Oh my goodness, guys, your reviews are amazing! I'm kind of hyperventilating - I'm so glad you liked it! And now I'm over using exclamation marks: sure-fire way to know I'm freaking out about something. But, yeah, yay :D I love you all this much *stretches arms really wide*
I'm still off school sick, so here's chapter three, a little earlier than anticipated.
I still don't own Glee; you know what would happen if I did ;)
Jeff didn't look back as he dashed away as quickly as he could without seeming like he was running. He didn't want to see the look of shock on Nick's face change to one of horror and disgust, like he knew it would.
He didn't know what had made him say it; it had just spilled out, the words gushing from him like a waterfall. Everything had just built up and built up and built up until he'd exploded. Now he'd lost Nick forever.
He wrenched open the first door he came to and slipped inside. He was in the choir room, he realised, as he slid to the floor behind on of the sofas, shaking. He was such an idiot, but he wouldn't cry, he wouldn't.
The silence was broken by the creak of the door, and Jeff stiffened behind his sofa shelter. He held his breath, careful to be completely silent. He didn't want anyone to find him, and as long as he kept quiet, no one would. Nick was the only person who would even think to look behind the sofa (he'd been more than a little traumatised after the last Warblers' horror movie film night, and now triple-checked every potential serial killer hiding place immediately after entering a room), and why would he be in here anyway? He probably never wanted to see Jeff ever again; he wasn't going to come running after him.
A brunette head appeared around the corner of the sofa and Nick crawled round the side, shuffling to sit closer to Jeff. He was so close their sides were pressed together. Jeff tensed, but couldn't bring himself to move away. Masochist he may be, but he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity for contact with the guy he liked, even if he was about to have his heart stamped on and smashed like glass.
"Hey," Nick said softly, "you OK?"
Jeff didn't answer, but Nick caught on quickly. "Of course you're not OK, stupid question." Jeff just shrugged, not wanting to speak. This surely had to be a dream, some magical, wonderful delusion in which Nick didn't hate him, and so he couldn't speak: everyone knew you woke up if you spoke in a dream. Jeff didn't want to wake up just yet.
"Why did you run off?" Nick asked, turning to face Jeff. This was definitely a dream: Nick's brown eyes were soft and full of affection, not the disgust and dislike Jeff was expecting.
Still, just in case this wasn't a dream, he thought he ought to clarify the situation. So he assumed the most casual voice he could and said, "Um, you were listening out in the corridor, right?"
Nick frowned, looking confused. "Er, yes?"
"So you heard what I said?"
"Again," Nick said, "yes."
"So why don't you hate me?" Jeff asked, his composed façade slipping a little.
"Why would I hate you?" Nick's forehead was crumpled, his head cocked to the side as he tried to understand what Jeff was saying.
"I just told you I love you!"
"I still don't understand," Nick said, biting his lip.
"You're my best friend! I don't even know if you're gay! And even if you are, it's not like you love me back!"
Nick was silent for a moment, looking at Jeff with an odd, almost unreadable expression in his eyes. He leaned forwards, closing the gap between them, and cupped the side of Jeff's face in his hand. Jeff's breathing hitched and his heart felt like it was about to explode.
"Now, why would you think that?" Nick asked, his thumb stroking Jeff's cheekbone gently. Jeff didn't know if it was deliberate or not. "I'm very definitely gay, and I very definitely love you back. How could I not?"
Jeff swallowed, trying to articulate a response, but he couldn't seem to find the words. Nick chuckled, smiling at him.
"It was a rhetorical question, silly," he whispered, leaning even closer and pressing his lips against Jeff's.
That's when Jeff knew it couldn't be a dream: he'd dreamt about kissing Nick for a very long time, and no dream kiss could ever, ever feel that good.
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