f i f t e en

, jumping up from the booth to greet him with a hug. "You came!"

"I did I say would," Oliver chuckled.

Wetherspoons, this particular one called The Moondrop, was packed. It was rarely ever empty in Spoons but considering it was a Saturday evening, every single table was overflowing with people and there was a crowd milling around the bar waiting to get a drinks order in. It took Oliver a good five minutes of scanning the faces to find Marcie and the others in a booth further back into Spoons. Their group must have been here for a while in order to have managed to snag a table. Along with Marcie was Indie and Indie's boyfriend Jonas, both of whom swam for Hampstead. There was no sign of Finley.

"Nice to see you again, Reed," Marcie said, as the two of them slid into the booth and Oliver glanced around as surreptitiously as he could. Had Fin decided not to come after all? "That's Indie," she gestured to Indie, who wiggled silver ringed fingers in greeting, "and Jonas, both who swim on my team." Jonas offered up a smile in greeting. "Guys, this is Reed, he swims with Oliver's new Manchester team."

"Hey," Reed said.

"Shouldn't I be the one introducing him?" Oliver wondered, amused.

"Nah, I'm his friend now," Marcie grinned. "You're just the added extra. Also, I have a present for both of you."

"Really?"

Marcie rooted around in her bag before whipping something out with flourish. Two driver's licences. She handed one over to Oliver, the name MICHAEL SAMUEL GOLDSTEIN printed over Micky's black and white photo, and gave the other one to Reed. A quick glance at it confirmed Reed would be fine for the night. He looked vaguely similar enough to Tom that the ID would hold up as long as it wasn't subject to intense scrutiny.

"The best kind of present to get," Indie said, amused. "At least you won't be stuck having Finley, the smug bastard, buying your drinks for the night like some of us sorry losers."

Jonas smiled. "Guilty."

"Where is Fin, anyway?" Oliver asked, as casually as he could. He thought he'd done a fairly decent job of playing the question off as nonchalance if not for the weighted look he received from Reed. "He decide not to show up?"

Marcie and Indie exchanged a look. "I — "

"Missing me after all, Oliver?"

They all glanced up to see Finley, tray with a load of various drinks in hand, standing by the table. He flashed Oliver that charming smile that could convince anyone to do anything he wanted. Once, Oliver had been part of that anyone. Whether you liked him or not, no one could deny that Finley was very attractive, possessing the easy good looks that came from a lucky combination of great genetics and effortless confidence. Finley was very good at making you feel wanted when he turned his charm on you and Oliver had been swept away by it all when he was younger, flattered that Finley of all people wanted to pay him any attention at all. Now, he just regretted going into any line of inquiry about Fin especially considering how his question must have looked to everyone else at the table, who all knew about the two of them.

"Don't flatter yourself," Oliver said, and stood up. "I'm going to get a drink. Anyone want anything?'

Fin set the tray down. "I'll come with you."

"Why?" Oliver asked, a little warily.

"Do I need a reason?" Fin returned, with that smile that made Oliver trust him even less.

Oliver couldn't think of any concrete reasoning beyond I don't want you to and had little choice but to follow Fin to the bar. Reed looked as if he might join, and Oliver was conflicted between wanting him to and knowing the three of them alone together would be a bad idea, but Marcie roped into him into a conversation before he could. Oliver shot him a vaguely apologetic look for ditching him alone with people he didn't know but he knew Reed would be fine. He had always thrived in social situations out of the two of them.

"So," Fin said, as they found a place in the queue.

"So?"

"It's been, what, five months? We haven't seen each other since the start of summer," Fin said. "What's been up with you? Anything exciting happened?"

"Not particularly."

"Oh, come on," Fin said, a little impatiently. "There's only so long you can keep the mysterious act up."

"My life isn't as thrilling as you seem to think it is, Fin," Oliver said dryly. "I moved to Manchester, started going to school there and swimming with a team there. Everything I did while in London."

Apart from Reed. He was the one distinctly different part of of his life, the biggest difference.

