The days pass in predictable waves, with school requirements and club activities taking precedence over anything else. Anything else, meaning feelings. For both Julian and Joaquin, this signifies that personal emotions must be left on the backburner, and any situation that might ignite them should be avoided. Thus, the unspoken mission: Never Be Alone Together is set into motion.

Sitting next to each other in class? That's fine. As long as there are enough people around and within earshot, neither would dare cross the line, make stupid decisions, or say things they don't mean.

In the club room, Joaquin exerts a lot of effort to keep himself occupied, meeting with the heads of committees, reviewing proposals, and tackling reports. Moreover, his thesis consumes most of his days, giving him little space for thoughts of Julian.

That's just a narrative he wills himself to believe. Whenever he's not wondering about which paragraph to write next, his mind floats back to him, and he aches to send just one text. Their recent exchanges have been sporadic and impersonal. And how many days has it been since they said 'hello'?

Just one would suffice. To scratch an itch.

Nevertheless, Joaquin doesn't succumb to this irrational craving. He knows all too well that one text will open the floodgates... and he's too wise to fall into that trap.

Meanwhile, Julian tends to reach out to Myka and Evan to check if they're in the room before making his entrance. With either of them present, he has a perfect excuse to breeze past Joaquin after some brief small talk.

Funnily enough, Alexander's company has become more bearable. They're still not quite the way they used to be prior to his confession, but the discomfort is much less. Much less, that Julian would rather be stuck with him than Joaquin.

Why?

Because ever since that night, Julian's been dreaming of him again, a minimum of twice a week, and these aren't the innocent kind where he's taken back to their good old days.

Instead, he's being taken to a good time, something far more intense that he wakes up with a desperate need to relieve himself, his thoughts haunted by images of him and Joaquin... doing stuff. Indescribable stuff he's never even done with anybody else!

The guilt that comes after is so crushing that he struggles to look Joaquin in the eye when they pass each other.

So, picture the horror on both their faces when Evan and Alexander take a rain check on their movie night, particularly since Joaquin's already at Julian's doorstep.

"Uh, so, Alex..."

Julian waves his phone. "Yeah. Just got his text."

Evan, sure—they can understand. He's caught the flu. But Alexander? The one who was all for celebrating the end of the term and had the nerve to volunteer Julian's dorm?

That reeks of bullshit.

"We can just cancel," Joaquin mutters. "Sorry you had to buy a new TV for this and—"

"It's not new. It's the one from my room." Julian corrects, eyeing the plastic bags Joaquin holds in both hands. "What did you get?"

"Well, Alex told me to buy chips and beer. So I did," he sighs. "It's fine. I'll just go."

Julian chews his bottom lip. Two months have elapsed since he committed that mistake, and neither has brought it up. Shouldn't they be over it by now? Their routine has been reset. Unquestionably.

"Nah," Julian says, gathering the small bits of confidence he can conjure. "Stay. We can watch a movie."

Joaquin shrinks back, his eyes flickering nervously. "Uh, are... are you sure?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be sure? You're, um, acting weird," he mumbles, leaving the door ajar so Joaquin can come in.

Reluctantly, Joaquin steps in, kicking off his shoes. The TV is perched on the desk, with two bean bags on the floor by the bed. He sets the cans of beer and chips on the center table while Julian puts a box of chicken wings and slouches onto one of the bean bags.

"Okay, what are you in the mood to watch?" Julian asks, navigating to the streaming service.

"We can watch whatever you like."

"Well, I'm a sucker for romantic comedies," he reveals, casually browsing through the movie list.

Joaquin plops down on the other bean bag. "I'm cool with that," he says, cracking open a can, the sharp fizz filling the air. "Want one? Or are you holding out on drinking?"

Julian casts a glimpse at the stash of beer Joaquin has brought and heaves a sigh. "I'll help you out. It's the last one before next term anyway."

Joaquin hands over the opened one.

"Thanks," Julian says, taking it. "What do you think of Crazy Rich Asians?"

******

"The Mahjong scene was... really something," Julian remarks as the credits roll, raising his can of beer like he's saluting to the TV screen. He takes a sip, followed by a hiccup, and he reaches over for a potato chip.

Joaquin glimpses at him, and even in the dim glow of the TV illuminating the room, he makes out the pink blush on Julian's cheeks. His movements are careless now, the crumbs littering on the floor deemed negligible, unlike earlier when he'd explicitly instructed Joaquin to watch out for them.

Joaquin's not one to judge, though. With his fifth beer in hand, he's drinking faster than usual tonight, and even he can't help the rare, easy grin that forms on his lips. "What made you think that?" he asks, swaying as he tries to sit upright but ends up leaning back and putting all his weight on the bag.

"Well, I think it kinda—hic!—showed how Rachel gave Nick up because she thought his mother meant a lot to him... And she knew she'd... drive a wedge between them. Speaks a lot about her character," Julian slurs, each word rising and falling. "I don't understand—hic!—Mahjong, the symbols and all that... but it's obvious she let Eleanor win. Like how she'd let go of Nick... by choice."

Joaquin nods weakly, Julian's explanation barely registering through his own tipsy state. "That's one... one way of looking at it."

"You choose what's next." Julian tosses him the remote, which sails past Joaquin's fumbling fingers and clatters to the floor with a muted click.

