's a never-ending hangout?" 

Eli laughed, nudging D playfully. "I vote for the second option. We’ll figure the rest out when we’re good and ready." 

Andrew chuckled, raising his glass. "I’m in." 

Riley looked at their friends, each of them so different, yet so intertwined. They had seen each other through growing pains, through triumphs, through moments of doubt and moments of pure clarity. And though the road had never been straight, they knew they had something no one could take away. 

They smiled softly, their voice a little quieter as they said, "Yeah, let’s just hang out." 

It didn’t need to be more complicated than that. In the end, they were just themselves—changing, evolving, and growing, but always together. 

Chapter 26 “After Graduation” 

It had been six months since graduation, and life was, for the most part, moving forward. Riley had settled into their first post-college job in the city, a small, cozy apartment tucked on the edge of downtown, just a quick subway ride away from Andrew’s place. It felt different than college—less chaotic, but also more real, more grounded. 

The kind of life you could imagine building something lasting in. 

And Riley had found that in Andrew. 

Tonight, they sat on the small couch in their apartment, windows cracked open to let in the cool evening air, the soft hum of the city streetlights filling the background. The apartment was quieter than it had been in a while. With D and Eli living together across the city and everyone else settled into their own routines, it was rare for the group to all get together. But this moment—just Andrew and Riley—felt natural. They had spent so much of their time together post-graduation, finding a rhythm between their busy schedules. 

Riley lay back on the couch, legs tucked beneath a blanket, staring at the ceiling. "Can we talk about... us?" 

Andrew was sitting at the other end, knees pulled up to his chest. He shifted slightly, his eyes softening. "Of course. What’s on your mind?" 

Riley hesitated for a moment, the silence thick between them. For all the time they’d spent together, all the moments they’d shared, this felt like one of the first times they’d actually spoken about what was between them—what was really between them. 

"I feel like... I feel like we’ve been dancing around this for a while, haven’t we?" Riley said, voice tentative, but there was something there that felt like truth—like a piece of them was finally ready to speak. 

Andrew frowned slightly, his brows knitting together. "Dancing around what, exactly?" 

"I don’t know... us. Like, we’ve kissed. We’ve been really close, and it’s like—" Riley stopped, taking a deep breath, feeling their heart speed up a little. "I just don’t know where we’re going with this anymore. I don’t want to keep pretending like things are fine, you know?" 

Andrew’s eyes widened, and he shifted his position, leaning forward slightly. "What do you mean, pretending?" 

Riley sat up, the blanket falling off their shoulders as they faced Andrew fully. "I mean, we've been best friends for so long. And yeah, we’ve kissed a few times. And sometimes it feels like more than just kissing. But it’s like we’re stuck in this place where we’re both too afraid to admit what it actually is. I don’t know how much longer I can just... go with the flow without knowing where I stand with you. It’s confusing." 

Andrew’s gaze softened, and for a moment, Riley thought they saw a flicker of something—something like vulnerability, something like relief. 

"I’ve been thinking about it a lot too," Andrew admitted quietly, his voice lower than usual. "I’m not sure why I haven’t said anything before. Maybe I was scared of messing things up. I never wanted to risk our friendship. But I... I don’t know, Riley. Every time I’m with you, it feels more than just friendship to me. It’s always felt more. But I didn’t know how to say that without scaring you off, y’know?" 

Riley exhaled slowly, relief flooding through them. "I get that. I’ve felt the same way. But now I’m just sitting here wondering... what do we do with it? Are we more than just friends? Do we even know what that means yet?" 

Andrew was silent for a moment, their fingers tapping nervously against the armrest. "I don’t have all the answers. But I want to figure it out with you. If you’re willing to take that step, I’m ready. I think I’ve been ready for a while, but I just... didn’t want to push you." 

Riley felt their heart swell. They hadn’t realized how much they’d been holding back until this moment. How much they had wanted to talk about it, to define it, to give it a name, but had been too afraid to. 

"Okay," Riley said quietly, eyes locked with Andrew’s. "Then let’s figure it out. Together." 

Andrew smiled, that familiar, easy smile, and Riley felt a warmth spread through their chest. It felt like they were on the cusp of something big—not just for their relationship, but for themselves as individuals. 

"And," Andrew added, eyes mischievous, "if we’re doing this whole ‘figuring it out’ thing... can I maybe kiss you while we do?" 

Riley laughed, the sound light and full of that same ease they had always shared. "You don’t need to ask, you know." 

Andrew grinned, leaning forward, brushing a strand of hair from Riley’s face before pulling them in for a soft, lingering kiss. 

It started slow, the kind of kiss that tasted like possibility—full of hesitation but also full of things they hadn’t said yet. They parted briefly, their foreheads resting against each other, and in the quiet of the room, everything felt real. The fear, the hesitation—it was still there, of course. But so was something else. 

The kind of trust that only time and friendship could build. 

"I’ve been wanting to do that for a while," Andrew murmured, his lips just barely brushing against Riley’s. 

"Me too," Riley whispered back, feeling a lightness in their chest they hadn’t realized was missing. "But it’s not just about the kiss, right? It’s about what comes after." 

Andrew nodded, their eyes shining. "Yeah. It’s about figuring out what happens next. But I’m not afraid of that anymore. Not with you." 

Riley smiled, their heart finally settling into the rhythm of the moment. "Then let’s see where it goes." 

And as they kissed again, deeper this time, they both knew—whatever it was, they would face it together. 

They knew they would face a harder life, but they would do it together, without labels, because who needs labels if your happy? They have No Box To Fit Into, and its fine with them. 

[andy-writes-books]

No Box To Fit Into

Chapters 13-20, it gets a little heated in chapter 20, but not too much

Chapter 13 – “The Space Between Words” 

It was raining the next evening when Danny showed up at Andrew’s door, his hoodie damp and clinging to his arms. He hadn’t planned on going out. But the house had felt too quiet, and his thoughts too loud. The kind of loud that built up pressure behind his eyes and made it hard to breathe. 

Andrew opened the door in socks and an oversized band tee, a faint look of surprise on his face that softened into something warmer the second he saw who it was. 

“Hey,” Danny said, voice low. “Sorry for just… showing up.” 

Andrew stepped aside and waved him in. “You don’t have to be sorry. You can always come here.” 

Danny peeled off his hoodie, shaking the water from his sleeves. The scent of rain and the familiar comfort of Andrew’s room wrapped around him like a second layer of clothes.  Posters on the wall, laundry half-folded on the chair, lo-fi music playing softly from his laptop—it all made Danny feel like he could exhale for the first time today. 

They sat on Andrew’s bed like they always did, side by side, not touching but close. The silence between them was easy. They’d learned how to speak through it over the years. 

Danny broke it first. 

“I tried something today,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “Just in my head. I used they/them pronouns. For me.” 

Andrew turned to him, eyebrows raised slightly. Not surprised—more like quietly interested. 

“And?” he asked. 

Danny shrugged. “It didn’t feel wrong. It felt… softer. Like the pressure to perform something I didn’t quite believe in kind of fell away for a second. I don’t know what it means yet, but it didn’t feel fake. That surprised me.” 

Andrew nodded slowly. “That’s big, Danny. I’m really glad you told me.” 

Danny looked at him, a knot tightening in his chest. “Do you think it’s weird?” 

Andrew blinked. “No. I think it’s honest. I think it’s… brave, actually.” 

Danny let out a breath. “I’m scared. Like, what if I change and people don’t recognize me anymore? What if I don’t recognize myself?” 

Andrew was quiet for a moment, then said, “I don’t think you’re becoming someone else. I think you’re peeling back layers that were never really you to begin with.” 

That hit something deep. Danny bit the inside of his cheek, then turned to Andrew. “Can I ask you something kind of heavy?” 

“Of course.” 

“When you came out as gay… were you afraid it would change how people saw you? Like it would change everything?” 

Andrew nodded. “Yeah. I was terrified. Especially with my parents. I kept thinking: what if they love me less? What if my friends stop acting the same around me? What if it’s not just a thing about me, but a thing that defines me, and that scares them?” 

Danny looked down. “That’s exactly how I feel.” 

“I know,” Andrew said quietly. “But you remember what I told you, when I came out?” 

Danny smiled faintly. “You said you felt more like yourself than you ever had before.” 

“Exactly. Because it wasn’t about changing who I was—it was about letting myself be who I’d always been. I think you’re there right now. You’re starting to let yourself be.” 

Danny felt something sting behind his eyes and quickly blinked it away. 

“I don’t even know what to call it yet,” they said. “I don’t know if I’m nonbinary, or genderfluid, or something else entirely. I don’t even know if I want to use a different name. I just… I know I don’t want to keep pretending that ‘guy’ fits me perfectly. It doesn’t.” 

Andrew was quiet for a long beat. Then he reached over, placing a hand gently on Danny’s knee. 

“You don’t need to have a label yet. I don’t care if you’re a guy, or nonbinary, or something else entirely. You’re still you. Still Danny. And I—” He stopped himself, cheeks flushing. “I care about you. Not some version of you I expect you to be.” 

Danny blinked at him, heart thudding. “Even if I change?” 

“You’re not changing in a way that makes you less you,” Andrew said. “You’re becoming more you. And I’ll still be here. I promise.” 

Danny let out a shaky breath. “We’ve kissed.” 

Andrew smiled, a little shy. “Yeah.” 

“And we still don’t really know what that means.” 

Andrew nodded. “We don’t. But I know I liked it.” 

Danny laughed quietly. “Me too. Even when I was confused. I still wanted it to mean something.” 

Andrew hesitated, then added, “It does mean something. I don’t need us to have a perfect label either. Queer, maybe? Just… figuring it out as we go?” 

Danny leaned their head on Andrew’s shoulder, their voice muffled by the cotton of his shirt. “Figuring it out together sounds really good right now.” 

Outside, the rain tapped gently against the windows, like it was giving them space to sit still and breathe. For the first time in weeks, Danny felt like they weren’t running from themselves. They were walking toward something. Slowly. With someone beside them. 

No label. No rush. Just room to grow. 

Chapter 14 – “What Are We?” 

It was late by the time Danny got home. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the streets glistened under the soft yellow haze of streetlights. As they walked, their hands tucked deep in their pockets, Danny replayed every second of their conversation with Andrew. Every word. Every pause. Every look. 

Figuring it out together. 

That phrase looped in their head like a lyric to a song they didn’t know all the words to yet. 

The next day was a blur. Classes came and went, teachers talked at them, but none of it really landed. Danny was too busy watching the way Andrew’s eyes would flick over to them across the lunch table. Noticing how their knees brushed when they sat too close during study hall. How it wasn’t just comfort anymore—it was something magnetic. Familiar, but charged. 

They had kissed. More than once. And it hadn’t felt like an accident either time. 

After school, Andrew offered to walk Danny home. 

“I thought maybe we could talk more,” he said casually, but there was a question behind his eyes. Danny nodded without hesitation. 

They walked in silence for a block before Danny said, “So… last night.” 

Andrew smiled. “Yeah.” 

“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” Danny admitted, glancing down at the sidewalk. “About us. About… what this is.” 

Andrew’s smile faded slightly, but not in a bad way. He looked thoughtful. “Same. And it’s weird because I feel so sure about how I feel when I’m with you. But as soon as I try to explain it, I don’t know what words to use.” 

Danny nodded. “Yeah. Me too. It’s like… we’ve always been close. But now it’s something more. And I like that it’s more, but I don’t know what to call it. Because I’m not really a guy. At least, not just a guy. And you said you’re gay. So…” 

Andrew stopped walking. Danny stopped too. 

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Andrew said, carefully. “About what it means that I like you, and you’re questioning your gender. And the truth is… it doesn’t change how I feel. But it does make me think about how I’ve labeled myself. Like, I’ve said I’m gay because I’ve only ever been into guys. But maybe that label isn’t the whole picture.” 

Danny looked at him, something uncertain in their chest starting to ease. 

Andrew continued, “I think I’m queer. I didn’t use that word before because it felt too vague. But now? I kind of like that it is vague. It gives room for everything I’m still figuring out.” 

Danny exhaled. “Yeah. That makes sense. I like that too. Queer feels… like it fits both of us. Even if we’re still changing.” 

They kept walking, a little slower now. 

“I want to be close to you,” Andrew said. “Like… not just in a ‘best friend’ way. I think we already are something more. Even if we haven’t said it.” 

