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Like every night that summer, Dylan Sharp escaped through his bedroom window as soon as the sun set on the horizon.
Yes, it was troublesome, no matter how much he enjoyed the jolt of adrenaline that came with the whole escaping and descending from the second floor. He knew his aunt would berate him… If she managed to catch him, that’s it. Luckily, he could count on her sleep pills to handle that particular job for him.
Nonetheless, the situation was far from ideal, but Dylan made out with what he got. He needed to-
He just needed to get out.
He was currently spending the summer in a quiet coastal town with one of his aunts and his little cousins. That might sound nice at first glance, but in reality, it was not as pleasant as one could imagine. At all.
Because Dylan Sharp had a problem.
“Dylan” was not exactly the name on his birth certificate, nor in his other legal documents. Not yet, at least. And if his family had something to say on the matter, it would never be.
He had been born a woman, yes, but he had never really felt like one. He had come to terms with his identity months ago, but his family still refused to even acknowledge the memo. They had made such a fuss when he cut his hair that you would think he had committed murder. Well, in a way, he did, but it wasn't as if the person had passed away; he had just become a more genuine version of himself.
Still, most of his family was in denial, and in fact, this whole “summer vacation” was nothing but a ploy to keep him apart from the “bad influence” of his brother. For all his faults, Jaspert was the only one in the family who supported him on this, and the only one who respected his name and his pronouns, so their Ma took it against him too.
And so, she and their aunties had kept his brother home, painting their house, while sending Dylan here, probably aiming for the same goal as always: for him to stop his “butch” tendencies and to finally become a “proper lass”.
Needless to say, that would not be happening anytime soon. Dylan would not give up. He would not sacrifice his own identity just to please his family, no matter if his life would be easier that way. His Ma may be stubborn, but he could be worse.
They had sent him with a bag full of girly dresses and horrid bikinis that his mother had bought for him, as if to encourage him to get out and go to the beach. Instead, he kept himself inside the house almost all day, in the pants he came with and the three t-shirts he managed to sneak into the bag (one of them was technically his pajamas, but who cared at this point). Yes, the outfits weren’t exactly refreshing, and it was too hot outside to go out most of the time, but he refused to give up on this fight.
After all, the trick was to keep punching, no matter what.
So in short, these months would have been nothing but plain torture, if it weren’t for-
Dylan finally reached the 24-hour store around the corner and raised his eyes. He was waiting by the vending machine outside, head low as he nonchalantly checked his phone, or at least feigned to do so. The cool light of the screen reflected on his face, making his handsome features stand out against the darkness of the night, giving him an unreal, dream-like aura.
Or maybe that was just his stupid heart playing tricks on his mind again.
“Stop pretending to be busy,” Dylan joked as a greeting. “I’m here.”
His lips raised in a boyish grin even before those precious eyes found his, and just like every night, Dylan's heart skipped a beat.
Yes. These two months would have been nothing short of hell if it hadn’t been for Alek.
They met on Alek’s first day in town. Dylan had been running some errands for his aunt, and the boy had approached him to ask for directions. He usually wasn’t that nice to strangers, but there was something in the appearance of this particular one that called out to him. Maybe it was his manners, so flawless you were obliged to feel a little fluttered when being at the receiving end. Maybe it was his clumsy naivety, for he didn't appear to even know what he was doing.
Or maybe it had been those beautiful green eyes.
From the very first moment, he had noticed: Alek might have wanted to pass as just another tourist, but he was just too inexperienced, too well-mannered, too alone to blend in. Dylan had felt compelled to help him, to keep him company, lest someone take advantage of that innocence.
In hindsight, perhaps he was the one taking advantage of it, even to this night.
They had formed a fast friendship, to the point that, by now, they spent every evening together, taking a walk through town, enjoying the little attractions people set up during the summer (Dylan still couldn’t believe the boy had never gone to things like an arcade or a fair before), or just sitting on the beach, gazing at the dark sea and the bright stars above, talking. Talking for hours about everything and nothing; about them, but not really. Dylan hadn’t exactly told him about his problems with his family, and Alek…
Well, he hadn’t been straightforward about his story either, but Dylan had caught the clues. Rich background, sheltered and traditional upbringing, high expectations, some sort of ongoing family drama, searching for his own place in the world…
(And sadness, hidden in those dark eyes. Solitude deep-set in his bones. The fake cheer of someone who was running away from pain.)
