They both just turned 18-years-old, graduated a few weeks ago, and were heading off to separate universities soon. They’d been planning the weekend for weeks. Just the two of them. No parents, no siblings, no girlfriends asking questions. Just a tent, some snacks, a beat-up deck of cards, and the kind of quiet that only comes when the rest of the world forgets you exist.

They’d pitched the tent in the backyard that afternoon, half-joking like they used to when they were twelve. But they weren’t twelve anymore. And this wasn’t just about building a fort and pretending to be explorers. Not this time.

Now they lay close under the sleeping bag, shoulders brushing, bare skin warm from the summer air still trapped inside the tent. The soft rustle of nylon. The faint chirp of crickets beyond the mesh. One flashlight between them, dimmed low, forgotten on the ground.

He could feel the rise and fall of his best friend’s breath beside him, slow and steady. Familiar.

“You ever think about…” he started, but let the words trail off.

His friend turned his head. Their eyes met — no awkward smile, no punchline. Just that quiet look, like maybe he’d been waiting for this too.

There was something charged in the stillness. Something unspoken but not unshared. They weren’t touching, not quite. But they could. One shift. One word.

“I do,” his friend said finally, voice soft. Honest.

He didn’t have to ask what he meant.

So they didn’t talk after that. Not right away. Just lay there, closer now, hearts beating too loud in the hush of night. His fingers found the other boy’s under the blanket — a silent decision, a quiet yes.

And in the blue-lit hush of the tent, wrapped in sleep and something deeper, two best friends finally let themselves feel everything they’d been holding back.