Danny smiled shyly. “You think we’re dating?” 

Andrew chuckled. “I don’t know. Are we?” 

Danny tilted their head. “I think… maybe we don’t have to call it dating. But I know I like holding your hand. And kissing you. And talking about stuff I’ve never told anyone else.” 

“Same,” Andrew said. “So maybe we’re… in a thing?” 

Danny laughed. “A thing? That’s our official relationship status?” 

Andrew grinned. “Until we find a better word, yeah.” 

There was a pause, then Danny reached out, fingers brushing Andrew’s. This time, Andrew took their hand and held it. 

“I don’t know exactly who I am yet,” Danny said quietly. “But I know I feel safe with you. And seen.” 

Andrew squeezed their hand. “Then that’s enough. For now.” 

They walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence, fingers intertwined, hearts a little steadier. The labels would come later, maybe. Or maybe not. But whatever this was—this gentle, wordless thing between them—it was real. 

And real was a pretty good start. 

Chapter 15 – “The First Time We Called It a Date” 

It was Andrew’s idea. 

They were sitting under the bleachers after gym—sweaty, tired, and trying to avoid the post-class chaos—when he turned to Danny with a grin and said, “Okay, hear me out: Friday night. Movie, snacks, actual intentional eye contact. A date.” 

Danny blinked. “A date date?” 

Andrew shrugged, playful but a little shy. “I mean, unless you’d rather keep calling it a ‘thing.’” 

Danny laughed, a soft warmth blooming in their chest. “No, I like the word. Let’s call it a date.” 

The rest of the week moved in a slow, buzzing blur. Danny felt a nervous kind of excitement settle behind their ribs. They had kissed Andrew. They had held hands. But this? This was different. A date felt like something new. Something that needed courage. 

Friday arrived too fast. 

Danny stood in front of their closet for almost half an hour, trying on outfits that didn’t feel right, then circling back to the one that did: soft black pants, a slightly oversized denim jacket over a cropped hoodie they’d thrifted with D. And makeup—not much, just a bit of mascara and a little shimmer on their cheeks. Not to impress anyone. Just because they wanted to. 

When they looked in the mirror, they saw someone closer to themselves than they'd ever dared to be before. 

When Andrew rang the doorbell, Danny’s heart jumped. 

“You look…” Andrew stopped mid-sentence, eyes scanning them with quiet admiration. “You look really good.” 

Danny smiled, brushing their hand down their jacket. “Thanks. You do too.” 

Andrew had dressed up, in his own low-key way. A clean flannel, dark jeans, hair a little more styled than usual. It was the kind of effort that didn’t scream look at me—it whispered, I care. 

They took the bus into town and caught a 7:00 p.m. showing of some indie film neither of them had heard of but both agreed looked “weird enough to be interesting.” They bought too much popcorn and not enough napkins. Andrew kept bumping his knee against Danny’s, not quite an accident. 

The movie was odd and kind of beautiful. Something about two strangers in a liminal dreamworld, searching for the version of themselves they left behind. It felt a little too real in parts. Danny found themselves watching Andrew’s profile as much as they watched the screen. 

Halfway through, Andrew’s hand slid into theirs. Just… stayed there. Warm and steady. 

After the movie, they wandered into the night air, laughter still hanging in the spaces between their words. 

“Okay, that movie made zero sense,” Andrew said, tossing popcorn crumbs from his shirt. 

“Yeah,” Danny grinned. “But it was kind of amazing.” 

They stopped near a quiet corner, the streetlight casting a soft halo over them. 

Danny hesitated, then asked, “So, this was… really a date?” 

Andrew looked at them, serious now. “Yeah. It was.” 

“I liked it,” Danny said. “I was nervous. But… it felt really good.” 

“Me too.” Andrew’s voice softened. “It felt like something real.” 

Danny looked up, their voice a little more cautious. “Does it feel different to you? Now that I’m not just… a guy?” 

Andrew didn’t answer right away. He took a breath. “It feels different in some ways. But not in a bad way. It just feels more honest. Like I’m seeing more of you, and I really like what I see.” 

Danny’s throat tightened. “Even if I end up changing more?” 

Andrew reached for their hand again. “Even then. Especially then.” 

The world felt quiet around them, the kind of quiet that held space, not emptiness. Danny leaned forward, just a little. Andrew met them there, lips brushing softly. 

The kiss wasn’t heated or rushed. It was careful. Considered. A promise, not a question. 

When they pulled apart, Danny rested their forehead against Andrew’s. 

“So,” Danny murmured, “what do we call it now?” 

Andrew smiled. “Still figuring it out. But I think we can say it’s more than a thing now.” 

Danny smiled back, heart full. 

“Yeah,” they whispered. “Definitely more than a thing.” 

Chapter 16 – “Fireworks” 

The sun was just starting to dip below the rooftops when Danny and Andrew arrived at D’s place. The smell of grilled veggies and sunscreen hung in the warm air, and laughter spilled from the backyard. D’s parents were the kind who kept their parties chill but meaningful—barefoot on the lawn, rainbow cups for drinks, pride flags woven into the decor right next to the red, white, and blue. 

Danny paused at the gate, heart fluttering. They were wearing a pair of cutoff shorts, a loose tank, and a pink bandana around their neck that D had helped them pick out. It wasn’t over-the-top, but it was the first time they’d dressed this way outside of a thrift store or Andrew’s room. 

“You okay?” Andrew asked, hand brushing Danny’s. 

Danny nodded. “Yeah. Just… nervous. About being seen. About being us.” 

Andrew smiled gently. “We don’t have to perform anything. We’re just here. That’s enough.” 

Inside the yard, D waved them over with two sparklers already lit and waving in the air like tiny fire-daggers. “You made it! And you look amazing,” they said to Danny, offering a dramatic twirl of approval. “Seriously. You’re glowing.” 

Danny grinned, tension easing. 

Eli appeared a moment later, wrapped in a mesh tank and denim cutoffs, holding a drink in each hand. “I brought hydration and queer cheer,” they said, passing one to Danny. “Glad you came.” 

“Thanks,” Danny said. “It’s good to see you again.” 

Eli nodded. “D told me you’ve been figuring some stuff out. For what it’s worth, you’re doing it with style.” 

They all settled into the grass near the fire pit, where a few other people were already gathered—mostly older teens from D’s community center, a few allies from school. Music played low from a speaker, someone passed around temporary tattoos, and someone else tried to roast marshmallows over a citronella candle before giving up entirely. 

Danny leaned into Andrew, who looped an arm around their back like it was the most natural thing in the world. No one stared. No one asked questions. The world didn’t stop turning. 

They felt… okay. 

D nudged them with a knowing look. “You two are adorable, by the way.” 

Danny rolled their eyes, but they couldn’t help smiling. “We’re figuring it out.” 

“That’s what the whole summer’s for,” Eli said. “Love and identity and too much sunblock.” 

Later, when the fireworks started—big, messy bursts over the park down the street—they all lay back on a blanket together, eyes on the sky. Red and gold and green lit up their faces, reflections dancing in wide, open eyes. 

Danny felt Andrew’s hand slide into theirs again. 

“Do you feel like yourself right now?” Andrew whispered, just loud enough to hear over the distant booms. 

Danny turned their head, watching Andrew’s profile in the flickering light. 

“Yeah,” they said. “More than I ever have.” 

Andrew smiled, then leaned in and kissed them softly. 

And for the first time, Danny didn’t feel like they were trying to become someone else. They were becoming themselves. With people who saw them. With people who stayed. 

As the fireworks painted the sky with chaos and color, Danny whispered, “I think this might be the first summer that feels like mine.” 

D squeezed their shoulder. “It is. It so is.” 

Chapter 17 – “Names and Other In-Between Things” 

The morning after the party was slow and golden. Danny woke up with the smell of charcoal still lingering in their hair and the echo of fireworks behind their eyes. 

They were stretched out on a blanket in D’s room, a second-hand fan buzzing lazily in the corner. D was curled beside them, scrolling through their phone and humming to a song Danny didn’t know. The kind of quiet that only exists between people who have been through things together settled over the space. 

Danny rolled onto their side. “Hey,” they said softly. 

D looked up. “Hey.” 

Danny hesitated for a moment. “Can I ask you something kind of weird?” 

D sat up a little, curious. “Of course.” 

Danny played with the edge of the blanket. “How did you choose your name? Like… when you first started questioning everything. Did it just come to you?” 

D smiled gently. “Sort of. I kept trying out names in my head—ones I thought sounded cool, or neutral, or like who I wanted to be. But nothing stuck until I came back to just… D. I realized I didn’t need a whole new name. Just one that felt like mine.” 

Danny nodded slowly, their throat feeling tighter than expected. 

“I’ve been using they/them,” they said, voice quiet. “And it feels really right. Like… not like I’m pretending or trying. Just like I’m finally showing up.” 

D’s smile widened. “I’ve noticed. It fits you.” 

“But now I’m wondering if the name ‘Danny’ still fits too.” They bit their lip. “It’s weird. I’ve always been Danny. It doesn’t feel wrong. But I don’t know if it still feels… like all of me.” 

D leaned back on their elbows. “Names carry history. Sometimes they come with weight, sometimes with warmth. What do you feel when you hear yours?” 

Danny thought for a long time. “It feels like childhood. Like soccer practice and birthday parties and people calling it across the hallway without thinking. And it’s not a bad feeling. But it also feels like it’s holding me in a shape I don’t fit anymore.” 

“Have you tried saying different names out loud?” D asked. “Or shortening it, stretching it, shifting it?” 

Danny nodded. “I’ve been trying some in my head. Just to see how they sound. I like how ‘Dani’ looks. But it still kind of feels like Danny in disguise, you know?” 

D laughed softly. “That’s not always a bad thing. You don’t have to throw out your history to make room for who you’re becoming. You can evolve it.” 

“I guess I just want to make sure the name I go by makes room for all the parts of me,” Danny said, voice cracking slightly. “The queer part, the not-quite-boy part. The part that’s still figuring it out. I want something that doesn’t make me feel like I have to shrink.” 

D reached over and squeezed their hand. “Then keep playing with it. You don’t have to pick right now. You don’t have to choose at all, if Danny still feels okay. But if something else starts to feel more you—follow it.” 

Danny nodded, heart heavy but hopeful. “Maybe I’ll start with telling people I’m using they/them. See how that sits. Maybe the name thing will come later.” 

D grinned. “Look at you. Growing.” 

Danny rolled their eyes, but smiled back. “It’s weird. It’s scary. But it also feels… kind of exciting.” 

“Becoming yourself always is,” D said. “Just promise me one thing?” 

“What?” 

“Whatever name you go with, make sure it’s one you say with your whole chest. You deserve that.” 

Danny laughed, and for the first time that morning, it wasn’t quiet or careful. It was full. 

Chapter 18 – “Say My Name (Maybe)” 

It was one of those slow, golden afternoons where everything felt like it was suspended in honey. The kind of day where the air was thick with quiet, and nothing needed to happen fast. 

Danny was curled on Andrew’s bed, legs tucked underneath them, flipping through a notebook full of scribbles, lyrics, and the kind of thoughts you only write when no one else is looking. Andrew sat cross-legged on the floor, organizing his ever-growing record collection and humming along to a soft indie track playing in the background. 

“You ever think about changing your name?” Danny asked suddenly, their voice light but edged with something sharper. 

Andrew looked up, one eyebrow raised. “You mean, like, legally? Or just, like… trying a different vibe?” 

Danny smiled slightly. “More like trying a vibe.” 

Andrew leaned back on his hands. “Okay, yeah. I’ve thought about it. Like, when I was twelve, I wanted to be called A.J. because I thought it sounded cool and mysterious.” 

Danny laughed. “A.J.? Really?” 

“Hey, I was full of angst and had zero chill.” 

They both laughed, and then the silence settled again—this time a little heavier, a little more intentional. 

“I’ve been thinking about it for myself,” Danny said softly, gaze drifting to the ceiling. “About names. About what feels right.” 

Andrew straightened up a bit, his voice gentle. “Is ‘Danny’ not feeling good anymore?” 

“I don’t hate it,” Danny said, shrugging. “But it feels like a version of me that doesn’t quite fit anymore. Like… it’s close, but not exactly me. And I’ve been wondering if there’s something better out there. Something that does fit.” 

