- 1986.

Tired and irritable, I knock on the door of my good friend, George's home. It's currently 11:30PM, but he decided I simply must come over and see him at this ungodly hour — for a reason unknown to me. In fact, all he told me over the phone was that he needed somebody to talk to.

After a few moments, the door opens, revealing a very antsy, anxious-looking George. "Hi," he greets me; he widens the gap in the door, allowing me inside. "Come in. Come in."

"What's the big deal, George?" I interrogate softly, not wanting to upset him too much with my own frustration. "It's almost midnight. Couldn't this have waited until tomorrow, at least?"

"I can't sleep at night," he admits; upon second glance, the puffiness of his eyes is more noticeable — as are the dark circles. "I can't eat. I'm jittery. And it's just so silly of me."

Concern takes over any other emotion I could be feeling right now; after all, a friend in need comes before my trivial complaints about my bed time. "Hey, George ... what's caused all this? Are you alright? Talk to me." My arm extends, and my hand rubs against his elbow comfortingly. "You know you can talk to me about anything."

"That's why I asked you to come here at such a stupid time," he explains, shaking his head at himself. "I can't bear going another night without sleeping because of this."

"Because of what? What's the problem?" My brows furrow sadly, as I lead him to the sofa in the living room; my hands push him gently lower, so that he sits. "Come on — talk to me."

He gives me the smallest smile, at my parental attitude. "You know, you're ridiculous."

"That's what I'm here for," I remind him. "To be ridiculous."

"Alright." He heaves a prolonged sigh, to expel at least some of the pent-up feelings he's locking up inside. "You know, I didn't want to tell you about this ... because it's embarrassing. And because I thought I could just coast through life without ever needing to address it."

"You're doing a lot of vague implications without actually telling me what's going on," I chuckle, playfully slapping him upside the head. "Get to the point, Panayiotou."

He nods, knowing he's dragging this along more than even he can deem as being necessary. "Sorry. I'm just so scared to tell you. But, uh ... " His eyes avert down to the floor below him; when he looks back at me again, he also takes my hands in his. "Listen. This is the most nervous I've ever been about saying anything to anybody. So please don't laugh at me, or view me any differently."

"I promise," I assure him gently. "We're best friends."

His tongue slides across his lips, to rid the dryness that has accumulated. "Okay. So, I guess this started about a year ago. When we spent the whole of last summer together, and we had no obligations or anything. And it felt so wonderful ... having the undivided attention from someone." His expression is somewhat unreadable, as he continues. "But as time went on, I realised I would only want that undivided attention from you specifically. I guess you could say, I had a silly puppy crush on you."

"Aw," I mutter, flattered.

"I'm not done yet," he snickers, evidently bashful. "So this puppy crush died down a little for a few weeks ... say, two or three months ago. I thought I was over it. But then, a few weeks back it came back again. But this time, it was worse."

"Worse, how?" I press quietly, not wanting to tarnish the atmosphere between the two of us.

"I realised it was no longer a silly crush," he confesses. "I realised I was ... completely, totally in love with you. And it's embarrassing for me to say that, because I know you're way out of my league."

"Don't talk about yourself like that," I scold, with a small laugh. "I'm not out of your league in the slightest."

"My point is ... the feelings keep getting stronger every single day. And I've been so scared about you finding out, that it's affecting my ability to function," he elaborates on his earlier comments, avoiding eye contact with me out of shame. "I can barely sleep anymore. I never have an appetite. I get the shakes. And it's all because I can't get you out of my head."

"That's ... " I pause for a moment, to find the most accurate word to use. "So sweet, George. Really, so sweet."

"So now you can walk out and gossip about it to whoever," he jibes; less aimed at my news-sharing capabilities, and more aimed at his feeble views of himself. "I'm sorry for throwing all of that at you. If I could have held it in, I would've. You know me."

"I do," I agree, my thumb gently caressing his in my hand. "And you're so lovely. And I'm glad you didn't hold it in. Because then, you would never have found out that I feel the same way about you."

To this, his head snaps up to look at my face. With widened eyes, he tries to search his mind for the most suitable words to use. "Y-You what? You do?" He scoffs at himself, as if he's going totally insane. "Don't mess around with me like that. You're crazy."

"I'm not messing," I reassert, finding humour rather than heartbreak in his self-deprecation. "You goofball. I like you, too."

Once he realises I'm not joking around with him, he grins widely; this exposes his gorgeous, pearlescent teeth. "Oh god, okay. You're not teasing. Well, I guess in that case ... " He clears his throat, in a bid to raise his self-confidence ready for his next words. "I guess the obvious question now is, well ... would you be willing to give us a go? Would you ... be mine?"

His awkwardness is incredibly endearing to me; so much so, that I cannot resist his adorable request. "Of course. I'd love to. You're crazy."

In an adrenaline rush of excitement, he moves forward abruptly; his lips press harshly to mine, with little-to-no warning, in a kiss. His eyes are the first to close; mine follow suit not long after, as I let myself melt into the moment freely. His hands move up to cup my face; mine head straight for his stunning milk chocolate locks of hair, running through them as the level of passion rises between us. The simple kiss transforms into a fire-fuelled make-out session; small pecks become a long, drawn-out game between our two connected souls. Before things can become too intense, I withdraw from him; as my eyes open, I see that he is reluctant to part from me, in that he keeps his face close to mine. His nose and forehead touch to my own; the beautiful mix of hunger and adoration in his amber eyes mingle together perfectly through his gaze.

"We're going to be so good together," he comments, his voice gravelly from the overwhelming feelings built-up within him. "I'm so lucky."

"I'm also lucky," I challenge.

Deciding he cannot possibly last another moment longer, he pulls me into him once more; connecting our lips in another sweet kiss.

~~

Bit of a cutesy one for you there. Hope you enjoyed it. xx