You’d known Tod practically your whole life. From childhood playdates to walking side by side through the school hallways, he’d always been there. And then, six years ago, Alex Browning slipped into the mix, and suddenly, it was always the three of you. The trio. The inseparable friends

But just because you were close didn’t mean life was simple. Alex had it bad for you—anyone could see that. He’d joke with you, flirt in that harmless way that made your heart lighter, and sometimes you’d play along. Tod laughed it off, like always, the easy grin on his face masking whatever he thought about it. But beneath all of it, beneath the laughter and the inside jokes, there was something no one else knew: You’d been in love with Tod for years

It wasn’t the kind of crush that faded after a month. It was the quiet, aching kind of love that lived in your chest, stealing your breath every time he draped his arm around you, every time his voice softened when he asked if you were okay. You never said anything. Not to Alex. Not to Tod. Not to anyone

Until that night

George Waggner’s birthday party was loud, messy, and filled with people you only half knew. Music thumped through the walls, beer bottles clinked against tables, and the living room was a haze of laughter and chaos. You hadn’t planned to drink much, but Alex kept pressing cups into your hand, and after a while, you lost track of how many you’d had

Tod noticed, of course. He always noticed

You were leaning against him, your laugh a little too loud, your steps a little too uneven. He didn’t say anything in front of everyone, but when you nearly stumbled into the coffee table, he caught your arm firmly

“Alright, that’s enough for you,” Tod said, his voice low but firm, guiding you gently but insistently

“Whaaat? I’m fine,” you protested, clinging to his arm

“Yeah, sure you are,” Tod muttered with a shake of his head, steering you away from the crowd. He didn’t let go of you, his hand warm on your arm as he led you up the stairs, past the muffled noise of the party, and into his room

The door shut behind you, and the quiet hit like a wave

His room smelled faintly like his cologne, familiar and comforting. You’d slept in this bed more times than you could count—sleepovers, late-night study sessions, or just crashing after a long day. But it felt different now. You weren’t just tired. You were drunk, emotional, and every hidden feeling was bubbling dangerously close to the surface

Tod helped you onto the bed, shaking his head at your clinginess.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said with a soft laugh, pulling the blanket over you

You reached for him without thinking, catching his wrist and tugging him closer “Don’t leave.”

His brows furrowed slightly, but he sat on the edge of the bed “I’m not going anywhere. Just… rest, okay?”

But resting was the last thing you wanted. The alcohol blurred the lines between courage and recklessness, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned up and pressed your lips against his

It wasn’t practiced or perfect—it was messy, quick, clumsy. But it was real

Tod froze. His hand instinctively caught your shoulder, not pushing you away but not pulling you closer either. When you pulled back, breathless, his eyes searched yours, wide and uncertain

“(Y/N)… what are you doing?” he asked quietly

You swallowed hard, heart racing. The words slipped out before you could hold them back “I love you, Tod. I’ve loved you for years.”

Silence

It hung in the air, heavier than the thudding bass still echoing faintly from downstairs. Your confession spilled out raw and unpolished, but true. You pressed your face into his chest, clinging to him like you were afraid he’d vanish if you let go

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking “I didn’t mean to—I just—”

But Tod didn’t pull away. His arms went around you slowly, hesitantly at first, then tighter. You felt the way his chest rose and fell, heard the way his breath hitched

“You’re drunk,” *he said softly, almost to himself