Andrew nodded, letting the words settle before saying anything. “Have you tried out any others? Just in your head?” 

“Yeah. Some,” Danny said. “I keep coming back to a few, but I haven’t said them out loud yet. Feels scary. Like… what if it sounds weird? Or what if I say it and it doesn’t feel like mine?” 

Andrew smiled softly. “Then you try another. That’s how it works, right? You try things on until something fits like your favorite hoodie.” 

Danny smiled at the comparison, then reached for their notebook. “Can I say a few out loud? Just… try them on?” 

“Of course.” 

Danny took a breath, then read softly, almost under their breath, “Riley. Quinn. Jules. Dani—with an ‘i’. Even thought about just going by Dee for a while, kind of like D.” 

Andrew nodded after each one, taking them in like little pieces of a puzzle. “They’re all cool. But which one felt best when you said it?” 

Danny chewed on the inside of their cheek. “Dani felt… familiar. Like it could be a bridge from where I’ve been to where I’m going. But Riley felt… new. Free.” 

Andrew grinned. “Riley’s got good energy. But honestly? You could tell me your name was Starlight Moonbeam and I’d still think you’re the coolest person in the room.” 

Danny snorted. “Please never call me that.” 

“No promises,” Andrew teased. Then, softer: “Do you want me to try calling you one of them? Just to see how it feels?” 

Danny hesitated, then nodded. “Maybe… Riley? Just once?” 

Andrew tilted his head, smile gentle. “Okay.” He paused, then said it with a kind of reverence, like a secret he’d been trusted with. “Riley.” 

Danny’s heart jumped. It felt different. It felt like something had shifted, like a door had cracked open just enough to let light in. 

“Do you want me to say it again?” Andrew asked. 

Danny nodded. 

“Hey, Riley,” Andrew said, a little more casual this time, a soft grin tugging at the edge of his lips. “Do you want to pick the next record?” 

Danny—Riley—grinned back, cheeks warm. 

“Yeah,” they said. “Yeah, I do.” 

And for the first time, the name didn’t just sound right. It felt right. 

Not perfect. Not final. But right for right now. 

And that was enough. 

Chapter 19 – “What Comes After Midnight” 

It was well past midnight by the time the movie ended. 

Andrew’s bedroom was dim and safe, lit only by the soft blue glow of his lava lamp and the occasional headlights sliding past the window. The remains of popcorn and gummy bears were scattered between them, but neither one of them was really thinking about the movie anymore. 

Riley lay on their side, one arm folded beneath their head, watching Andrew across the tangle of pillows. 

“Can I ask you something?” Riley’s voice was hushed, as if the darkness needed to be respected. 

Andrew blinked sleepily and nodded. “Always.” 

Riley hesitated, then asked, “What did it feel like for you, when you realized you were gay? Like… was it scary? Or freeing?” 

Andrew rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Both. At first, it felt like this… huge, loud truth I was trying to whisper. Like if I said it out loud, it would ruin everything. But then I said it to myself, and it was like—oh. That’s why everything else didn’t make sense.” 

Riley was quiet for a long time. “I think that’s kind of how I’m feeling now. About everything.” 

“About gender?” 

“Yeah. And… about you. About us.” 

Andrew turned toward them slowly, eyes soft. 

“I think about you all the time,” Riley admitted, cheeks burning even in the dark. “And not just in a ‘you’re cute’ kind of way. I think about how it feels when you say my name. How I feel safe here. Like I’m not performing anything. Like I don’t have to earn being loved.” 

Andrew’s breath caught. “You don’t. Not here. Not ever.” 

Riley looked down. “It’s just… this is all so new. The name. The pronouns. Everything. And sometimes I wonder if you still feel the same about me. If it feels different now.” 

Andrew scooted closer, gently brushing their fingers together. “It feels more real now. Because I’m not loving who I thought you were. I’m loving who you are. Who you’re becoming.” 

Riley’s breath hitched. 

“Riley,” Andrew said again, tasting the name like something sacred. “I don’t care what name you go by. Or how you dress. Or which box the world wants to put you in. You’re still you. You’re still the person I kissed under the bleachers. You’re still the person I want to tell everything to.” 

Riley looked at him, eyes wide and wet. “Are we… something?” 

Andrew smiled, soft and sure. “I think we’re something. I think we’ve been something for a while. Even if we didn’t have a word for it.” 

Riley leaned in, resting their forehead against Andrew’s. “I don’t know what we are yet. But I want to find out.” 

Andrew’s hand found Riley’s. “Then let’s keep figuring it out. Together.” 

They stayed like that for a long time—foreheads touching, breaths slowing, the silence filled with trust. With a kind of love that didn’t need a label yet. 

Outside, the sky was turning a softer shade of dark. Morning wasn’t far away. But in that room, wrapped in blankets and unspoken feelings, it still felt like the safest part of the night. 

Chapter 20 – “Too Close, Too Fast” 

The room was dark, except for the slow swirl of Andrew’s lava lamp casting soft pinks and oranges across the ceiling. Riley lay on their back, staring up at the color shift like it might reveal something about the future—about themself, about Andrew, about this thing growing between them that neither had dared to name. 

Andrew was beside them, close. Not touching. Not yet. 

Riley turned their head slightly, eyes catching the edge of Andrew’s jaw, the soft line of his cheek in the glow. 

“Are you tired?” they asked, their voice quiet and unsure. 

Andrew turned his head too, so they were facing each other in the half-light. “Not really.” 

The silence stretched again, but not uncomfortably. There was a hum to it—thick with things unsaid. Questions. Hopes. Want. 

Riley spoke again, even softer. “Can I kiss you?” 

Andrew smiled, already inching closer. “You don’t have to ask.” 

The first kiss was familiar now. Gentle. Warm. They met halfway, mouths brushing with a sweetness that made Riley’s chest ache. It should have ended there. A soft kiss, a retreat. But it didn’t. 

Andrew kissed them again. This time deeper. Hungrier. 

Riley’s hand found Andrew’s shirt and tugged—just a little—without thinking. Andrew shifted, their legs tangling. The next kiss was open-mouthed, breathing shared, heat blooming fast between them like a spark had caught something dry. 

Then hands. 

Andrew’s fingers were in Riley’s hair. Riley’s palm slid over Andrew’s side, unsure where to go but desperate to keep touching. The kiss turned fast, feverish. It was too much and not enough. They moved like they were trying to memorize each other’s bodies with mouths and hands and the tremble of every breath. 

And then—suddenly—they pulled apart. 

Riley gasped, eyes wide. “Oh.” 

Andrew’s cheeks were flushed, lips red. “Sh-Crap. Sorry—I didn’t mean to—” 

“No, no,” Riley said quickly, heart racing. “It’s not you. I… I liked it. I really liked it. It’s just—” 

“It got fast.” 

“Yeah.” 

They lay there, panting softly, not touching now. Riley could still feel the heat of Andrew’s mouth on theirs, still felt the weight of everything unspoken. 

“I didn’t know I could feel that much that quickly,” Riley admitted, voice small. 

Andrew let out a nervous laugh. “Same. It kind of hit me like—bam—you’re here and I want you and oh my god I’m kissing you like I’ve lost my mind.” 

Riley laughed too, shaky and wide-eyed. “Yeah. That.” 

They lay in silence for a moment, letting their heart rates come back down, staring at the ceiling again. The pinks and oranges of the lamp danced across the walls like a quiet apology. 

Andrew finally reached over and took Riley’s hand. 

“We can slow down,” he said. “We can stop anytime. You don’t owe me anything.” 

“I know,” Riley said. And they meant it. 

“I just… really, really like you,” Andrew added. 

Riley looked at him, cheeks still hot, lips still tingling. “I really, really like you too.” 

They didn’t kiss again that night. They just stayed close, fingers laced, breathing in sync. It was enough to know that they could go there—that they wanted to—but didn’t have to yet. 

That kind of trust? That was more intimate than anything. 

__________________

Authors Note:

TYSM for everyone who read the 1-12 chapters! i hope you wnjoy these ones, tagging to help spread, i hopw u can help a small writer

@panromanticturtle @peachplays1 @ashleiiii-the-trans-sapphie @chernobylcatfish09 @cieraheart @derangedcrowstuff @dantes-paradiso @frooglet @faeriesandfables @f3ath3rflam3 @hansel-the-idiot @idontexist734 @kennyslovelanguage @keepingdarksecrets @littleboneboyxd @my-chem-aromance @mrflatfox @noahaspronouns @organic-coconut-milk @raynetherainbowwithaflamethrower @starman-01 @ssstaryy @that-little-lychee @vixiontheteenager @worlds-okayest-bisexual @your-local-bi-guy @krispykreme1997

[andy-writes-books]

the title is still tbd but im so close to getting one

anyways heres chapters 1-12, warning its a long read

The story began in a meadow, drenched in freezing rain. A little boy ran through the tall grass, soaked to the bone, his footsteps slipping in the mud. Thunder cracked above, and he flinched, dropping to his knees and covering his head. 

“Help!” he cried out, his voice swallowed by the storm. But no one answered. 

The rain came harder; each drop a needle on his skin. The boy—Daniel, though no one was around to call his name—stumbled toward a shape in the distance. A house, old and slanted, hunched like it had weathered a thousand storms. 

Desperate, Daniel knocked. The wooden door creaked open a few inches, and a boy around his age peeked out, eyes wide. 

“Hi,” Daniel said between shivers. “My name is Daniel. Danny, for short.” He hesitated, the rain sliding down his face. “Can I… can I come in for a bit?” 

The boy blinked, then nodded. “Lemme ask my mam.” 

He vanished into the house, and for a moment, Danny thought he had imagined him. But soon the door opened wider, and the boy waved him in. 

“I’m Andrew,” he said. “We’ve lived here forever, just me and my ma.” 

Danny stepped inside, his shoes squelching on the floorboards. The warmth hit him like a wave. In the next moment, a kind-faced woman appeared with a blanket and a set of dry clothes. 

“Here,” she said gently, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. “You’re safe now.” 

Over the next hour, Danny thawed by the fireplace, sipping a mug of warm tea as his soaked clothes hung by the hearth. Andrew sat across from him, legs crossed, watching quietly as the rain continued to beat against the windows. 

“You live out here all by yourself?” Danny asked. Andrew shrugged. “Just me and my ma. She does not like cities. Says they are too loud.” He tilted his head. “Where do you live?” 

Danny’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Nowhere really. I was just... walking. Got caught in the storm.” 

Andrew did not press. He just nodded, then got up and returned with a battered board game. 

“You ever play this?” he asked. 

Danny shook his head. 

“Well, you’re about to lose,” Andrew grinned. 

Days passed, then weeks. Danny returned to the little house more often, until it felt less like visiting and more like arriving home. Sometimes he helped Andrew’s mom in the kitchen. Sometimes he and Andrew ran through the meadow when the sun was out, daring each other to jump in the creek. Other times, they lay on their backs in the grass, naming shapes in the clouds. 

When school started again, Danny enrolled. It was not official—just enough to keep him busy, to keep him close. Andrew helped him catch up on classes, especially math, which Danny hated, and literature, which they both secretly loved. 

The years moved quietly, comfortably. 

By the time they were juniors in high school, Danny and Andrew had become inseparable. You rarely saw one without the other. They still read books in the living room, still shared music and late-night snacks and quiet silences that said more than most words. 

One afternoon, they were lying on Andrew’s bedroom floor, music playing low from a speaker. A storm rolled softly in the background, not unlike the one years ago—but now it felt distant, safe, like something that could not touch them anymore. 

“Hey, Andrew?” Danny said, turning to his side. 

Andrew glanced at him. “Yeah?” 

Danny hesitated. “Do you think we’ll ever get girlfriends?” 

Andrew was quiet. His fingers drummed against his stomach; eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

“I’m not sure I want one,” he said finally, voice low. 

Danny blinked. “What do you mean?” 

Andrew looked at him then, not angry, not sad—just searching. “I don’t like girls that way, Danny.” 

A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft hum of the storm outside. 

“You don’t… want to date anyone?” Danny asked, confused. 

Andrew exhaled, rubbing his face. “You really don’t get it, do you?” 

Danny opened his mouth, then closed it. The music kept playing. The storm kept moving. 

They said nothing else for a while, just let the silence do what words could not. 

A few weeks passed. 

