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They sat at the bar, John’s eyes wandering aimlessly as he took in the scenery. Spain had been good to them, sun-warmed evenings, cheap drinks, and a sense of distance from everything they’d left behind. They both needed this break, and Brian found himself quietly grateful they were spending it together.
They’d been growing more accustomed to each other lately. Brian, especially, had grown more comfortable bringing men back to his hotel room even with John around. He knew John didn’t mind, if anything, he seemed curious about it. Maybe a bit too curious.
John broke the comfortable silence first.
“D’you fancy him, then?” he asked, nodding toward a bloke lingering near the entrance.
John had been doing this a lot recently, pointing out random men and asking Brian what he thought of them, as if Brian were some kind of authority on the matter. Brian usually indulged him, mostly because John could be insufferable when told no.
“Bit too muscular for my taste,” Brian said, glancing over briefly.
John hummed in response. “Yeah. Guess so.”
Silence settled between them again, easy and unforced. Then, after a minute or two, John spoke once more.
“Do you find me attractive?”
Brian nearly choked on his drink.
He recovered quickly, schooling his expression as his mind scrambled for the right response. The truth was, yes, he found John attractive. More than attractive, actually. But he had no idea how John would react to hearing that.
John loved compliments, loved attention and praise, but Brian was… queer. And John wasn’t. A simple yes felt inadequate, but anything more would sound far too intimate, and Brian wasn’t sure he could lie convincingly.
“You’re good-looking,” he said finally. “Yeah.”
He took a quick sip of his drink, hoping it would hide the warmth creeping into his cheeks.
John smiled. “Well, course I am, aren’t I?”
Exactly the response Brian had expected.
“You alright there, Bri?” John added, eyes flicking over him. “You’re looking a bit flushed.”
Smug bastard.
Brian scoffed, though a laugh slipped out with it. “Think it’s just the alcohol. Might’ve had one glass too many.”
John was really looking at him now, more intently than before, and Brian had the unsettling feeling that he was slowly losing his mind under the weight of that gaze.
After a bit more idle back-and-forth, John found himself growing restless. He finished his drink, fingers drumming against the bar as his attention drifted, away from Brian, away from the conversation, toward anything that might keep him entertained.
Conveniently for him, someone noticed.
A woman slid into the empty space beside him, all confidence and easy charm. She leaned close, said something Brian couldn’t hear, and John’s posture shifted immediately, open and engaged, that familiar grin tugging at his mouth. He played along effortlessly, as he always did, trading smiles and quiet laughter. It didn’t take long before they were standing, her hand brushing his arm as she steered him away from the bar.
John glanced back once, briefly, as if checking whether Brian had noticed.
Of course he had.
Brian didn’t wave. Didn’t comment. He simply lifted his glass in a vague acknowledgment, watching John disappear into the crowd with a tightness in his chest he refused to name.
He hadn’t quite recovered from their earlier exchange anyway. The question, 'Do you find me attractive?' still echoed unpleasantly in his head, looping and replaying no matter how hard he tried to shake it loose. He drained the rest of his drink and signaled for another, needing something stronger to dull the edge of it.
That was when he decided, rather deliberately, to stop thinking about John altogether.
A man a few stools down caught his eye, purely by chance, Brian told himself. There was nothing deliberate about the way his gaze lingered, nothing intentional about the way he leaned a little closer once the man looked back. The aquiline nose, the thick brown hair, the crooked, slightly off-kilter grin when he smiled, entirely coincidental.
Brian struck up a conversation anyway.
It started harmlessly enough: a comment about the music, a joke about the drinks being stronger than expected. The man laughed easily, eyes warm and attentive, and Brian found himself relaxing into it more than he’d anticipated. He let himself flirt openly now, something bold and reckless in the way he held eye contact, the way his smile lingered just a second too long.
He told himself it meant nothing. That this was just what he did. That it had nothing to do with John, or with the way his absence at the bar felt louder than his presence ever had.
Pure coincidence.
Or so Brian liked telling himself.
The next morning unfolded much like any other. Sunlight filtered through the thin hotel curtains, too bright and far too unforgiving for the state Brian woke up in. By the time he’d dressed and made his way downstairs, he’d already convinced himself that whatever had happened the night before was best left unexamined.
They met over breakfast, just the two of them, seated at a small table near the windows. John looked entirely too well-rested, easy grin in place, hair still damp from a shower, as if he hadn’t disappeared into the night at all. He chatted casually as he ate, going on about the weather and how unbearable the heat was getting.
“Thinking of going for a swim later,” John said between bites. “Might do me some good.”
Brian nodded, stirring his coffee. “Yeah. Sounds alright.”
