***Trigger Warning: This chapter contains swearing, depressive thoughts, and homophobic slurs. If any of these things bother you, I suggest not reading this chapter or at least very cautiously.***

I've been invited to a party. Not just any party either. This is being thrown by someone who has not liked me. Though, I guess it was his friend who invited me and not him, but I'm still going to it.

I wait at the park in an outfit that I probably put too much effort into, hoping Ben will show up. I keep looking around then at my phone and back around for what feels like half an hour, but I'm aware that it's only been minutes. Eventually, I see Ben come into view, can't scare me this time, and I'm taken aback by his clothes. He's in black cargo shorts, which is probably the fanciest pair of bottoms he owns, and a pastel yellow shirt that looks perfect on his skin.

I run up to him, and I see his smile grow just the slightest bit wider. He looks me up and down, and I can't help but get a bubbly feeling in my stomach.

"I'm glad you came, and I'm sorry for running off on you yesterday," he says as he puts his hands around my arms, "I hope this party makes it up to you."

I look into his eyes, and I can't help but believe he's being genuine. I resist the urge to hug him, and instead, I say, "just make sure you protect me. I don't know how it'll go, me showing up."

"Don't worry, I told my friends you'd be coming with me, and they better play nice."

"My night in shining cargo shorts."

He gestures to his shorts, "I see someone noticed I dressed up for this." This causes us both to giggle, and he takes my hand. "I'll lead the way," and we're off to Max's house.

Once we arrive, the house doesn't look that hectic. It seems more like Max's parents wanted this party than Max. Or, maybe this is what these parties are like, and I was just lied to by teen movies. Either way, we step towards the door, and Ben goes in first. As soon as I step in, I feel everyone's eyes dart towards me, and I can almost see the daggers they're shooting at me. I stick closely behind Ben as he walks up to Max, who's chatting with some other sports guys. They all look at him for a second before turning their full attention towards me. I take a step back out of nervousness, and Ben can see my unease.

"Guys, you should know Sammy," Ben says with a smile, but his eyes are screaming a different emotion at them.

"Oh, we know him," Max says, his eyes still locked on me.

Ben turns to me and says, "Could you go grab me a water from the kitchen? I'm thirsty from our walk here." He points towards the kitchen, thank you, and I walk over to a room filled with people. I step around them and pick up a water for Ben. Everyone is focused on what they were paying attention to before I came in, and I feel relieved. I step back towards Ben, but before I'm in view, I hear what they're saying. I stay back because any reasonable person would eavesdrop, right?

"Why can't you guys just not be dicks to him for once?" Ben says angrily. They're discussing me.

"Why'd you have to bring the faggot along with you?" one of the guys asks in return. I feel crushed. I knew this was a bad idea, but I was so excited to have Ben want me somewhere. I should have just stayed home.

"How many times do I have to tell you to not fucking call him that!" Ben shouts, and now, other people are listening too.

"Why do you have such a problem with it? You got a crush on him or something?" this was Max's voice. I can't see Ben's face, but I can see the guys' reactions. They all look surprised, and before I can even piece together why, a guy pipes up.

"Oh my god, he fucking does!" yells the guy from earlier.

Max looks around and we lock eyes. What he says next haunts me.

“You’re just another disgusting faggot too,” his eyes locked with mine. He knows full well that was meant to anger me more than Ben. Without even thinking, I hurl the water bottle as hard as I can, and I make contact with Max’s head.

Every single set of eyes are now on me because I’m the only one who could’ve thrown that. Even Ben turns to look at me, and I feel ashamed for a second.

That is until Max yells, “fucking get the fag!” I sprint down the stairs and out of the door. I keep that pace as I reach the sidewalk, and I dash towards the park. I hear the smacking of shoes on cement behind me, and I know they’re behind me. I feel adrenaline course through me as I quicken my step.

I reach one of the fences to the park and hop over it. I’m too scared to look behind me, but I haven’t heard any noises, so I’m assuming I’m alright. I reach the one place I feel safest outside of my house. I plop down on a swing and catch my breath. Before I have time to process anything, I feel tears start falling down my face. Although I hate the fact, I can't stop sobbing. All I do is mess things up, and he's no exception. If I hadn't gone, there wouldn't have been the fight. If I didn't hang out with him, he wouldn't want to bring me to the party. If I didn't message him, he wouldn't have wanted to hang out. If I had just listen to those guys years ago, no one would be having to deal with anymore bullshit from me. The tears just keep flowing as I sit there, alone, in a park as the sun sets.

I jump one more time because of a hand I should recognize by now.

"What do you want?" I sniffle out.

He walks around and gets on his knees to look me in the eyes. "I want to see you," Ben says, "I want to see you happy again."

"Why? All I managed to do was fuck up your friendship," I blurt out as tears keep streaming.

He takes my head in his hands and wipes away the tears that fall, "those guys don't deserve my friendship."

I can't help it, and I fall off the swing and hug him tightly. I cry into his shoulder, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Oh hush, you didn't hurt me," he says as he rubs my back, "they were the ones who tried to hurt me, and they fucking failed."

"What in the world did I do to make you want to be friends with me?" I ask in between sniffling.

He gently pets my head, "you tried, you are so filled with passion to do well, and I don't think you even recognize it."

Eventually, I manage to calm down enough to let go of him. I just stare into his eyes in amazement. How can a boy being so kind to such a loser?

Once I've finally finished crying, I ask him, "what now?"

"What do you mean?"

"The night is still young, what do you want to do?"

"I have an idea."

"What?"

"This may sound crazy," he gives me a look like I wouldn't give up everything for him right now, "could I meet your parents?"

"Absolutely, my mother has been begging to meet you since I mentioned you do football," I take his hand and start leading him to my house. We walk in almost complete silence, but I think it's screaming louder than any talking could. My heart is pounding because now I'm holding his hand, and it isn't just to run away from a duck. I actually have time to grasp this feeling.

Once we reach the my house, I lead him inside to where my parents are sitting. I've dropped his hand at that point, and my mother comes running up.

I punch him in the side, and we all laugh again. My parents then let us go to my room, as they wanted to go to bed anyway, and it's not like they could stop us after they passed out. I sit on my bed, and he sits beside me.

"So, how much of the conversation did you hear between me and Max?" he asks with a concerned look on his face.

I debate how to answer him. Do I be honest and risk embarrassing him? Or, do I lie and hopefully spare his feelings? I eventually go for a third option, which is try to make a joke.

“Enough to know you suck at hiding your feelings for someone.” The joke didn’t land however, and he starts pacing nervously.

He’s rambling so fast I can’t understand him. It’s like he’s talking at the speed he texts. I get up and wrap him into a hug.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think you actually have a crush on me,” I reassure him, and it seems to work. He calms down after a minute of just standing there, and I take him back to rest on my bed. He lays back, and I watch as he almost instantly falls asleep. I guess the night took a lot out of him.

I lay down next to him, and I just stare at his peaceful expression. He even has a hint of a smile in his sleep. As I stare, his hand rests on my back because he apparently has to do that even in his sleep. He pulls me closer to him, and I can’t escape his grip, so I just lay there, feeling his breath gently hit my skin. Slowly, I start to grow sleepy too, and before I know it, I’ve fallen asleep in his arms.