They did not talk about that afternoon again, though it lingered in the air like the scent of rain long after a storm. Danny did not press. He was not sure what to say, or if he even understood. But he kept coming back to Andrew’s house, and Andrew kept opening the door. 

One Friday after school, Danny arrived a little early. Andrew was not in the living room, and his mom told him to head upstairs. 

“Just got back from town,” she said. “You boys behave.” 

Danny grinned and jogged up the stairs two at a time. 

He pushed open the door to Andrew’s room—and paused. 

The light from the window cast a warm glow over everything. On the far wall, above the bookshelf where they kept their shared collection of sci-fi and fantasy paperbacks, a new addition stood out: a small, fabric pride flag, pinned neatly beside a poster of their favorite band. 

Danny blinked at it, unsure why it made his chest feel tight. 

He did not say anything when Andrew walked in a minute later, earbuds still hanging around his neck. But Andrew noticed where he was looking. 

“Oh. Yes,” he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh… just put it up yesterday.” 

Danny nodded slowly. “It looks good there.” 

Andrew looked at him—cautious, bracing himself. 

Danny sat down on the bed and leaned back on his hands. “You ever think we’ll still be friends after high school?” 

Andrew sat beside him, shoulders barely touching. “I hope so.” 

Another pause. The kind that used to feel casual but now felt like it carried something unspoken. 

Danny glanced back at the flag, then at Andrew. “I am glad you told me. Even if I did not get it at first.” 

Andrew gave a small smile. “You did not freak out. That is more than most people would do.” 

Danny smiled back, a little awkward, a little unsure—but sincere. “You are my best friend. That is not changing.” 

Outside, the storm clouds drifted away. Light streamed in through the window, soft and golden. 

In the quiet that followed, nothing needed to be said. 

Chapter Two — The Space Between 

Danny kept thinking about the flag. 

It wasn’t like he didn’t know what it meant—he did. He’d seen it before, on TV, in school assemblies, in passing on Instagram posts from people he didn’t follow but maybe lingered on a bit too long. 

But seeing it in Andrew’s room, above the bookshelf they’d built together last winter, was something else entirely. It wasn’t political or performative. It was quiet. Unshaken. True. 

Since that day, something had shifted—not in Andrew, but in him. The air between them wasn’t heavier. Just… different. Like a word hanging on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be spoken aloud. 

Danny hadn’t brought it up again. Not because he was uncomfortable, but because he didn’t know what he would say. 

And truthfully, a part of him was scared of whatever it might mean. 

They kept falling into routine. 

It was early May now. The meadow had grown wild again, swaying with tall grass and blooming with purple wildflowers they never learned the names of. They spent their Saturdays there—sometimes doing nothing at all. 

That weekend, Danny lay flat on his back in the grass, watching clouds drift lazily across the sky. Andrew was beside him, one arm thrown over his eyes, humming the tune to a song they’d played earlier. 

“Do you think people ever really know who they are?” Danny asked suddenly. 

Andrew didn’t move for a moment. Then he peeked over at Danny. “What brought that on?” 

Danny shrugged, plucking a blade of grass and twirling it between his fingers. “I don’t know. I guess I just feel like... I’ve been going through the motions, doing what I’m supposed to. But what if that’s not who I actually am?” 

Andrew sat up slowly, resting his arms on his knees. “You mean like school, or... something else?” 

Danny didn’t meet his eyes. 

“Kind of everything,” he admitted. “I’ve been thinking about... you. About the flag. About the way you told me, and how it made me think maybe I’ve been ignoring something.” 

Andrew didn’t say anything at first. He let the breeze move around them, carrying the weight of Danny’s words like seeds in the wind. 

“You don’t have to figure it all out at once,” he said gently. “I didn’t.” 

Danny finally looked at him. “You were brave.” 

Andrew laughed, but there was no mockery in it. “No. I was terrified. I just got tired of hiding.” 

Danny nodded, lying back down in the grass. “I’m not hiding. I just... don’t know what I’m looking for yet.” 

Andrew lay beside him again. Close, but not touching. 

And they stayed like that for a long time, the quiet between them saying more than either of them knew how to put into words. 

The days blurred into the long, golden stretch of early summer. They worked small jobs in town—Andrew helping at the local library, Danny mowing lawns for extra cash. They met at Andrew’s every afternoon, like always. 

One day, Andrew’s mom asked Danny to stay for dinner. 

They sat around the table, eating spaghetti with too much garlic and laughing at an old story Andrew’s mom talked about when the boys were smaller—when Danny had first knocked on their door, soaked and shivering. 

“You looked like a lost puppy,” she teased, nudging him with a smile. 

Danny grinned. “I probably smelled like one too.” 

Andrew smiled quietly beside him, but didn’t say anything. 

Later that night, as they washed dishes together, Danny glanced at Andrew and said, “Your mom’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a parent.” 

Andrew dried a plate and looked over. “She thinks of you like family.” 

Danny didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. 

A few nights later, they sat on the roof again—something they hadn’t done in a while. The stars were sharp and clear, and the air smelled like cut grass and summer dust. 

They shared a blanket, shoulder to shoulder. Andrew passed Danny a thermos of tea, and Danny held it in his hands without drinking. 

“I think I might not be straight,” he said, the words coming out softly, but not unsure. 

Andrew turned toward him slowly, waiting. 

“I don’t know what I am,” Danny continued. “It’s not just about attraction or whatever. It’s like... when I’m with you, I feel more like me than I do when I’m trying to pretend to like other people.” 

Andrew didn’t answer right away. His gaze flicked up to the stars, and then back to Danny. 

“Okay,” he said. Not surprised. Not pressed. Just a present. 

Danny breathed out slowly. 

“I think I’ve always known,” he added, “but I didn’t want to look too closely. Because once you say it aloud, it’s real. You can’t go back.” 

Andrew leaned a little closer. “You don’t need to go back. You just need to go forward.” 

They sat like that, quiet under the sky, the blanket wrapped around both of them, hearts beating in rhythm. 

Danny glanced sideways, and this time, his gaze lingered. 

“Is it weird,” he asked quietly, “that I don’t feel scared when I’m with you?” 

Andrew smiled. “No. That’s how you know it’s right.” 

Danny nodded, leaned his head against Andrew’s shoulder, and closed his eyes. 

And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he was pretending to be someone else. 

He felt real. Whole. And maybe, just maybe loved. 

Chapter 3- More Than a Label 

Danny started having dreams. 

They weren’t big or dramatic—no sweeping revelations or neon signs pointing to who he was. Just soft, half-formed things. Moments. Glimpses. 

In one, he and Andrew were laughing under the stars, fingers brushing by accident, then on purpose. In another, he stood in front of a mirror, saying something he couldn’t hear but somehow understood. Sometimes he woke up with a weight in his chest he couldn’t name, like something important had almost surfaced, but slipped away before he could catch it. 

He began to notice things he hadn’t before. 

The way he felt lighter around Andrew, how the quiet wasn’t empty when they were together. How, when girls at school flirted with him, he didn’t feel nervous or excited—just... expected. Like he was playing a part in someone else’s story. 

He remembered kissing a girl once, last year at a party. Everyone had cheered, and she’d laughed into his mouth, tasting like cheap soda and breath mints. He’d smiled because he was supposed to. But afterward, he’d felt... nothing. No spark. No flutter. Just a vague sense of having failed at something invisible. 

At the time, he thought that meant he was just awkward. 

Now he wasn’t so sure. 

One afternoon, Danny sat on the swing set behind the library where Andrew volunteered. It was overgrown and barely used, but it was quiet, and that’s what he needed. 

He took out his phone and opened the browser. His search history was already filled with questions he hadn’t told anyone about: 

What does bisexual mean? 

Can you know you're queer even if you’ve never dated? 

How do you come out if you're still figuring it out? 

He scrolled past definitions and Reddit threads and blog posts from people who had felt just like him: uncertain, late to understand, afraid they were faking it. 

"It’s not about labels," one post had said. "It’s about finding the words that make you feel less alone." 

Danny stared at that sentence for a long time. 

Less alone. 

That was what it was, wasn’t it? This strange ache in his chest, this push and pull inside his head—it wasn’t about being gay or bi or anything else, not really. It was about being tired of pretending he wasn’t confused. Tired of not knowing what was okay to feel. 

That evening, back at Andrew’s, they sat on the floor of his bedroom, surrounded by crumpled papers and empty soda cans. They were supposed to be working on a history project, but their books sat unopened. 

Danny held one of Andrew’s pens, clicking it repeatedly. 

“Do you think labels matter?” he asked. 

Andrew looked up from where he was sketching in the margin of his notebook. “Sometimes. But only if they help. Why?” 

Danny took a breath. “Because I think I want one. But I’m scared of picking the wrong one. What if I say I’m bi and then I realize I’m not? Or what if I never figure it out completely?” 

Andrew was quiet for a second. “Do you feel something when you think about liking boys?” 

Danny looked at him and then went away. “Yeah. I feel... like it makes sense. Like I’m not lying to myself.” 

“Then that’s enough. You don’t need to carve it in stone.” 

Danny nodded, heart pounding in a strange, hopeful way. “I think I’m queer. Like, I don’t know all the words yet. But that one feels... safe. Like a space I fit in.” 

Andrew smiled. “Then start there.” 

That night, after dinner, Danny borrowed Andrew’s hoodie and walked home slowly, cutting through the meadow. 

He thought about who he was, not who he was supposed to be. 

He thought about the pride flag in Andrew’s room. About the way Andrew had just said OKAY when Danny came out. About the quiet steadiness of that moment, and the way his chest had loosened, like a door opening somewhere inside him. 

And for the first time, the word queer didn’t feel like a question. 

It felt like a beginning. 

Chapter Four — New Faces, New Questions 

Danny’s world had always felt small. Quiet. Contained. 

It wasn’t that he hated the familiar. He liked the stillness of the meadow, the warmth of Andrew’s house, the soft rhythm of their easy friendship. But lately, it had begun to feel like a comfortable cage. A cocoon, perhaps. One he wasn’t sure he was ready to leave but knew deep down he would. 

The thing was, Danny didn’t know what else was out there. He didn’t know what he’d been missing. 

It started with the new kid. 

Diana—or D, as they liked to be called—was one of those people who at once stood out. Not because they were loud or attention-seeking, but because they had an aura of confidence that seemed out of place in their quiet town. D had brightly dyed hair that changed every week and a wardrobe that spoke in loud, unashamed colors. They wore pride pins on their backpack and shoes. They had that kind of calm, unapologetic self-assurance that made Danny feel both intrigued and, if he was honest, a little unsure of himself. 

D was the first openly queer person Danny had ever met who wasn’t Andrew. 

They met one afternoon in the library, where Danny was flipping through a book for his history project. He glanced up and saw D standing by the stacks, scanning the shelves with a slight smile. 

"Looking for something specific?" Danny asked, trying not to sound too awkward. 

D looked up, their smile widening. “Actually, yes. I was hoping I could find some materials on queer history. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find anything decent at this school.” 

Danny froze, heart pounding in his chest. He had never talked about this openly with anyone who wasn’t Andrew. 

But D just shrugged, clearly not fazed by the fact that they were talking about something most people kept quiet. “I’m D, by the way,” they added, holding out their hand. “New kid. I guess I should be glad we even have a library here.” 

Danny took their hand, a little stunned. “Danny. I’ve, uh, never met someone—like, who’s open about being queer.” 

D raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? That’s common around here. People tend to keep their heads down. But I’m not really into the whole ‘shame’ thing.” They grinned. “It’s 2025, man. Time to start living our truth.” 

Danny laughed, a little nervous, but also… relieved? “Yeah, I think I get that. You’re, uh, not from around here, are you?” 

“Not exactly.” D leaned against the bookshelf, their expression thoughtful. “But I think this place needs a little shaking up. And it seems like you might, too.” 

Before Danny could respond, they shrugged and waved a hand. “I’ll leave you to it. But if you ever wanna talk or—y’know—learn more about queer history, let me know. We should be talking about it more. All of us.” 

After that encounter, Danny started seeing D more often, usually in the library or after school when he walked home. Sometimes, D would nod hello, other times they’d strike up a conversation, talking about queer literature or politics or the latest TV show with LGBTQ+ characters. Danny found himself listening, fascinated, but also a little overwhelmed by how much more D knew about it all. 

It wasn’t just D, though. It seemed like queer people were suddenly everywhere. Or maybe they were always there, and he’d just never noticed. 

