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“Is there anything else you wanna know?”
“Is there anything else you wanna tell me?”
“Yeah. Is… there anything you wanna tell me?”
“Yes.”
It’s cool in the December air, but the fire keeps the chill away.
Everyone else standing around in the backyard has long since cleared out, and so the only sound left in the spaces between their conversation is the crackle of fire. Dimly, Cyrus wonders if there was ever a version in his head that went like this. He can’t seem to think of one, though.
No matter how he could’ve possibly dreamt it playing out, nothing ever goes the way they are expected to.
Because he definitely doesn’t expect to see TJ’s fingers inching towards his own.
His eyes flick down towards TJ’s hand and back up to his eyes, shifting blue into green into blue. TJ stares straight back at him. There is no backing down.
The flames hiss and jump around them. The world holds its breath.
For all the cowardice that shakes within him, for every reverberating beat of his heart and red flush in his cheeks, Cyrus finds that he feels calm in this moment. Ready, almost. It’s easy for his thoughts to circle endlessly and for new ones to pop up: nerves and worry and an overall jumpiness that his friends would chuckle at fondly. Yet right now…
He makes no move to quiet the chatter in his brain, but somehow it dies down anyway. Thelonius Jagger. The words slip and slide around his mind like he’s rolling them around his tongue. It fits, somehow.
For the guy whose big, bad exterior turned out to be an eggshell, it’s only right that a tough-sounding name like TJ would reveal itself to be just as unconventional on the inside.
And oh, how unconventional he is.
Cyrus doesn’t like stereotypes— makes it a personal rule to avoid them as much as possible, but he can’t help but feel that he himself is one. The quirky gay kid who’s hopelessly allergic to athletics and has two very strong girl best friends? If that’s not the start of a cheesy rom-com then he doesn’t know what is.
TJ, however, can’t seem to be put together like that. Cyrus knows, he’s tried to stick all the puzzle pieces together before. But it never ends up happening the way the jigsaws do when he does them with Amber on quiet afternoons in the office of his house. Cyrus always ends up finding another piece to the TJ puzzle hidden under the table, a piece whose place is a mystery.
But TJ isn't a mystery. TJ is warm and kind. TJ is bubbly once you draw it out of him, quiet when he’s thinking, always apologetic, even if the words sometimes get stuck in his throat. TJ is taller than him, but when they stand together, Cyrus can’t help but feel like he's at eye-level.
TJ can be difficult sometimes, but... he meets Cyrus halfway.
Their hands clasp.
It’s not like the movies. Cyrus doesn’t feel an electricity run through his veins or a jolt when their fingers touch.
He feels warm. It’s not just the fire, or their bulky jackets, or even TJ’s palm on his. It’s something that spreads from his chest all the way down to the tips of his toes, something like his heart spilling over into his blood and making it run with happiness.
Maybe this is what all the confusion, the frustration, the late nights wondering about what kind of person he was turning out to be— maybe this is what it was for.
And even if not, it certainly makes it all worth it.
TJ is looking at him with a smile. Cyrus can’t help but grin back.
They laugh, and it’s music that fits in perfectly with the crackle pop! of the campfire.
And it’s always been some sort of compromise between the two of them, and since TJ’s been doing some of the heavy lifting up till now, Cyrus decides to take over. He’s more than willing, after all.
Cyrus uses their entangled fingers to pull himself closer to TJ. Their knees are knocking, now, and he leans his head on TJ’s shoulder. TJ’s ears are cold.
“TJ,” Cyrus starts.
“Yeah, Cyrus?”
“I’m gay.”
Cyrus feels the boy stiffen, breath going shallow. He almost smiles, having anticipated this.
“You don’t have to say anything back,” he assures the other boy quietly. “I just… wanted you to know. You’re my friend, and all my other friends know, after all.”
“I…”
Cyrus sits up suddenly. Squeezes TJ’s hand. The boy looks nervous. Cyrus aches to ease his worry. “You don’t have to give me any response."
"Cyrus..." TJ starts.