Joaquin picks up the remote, squinting at the screen. "You... up for one more?"

"Yeah. It's just... 10 PM. Why? You tired?" he shoots a glance at the plastic bag. "We still have, like... six cans left."

Joaquin snickers, licking his bottom lip. "Don't think we can..."

"Just pick a movie," Julian insists, taking another swig.

"I don't know which one... I don't watch movies," Joaquin replies, concentrating on the remote, the buttons blurring before him. His glasses are doing him no favors. "Okay, whatever... here we go." He presses a random button, breathing a sigh of relief when the next movie begins.

It starts off pretty good, with a few kisses and cheesy dialogues that get a laugh from both of them, though in reality, neither is paying much attention to what's being said.

Joaquin and Julian stare at the screen—until the scenes take a turn, getting a little too steamy, with the actors all over each other on the bed.

In spite of his hazy headspace, Julian momentarily remembers the time he had to sit through a movie his parents thought was family-friendly, keeping his face completely neutral. He chuckles out loud.

"W-What is it?"

"Just... remembered something hilarious..." Julian says with a chortle before finishing his fourth beer.

Their hopes of the scene ending soon crumble as moans saturate the room. Joaquin, half-dazed, grumbles, "Sorry... Didn't know it'd be like this."

Julian's laughter grows even more rambunctious. "It's fine... All good!" He curls into a ball and looks over at Joaquin, the bean bag creaking underneath him. "I've never kissed like that... Isn't it strange? I'm 19, and I've never—hic!—hooked up with anyone."

"You're... You're not missing out on anything. It's really not a big deal."

"I... Knew it. Not a big deal, huh?" he scoffs. "You've kissed someone, right...?"

"Mm." Joaquin meets his gaze. "Why? Want me to teach you?" he jokes, his grin wide and loose. He's definitely out of his mind.

But to Julian, it's more than just words—it's an open invitation, and a burst of hidden boldness unleashes itself. He abandons the bean bag and crawls toward Joaquin, their gazes entwined. The world around him fluctuates, and all he sees is him.

"J-Julian—?"

In a fluid and impetuous motion, Julian straddles him, breaths coming in short and shaky. Eyes anchored to Joaquin, he whispers, "You feel... too real for a dream."

Joaquin, uncertain of what's real and what's not, blinks rapidly, heat rising to his neck. "I'm... I'm not a dream...?"

"That works, too," Julian murmurs, inching closer until the tips of their noses brush. "Y-You... You can teach me. It's not a big deal... right?"

His hands cup Joaquin's cheeks, thumbs grazing his glasses. "These... might be in the way."

Joaquin's lips part, dumbfounded. The movie has now faded from view, drowned out by the thundering pulse of his heartbeat. Julian's right there. So close. Smells so good despite the liquor.

And he wants him. So damn much. He's never craved anyone as fiercely it feels like a physical wound that demands immediate healing. It's devouring him alive.

"I'm... so drunk right now," Joaquin mutters, his voice lost.

"Me, too." Julian traces the rim, repeating softly, "The glasses... are in the way."

Joaquin inhales sharply, his pants constricting as Julian presses against him. Even his subtle shifts create a friction that intensifies the heat that can no longer be shunned.

This shouldn't be happening, especially not with Julian—his childhood best friend. The boy he'd grown up with, who cushioned him in his lowest.

His constant.

But in Joaquin's inebriated condition, his sense of reason dissolves, sullied by the powerful hunger burning through him, his self-restraint withering away like Autumn leaves falling from a tree.

It would all be forgotten in the morning. What's the harm in savoring this fleeting moment? In letting the lines fade?

Just this once.

"Take them off."

Julian gives a lopsided grin as he eases off Joaquin's glasses, but before he can set it aside, Joaquin's hand curls around his neck, drawing him in for a kiss—urgent and all-consuming.

Overwhelmed, Julian lets out a moan but does not push him away, his hands unsure and floating until Joaquin seizes them, guiding them to his shoulders. He pulls back a little and murmurs, "Relax. You're... doing fine."

"It's not... sloppy?" Julian asks shyly, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

Joaquin feels his groin area harden, and Julian fidgets, his cheeks burning from the recognition of what's happening. It's a sensation he can identify—he feels the same way, too. The idea of Joaquin wanting him... it could only be a dream.

"I'll use my tongue," Joaquin states, dragging Julian's attention back to him. "Open your mouth."

Joaquin slams his lips against Julian's once more, sliding his tongue in erratically as if searching for something he's been missing all his life. His hands drop to Julian's back, his fingers finding their way to the hem of his shirt and then to his bare skin.

Julian yelps, breaking the kiss. "H-Hold on," he pants. "Wait, Joaquin."

Joaquin releases him, and his sanity finally comes crashing down on him—he just made out with Julian. A guy.

His best friend.

And at his core, he knows that if Julian didn't stop him, things would've gone further. And damn, he wants to do more.

"I'm sorry, Julian. I didn't mean for this to—"

"W-What..." Julian stutters, his eyes glossy and voice faltering. "What are we going to do now?"

******

A/N: If you're coming here from YAOM, I wouldn't be surprised if your reaction is: What? A kiss scene on Chapter 19?!?!?!