One day, after school, Danny was walking out the side door when he saw a teacher talking to D near the parking lot. He recognized the teacher—it was Ms. Thompson, the history teacher. 

She was someone who always struck Danny as a little different, but in a way that felt comfortable. She was kind, easygoing, and always had quiet confidence about her. Danny overheard her once in class talking about being an ally, but it wasn’t what she ever brought up unless it was necessary. 

Now, he saw her laughing with D, the two of them chatting casually about something he couldn’t hear. The laughter, though, was clear enough. 

When they noticed Danny walking toward them, D waved. “Hey, Danny! This is Ms. Thompson. She’s a total badass when it comes to queer history.” 

Danny froze. Ms. Thompson? 

He hadn’t expected her to be anything but a teacher to him, but now it felt like there was a layer to her he’d never seen. 

“Hey, Danny,” Ms. Thompson greeted with a warm smile. “D was just telling me how you’re working on a history project. If you ever want to chat about anything—don’t hesitate to ask.” 

Danny’s mouth went dry, and he nodded. “Uh, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Later that night, sitting on Andrew’s roof again, Danny told him about D and Ms. Thompson. 

“They seem… cool,” Danny said slowly. “Like, open. About everything.” 

Andrew leaned back against the roof, looking at the stars. “Yeah, Ms. Thompson’s been kind of like that. She’s never openly talked about being queer, but she’s definitely not the type to pretend like it doesn’t exist. I think she’s, like, our secret ally or something.” 

Danny took that in, thinking about how people like Ms. Thompson and D had found the courage to just… be. To express themselves. To speak up. To exist without apology. 

“I think I’m ready for more of that,” Danny said quietly. “To not just feel like I’m hiding or pretending. I’m not saying I want to come out to everyone tomorrow, but... I don’t know. It feels different now.” 

Andrew turned to him, eyes serious but soft. “Whatever you need, man. I’m here.” 

Chapter Five — Finding the Words 

The days started blending together, but each one felt like a small shift—a new chapter in a book Danny hadn’t realized he was writing. 

He spent more time with D, who was quickly becoming the type of person Danny could talk to about things he’d never had the words for before. It wasn’t just the casual, everyday banter; it was real conversations. About identity. About queerness. About what it meant to exist outside the expectations of everyone else. 

Danny had learned a lot from D already. Like how to recognize microaggressions that often went unnoticed, or how to read between the lines when people claimed to be “open-minded” but didn’t actually do anything to be supportive. D had a way of making everything sound simple, but Danny understood that it wasn’t. 

The real work came in figuring it out. 

One afternoon, as the sun dipped low over the meadow, Danny and D sat under the trees near the library. Danny was taking notes for their history project, but his mind kept drifting. D was flipping through a dog-eared copy of Fun Home by Alison Bechdel, a graphic novel about identity, family, and queer history. 

“Do you think people ever get all the way figured out?” Danny asked suddenly, his voice low. 

D glanced up from their book, their eyes knowing. “Nope. And honestly? That’s kind of the point. It’s not about being ‘done.’ It’s about being okay with the fact that you’ll always be figuring it out.” 

Danny nodded, a sense of relief washing over him. For a moment, he felt like the weight of the world was lifted. He didn’t have to have everything planned. He didn’t have to have a perfect label or a clear-cut answer. He could just be. 

The following week, Danny found himself sitting in Ms. Thompson’s classroom during lunch, his legs swinging nervously beneath the desk. It wasn’t the first time they’d talked after class, but it felt different now—more serious. 

Ms. Thompson wasn’t like the other teachers. She never gave off that “I’m the adult, you’re the student” vibe. Instead, she treated them like equals—like people. And today, her office was like a safe space, a quiet sanctuary where they could have real conversations about things that mattered. 

“So,” Ms. Thompson began, setting down the pile of papers she’d been grading. “How’s the project going?” 

Danny shifted in his seat. “Good. I think I’m starting to figure out what I want to say, but I—” 

“You’re stuck,” she finished for him with a knowing smile. 

Danny blinked. “Yeah. I guess I am.” 

Ms. Thompson leaned forward, her expression gentle. “You don’t need to have all the answers yet, Danny. History doesn’t always follow a straight line. Just like your identity doesn’t.” 

He couldn’t help it—he laughed, a small, quiet sound. “You make it sound so easy.” 

“It’s not easy. But it’s important. Don’t rush yourself to figure it out. You’re allowed to be where you are.” 

But even with Ms. Thompson’s words in his mind, Danny still struggled. It wasn’t the thinking about his identity that tripped him up—it was the act of saying it. 

One night, after a few hours of silently sitting in Andrew’s room, Danny turned to his best friend, his heart pounding in his chest. 

“Andrew, what do you think about the idea of being—” he stopped. “I don’t even know if I can say it yet.” 

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Say what?” 

“Being queer,” Danny blurted, his fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his pants. “Like, for real. It’s not just a phase. I’m not confused. I’m just... I don’t know how to say it out loud.” 

Andrew was quiet for a long time. It wasn’t the first time they’d talked about this, but this time it felt different—like they were standing on the edge of something big. 

“You don’t have to say it if you’re not ready, Danny,” Andrew said, his voice soft but steady. “But I think you’ve already figured it out. You just need to let yourself believe it.” 

Danny felt something shift in his chest. Something lighter. “Yeah. Maybe I have.” 

A few weeks later, things began to change even more. 

D introduced Danny to a small group of other queer students. They met in the library after school, a small but tight-knit group of people who had each come to understand their own identities in different ways. Some were out, some were still figuring it out, but there was a sense of camaraderie, of solidarity. 

Danny still felt like he was stepping carefully, uncertain where he fit, but he was more willing to open up. D had made it clear that there was no rush, no pressure. It was a space for self-discovery, for learning, for being. 

One of the students in the group, Lila, was a few years older and openly bisexual. She became one of Danny’s confidants, explaining how she’d struggled with similar fears and doubts, but had eventually learned to embrace the fluidity of her identity. 

“It’s not about being one thing or the other,” she told him one afternoon while they all sat in a circle. “It’s about finding the space in between, and knowing that wherever you are is okay.” 

Danny felt a sense of peace when she said that. The idea that he didn’t have to fit into any one box, that he could just be Danny, no qualifiers needed—was liberating. 

One Friday afternoon, after meeting with D and Lila at the library, Danny found himself standing in front of the mirror at home, staring at his reflection. 

He had started the day feeling unsure—unsure about himself, unsure about the words he wanted to say—but now, looking at himself, he felt something new. 

He wasn’t finished. He wasn’t perfect. 

But maybe he didn’t need to be. 

Chapter Six — Unspoken 

The first time Danny kissed Andrew, it wasn’t planned. 

It wasn’t dramatic or sweeping. There were no fireworks, no grand declarations. It was just… quiet. Like the air between them had shifted, and their closeness had morphed into something that neither of them could quite define. 

They were sitting on Andrew’s bed, flipping through old comic books and listening to music. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft patterns on the floor. It was a lazy, typical afternoon. The kind they’d had countless times before. 

But this time, there was something different about it. An electric hum in the air. Something unspoken, like a thread between them that had slowly pulled taut. 

Danny had been staring at Andrew for longer than usual, watching the way his fingers drummed lightly on the edge of the book, the way his lips pressed together when he was deep in thought. Andrew looked up, and their eyes met. For a moment, it felt like the world slowed down, like there was no one else but the two of them. 

“What?” Andrew asked, his voice soft, a little confused. 

Danny opened his mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come. He didn’t know what he wanted to say. How could he explain it when he barely understood it himself? 

Instead, without thinking, Danny leaned forward and kissed Andrew. Just a gentle brush of lips—a soft, brief contact that sent a shock of warmth through Danny’s chest. 

He pulled away immediately, his breath catching in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his heart pounding. “I didn’t mean—” 

Andrew was frozen for a moment, eyes wide, and then slowly, he reached up, touching his lips with his fingers, almost as if he were confirming that it had really happened. 

Danny scrambled to his feet, his mind racing. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I—” 

But Andrew’s voice stopped him. 

“Danny,” he said, calm but unsure. “It’s okay. I—I don’t know what that was, either. But…” He hesitated, looking up at Danny with something that was both vulnerable and searching. “I’m glad it was you.” 

Danny’s chest tightened at the words. He wanted to say something, anything, to explain what was going on inside him, but everything felt tangled. It was easier to keep quiet, to hold the space between them like a delicate thread. 

Andrew sat up, eyes searching Danny’s face. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly. 

Danny nodded, but inside, he was a whirlwind. His heart beat faster than he thought was possible, and he felt dizzy in a way he hadn’t expected. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or excitement or fear, but he knew something had shifted—something important. 

“I think I’m figuring it out,” Danny whispered. 

Andrew looked at him for a long moment, his expression soft. “Figuring what out?” 

Danny didn’t know how to put it into words. He didn’t know how to explain it—how Andrew made him feel in a way no one else did. How their bond felt like more than just friendship, more than something he could easily label. 

“Everything,” Danny said finally. “Who I am. What I feel.” 

That night, Danny lay awake in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, replaying the moment over and over in his head. His mind was racing. The kiss had been everything and nothing at once—just a moment, yet it had changed everything between them. 

He thought about how Andrew had looked at him afterward—like he was still trying to figure out what that moment meant. And Danny realized that maybe he wasn’t the only one unsure. Maybe Andrew, too, was piecing together what their friendship was becoming. 

The next day, at school, things felt… different. Not in a bad way, but there was a weight to the air between them, a silence that hung in the spaces where there used to be ease. They still hung out like they always did—meeting after school to walk home, sharing headphones, making each other laugh—but something was unspoken. Both of them were tiptoeing around it. 

At lunch, as they sat at their usual table, Danny picked at his food, not really hungry. 

“So…” Andrew said finally, his voice hesitant. “Last night…” 

Danny looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “Yeah?” 

Andrew shrugged, clearly unsure of how to proceed. “I just… I guess I wanted to say that I don’t know what that meant, but I’m okay with it. I just need to know if you’re okay with it.” 

Danny’s heart raced again. The simplicity of Andrew’s words caught him off guard. It wasn’t an apology or an accusation. Just a question. Just a statement that they were both figuring this out together. 

“I am,” Danny said softly. “I think I’ve been figuring it out for a while.” 

Andrew nodded slowly, as if taking it all in. Then he smiled, that easy, familiar smile that Danny had always loved. “Good. Me too.” 

They ate the rest of their lunch in comfortable silence, each lost in their thoughts, but the air between them felt lighter now. Less tense. Like a weight had been lifted, even if neither of them had all the answers yet. 

Later that afternoon, after school, they ended up back at Andrew’s house. This time, though, Danny wasn’t sure if things would go back to normal or if they would take another step forward. Maybe they didn’t have to have it all figured out right away. 

As they sat side by side on Andrew’s bed, the weight of the earlier conversation still lingered, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like something was finally shifting inside Danny—like he was beginning to come to terms with the fact that he didn’t have to have all the answers. That maybe he wasn’t as lost as he’d once thought. That maybe the person who had been there all along—the person he had grown closest to—wasn’t just his best friend anymore. 

“Do you think we’re allowed to take our time with this?” Danny asked, his voice soft. 

Andrew turned to look at him, his expression warm and patient. “Of course we are. We don’t have to rush anything.” 

Danny nodded, feeling a sense of calm settle over him. Maybe they didn’t need all the answers. Maybe the best part of their relationship was the fact that they didn’t need to define it right now. Not everything had to have a label or a finish line. 

For the first time in a long time, Danny felt like he could finally take a deep breath. 

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough. 

Chapter Seven — Redefining Us 

The air between Danny and Andrew was thick with questions. Neither of them had really talked about what had happened the night before—the kiss that had neither been planned nor expected. But it had been there, unspoken, hanging in the quiet spaces between them. 

Danny couldn’t stop thinking about it. He kept replaying it in his mind, wondering if it had meant something. If it had meant more than just a fleeting, impulsive gesture. His heart raced every time he thought about it, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed, irrevocably, between them. 

But what was it? What did it mean? 

He wasn’t sure about anything yet. He still didn’t have all the answers. Sometimes, it felt like he was still figuring out who he was, who he wanted to be, who he loved. 

What did it mean to love someone? What did it mean to be in love? 

And what if that person was Andrew? His best friend. The one who had been there for him through everything—the good, the bad, the quiet moments, and the loud ones. 

