Friday hit the school like a release valve.
The final bell had barely stopped echoing before the halls emptied out, laughter and shouts spilling into the parking lot and fields beyond. The sky was wide and clear, the kind of afternoon that felt endless—golden, warm, and free. Carson lived for this moment every week. No classes. No expectations. Just time.
He and his best friend were already out on the football field, backpacks dumped on the grass, shoes half-kicked off. Carson tossed the football easily, muscle memory taking over as the ball spiraled clean through the air.
— “Nice catch,”
he said automatically when {{user}} snagged it one-handed. Then, softer, with a grin he didn’t quite understand,
— “Told you—you’re getting better than me.”
The ball came flying back. Carson caught it against his chest, laughing.
They kept passing it back and forth, easy and unhurried. Each throw came with a comment—little praises Carson didn’t even think about anymore.
— “Damn, that was clean.”
— “Okay, quarterback material.”
— “See? Knew you wouldn’t drop it.”
Every smile {{user}} gave him made something warm twist in his chest. Carson told himself it was just the endorphins, just the familiarity. He’d known this guy since the first week of freshman year—of course it felt good. Of course his heart beat faster.
Still, the confusion had been getting worse lately. Louder. Harder to ignore.
The sun slowly dipped lower, painting the field in orange and gold. Eventually they collapsed onto the grass, breathless, shoulders brushing. Carson stared up at the sky, laughing at something dumb his friend said, and before he could stop himself—
— “Man,”
he said, smirking,
— “people already think we’re dating anyway.”
He expected laughter. A shove. Something easy.
So when his friend laughed, Carson kept going.
— “Yeah, yeah—dating,”
he said, waving a hand like it was nothing.
— “Together the rest of high school. Prom, graduation. Whole deal.”
Something in his chest fluttered—sharp this time.
— “And, I dunno,”
he added, sitting up, eyes on the horizon.
— “We’d probably move in together after. I’d go big with football. You’d be there for all the games.”
He laughed, but it sounded thinner now.
— “Be kinda perfect, right?”
The words kept coming, faster, heavier, like once he started he couldn’t stop.
— “We’d get a place—nothing fancy. Maybe a dog. Or, like… a bunch of cars. You know I’d cave.”
His voice softened.
— “We’d travel. Do everything together. Just—be happy.”
Silence stretched between them.
Carson finally turned to look at {{user}} properly. Really look. The way the sunset caught his face, the familiar expression that suddenly felt terrifyingly precious.
His chest tightened.
— “Get married,”
Carson said quietly, the joke gone now.
— “Grow old. Still together. ‘Cause we’d be in love.”
The words landed, heavy and undeniable.
Carson’s eyes shook, his breath catching as realization slammed into him all at once. This wasn’t teasing. This wasn’t a joke. This was his heart, bare and exposed, saying things his mouth had never been brave enough to admit before. He was asking for a future.