That was the extent of it. No mention of the bar, no teasing comments, no lingering looks. Brian doubted John remembered much of the previous night at all, and part of him was relieved by that. The other part, quieter, far more inconvenient, felt oddly disappointed.
They headed to the pool not long after.
The air was thick with heat and chlorine, the sun reflecting sharply off the water’s surface. John wasted no time, stripping down and diving in with an ease that made Brian avert his eyes a second too late. He settled onto one of the loungers instead, sunglasses perched on his nose, pretending to doze.
John swam laps with methodical focus, cutting through the water again and again. Brian watched him through half-lidded eyes, telling himself he was just passing the time. That his gaze wasn’t lingering. That he wasn’t admiring the way John moved, broad shoulders rolling smoothly with each stroke, muscles flexing beneath sun-warmed skin.
He tried to keep those thoughts at bay.
He failed miserably.
Brian drifted, lost in his own head, until a sudden splash broke through his thoughts. Cool water hit his side, followed immediately by a very familiar laugh.
John surfaced near the edge of the pool, grinning like he’d just accomplished something impressive.
Brian pushed his sunglasses up, blinking at him. “You’re an arse,” he said, though there was no real bite to it.
John only laughed again, water dripping from his hair as he leaned against the pool’s edge, entirely too close.
John grinned, entirely too pleased with himself, water beading along his shoulders as he leaned against the pool’s edge. “You’ve been quiet all morning,” he said lightly. “Stuck in that head of yours again, are you?”
Brian scoffed, folding his arms. “Just enjoying the peace,” he replied, though even he could hear how thin it sounded. There was no real defense for it, not with the way John kept looking at him, sharp and amused, like he already knew the answer.
“Peace?” John laughed. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep sitting up.”
Brian opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again. John was still watching him, eyes bright with something unreadable beneath the teasing. Before Brian could decide whether to push back or retreat, John spoke again.
“Come on,” he said, jerking his head toward the water. “Join me.”
Brian shook his head automatically. “I’m fine here.”
John raised an eyebrow. “You always say that.”
Brian knew he should refuse. Knew it would be easier to stay exactly where he was, dry and distant and pretending he wasn’t affected by any of this. But John was standing there, close enough that Brian could see the droplets clinging to his lashes, could hear the lilt of challenge in his voice.
He hesitated.
That was all the opening John needed.
Before Brian could react, John reached out and grabbed his wrist, tugging him forward with a laugh. Brian barely had time to yelp before the world tipped and the cool shock of water swallowed him whole.
John held onto him as they surfaced, laughter ringing loud and unrestrained. Brian sputtered, hands instinctively clutching at John’s shoulders to steady himself. Their bodies collided, pressed together by momentum and the narrow space between them.
Too close.
Brian wanted to be annoyed, to playfully shove him away and create some distance, but his hands didn’t move. The warmth of John’s grip lingered at his side, solid and grounding, and the laughter faded into something softer, quieter.
For a brief moment, neither of them moved.
Brian’s heart hammered in his chest. He told himself he should hate this, that he should pull away, say something sharp, reclaim the space between them. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
He didn’t hate it.
Not at all.
John’s smile faltered just slightly, like he’d noticed the stillness too, like he was suddenly aware of exactly how close they were standing.
“You alright there, Bri?” he asked, voice lower now.
Brian swallowed, forcing a crooked smile. “You’re impossible,” he said.
John laughed again, but this time it sounded different, quieter, almost thoughtful as he finally loosened his grip and pushed off toward the deeper end of the pool.
Brian stayed where he was, water lapping at his chest, watching John swim away and wondering how something so simple had managed to feel so dangerous.
They carried on with the rest of the day as if nothing had shifted, as if the moment at the pool hadn’t left something unsettled between them. They wandered through the city, shared meals, exchanged the same easy banter they always had. On the surface, everything felt normal, reassuringly so.
That night, as usual, they ended up at a bar.
Brian had half-expected the evening to be painfully awkward, weighed down by everything that hadn’t been said. To his relief, it wasn’t. Conversation flowed easily, laughter came naturally, and John seemed entirely at ease, relaxed in his chair, drink in hand, smile bright and familiar.
Still, Brian found he couldn’t keep his eyes off him.
No matter how hard he tried, his gaze kept drifting back, catching the way John laughed with his whole body, the way he leaned back and stretched like he owned the space around him. There was something almost cruel about it, how effortlessly beautiful John was, how unaware he seemed of the effect he had.
Or maybe he was aware.
John leaned in closer than necessary when he spoke, shoulder brushing Brian’s arm, knee nudging his beneath the table. Small things. Innocent things. Except they happened again and again, just often enough to feel deliberate.