It was Saturday, and the sun was warm on the meadow, casting long shadows on the ground as they walked side by side. The air smelled of wet grass and fresh earth, and the sounds of birds and wind felt strangely comforting. 

Danny wasn’t sure why he suggested the walk. Maybe it was the pressure of the unspoken words between them. Maybe it was because, in the past, when they needed to talk, this was where they always came—out here, away from everyone, where everything felt simpler. 

They didn’t talk much as they walked. There was an unspoken understanding between them that the silence was okay—that the words could wait. But Danny could feel Andrew’s presence, close enough that he could almost hear Andrew’s thoughts. 

Finally, as they reached the old oak tree near the edge of the meadow, Danny stopped. He didn’t know why he stopped. Maybe because he felt like the moment had come. The moment when everything would finally shift. 

“Andrew,” Danny said quietly, his voice steady but carrying the weight of everything he wasn’t saying. “About last night…” 

Andrew turned to face him, his eyes calm and patient, like he’d been waiting for this. “Yeah?” 

Danny swallowed, his throat dry. He looked down at the ground, unsure of how to start. “I don’t know what I’m feeling, exactly. But I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

Andrew stayed silent, giving him space. 

“I’m still figuring out who I am,” Danny continued. “I don’t have it all figured out. I don’t have a label or a perfect definition for myself yet. But when you… when you kissed me back last night…” He paused, trying to find the right words. “I felt something, Andrew. Something real. I don’t know what it means, but I can’t ignore it.” 

Andrew’s face softened. “Danny, you don’t have to have all the answers right now. You’re allowed to take your time. You’re not alone in this.” 

Danny’s eyes met Andrew’s, and for the first time, he saw something in Andrew’s gaze that made his heart flutter. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t impatience. It was understanding. Patience. Support. 

“I think… I think I might be falling for you,” Danny said, the words coming out in a rush, but somehow still feeling like the most natural thing in the world. “And I’m scared, Andrew. I don’t know if that’s okay. I don’t know if it’s right. But it feels right. Does that make sense?” 

Andrew stepped closer, his smile small but real. “Yeah, it makes sense. I’ve known for a while, Danny. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to figure it out all at once.” 

Danny looked up at him, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. He didn’t need to have everything figured out. He didn’t need to be perfect. He just needed to be himself, to take his time, and to trust Andrew. 

“Are you… okay with it?” Danny asked, voice barely above a whisper, still uncertain. 

Andrew took a deep breath, his hand brushing against Danny’s. “Of course I am. I’ve been waiting for you to get here. You’re my best friend. And if something more happens between us, that’s okay. We’ll figure it out. Together.” 

Danny’s heart skipped a beat. He felt a warmth spread through his chest—a warmth that wasn’t just from the sun, but from something deeper, something unspoken, yet understood. 

Without thinking, Danny took a step forward, his hand gently finding Andrew’s. 

“Can we just…” Danny trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. The way Andrew looked at him, the way their fingers intertwined, said everything. 

Andrew nodded. “Yeah. Just this.” 

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, they kissed again. This time, it was slow and gentle, as if they were both savoring the moment. There were no grand declarations. No fireworks. Just the simple, quiet connection of two people learning what it meant to be something more than what they had been. 

When they pulled apart, neither of them spoke for a moment, but the air between them was no longer heavy with questions. It was filled with something new—a kind of understanding, a quiet certainty. 

“I think I’m ready,” Danny whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “To be with you. To figure this out.” 

Andrew smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Danny’s face. “You don’t have to figure it all out, Danny. I’m just happy you’re with me. Right now. Right here.” 

As they sat down under the oak tree, hands still intertwined, Danny realized that maybe he didn’t need all the answers. Maybe the only thing that mattered right now was that he was with Andrew. And for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. 

Chapter Eight — Facing the World Together 

The days following that afternoon in the meadow felt different—lighter, somehow. For the first time in a long time, Danny found himself walking through school with a new sense of confidence. It wasn’t about being out to everyone, not yet. But there was something quietly empowering in the way he carried himself now, something that told him he was no longer hiding from himself. 

And Andrew was with him every step of the way, his presence a steady source of comfort and strength. 

They sat together at lunch, like they always had, but now the casual touches—his hand brushing against Andrew’s as they reached for their food, the way Andrew’s arm would rest lightly against Danny’s—felt different. There was a softness to it, an intimacy that hadn’t been there before. 

Danny could feel the shift. The way Andrew’s smile made his heart race, the way his words felt like a promise. It wasn’t just friendship anymore. It was something more. Something deep and real, and though Danny wasn’t sure how to name it yet, he knew it was important. 

But despite the warmth that grew between them, things weren’t all smooth sailing. 

It was Friday afternoon, and they were walking home from school when they were stopped by a group of students they’d known for years—some of Andrew’s friends from drama club. Danny was still getting used to the new dynamic of their relationship, and the idea of people knowing about them felt both thrilling and terrifying. 

“Hey, Andrew!” one of the guys, Zach, called out. He was the lead in the school’s upcoming play, and he was friendly, always the loudest voice in the group. “Got a minute?” 

Andrew glanced at Danny, and there was a brief flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Danny’s chest tightened, and he felt a rush of nerves. But Andrew nodded, stepping forward. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” Andrew asked, his voice steady. 

Zach hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking from Andrew to Danny. “We were just wondering…” He seemed to hesitate, then shrugged. “Well, it’s pretty obvious that you two are hanging out a lot these days. You know, since the kiss last week… Is it official or what?” 

Danny’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected them to bring it up so directly. He didn’t know what to say. Was it official? What did that even mean? 

Andrew, however, was unfazed. He leaned back slightly, his smile easy and confident. “Yeah, we’re figuring things out. No big deal.” His voice was calm, but there was a hint of defensiveness in it that Danny hadn’t heard before. 

“Cool, cool,” Zach said with a wink. “I guess I’m just asking because people are starting to talk, you know? High school’s a little… unpredictable with stuff like this.” 

Danny shifted uncomfortably. “Talk?” he echoed, trying to keep his voice steady. 

Zach shrugged, clearly trying to be casual about it. “Nothing bad, just people noticing, you know? It’s all good, just don’t let it get to you. People are curious, that’s all.” 

Danny’s stomach churned. The weight of it—the idea of people talking, gossiping—settled like a stone in his chest. 

“I’m not worried about it,” Andrew said, squeezing Danny’s hand. “We’re fine. But thanks for the heads-up, Zach.” 

Zach nodded and smiled. “No problem, man. Just wanted to make sure you two were good.” 

As they walked away, Danny felt a rush of mixed emotions. On one hand, he was grateful for Andrew’s calm response. On the other, he couldn’t shake the feeling that things were going to change. Maybe not for the better. Not immediately, at least. 

Later that evening, Danny found himself sitting in the living room, trying to shake off the awkwardness of the encounter. He was scrolling through his phone when Andrew called. 

“Hey,” Danny answered, his voice hesitant. “You okay?” 

“I should be asking you that,” Andrew said, his tone softer than usual. “I know that was weird. I didn’t mean for it to be uncomfortable.” 

Danny exhaled slowly, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t know. It’s just… strange. Like, I know we’re still figuring things out, but I don’t want to feel like I’m on display for everyone.” 

Andrew was silent for a moment. “I get it. I do. It’s not easy being out in high school. It’s tough for everyone. But you know you don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, right?” 

Danny nodded, even though Andrew couldn’t see him. “Yeah. I know. I just don’t know if I’m ready for the whole world to know about us.” 

“And you don’t have to be,” Andrew reassured him. “We’ll take it slow. You don’t owe anyone anything.” 

The words felt like a balm to Danny’s anxious mind. He appreciated that Andrew understood, that he wasn’t rushing him into anything. They were doing this on their terms, at their own pace. 

A week later, the tension that Danny had felt began to ease, but things still weren’t back to “normal.” Some of Andrew’s friends were supportive, others were a little more distant. And some people in school started whispering when they passed by, eyes flicking to Danny and Andrew as if trying to figure out what was going on. 

It didn’t help that the school’s gossip mill was relentless. People always had something to say about others’ lives, especially when it came to relationships. But Danny and Andrew were more solid than anyone gave them credit for. 

One afternoon, Danny was standing by his locker when he overheard a conversation between two students, gossiping about the “gay couple” that had suddenly appeared at school. He felt his cheeks flush, his stomach knotting as he tried to pretend like he hadn’t heard. But when he turned to walk away, he almost collided with Andrew, who had been standing quietly behind him. 

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Did you hear that?” 

Danny bit his lip. “Yeah. It’s… a little much, right?” 

Andrew smiled, his hand finding Danny’s. “Don’t worry about it. They can talk all they want. It doesn’t change anything.” 

“I guess,” Danny muttered, but the unease was still there, gnawing at him. 

Andrew squeezed his hand gently, a reminder that they weren’t alone in this. That together, they could face whatever came their way. 

“I’m proud of you,” Andrew said quietly. “For being you. You’re stronger than you think.” 

Danny met his gaze, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m proud of us. We’re doing this.” 

And for the first time, Danny truly believed it. They were doing this. Together. 

Chapter Nine — The Weight of the World 

It was a Monday morning when Danny stepped into school for the first time since coming out as queer. 

He hadn’t expected a parade or confetti, but he hadn’t expected this, either. 

The whispers, the side-eye glances, the stares—they were louder than any words he could have heard. He’d been getting them for days, since he’d posted the simple message on social media: “I’m queer. No labels. Just me.” 

It had felt freeing when he typed it out. Like for the first time in his life, he was saying something true to himself. The “labels” thing had never felt right—he wasn’t gay, or bi, or pan. He was still learning, still figuring it out. He didn’t need a category to fit into. He was just queer, and that had to be enough. 

But the world didn’t see it that way. 

Some people congratulated him—mostly Andrew’s friends and a few people from the LGBTQ+ group at school. They told him how brave he was. How much of an inspiration he was for being honest. But the others—those who had always been indifferent or even slightly hostile—they didn’t understand. And they made sure he knew it. 

At lunch, Danny sat with Andrew at their usual spot. But this time, the usual laughter, the comfortable silences between bites of food, felt off. His mind kept racing, replaying the things people had said about him. His stomach churned. He didn’t want to eat. Not right now. Maybe not ever again. 

“What’s up?” Andrew asked, raising an eyebrow as Danny pushed his food around on his tray. 

Danny forced a smile. “I’m fine. Just not hungry.” 

Andrew looked at him for a long moment. “You don’t look fine.” 

Danny looked down at the half-empty tray and nodded. “I’m just… still adjusting. That’s all.” 

But Andrew didn’t buy it. He knew Danny too well. He could see the way Danny’s shoulders were slumped, the way his eyes seemed unfocused, distant. 

It wasn’t just the comments in the halls, though. It wasn’t just the slurs people muttered when they thought he couldn’t hear. It was the weight of everything. The pressure of trying to be something he wasn’t ready to be yet. The pressure of having to become something in the eyes of everyone else. 

It was when he looked at himself in the mirror that he started seeing things differently. He didn’t like what he saw. His face had gotten thinner. He didn’t have the same spark in his eyes. His clothes, once loose and comfortable, now hung on him like a sad reminder of how much he’d shrunk in the past week. 

Danny had always been a little self-conscious about his body—who wasn’t? But now, it seemed like the weight of everyone else’s judgment was physically manifesting. Every bite of food felt like a betrayal, a weakness he couldn’t afford. Every time he ate, it was like adding an extra burden to his already fragile state. 

By the time they got home that evening, Danny was exhausted. He hadn’t eaten much, if anything, during the day, but he’d spent all of it trying to hold himself together. Trying not to let the comments and the whispers get to him. 

As soon as he stepped into the house, he collapsed on the couch, his head buried in his hands. 

“I’m so tired,” he whispered to himself, as if the admission could somehow lighten the burden. 

But the exhaustion wasn’t just mental. It was physical, too. His body ached—his bones felt hollow, like they couldn’t hold him anymore. Every muscle, every joint, seemed to scream in protest when he tried to move. But he didn’t want to eat. He didn’t want to feel. The world felt like it was crushing him, and the only control he had left was over how much he consumed. 

He didn’t even realize how deep he was sinking into the pattern until Andrew came over later that night. He knocked softly on Danny’s bedroom door and then stepped in without waiting for an answer. 