As if reading his unspoken thoughts, Fin's gaze slid towards Reed. "Been doing him too?" he asked casually.

With some difficulty, Oliver kept his expression straight. "I'm not even going to bother replying to that."

"Which says more than enough," Fin said, narrowed eyes flicking between Oliver and Reed as if picking apart some secret signal no one else could see. "Here's what I'm guessing. He's a friend, maybe an old friend. You seem like you've known each other for longer than a couple months. A friend, but you like him as something more. Am I right?" Fin rolled his eyes at Oliver's silence. "Honestly, Oliver. I'm just trying to make conversation. When did you get so boring?"

"Reed is a friend," Oliver said, and hesitated. "Just a friend."

The hesitation didn't go unnoticed by Finley. "You sure about that?"

They reached the bar and Oliver took it as an excuse to escape from the conversation, ordering two pints of cider. He figured Reed would want a drink too. "And two shots of vodka," Fin added, winking at the surprised look Oliver gave him. "One for each of us, to celebrate old times. On me."

"I don't want a shot," Oliver said.

Fin rolled his eyes again. "Boring. It's a Saturday and the night is still young," Fin said, handing over his ID when the bartender motioned for it. Oliver handed over Micky's. "You don't want to talk about your cute new crush, fine. I'm sure I'll pry it out of you sooner or later. That doesn't mean we can't have fun, right?"

Oliver didn't want to care about Finley's opinion but a small part of him was irked by the dismissive way he called him boring. He's always known he wasn't the most thrilling person around but hearing it from Finley, he felt this irrational urge to prove him wrong. To prove that his life was just as exciting as Fin's and that he didn't need him in his life, never had and never would. When the bartender brought over their drinks, Oliver did his shot and on an impulse, ordered another one. It was an impulse he never would have normally listened to but Fin's light teasing had got under his skin in a way he hadn't wanted it to.

"That's the spirit," Fin grinned, and raised his own shot. "To a good night! Most certainly to a memorable one."

Oliver grimaced. He could only hope he remembered most of the night.

Hours later, alone in the bathroom of yet another bar (he'd lost count of how many they'd been to at this point), Oliver was seriously doubting whether he could make it through the night in one piece. On one hand, the more predictable turn of events, there was Finley. He had never been one for subtlety and tonight was no exception, despite the fact they were no longer involved in any way. He was constantly sidling up against him, letting his hand linger for longer than necessary, turning to make direct eye contact everything time he laughed at something even if it wasn't Oliver that had spoken. It felt a little like he was trying to broadcast his interest and it certainly hadn't gone unnoticed by their group of friends.

Less predictably, and more distracting for Oliver, was Reed. With his possessive ice eyes and blatant hostility towards Finley, he seemed to pop up every time Finley pulled Oliver into their own conversation. Oliver's head felt fuzzy from all the shots they'd done at every bar and his stomach twisted into knots just remembering the way Reed would at him in those moments. Dark, and almost hungry, with something he was too scared to identify. Oliver had never wanted to kiss him, to kiss anyone, so badly as he did when Reed looked at him like that. He'd wanted to do things that he never should have let himself even entertain if he wanted to cling to any rational of self-control.

Feeling hot at the turn his thoughts were taking, Oliver splashed his face to cool down and stared at his reflection. Flushed cheeks, messy hair from how many times he'd run his hands through it, a slightly wild and disconcerting look in his eyes. Eyes which already looked a little wild and disconcerting because of their strange colouring. He ran his damp fingers across his hair in an attempt to smooth down the dark strands.

"Pull yourself together," he told his reflection firmly.

In the mirror, he saw the door open and Reed step inside. He didn't look anymore put together than Oliver felt, with locks of white-blonde hair falling in his eyes and a red flush spread across his cheekbones, from the alcohol or the crowded bar or maybe something else entirely. For a moment, they just stared at each other. The air suddenly felt so charged Oliver was scared to even move and risk shocking himself. The bathroom was empty. It was just the two of them.

"What the fuck is the deal with you and that prick?" Reed demanded.

As steadily as he could, Oliver said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Like fuck you don't," Reed snapped.