Brian pretended not to notice.
What else could he do? He couldn’t call it out, couldn’t react without risking everything. John wasn’t queer, Brian knew that, had always known that. No matter how much he wanted it to be untrue, no matter how easily John’s closeness fed into his hope, it didn’t change the facts.
So Brian stayed quiet, smiled when he was meant to, and kept his hands firmly to himself. He told himself it was nothing. That John was just like this. That he was reading too much into it.
And yet, every time John leaned closer, every time their arms brushed, Brian felt the weight of wanting settle heavier in his chest, unwanted, unspoken, and impossible to ignore.
John suddenly went quiet all at once.
It was jarring, especially after how animated he’d been just moments before, hands moving as he talked, laughter spilling easily from him. Now he sat still, gaze fixed somewhere just past Brian’s shoulder, jaw tight like he was holding something back.
Brian noticed immediately. Of course he did. He always noticed when John shifted like that.
“Everything alright?” Brian asked, trying to keep his tone light.
John didn’t answer. Instead, he turned back toward him, eyes searching Brian’s face with an intensity that made his stomach twist. There was a split second, barely a breath, where Brian thought John might say something. Confess something. Then John leaned in.
The kiss was brief and clumsy, more instinct than intention. Warm, sudden, devastating. Brian didn’t even have time to react before it was over.
John pulled back just as quickly, horror flashing across his face like he’d shocked himself.
“Christ-” he muttered, already retreating. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I don’t know why I did that. I’m sorry.”
Brian sat frozen, the ghost of the kiss still burning on his lips. His chest felt hollow all at once, miserable at how quickly it had ended, terrified that John was already regretting it. That he was disgusted. That this was the moment everything went wrong.
John didn’t wait for a response.
“I-sorry. I’ll see you later.” he said too quickly, already standing.
And then he was gone, slipping out into the night and leaving Brian alone with the echo of his warmth and the awful certainty that nothing would feel the same again.
Brian didn’t stay at the bar much longer after that.
The noise felt too loud, the lights too bright, every sensation sharpened by the way his thoughts kept circling back to one thing, the kiss. Brief, impulsive, and already burned into him far deeper than it had any right to be. He barely remembered settling his tab, barely registered the walk back to the hotel, his mind replaying the moment over and over as if repetition might somehow make sense of it.
He told himself not to hope.
And yet, as he reached their floor, his steps slowed. A foolish part of him wondered if John would already be asleep, or worse, gone entirely, having decided the easiest solution was distance. Brian wasn’t sure which outcome he feared more.
The door to their room was unlocked.
That alone made his heart stutter.
John was there, pacing near the window, hands running through his hair in a way Brian had only ever seen when he was nervous. He turned sharply at the sound of the door opening, relief and something far more vulnerable flashing across his face.
“Bri,” John said, immediately. “I wanted to say again, I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have-”
He stopped himself, exhaling hard. Brian noticed the faint flush creeping up John’s neck, the way he refused to quite meet his eyes.
“I didn’t mean to make things awkward,” John added. “Or uncomfortable.”
Brian swallowed. He could see it now, the embarrassment, the uncertainty John was trying and failing to hide. Without really thinking about it, without giving himself time to retreat into caution, the words slipped out.
“I liked it.”
Silence fell between them, thick and charged.
John looked up at him then, properly this time. “You… what?”
“I enjoyed it,” Brian repeated, quieter now, but no less certain. His pulse thundered in his ears. “I wouldn’t want you to apologise for it.”
They stared at each other, both clearly stunned by the admission. Brian wondered if he’d just crossed an irreparable line, if this was the moment John would pull away for good.
Instead, John stepped closer.
Slow at first, like he was giving Brian every chance to stop him. Brian didn’t. He couldn’t. When John leaned in again, the kiss was nothing like the first, no hesitation this time, no shock. It was deeper, more urgent, as if he’d finally decided to stop overthinking and just act.
Brian barely had time to register it before John’s hand caught at his jacket, pulling him forward, back against the door. The world narrowed to heat and breath and the unmistakable press of closeness.
John broke away only long enough to mutter, “If you want me to stop-”
Brian shook his head, hands gripping at John’s shirt as if letting go might send him spiraling. That seemed to be all the answer John needed.
He guided Brian further into the room, movements clumsy and unpracticed but unmistakably intent, until the backs of Brian’s knees hit the edge of the bed. He stumbled, laughing softly in disbelief, and John followed him down, bracing himself above him like he wasn’t quite sure where to put his hands, or himself.
They paused there, breathless, foreheads nearly touching.
“This is happening,” John said, half to himself.
Brian smiled, heart racing. “Seems like it.”