“Danny?” Andrew’s voice was gentle, but firm, like he knew something was wrong but wasn’t sure how to help yet. 

Danny sat up, wiping his eyes quickly. He hadn’t expected Andrew to come over, but his heart twisted with relief. Andrew’s presence always felt like home. 

Andrew walked over to him and sat down on the edge of the bed, his eyes scanning Danny’s face. 

“Something’s wrong,” Andrew said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can tell.” 

Danny opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His throat felt tight. He didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to face what was happening to him. 

“Danny,” Andrew continued, his voice soft but insistent, “You’re not okay. And I know it’s been hard, but you don’t have to do this alone.” 

“I’m fine,” Danny lied, shaking his head. “I’m just… tired. I’ll be fine.” 

But Andrew didn’t back down. He reached out, taking Danny’s hand in his, his fingers warm and steady against Danny’s cold skin. 

“No, you’re not fine, and I’m not going to pretend like you are,” Andrew said, his voice breaking the silence. “I can see it. You’re not eating. You’re not sleeping. You’re…” Andrew hesitated, swallowing hard. “You’re hurting yourself, and I don’t know how to help if you won’t let me.” 

Danny blinked, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. “I’m not—” 

“Yes, you are,” Andrew interrupted gently. “You are. And it’s okay to admit it. But you have to let me help you.” 

Tears welled up in Danny’s eyes. He didn’t want to break down. He didn’t want to be weak, but the pressure was suffocating. He could feel the tears coming, and before he could stop it, they spilled over, rolling down his cheeks in a slow, silent stream. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Danny whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m just… so tired of all the hate. Of being who I am. I don’t know how to keep going like this.” 

Andrew pulled him into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around Danny like he could shield him from everything. 

“You don’t have to keep going like this,” Andrew whispered into Danny’s hair. “We’ll figure it out. Together. But you have to trust me. You have to let me help you.” 

The next few days were hard. Danny didn’t magically heal, but with Andrew’s constant support, he started taking small steps toward recovery. He’d eat a little more at lunch, forcing himself to put food into his body, even when the voices in his head told him he didn’t deserve it. 

He still didn’t have all the answers. He still wasn’t sure who he was in the eyes of the world. But for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t alone in the fight. 

Chapter Ten — Out of the Shadows 

The days following Danny’s post about being queer without a label were filled with a kind of silence that rattled him. The rumors were quieter, but the isolation still stung. He was spending more and more time at home, and every moment at school felt like a tightrope walk. 

But one day, everything shifted. 

It was during a third-period English class when Mr. Vargas, a newer teacher who had always been quietly kind to Danny, asked him to stay after class. Danny’s heart skipped as he lingered by his desk, unsure of what was about to happen. He couldn’t remember if he’d done something wrong, but the concerned look on Mr. Vargas’s face left him uneasy. 

“Danny,” Mr. Vargas said, pushing up his glasses. “I wanted to check in on you. I know it’s been a tough couple of weeks, and I’ve noticed you’ve been… different.” 

Danny swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. He had no intention of sharing anything with a teacher, let alone someone he didn’t know well. But something in Mr. Vargas’s gaze, soft but firm, made him pause. 

“You can talk to me, you know,” Mr. Vargas added gently. “I’m part of the LGBTQ+ community. I’ve been where you are.” 

Danny’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t realized Mr. Vargas was queer. He hadn’t even noticed the little rainbow pin on his lapel. The idea of being seen—truly seen—by someone who understood made Danny’s chest tighten. 

“You… you’re queer?” Danny asked, his voice small. 

Mr. Vargas chuckled lightly, nodding. “Yeah, I’m queer. And I’m not here to push you to talk if you don’t want to, but I just want you to know you’re not alone. If you ever need to talk, or just need someone to listen, I’m here.” 

Danny stared at him, fighting the urge to tear up. No one had ever spoken to him like this. Sure, Andrew was always there, but this was different. This was someone who had lived through the confusion, the isolation, the pain—and survived. 

“I… I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Danny admitted quietly, eyes downcast. “I just… I’m not sure where I fit in.” 

“Don’t worry about fitting in,” Mr. Vargas said, his voice warm. “There’s no one way to be queer. You don’t have to define yourself until you’re ready, and even then, you don’t have to follow anyone else’s rules.” 

Danny nodded slowly, the words sinking in. It felt like a small relief, a crack in the wall he’d been building around himself. 

Later that week, Andrew invited Danny to come over after school, as usual. But this time, there was a surprise waiting for him. 

“Hey,” Andrew greeted him at the door. “Come in! D’s here today.” 

Danny raised an eyebrow. D was Andrew’s best friend from the LGBTQ+ club, someone who had been part of their circle for a while now but hadn’t hung out much with Danny. D had always been open about being non-binary, but Danny had never really had a chance to get to know them. 

“D?” Danny asked as he stepped inside. 

“Yeah, they’re here today,” Andrew confirmed. “They’ve been wanting to meet you for a while. And—well, their partner’s coming over later too.” 

Danny followed Andrew into the living room, where D was already sitting with a book in hand, looking comfortable and relaxed, as though they’d always been part of the group. Their presence immediately gave the room a new energy. 

“Hey, Danny!” D waved, their voice light and friendly. “Nice to finally hang out outside of the club.” 

“Hey,” Danny said, a little awkwardly, but he gave them a smile. “I didn’t know you were here today.” 

“Well, I was hoping we could all hang out,” D replied with a grin, tossing their book aside. “I’m glad you’re here. Andrew’s talked about you a lot.” 

Andrew rolled his eyes playfully. “Only the good stuff, I promise.” 

D laughed, and Danny felt a little more at ease. It was strange but nice to be welcomed so openly by D. Their easygoing nature helped Danny feel like they weren’t here to judge him, just to be part of something. 

As they sat around the living room, laughing and talking about everything from music to books to random topics, Danny began to feel a sense of normalcy again. It was a feeling he hadn’t realized he’d missed—being around friends without constantly worrying about what people thought of him. 

Soon, there was a knock on the door. 

“That must be Eli,” D said, standing up and making their way to the door. “My partner.” 

When they opened the door, Danny’s eyes widened. Eli was a tall, confident person with a warm smile and a style that seemed effortlessly cool. They greeted everyone warmly, and it didn’t take long before they were deep in conversation, joining the group as though they had always been there. 

Danny couldn’t help but notice how easy and natural it all seemed—how D and Eli were comfortable with themselves and with each other. He’d never really had a chance to see what a healthy relationship looked like from the inside, and it was comforting in a way that made him feel like there was hope for his own future. 

As the night went on, they played games and watched movies, but the most memorable part for Danny was the conversation that happened later, when the group had gathered in the kitchen to grab some snacks. 

“You doing okay, Danny?” D asked, leaning against the counter. “You’ve been a little quiet.” 

Danny hesitated before nodding. “Yeah… just thinking a lot, I guess.” 

D gave him a sympathetic look. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. We all get there in our own time.” 

Eli, who had been listening quietly, added, “You know, labels are great, but they’re not everything. You don’t have to define yourself to anyone but you.” 

Andrew, who had been sitting nearby, gave Danny a reassuring smile. “And when you’re ready, we’re all here for you. You’re not alone in this.” 

Chapter 11 – "Unspoken Labels" 

Danny wasn’t sure why it bothered him, but the more time he spent with Andrew, the more he couldn’t ignore it—the question that was hanging between them. What were they? 

It wasn’t just about identity—though Danny was still figuring out what exactly that meant for him. It was about their relationship, the thing that was slowly, but surely, shifting into something more. They weren’t just friends anymore. But neither of them had said anything about it—neither of them had spoken the words that could define what was happening. 

Danny couldn’t help but notice how their moments together felt different. There was a soft tension between them that hadn’t been there before—a quiet, unspoken intimacy that seemed to fill every silence. 

One afternoon, they were walking home from school together. The sun had begun to set, casting a soft orange light over the sidewalk as they walked side by side. 

“You know,” Andrew began, breaking the silence, “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said before. About not needing a label.” 

Danny glanced at him, a little taken aback. They’d talked about it before, but Andrew hadn’t brought it up since. “Yeah? What about it?” 

“Well,” Andrew said, kicking a small rock down the street, “I guess I was just wondering… are we something? I mean… you and me.” 

Danny’s heart skipped a beat. The question had been building in the air for weeks, but hearing Andrew say it out loud felt like an unspoken truth that neither of them had been willing to confront. 

“I don’t know,” Danny admitted, his voice quiet. “I don’t know what we are. I mean, I know we’re not just friends, but… I’m not ready to put a label on it. Not yet.” 

Andrew stopped walking for a moment, looking at Danny with an expression that was both curious and understanding. “It’s okay if you don’t want to put a label on it. I’m not saying we have to do that. I just… I think I’m trying to understand where we stand, you know?” 

Danny’s chest tightened. He had been avoiding the conversation because he was afraid of where it might go. He wasn’t ready to define it, not even to himself. What if he couldn’t fit himself into a specific box? What if the label didn’t make sense for him? What if it ruined things with Andrew? 

“I just… I don’t want you to think I’m confused about you,” Danny said, his voice wavering slightly. “I’m not confused about you—I’m just not sure where I fit in. With all of this. With me. And with us.” 

Andrew nodded slowly, the understanding clear in his eyes. “I get that,” he said. “You don’t have to have everything figured out. Hell, I don’t even have all the answers. I just want to be with you, Danny. Whatever that looks like, label or not.” 

Danny swallowed, trying to process what Andrew was saying. The weight of Andrew’s words—the reassurance, the simplicity of it—made him feel a little lighter. But there was still a part of him that held back, still a part of him that needed time. And that was okay, wasn’t it? 

“I’m just not sure if I’m ready to… label myself as anything,” Danny continued. “I mean, I’m not gay, I don’t think I’m bi… I don’t even know if I’m pan. I’m just… queer? I guess. And I don’t want to rush anything, or make things weird with you.” 

Andrew smiled softly, his hand brushing Danny’s arm briefly. “Danny, you don’t need to put a label on yourself just because you’re with me. You’re Danny, and that’s all that matters to me. I’m not looking for labels—I’m just looking for you.” 

For the first time in what felt like ages, Danny felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. He didn’t have to fit into a box. He didn’t have to be anything other than himself, whatever that was. 

Later that evening, they ended up at Andrew’s house, sitting on his bed with music playing softly in the background. The conversation shifted toward the complexities of identity again, as Andrew opened up a little more. 

“You know,” Andrew began casually, “I’ve been out for a while now. But when I first started figuring things out, it was just as messy as what you’re feeling now. It wasn’t easy.” 

Danny nodded, listening intently. He’d known Andrew was out, but hearing it from his perspective was different. Andrew had gone through his own process of figuring things out—and even though Andrew was comfortable with who he was, it didn’t mean everything had been clear-cut for him either. 

“I had to come out to my parents, to my friends, and it took time for me to realize I wasn’t just… what society expected me to be,” Andrew continued. “I didn’t want to just fit into someone else’s idea of what being gay looked like. It took me a long time to feel comfortable saying I was gay and to claim that label.” 

Danny thought about that for a moment. He was still in the middle of his journey, still unsure of what it all meant. But hearing Andrew’s perspective helped him realize something: labels weren’t necessarily meant to define you—they were meant to give you space to grow. If he didn’t have one yet, that was okay. 

“What if… what if I’m not ready to label us?” Danny asked, voicing his worry again. “What if I’m just not there yet?” 

Andrew took a deep breath. “Then we don’t label it. But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. We can just… be.” 

Danny smiled, a wave of relief flooding through him. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I think I can handle that.” 

That weekend, the group gathered at D’s place for a quiet hangout. Eli had made homemade pizza, and D had brought out a few games. As the night went on, the topic of labels came up again—this time, more casually, as the group shared their own experiences. 

“I don’t even know if I’m a ‘real’ queer person,” D said, fiddling with the edge of their hoodie. “Like, I don’t want to be that person who says they’re queer but doesn’t fit into the ‘expected’ box. It’s all so confusing sometimes.” 

Eli smiled, placing a hand on D’s shoulder. “Who says you need to fit into any box? You’re queer, and that’s more than enough.” 

Danny listened closely, feeling a bit lighter. Maybe he didn’t need to figure it all out right now. Maybe, for once, he could just exist without the pressure of labels—and still be valid. 

