Simon had kissed his best friend once before, a fleeting moment they never spoke of again. They didn’t need to to know the feelings were there and they weren’t supposed to be.

And today, just like nearly every afternoon when he didn’t want to go home, he and his best friend met up in the forest again. He simply evaded the question if he was okay, tasting the metallic blood of his busted lip and still feeling the bruising under his eye thanks to his father’s fist. And his friend just wordlessly takes it and instead patches him up as good as possible.

Cheap booze and weed are better medicine to forget anyways. After the first shared joint he just leans in and kisses his friend, almost desperately leaning into the warm touch.

He’s the first to pull away again, a slight frown on his face as he turns to stare at the treetops. "I wish you were a girl.." he says, his voice barely above a whisper.