Dylan didn’t know exactly what it was, but he wanted to solve it. To help him.
To make him smile.
So he tried every night, every night harder than the last. And he did it, and Alek smiled with him, and it made his heart feel like flying.
And then Dylan realized he was in trouble. Because he had fallen in love with him.
(When he had realized his true identity, when he had chosen his new name, Dylan hadn't given a thought to these topics. He just wanted to be himself, whatever that came to mean. He figured he would discover it eventually. Perhaps he would never fancy anyone, and that would be ok, too.)
But he had gone through that particular breakdown already, during his long days of sulking inside the house and rotting on the sofa. Liking Alek was good and all… but it was doomed from the beginning.
First of all, they didn’t exactly know each other, not really. For all he knew, Dylan might be just another complication on whatever drama Alek carried on his back, and that was without even taking into consideration Dylan’s own situation. And that was the other, more important concern-
What would Alek even think of it?
He could get it: going by what he had shared with him, Dylan understood his upbringing had been… less lenient than his, more controlled, cloistered, even. That was at least part of what made him so special to Dylan. So innocent. So eager to learn. So free of the judgment he faced every day. Around him, he could be just himself, unapologetically just a boy, with no shaming and no scornful stares. He could curse, laugh loudly, all the things he was denied every day.
Alek was that special place where he could be himself, the boy he had always wanted to be, and not the failed project of a daughter his mother was ashamed of.
But what would he think if he knew?
He had been raised in such a conservative environment. What hopes did Dylan even have for him to accept his identity? And even then, would Alek accept the feelings of someone whose whole existence didn’t even register in his book?
No. He may as well think he was an abomination.
Yes, he was afraid. Usually fearless Dylan Sharp was afraid, of rejection, of losing him. Afraid of losing this, however new and fragile and shapeless it was, this bond between them. Could anybody blame him? His own family refused to support him. What could he expect from the rest of the world?
And for that reason, Dylan had kept his feelings hidden, night after night, because anything was better than Alek disappearing entirely from his life, even if it was pointless in the end. Soon enough, this summer would end, and both of them would have to go back to their normal lives, distant lives that would never cross again; like waking up from a dream, too good to be real.
But the fact that he would soon lose this precious haven only made him treasure it more. If it were for one more night with him, he didn’t mind that his heart would bleed afterward. After all, hanging out with Alek, just being with him, made Dylan happy. Ecstatic, even. Twilights and nights with him, alone together in front of the dark sea and under the countless stars, only the lullaby of the waves and his serene voice as company…
It all made him feel free, like a bird flying, soaring in the sky.
A heaven so fragile it might break at any point.
This sweet, painful feeling had sprouted and grown in his chest until it was almost too much to hide. Melancholic longing that would never be fulfilled, because he would never allow himself to indulge in those beautiful, unattainable illusions. He knew he had to stop with this- whatever this was. Even if he knew he had to let Alek go, even if he knew he would be the one getting hurt in the long run, he couldn’t bring himself to do so.
Just one night. Just one more time. Just let him see his smile once more.
And so, this painful pleasure he repeated night after night, the sweet, forbidden taste he shouldn’t get addicted to.
(Even if it was already too late.)
That day, Dylan didn’t wait until the sun set before escaping from the house. The more time he had to search for a hideout, the better.
He didn’t want to be found, not tonight.
It was the last night of the summer, and tomorrow morning, he would have to take the bus back home, and he would never see him again. Everything would go back to what it was before: Alek with his life, and he with his own: the same city, the same old routine, the same endless fights with his Ma.
He had been fine with them before.
… Then why were his eyes burning so hard?
He ended up hiding in a parking lot, behind a car he was sure had been abandoned long before he came into the town. They had never gone into this place, but at least the sea and the sky were visible, and the fact gave Dylan the littlest of comforts. It was the same scenery of this dream-like yet merciless summer that would live in his heart for the rest of his life.
