𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋

013

part 013
a kyran kiss

Idris'

Dances have always seemed utterly absurd to me. The very notion of standing in a crowd, swaying awkwardly to the rhythm of music, feels like an exercise in self-embarrassment. The only individuals I exempt from this are my friends. As I observe them now, darting eagerly to the dance floor, Will being the exception, dragged along by his persistent sister, I can't help but laugh at it.

Within moments, they're all swept up in the pulsating energy of the music. Kai, ever the charmer, clasps Athalia's waist, his gaze locked onto hers as she smiles at me. Clutching my cup of punch like a lifeline, I stand awkwardly beside a potted plant, returning her smile with a faint one of my own, I offer a small wave in acknowledgment.

Among the group, Athalia stood out as someone with whom I hadn't formed a deep connection, yet there was an inexplicable resonance between us. Perhaps it was because, like me, she seemed uncertain of her desires, or maybe we were both simply sick. After all, as my father often asserted, there was something wrong with me.

Leaning against the wall, I allowed my thoughts to drift, a solitary figure amidst the whirlwind of revelry. A stray curl tumbled across my vision, and with a weary gesture, I brushed it aside, releasing a resigned sigh into the room. I half-expected Kyran to be by my side. Then again, I knew his intentions all too well—what we shared was to remain silent and hidden from prying eyes and whispered gossip.

A week ago

"You know the dance?" Kyran's voice breaks through the silence, his fingers idly playing with strands of my hair as my head rests against his bare chest. The rhythmic thud of his heartbeat fills the air, a testament to the closeness between us.

"The dance," I echo, lifting my gaze to meet him. "What about it?"

"You know I would go with you, right?" His lips press a tender kiss to the crown of my head, sending a shiver down my spine. I trace my fingers lightly along the contours of his swimmer's abs, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my touch. A soft hum escapes my lips in response to his words.

"But I can't," he continues, and those three simple words pierce through me like a dagger, a painful reminder of the barriers that stand between us.

"I know," I reply evenly, masking the hurt that threatens to surface.

"Idris," he says, his tone heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. "Just say it."

"I don't see what the problem is, Kyran. Just go with me," I blurt out, the words spilling forth in a mixture of frustration and longing, more of a plea than a statement.

"Idris, I can't," he says, his voice tinged with resignation. I sit up abruptly, the sudden movement jolting us both into a more upright position. Kyran follows suit, brushing his blonde hair away from his eyes with a weary gesture.

"Are you scared?" I challenge the words erupting from me before I can stop them. "Scared your father will scream at you? Scared your swimmer friends will hurl insults? Scared of losing the respect of others?" My voice rises with each accusation, fuelled by a surge of pent-up frustration.

"You're basically forcing me to come out," he retorts, his tone edged with defensiveness.

"I-I didn't mean that," I stammer, recoiling at the unintended severity of my words. "Ky," I say softly, reaching out to touch his arm in a gesture of apology.

"It's okay, I know you didn't mean it," he reassures me with a soft smile, his eyes reflecting understanding. "You're upset that I can't take you to the dance like a real boyfriend. I get it. I would be mad at me if I were you." Despite the turmoil between us, I find solace in his honesty, in the genuine care he extends towards me. He may have his flaws, but beneath it all, Kyran remains true to himself—a quality that I both admire and cherish.