Chapter 12 – "Unraveling the Layers" 

Danny stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. The soft light from his lamp cast a warm glow over the room, but all he could focus on was the image in the glass. He touched the back of his neck absentmindedly, feeling the familiar weight of his hair against his skin, and the soft contours of his face. 

He had always been Danny, always the "guy" in every situation—at school, with his family, with friends. It felt normal. Comfortable, even. But tonight, something felt different. There was a sense of disconnect that Danny couldn’t quite place, like he wasn’t looking at the person he truly was. 

He ran his fingers through his hair, and the feeling of it against his fingertips didn’t feel the same. The way the world saw him, the way people called him a guy—did it really match who he was on the inside? Or was it just a part of the way the world had told him he was supposed to be? 

His mind wandered, and before he could stop himself, the words he'd been too afraid to ask bubbled to the surface: Who am I? 

Danny hadn’t given much thought to his gender identity, not until recently. His journey with figuring out his sexual identity had been messy and complicated, but it had also felt natural in the end. He was queer—he had accepted that, no problem. But gender? That was a whole different story. What did it mean to be a guy? Did it even matter to him? 

He had always thought he was just like everyone else. A boy. A guy. But now, standing here, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was more complicated than that. Maybe he didn’t feel like he fit the mold. Or maybe there was more to his identity than just this label—man. 

Danny wasn’t sure how to explain it. He had nothing against being a guy. But… maybe, just maybe, he didn’t feel entirely like one. 

The next day at lunch, Danny sat with D and the others outside, trying to shake off the weird feeling that had lingered since last night. His mind still swirled with questions about gender, about labels, and if it was okay to ask them at all. 

D seemed unusually relaxed, sipping their iced tea, their expression thoughtful. 

“You ever feel like you’re just... not the thing people think you are?” D asked, looking at Danny over the rim of their cup. 

Danny blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean like, I’ve been thinking a lot about gender recently,” D said, shrugging. “Like, I’ve always been this ‘girl,’ but I’ve realized I don’t feel like I fit in with the idea of being a girl. I don’t always feel like I’m ‘feminine.’ I don’t really feel ‘masculine’ either. I just feel like… me. And I’ve been questioning that. It’s freeing, but also kind of confusing at times.” 

Danny swallowed, their words settling into his brain like a gentle rain. Could that be me? 

“I think I get what you mean,” Danny said, unsure of how to express his own feelings. “I mean, I’ve always been ‘Danny,’ a guy. But lately, it feels like there’s something I’m not seeing about myself, like maybe I don’t fully fit the ‘guy’ thing. But… I don’t know. I don’t know what that means.” 

D looked at him knowingly, their eyes kind, as if they understood exactly where Danny was coming from. “It’s okay to not know yet. You don’t have to have a label. I think the important thing is to explore how you feel, and not worry so much about fitting into some kind of box. You’re not alone in feeling this way.” 

Danny nodded slowly, still absorbing what D had said. It felt like a weight had been lifted, just a little. Maybe he didn’t have to have everything figured out right now. Maybe he could just let himself be. 

That evening, Danny couldn’t stop thinking about D’s words. He had spent so much time thinking about sexuality and labels—queer made sense to him, but gender? It still felt hazy. 

Later that night, Danny found himself standing in his room again, staring at his closet. On impulse, he pulled out an old oversized t-shirt, paired it with a baggy flannel shirt, and threw on a pair of loose pants. The outfit wasn’t something he normally wore, but as he slipped into it, something inside him clicked. 

When he looked in the mirror, he saw himself, but he also saw someone new. Someone a little different. Someone a little more comfortable. Free. 

Danny took a long look at his reflection, running a hand over the loose fabric of the shirt. It didn’t feel like he was trying to perform some “guy” version of himself. For the first time, he wasn’t trying to conform to an idea of masculinity. This felt like him, like a side of him that was always there but had been hidden away. 

But then the doubt crept in, like a shadow. What would Andrew think? What would his friends think? Would they even understand? 

He shook his head, staring at his reflection one last time. It felt good, but the fear of judgment was still there. Maybe next time. 

The following day, after school, Danny found himself at Andrew’s house, sitting on his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest. They had been hanging out for a while, listening to music, but Danny couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to talk. 

“Andrew,” Danny said, his voice almost too quiet. “Can I talk to you about something?” 

Andrew, who had been absorbed in his music, turned to face him. “Of course, what’s up?” 

“I’ve been thinking about… gender.” Danny’s heart was pounding. It felt weird to even say it out loud. “I’m not really sure if I fit into the ‘guy’ thing. Like, I know I’ve always been Danny, and that’s just how people see me. But lately, I’m not so sure it feels right. I don’t feel like I fit into the idea of being a guy, but I don’t know if I feel like anything else either.” 

Andrew listened intently, his gaze soft and understanding. After a long pause, he spoke. 

“Danny, I don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, but it’s okay. You don’t have to fit into a mold. Gender isn’t something that’s one-size-fits-all. I think… I think it’s okay for you to question it. You don’t have to define yourself right away.” 

Danny looked at him, searching his face for any sign of judgment, but found only compassion. “I don’t know what I want yet, Andrew. I just know I don’t want to be stuck with one label. I don’t want to have to fit into the ‘guy’ box if it’s not what feels right.” 

Andrew reached out, placing his hand on Danny’s shoulder in a comforting way. “Danny, whatever you decide, you’re still you. If you want to take your time figuring things out, that’s okay. Labels don’t have to define us. We define who we are.” 

Danny felt a wave of relief wash over him. He had been so afraid of disappointing Andrew, or of Andrew thinking that this was just a phase, but Andrew’s words calmed him. 

The next afternoon, Danny stayed after school to speak with Mr. Vargas, the teacher who had been supportive when Danny first came out. He had always admired Mr. Vargas’s openness and wisdom. 

“Mr. Vargas,” Danny began, his voice shaky, “I’ve been thinking a lot about gender. I mean, I know I identify as queer, but when it comes to gender… I’m not sure where I fit. I don’t feel like a ‘guy,’ but I don’t know if I feel like anything else either.” 

Mr. Vargas smiled gently, the kind of smile that told Danny he wasn’t alone in his questioning. 

“You know, Danny,” Mr. Vargas began, “you don’t have to know everything right now. Gender can be just as fluid and evolving as sexuality. It’s okay to question it, and it’s okay to not have all the answers. Labels don’t have to be definitive; you are still you, no matter how you identify.” 

Danny exhaled, feeling lighter. “So, I don’t have to have everything figured out today?” 

“Not at all. Take your time. Gender is a part of you, but it doesn’t have to define you in a way that feels limiting.” 

As Danny walked home that evening, the weight that had been pressing on his chest seemed a little easier to bear. He still didn’t know exactly what his gender identity would look like, but he didn’t have to figure it out today. 

For the first time in a long time, he felt like he could just be. And that was enough. 

[andy-writes-books]

um so title is still TBD but heres the first chapter of my story

The story began in a meadow, drenched in freezing rain. A little boy ran through the tall grass, soaked to the bone, his footsteps slipping in the mud. Thunder cracked above, and he flinched, dropping to his knees and covering his head. 

“Help!” he cried out, his voice swallowed by the storm. But no one answered. 

The rain came harder; each drop a needle on his skin. The boy—Daniel, though no one was around to call his name—stumbled toward a shape in the distance. A house, old and slanted, hunched like it had weathered a thousand storms. 

Desperate, Daniel knocked. The wooden door creaked open a few inches, and a boy around his age peeked out, eyes wide. 

“Hi,” Daniel said between shivers. “My name is Daniel. Danny, for short.” He hesitated, the rain sliding down his face. “Can I… can I come in for a bit?” 

The boy blinked, then nodded. “Lemme ask my mam.” 

He vanished into the house, and for a moment, Danny thought he had imagined him. But soon the door opened wider, and the boy waved him in. 

“I’m Andrew,” he said. “We’ve lived here forever, just me and my ma.” 

Danny stepped inside, his shoes squelching on the floorboards. The warmth hit him like a wave. In the next moment, a kind-faced woman appeared with a blanket and a set of dry clothes. 

“Here,” she said gently, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. “You’re safe now.” 

Over the next hour, Danny thawed by the fireplace, sipping a mug of warm tea as his soaked clothes hung by the hearth. Andrew sat across from him, legs crossed, watching quietly as the rain continued to beat against the windows. 

“You live out here all by yourself?” Danny asked. Andrew shrugged. “Just me and my ma. She does not like cities. Says they are too loud.” He tilted his head. “Where do you live?” 

Danny’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Nowhere really. I was just... walking. Got caught in the storm.” 

Andrew did not press. He just nodded, then got up and returned with a battered board game. 

“You ever play this?” he asked. 

Danny shook his head. 

“Well, you’re about to lose,” Andrew grinned. 

Days passed, then weeks. Danny returned to the little house more often, until it felt less like visiting and more like arriving home. Sometimes he helped Andrew’s mom in the kitchen. Sometimes he and Andrew ran through the meadow when the sun was out, daring each other to jump in the creek. Other times, they lay on their backs in the grass, naming shapes in the clouds. 

When school started again, Danny enrolled. It was not official—just enough to keep him busy, to keep him close. Andrew helped him catch up on classes, especially math, which Danny hated, and literature, which they both secretly loved. 

The years moved quietly, comfortably. 

By the time they were juniors in high school, Danny and Andrew had become inseparable. You rarely saw one without the other. They still read books in the living room, still shared music and late-night snacks and quiet silences that said more than most words. 

One afternoon, they were lying on Andrew’s bedroom floor, music playing low from a speaker. A storm rolled softly in the background, not unlike the one years ago—but now it felt distant, safe, like something that could not touch them anymore. 

“Hey, Andrew?” Danny said, turning to his side. 

Andrew glanced at him. “Yeah?” 

Danny hesitated. “Do you think we’ll ever get girlfriends?” 

Andrew was quiet. His fingers drummed against his stomach; eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

“I’m not sure I want one,” he said finally, voice low. 

Danny blinked. “What do you mean?” 

Andrew looked at him then, not angry, not sad—just searching. “I don’t like girls that way, Danny.” 

A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft hum of the storm outside. 

“You don’t… want to date anyone?” Danny asked, confused. 

Andrew exhaled, rubbing his face. “You really don’t get it, do you?” 

Danny opened his mouth, then closed it. The music kept playing. The storm kept moving. 

They said nothing else for a while, just let the silence do what words could not. 

A few weeks passed. 

They did not talk about that afternoon again, though it lingered in the air like the scent of rain long after a storm. Danny did not press. He was not sure what to say, or if he even understood. But he kept coming back to Andrew’s house, and Andrew kept opening the door. 

One Friday after school, Danny arrived a little early. Andrew was not in the living room, and his mom told him to head upstairs. 

“Just got back from town,” she said. “You boys behave.” 

Danny grinned and jogged up the stairs two at a time. 

He pushed open the door to Andrew’s room—and paused. 

The light from the window cast a warm glow over everything. On the far wall, above the bookshelf where they kept their shared collection of sci-fi and fantasy paperbacks, a new addition stood out: a small, fabric pride flag, pinned neatly beside a poster of their favorite band. 

Danny blinked at it, unsure why it made his chest feel tight. 

He did not say anything when Andrew walked in a minute later, earbuds still hanging around his neck. But Andrew noticed where he was looking. 

“Oh. Yes,” he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh… just put it up yesterday.” 

Danny nodded slowly. “It looks good there.” 

Andrew looked at him—cautious, bracing himself. 

Danny sat down on the bed and leaned back on his hands. “You ever think we’ll still be friends after high school?” 

Andrew sat beside him, shoulders barely touching. “I hope so.” 

Another pause. The kind that used to feel casual but now felt like it carried something unspoken. 

Danny glanced back at the flag, then at Andrew. “I am glad you told me. Even if I did not get it at first.” 

Andrew gave a small smile. “You did not freak out. That is more than most people would do.” 

Danny smiled back, a little awkward, a little unsure—but sincere. “You are my best friend. That is not changing.” 

Outside, the storm clouds drifted away. Light streamed in through the window, soft and golden. 

In the quiet that followed, nothing needed to be said. 

[andy-writes-books]

Hello

Im Andy

I am a Minor

im taken by my wonderful partner @peachplays1

i am a bi curious/gay trans masc guy

i use he/him and they/them

i hope you enjoy my little short stories/fan fics

I do take requests but no promises