I. In spite of what you might tell everyone ever, you had your first kiss when you were were a little tired, a little tipsy, and a lot in like with your then best friend, John had both decided to go to the Winter Formal together as a joke. You got each other corsages, bought your tuxes together, did the cliche signs on the lockers. You were determined to do this thing right.

What you hadn't counted on was your best friend being so goddamn handsome in his tux. He had his hair partially tamed, his shirt a bright blue, even his tie with the smiling snowmen made him look completely stunning.

He greeted you with a big, buck-toothed grin, his eyes a bright, shining blue even behind his glasses, and you felt your heart practically beat out of your chest.

Mr. Egbert took a picture of you both, a true couple photo, and you find yourself desperately wishing John really was your boyfriend. You link arms with your pseudo date and walk him all the way to the school, walking in with your head held high because you had the cutest kid in the fucking school as your date, even if it was all pretend.

You did the shitty dance pictures with the winter-themed background, you did the slow dances, the fast dances, the square, line, triangle dances, all the dances, and by the end you were both exhausted, leaning on each other outside the gym.

You sit and talk for a while, and you try not to stare, but he's making it so goddamn then he pulls something out of his pocket and you also hadn't counted on your best friend being a rebel because damn it all if he hadn't smuggled a bottle of liquor into a school function.

You look at him wide-eyed and snatch the bottle from him. "Egbert you beautiful bastard," and you pop the top and take a big gulp, fighting the urge to spit it right back out because this shit is nasty.

He laughs at the face you make and takes a drink, making a stupider face than yours, and it's your turn to laugh.

You pass the bottle a few more times before you can't stomach anymore, and he repockets it.

Your head is spinning a little. You look at Egbert and see that he's even more beautiful than he was before, and you kiss him. You kiss that boy with everything you have. You touch his face and his hair and his chest, your fingers bunching in his jacket, and he makes a little sound that practically drives you crazy as you shove him to the ground, climbing on top of him. You can never be close enough to him, and that kills you, but you also think this moment is perfect in spite of the fact that you're drooling too much and his elbow is trapped under your ribs, but you don't care because he's kissing you back gently, and he's touching your cheek, and your face is on fire, but you don't care.

You look at him after, and his hair is mussed, his cheeks are flushed, and his breathing is heavy. But his eyes are still the bluest you've seen and you fucking love this boy. So you kiss him again, trying to drag this on as long as you can. But of course it has to end. The dance is over, it's getting late, and you walk him home, kissing him at the door before your bro can pull up and see. He gives you a nice, warm hug and kisses your cheek before heading inside, and you're so happy you could cry.

II. You're sixteen when you have your first hand job with your still best friend, John Egbert.

Reality smacks you in the face when he tells you he's moving during a sleepover movie look at him, waiting for the 'just kidding,' but it never comes.

He's moving in a week, and you know you'll never get the chance again, so you kiss him. You kiss him as long as you can and touch him everywhere you can. He melts against you and returns the kisses and touches, making those noises you love so much.

You notice that you're both naked, and you look him up and down, kissing his collarbone and touching his back, and he presses against you, his hands exploring down your stomach, brushing against your legs and purposefully avoiding the goal line.

You do the same, asking him if he's okay with what you're doing, and he nods, letting out a low moan when you finally work up the courage to wrap your fingers around his dick, moving your hand gently up and back feel him shaking, his face pressed against your shoulder as if he were embarrassed, but you know he has nothing to be embarrassed about because he's beautiful.

His whole body is so damn beautiful, and you would be jealous if it weren't for the fact that you're the one who gets to touch him. And you do touch him, you touch him softly and with purpose and practically cum just from listening to the sounds he's making.

He's none too quiet in bed, and that makes you happy because the sounds are probably your favorite part of the whole experience.

You keep up the pace and John nips at your ear lobe, moaning against it quietly, and that was definitely your name you just heard. Fuck if that wasn't the hottest thing ever.

He keeps up the noises, laying back against the bed, and you take the opportunity to explore his body, your hand never leaving his dick.

He tilts his head back, exposing his throat, and you lean down to claim it with your lips. You can feel the muscles in his stomach tensing up, so you pick up the pace, watching his face and listening to the mumbled curses spilling from his lips.