The truth was that he didn’t feel strong enough to say goodbye, not without giving himself away. And that might not be that bad, for Alek’s rejection would make the separation easier, but the most stupidly sentimental part of Dylan wanted to preserve the memories of their time together without heartbreak spoiling them.
Also, he could just stop fighting against his tears that way.
It was foolish, really. Real boys weren’t supposed to cry, but here he was, weeping like a useless ninny. He knew he was the one who had chosen this outcome, every time he snuck out through the garden’s gate, every time he kept silent about his identity and his feelings. It was a wound he had inflicted on himself, he knew that… but at least nobody would judge him if he suffered through it alone, right?
That was what he had thought. That was why he was here.
And yet-
“I finally found you-! Wait. Are you ok?”
It was that gentle, sweet voice. After these weeks, he would recognize it anywhere.
It seemed his hiding place had not been that good after all.
Alek was right in front of him, probably for the last time in their lives, and yet, he didn’t dare to look past his fancy sneakers. He didn’t want to see him. Dylan didn’t want him to see him crying.
But it seemed not even that would go this way.
“I-”
He stopped. He didn’t trust his voice not to break.
“I’m fine.”
“That’s a lie if I ever have seen one,” Alek said, a severe note in his voice. Then it went softer again, almost pleading. “Please, look at me.”
And it wasn’t as if Dylan was strong enough not to comply if he asked like that. He steeled himself and held his face in his hands for a moment, forcing his eyes to stop the useless crying, before finally looking at him.
His silhouette was cut against the expanse of the vast sky, barely drawn out by the moonlight: a picture in cold blue hues, like an illusion, a fleeting dream he would soon wake up from. He seemed worried, a frown on his brow, and dark green eyes fixed on him.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Alek asked, a tentative smile on his lips, and Dylan hated how easily he could disarm him with his kind consideration.
It was just another point of the long list of things he loved about him.
“I just-” he tried again, and it came out as half sigh, half sob. Pathetic. He just would not be able to talk normally tonight, would he?
Ah, fuck it.
“I don’t want to keep lying to you…”
The words were out of Dylan’s mouth before he realized their implications, but he was fine with it, he suddenly discovered. This was their last night, and Alek had already seen him at his worst. What else did he have to lose?
And so, he spilled everything. Everything about his background, his identity, his fights with his family. Everything.
“And I love you,” he concluded, almost running out of breath, not caring if his voice broke or the tears spilled again. Even if he knew it would end badly, it felt good to finally admit it, like taking a weight off his shoulder. “Ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?”
He opened the eyes he had closed at some point, but kept his gaze stuck on the ground. Same as before, he didn’t want to see his reaction. He didn’t want his last image of Alek to be one of disgust.
He hadn't said a single word.
“It’s ok,” Dylan muttered, regaining control of his voice as agitation gave way to exhaustion and resignation. “You can run if you want. I get it.”
More silence. Any moment, he would hear his steps getting away from him, Dylan knew, and that would be it, the end of this pointless summer crush.
“... Well, it seems we have a problem then,” Alek finally whispered. And then-
Then he crunched down in front of him, and dark green eyes looked up in search of his gaze. They burned with a wild intensity that Dylan had never seen on them before, making his heart beat faster. It was foolish, but it was also tempting, so tempting, to just allow himself to hope.
And then he smiled, the wide, cheeky smile of a devil, offering the forbidden fruit.
“Because I don’t think I’ll run away from you, Dylan Sharp,” he continued, slow, deliberate words that echoed loudly in his ears. “I don’t want to.”
… What?
It seemed he had actually said that out loud, because the boy in front of him chuckled softly.
“I’ve fallen in love with you too, you ninny. And maybe I’m the one who’s crazy, because it doesn’t matter if you feel like a boy or a girl. Not to me. Ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?”
The way his brows raised was so infuriating that Dylan felt the mighty impulse of hitting him or kissing him, anything to erase that smug smirk of his pretty face.
He took the second option.