He was angry, but he was something else too, something just as loud and relentless. Jealous, Oliver realised, with some amazement. He was jealous.

"Why do you care?" Oliver asked, because he needed to know, he needed to hear Reed say it out loud.

"I...I don't – "

"Liar," Oliver said, without inflection, and took a step towards him. Reed didn't bolt. His body tensed, as if preparing for fight or flight, but he didn't run. "Look me in the eye, right now, and tell me you don't care. Because I'm sick of never knowing where this is going – "

"This?" Reed echoed. "There is no this."

"Then why did you follow me into this bathroom?"

Reed glared at him, a second stretching into a minute. Oliver took another step forward. There was less than a foot between them and it would only take one stride to close that distance. It would only take Oliver lifting his arm to reach and touch him, feel that fine blonde hair beneath his fingertips. The thought made Oliver made feel dizzy and he didn't think it was entirely from the alcohol.

"I don't care," Reed said.

But he wouldn't look Oliver in the eye, refused to look him in the eyes. His hands were balled into tight fists at his side, as if to stop himself reaching out in the same way Oliver had been considering only seconds ago.

Oliver said, "I don't believe you."

"How the fuck would you know?"

"If I kissed you now," Oliver began, and Reed's eyes widened at the echo of that question he had posed what felt like so long at the Halloween party, darting up to finally meet his gaze, "would you hate it?"

Reed didn't just hesitate, didn't jerk back or look disgusted. He didn't deny it or splutter half-hearted protests. He just stood there, everything Oliver couldn't force down anymore reflected in the ice blue of his eyes, something almost expectant in his gaze. A challenge. Everything with Reed had always been a challenge – who could swim the fastest, who could fit the most marshmallows in their mouth, who could do the most dares – and this felt a little like the challenge all the others had been leading up to, the unspoken challenge to take that final step. To do what both of them, deep down, had always been to too scared to do.

And so, Oliver did it. He closed the distance between them in one stride and kissed Reed.

There was no resistance, no drawing back or freezing up against him. Kissing Reed felt like coming up for air after drowning for so long; beneath the heat exploding across his lips, amid the spill of desire through his chest, was a sense of relief. Relief that he had wanted, needed, this for so long and it felt even better than he could have imagined. Reed curled his hands in the lapels of Oliver's jacket and shoved him back against the bathroom wall, so hard it almost hurt. The barely restrained aggression in the way Reed handled him, catching Oliver's lower lip between his teeth and tangling his hands in his dark hair, sent blood rushing through his head. Oliver couldn't stop all of a moan leaving his mouth when Reed bit down lightly on his lip and he felt Reed tighten his grip in his hair.

The first time they had kissed, it had been hesitant and uncertain and awkward. Neither of them had really known what to do. Now, Oliver didn't even have to think about letting his mouth roam along the edge of Reed's jaw and trail hot kisses along his neck, didn't have to think about letting his lips linger at the soft hollow of Reed's throat. He tasted like chlorine and alcohol. Oliver kissed that soft spot and felt every one of his nerve endings spark at the low moan it drew from Reed. Reed caught Oliver's face between his hands and drew him back up to kiss him, hard and fierce and almost savage. There was a sense of desperation, a hint of urgency, in the frenzied way Reed kissed him. As if they were the only two people left on the planet and the world would fall apart if they separated for even a second.

Oliver could feel every inch of his skin burning up as his hands slipped under Reed's shirt, tracing the hard lines of his torso, and had to forcibly stop himself from letting his hands trail any further. Even in his drunk and lustful state, he was distantly aware that they were in the bathroom of a popular London bar, a very public bathroom which anyone could walk into at any time. Reluctantly, and with some difficulty, he drew back slightly until his face was less than an inch away from Reed's. The bathroom was filled with their ragged breathing and the hard pounding of Oliver's heart. Just the sight of Reed, with his huge pupils and swollen lips, was enough to almost break Oliver's willpower but Reed took an unsteady step back before it could actually snap. The expression on his face broke the blissful haze that had carried Oliver through the past few minutes.

