Benjamin Manchester didn't always know how to sit still. His mind danced, darted, dove. But when he loved something - a moment, a friend, a poem - he lingered.
That day, he lingered too long outside Donny's house, thinking about the way Donny's voice softened when nervous. He thought about Christopher's sketchbooks and how they held truths too shy to be said aloud.
Then his phone buzzed. A message from Donny: You coming in? The stars won't wait forever.
Benjamin smiled.
Inside, the three of them sprawled on cushions and blankets. Soft lighting. Warm air. A movie playing, half-watched. At one point, Benjamin reached for popcorn, and his hand tangled with Christopher's.
They didn't pull away.
Donny looked over. The corners of his mouth lifted. And then - like it wasn't a big deal, like it didn't shake the earth - he moved closer and rested his head gently on Benjamin's shoulder.
Something shivered inside Benjamin. Not fear. Just the delicate ache of being wanted.
It wasn't a triangle. It wasn't confusion. It was the beginning of language - three bodies teaching each other how to say "stay."
Later, Benjamin stood by the window and whispered to no one, "I want this to last."
He didn't know what "this" would become. But he knew he deserved something beautiful. And maybe - just maybe - this was that.