He cums without warning, a loud cry tearing from his throat, and you thank every deity you can think of that his dad isn't home because he surely would have heard that and come up to find you deflowering his only son.

John looks at you, his pupils dilated and his cheeks red, his chest heaving, and he's even more beautiful than he was the night you kissed him for the first time. You kiss him gently, wondering how he keeps getting even more beautiful every time you see him, and your heart soars when he kisses back just as gently, his hand cupping your cheek.

He rolls you onto your back, taking his place next to you so you can have your turn, and you're suddenly embarrassed. Your body is stretched out, every inch visible to him, and you feel so inferior. Where his body is golden and muscled and smooth, yours is all jagged edges, blemishes, and freckles.

He doesn't seem to notice though. He presses kisses over your chest and neck, his fingers roaming over your stomach and ribs. He laughs when you push his hands away, protesting ("that fuckin tickles, egbert"), and he kisses you gently as he touches you for the first time.

You try to calm yourself down a little so you don't cum in the first five seconds like a douche, but the way John is breathing into your ear and pressing hot kisses all over your body only serves to rile you up more.

You end up holding out for a full minute before you're calling his name and spilling all over his hand, and he kisses you hard, his body pressed full against yours, and you wish this night would never end, but of course it has to. His dad comes home the next morning, and you can't stay another night because it's a school night, but you kiss him about twenty or thirty times at the door before heading home.

You say goodbye to him a week later outside his now empty house, hugging him tight and sneaking about forty or fifty kisses when his dad isn't looking. He promises you he'll write you all the time, and you tell him "just get on pesterchum, dumpass," and he laughs even though he looks like he wants to cry. He's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

You watch the car disappear down the street and you blow him about sixty or seventy kisses before going home, your heart heavy.

III. You're eighteen when you officially lose your virginity to your college room mate, John Egbert.

You keep in contact the entire two years you're apart, skyping occasionally, texting constantly, and talking on the phone every night you can. You're even more in love with him than you were when you were fifteen. And you swear, he's gotten even more beautiful with each picture you receive.

You both make plans to apply to the same college, requesting each other as roommates right off the bat, and damn it all if you aren't as excited as a kid going to Disney World for the first time.

But then move in day comes, and you feel like you're going to barf up everything you've ever eaten because you get to see John Egbert, your long time love, for the first time in years. You're suddenly self-conscious, wishing you would've spent more time on your hair and picking an outfit, but then you hear a loud thump from behind you and turn only to be barreled over by a boy larger than yourself.

It turns out you were right. He is infinite times more attractive now than he was then, and you kiss him about a hundred times, whispering "i missed you" against his lips over and over and over.

You spend the rest of the day with the door locked and the curtains drawn, kissing and pawing at each other under the covers. Neither of you care that nothing has been unpacked because frankly, that shit can wait.

You both end up naked and curled around each other, touching and exploring and kissing everywhere. You kiss his cheek and look him in the eyes, brushing his hair back. "I love you," and he freezes.

You realize about twenty seconds too late what you just said, and you stare, waiting for a reaction.

He doesn't say anything, just throws himself on you and kisses you with everything he has, and you know that he loves you back without him having to say a word.

He leans over the bed after leaving you breathless, coming back with a little bag, and damn it all if Egbert isn't always prepared for any situation.

You decide that you want to be on the receiving end, mostly because John is really scared, and you just want him to be comfortable.

He asks you if you're okay every twenty seconds as he prepares you just like you show him, and you nod every time, rubbing circles on his arms.

He enters you slow, and it fucking hurts, but he kisses your back and rubs your sides gently, and you fucking melt because goddamn do you love this boy.

Your bodies move together perfectly, even if it is a little clumsy and fumbling, and John apologizes every time he thinks he makes a mistake, but you're too blissed out to even care.

He cums inside you, and his moans send you tumbling over the edge, collapsing against the bed in a sweaty heap.

He joins you not long after, cleaning you up with his discarded shirt, and if that's not true love, you don't know what is.

You lay there in the dark, cuddled up together, and you've almost fallen asleep when you hear a quiet "i love you" whispered in the dark.

You turn to face your then best friend, still best friend, long time lover, John Egbert, and you kiss him about two hundred times.

"I love you too, Egbert."