"What have you done?" Reed whispered.

"Me?" The words stung more than if Reed had just slapped him. "You were just as responsible for what just happened as I was, Reed, don't even think about fucking turn this around on me."

"You kissed me – "

"And you kissed me back!" Oliver yelled. He shouldn't have surprised that Reed was trying to dismiss the kiss, turning to pin it on Oliver as if someone had to take the blame, but he was angrier than he had expected to be. "If you're so horrified by what happened, why did you follow me into the bathroom? Why did you kiss me back?"

Reed was shaking his head before he'd even finished talking. "This was a mistake," he muttered, running panicked hands through his pale hair in the same way Oliver had been doing only minutes ago. "I'm drunk and you're drunk, and it was a mistake, okay?"

An awful sense of deja vu washed over Oliver. This same scene had played out before, from Oliver's rooftop in the late summer breeze to the bathroom of a crowded bar, Reed vehemently denying the kiss they had shared and confirming that Oliver had only ruined everything between them. The difference was that years ago, Reed had confirmed that nervous confusion Oliver had just begun exploring and the easiest option had been to accept without resistance. They were older now and Oliver wasn't going to stand here and let Reed make him feel like some delusional idiot when he knew he hadn't imagined any of what happened between the two of them.

"You're obviously attracted to me," Oliver said, boldened by his own frustration and the alcohol coursing through his veins. He took a step forward and Reed rocked back, eyes wide. "What are you so scared of here? Liking boys in general? Or is it just something to do with me?"

Gone was Reed's scowl, his cold gaze, the angry bravado he hid behind to conceal just how scared he was. Because that's all he was, all he had ever been even when they were kids – a scared, confused boy who didn't know how to navigate the world.

"You don't understand – "

"I know I don't understand," Oliver said, not quite managing to keep the edge out of his voice. "Which is why I'm asking you to explain it. Help me understand what the hell is going on here because I'm sick of sitting back and pretending there is nothing going on."

Reed sank back against the wall as if to keep as much distance between the two of them as possible and dropped his head into his hands. Oliver felt himself softening at the sight but fought the urge to offer him comfort. Whatever Reed's reasoning, Oliver still deserved an explanation and wasn't leaving until he got one. The silence between them stretched until someone came into the bathroom and Oliver turned to the sink, pretending to wash his hands, to make the scene seem a little less strange. The man shot Reed a puzzled look but went about his business and left without another word. The next person that walked in made the mistake of trying to talk to Reed.

"You alright, mate?"

"Fuck off," was Reed's sullen response.

"Sorry," Oliver said instinctively, as the man's surprise faded into irritation. "He's just really drunk."

"Not an excuse to be a rude little shit," the man muttered, shooting Reed a dirty look.

A considerably awkward silence continued until the man left and moments later, Reed finally spoke. "It was all your fault," he said, so quietly that Oliver had to strain to catch the words muffled by his hands. "That night on your roof, when you dared me to kiss you...I wanted to. Not just because it was a dare, but because I wanted to. Then I liked it far more than I was supposed to and that scared me. But you know what scared me more?"

Oliver assumed it was a rhetorical question. He stayed silent.

"You leaving the city a few days later without a word. You literally disappeared," Reed said bitterly. "Not a single text, single phone call, not even one fucking goodbye. What was I supposed to think, Oliver?"

"I thought it would be easier that way. I thought...I thought you hated me for ever starting that game, for ever kissing you."

"I did. But I hated you so much more for leaving me with nothing but the memory of a kiss and more questions than answers." Reed had lowered his hands but he refused to meet Oliver's gaze, staring at the tiled floor and his shoes. "Until then, you were the only thing I was certain of. None of the medication was helping my mother, everyone was worried me and Elsie were at risk, and even swimming felt like something I had to do well in if I wanted to stay at Woodway. But at least you were my best friend, right? The one person who would always like me no matter what happened."

Oliver felt like a hand had reached into his chest and twisted his heart. "That was always true, Reed," he said quietly. "Nothing could make me dislike you."