"Seriously, TJ," he says with a smile. "I know it takes time to think things through. Maybe… maybe someday I’d be interested in knowing but only because I want to know more about you, you know,” he continues, nudging TJ’s shoulder with his own, “because you’re so mysterious.”
TJ seems to release the breath he was holding. He rolls his eyes, the ghost of a grin on his lips. “I’m not mysterious.”
“Um, yes you are.”
“No, I’m not!”
“Come on, I learned, like, five new things about you just tonight. And we’ve been friends for how long?”
TJ gives him a slow, sugar-sweet smile. “Well then, I guess you’ll just have to stick around longer to learn everything else.”
Cyrus freezes. “Oh, my God.”
TJ blinks. “What?”
“Did you just… flirt with me?”
TJ reddens. His ears nearly catch fire. “W-What? I did not!”
Cyrus shrieks in glee. “You totally did! Don’t even try to deny it! Oh my God, I can’t believe that TJ Kippen just flirted with me. What happened to scary basketball guy?”
TJ’s cheeks are still flushed, but he takes a breath. “I guess he met you.”
Now it’s Cyrus’ turn to bury his head in his hands. “TJ,” he whines, blushing through his fingers. His heart is pounding.
“You can’t just do that!”
“I can, and I did,” TJ says with a laugh.
Back inside the house, Cyrus can hear Buffy calling his name. “We should go,” Cyrus says, getting up.
But TJ doesn’t get up along with him. They stand like that for a moment, holding hands in the air, Cyrus looking down and TJ looking up.
“Thanks,” TJ murmurs. “For… for everything. For believing in me. For caring about me. For being my friend.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t really know… anything,” he says with a nervous laugh. “I don’t really know anything, but I do know that I like you, Cyrus Goodman.”
TJ isn’t even looking at him at this point, just staring at his shoes with a passion, and Cyrus giggles.
“Thank you too,” he responds. “For sticking around, for helping me, for caring about me, too.”
His voice softens. “I…”
He looks up. Buffy is standing at the patio door, and through the glass, she gives him a gentle smile before turning away.
“I like you, TJ Kippen. Probably more than I should.”
TJ smiles, slowly. It takes up nearly his whole face, and is so bright that it puts the fire to shame. Cyrus wants to bask in it forever, wants it to blind him a thousand times over, wants to never need the sun again.
“We really should go now,” Cyrus says with another laugh, and pulls him up.
They give their hands another squeeze before letting go, and strangely enough, Cyrus doesn’t feel empty without it. He feels okay. He feels like tomorrow can't come fast enough because he needs another excuse to see the boy again, another day and another infinite amount of memories waiting to be made.
“My mom’s probably wondering where I am,” TJ admits. “I’m gonna walk home, but… I’ll see you?”
Cyrus' eyes shine. "See you."
TJ doesn’t look back, but...
He doesn’t need to.
(As they’re leaving the party, Buffy catches up to him. Andi and Jonah are still saying goodbye, and it’s just him, her, and the cool night air.
“So,” Buffy starts. “You and TJ?”
Cyrus gives her a grin. “Yeah, things worked out.”
Buffy beams. “Cyrus! I’m so happy for you.” Her eyes hold nothing but warmth. “Really, Cyrus. I just…” She puts an arm around his shoulders and he immediately puts his around her waist. Clockwork.
“I’m so glad everything turned out all right,” she finishes. Cyrus doesn’t respond. She nudges him with a shoulder. “Whatcha thinking about?”
“I wonder if I’d have to stand on my tiptoes to put my arm around TJ’s shoulders,” Cyrus muses. “I wonder if I’d have to stand on my tiptoes to kiss him.”
Cyrus blinks.
“Oh my God, did I just say that?”
Buffy bursts into laughter.
“Oh my God, I just said that. Oh God, oh God, please erase that from your brain, just, like— erase. Gone. Poof!”
Buffy keeps laughing.
“Hold on—” Cyrus starts. He peers into Buffy’s face, ignoring her efforts to turn away. “Are you blushing? Why is your face turning red? Wait… did something happen between you and Marty?
The laughter turns shrill.
“Hold on a second— wait, did you and Marty kiss? Buffy? Buffy! ”)