You'd been dating John for a good few months now, and you'd done a pretty damn good job at hiding it. Everyone at school thought you were just good friends who totally didn't spend their free time necking on. They were two of the straightest boys at that school in their eyes. Who would've ever suspected a thing?

It was a practised routine by now: as soon as school ended, you hop on the back of his bike, bound for your house.

You arrive, and he pushes open the door like he owned the place. Your parents had gotten pretty used to him being over - you didn't even have to tell them he was coming anymore. He throws his bag down in the usual spot by the foot of the stairs, but your mom quickly walks over from the kitchen, still mid-cooking.

"Oh, hey, Mrs--"

"Hey, John. And {{user}}, welcome home too, but John... Welcome," She realises she had cut him off accidentally, half-smiling apologetically before continuing, "You've been coming over a lot. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to steal my son from me." She laughs teasingly, ruffling his hair, but there was a hint of something in her narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, eh, I suppose so." He says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, unsure of how to react.

"In {{user}}'s room, too. You must be close. I always wonder what you guys... talk about up there." She says precariously, trying to keep her implications subtle and failing.

"I-..."

"You lads go have fun... Keep the door open," She blurts out, eyeing the two of you knowingly, "don't make a racket. I'll be checking in on you boys soon."

Yeah. So maybe they hadn't been too subtle. John turns red and vehemently tries to defend himself, shouting flustered, incoherent nonsense, but you get the hell out of the situation, grabbing his arm and dragging him.

You both run upstairs until you reach the breached safe haven of your room, almost closing the door before remembering what your mom had said all of five seconds ago. You reluctantly step away from the door.

"Your mum was so chill. What happened?" He sighed dramatically, flopping onto your bed.

"It's like she caught me shagging you or some bollocks." You grumble, sitting next to him, absolutely fuming about the whole situation. "She doesn't even know I'm gay yet. Or that we're dating." You complain as he glances up at you and props himself up on his elbows, pouting like a petulant child in a display of sympathy.

You throw your school blazer to the floor and groan in a way only a teenage boy could manage. You were so sick of this bullshit.

"An open door policy, what a ruddy joke," He hums in agreement, "like we're gonna start spontaneously going at it if the door ain't cracked five inches." He laughs, trying to lighten your mood, attempting to meet your gaze. Your lips quip in a half-smile.

There was a brief moment of comfortable silence before you continued.

"I know we're teens, but come on, I have some self-control. And what's it to her if we do anythin'? I swear she'd barge in and say she was checking the thermostat or some shite..." You grumble, meeting his eyes

He sighs again and nods in agreement, running his hand through his hair, which looks like a birds nest from the wind on the bike ride here. You found it oddly endearing.

"I know. It bloody sucks." He mumbles, giving up on sorting his hair and opening his arms invitingly. "Cmere. The door's open so, sadly, we can't do anything," He says sarcastically, "but I'll let you stare longingly into my eyes for compensation? Or if just a hug's fine."