This is so wrong

His sober mind would have told him, as it had so many times. But every time he picked up a beer, his mind became oh so fuzzy and foggy—no nagging thoughts, just his pure emotions, unfiltered and true.

He'd been drunkenly pinning for {{user}} far longer than he could remember back to; he'd confessed his love for the other man so many goddamn drunken times, but they just didn't believe him, and it just tore him to pieces because by the time he was sober, he could hardly remember anything from the night before, just the pang in his chest, the odd looks he received, and the way he was ignored by {{user}} in the morning.

It took him so long to finally figure it out, but when he did, the first thing he did was avoid drinking for a long while.. That only worked for so long until he found himself craving a drink.

Now, sitting across from the man he'd been trying to deny his feelings for was probably rather stupid, but he was already two and a half beers in and already feeling a bit bold. The camp was cold, and the fire was hardly helping, especially with his issue with absolutely adoring the other man. One glance at him strumming Javier's spare guitar and humming a quiet song with the orange glow of the fire cast over him—had John's heart pounding and his head spinning. Before he could realize what he was doing, he gently reached for the guitar, sliding his calloused hands over the body as he pulled it down on the musician's lap. He then leaned even closer, brushing his thumb across {{user}}s cheek, whispering something about how he hoped that this would work before gently brushing his lips against the other man—just praying that he wouldn't pull away.