some days are just for us.

It was a damp kind of day. The weather outside cold, dark, mostly dreary. The kind of day where you just don't feel like doing anything.

We decided it was the perfect opportunity to skip class. We sat at the stairwell. On top of the heater that was in the middle where the doors to the outside were. Where the second set of stairs started and the first ended. It sat against the wall, about a meter tall and wide. The heater was hot on our legs and we rested our hands on the edge, shifting every so often so we wouldn't get burned. Our shoulders, arms, thighs pressed against one another, we sat close so we didn't fall off. We leaned into each other and it was comfortable.

He was holding a book, reading off a paragraph word by word out loud. His voice smooth, only stuttering or mispronouncing a few times. He read with a pleasant fluidity and it echoed off the brick walls that surrounded us.

I was staring at the book, following his voice on the page but also trying to fight off sleep. I was tired and he was so warm and I wanted to close my eyes right there, but I continued to listen.

Times like these, times spent with just the two of us seemed to become more and more rare as he got busier. He worked hard at everything he did, while I just moved through the days. It was difficult to find spare moments in which we could be together, so we took every chance we could. It seemed he was leaving me behind, so I clung to him, savouring and enjoying every instant.

I sighed deeply and rested my head on his shoulder so I could still see the book but I was closer to him, even if just by a little. It felt good and right to have his body heat mingle with mine. He stopped reading to let out a long yawn. His body stiffened then relaxed slightly as he exhaled loudly.

'I'm tired,' he said, while rubbing his eye, one hand still holding the book.

'Me too,' I replied, watching the novel slip from his grasp and fall to the tiled floor, splayed in the middle and pages bent.

'Damn.'

We looked at each other. I observed the way his eyes fluttered as he blinked. Perfectly almond shaped eyes, almost almond in color as well, framed by long but sparse lashes. His hair was sweeped to the side but still managed to obscure most of his pretty left eye.

He lifted a hand up and gently pushed my hair away from my cheek to my ear. His fingers were cold on my skin.

Slowly, so slowly, his face came nearer to mine. His hand was on me, fingertips ghosting my cheek. His lips pressed against mine and I leaned in.

Our kiss was short, and it left a sort of fleeting feeling in my stomach. Something akin to nervousness or maybe happiness. He pulled away, hand not moving from my cheek. I stared at him, then smiled.

'Does this mean we're gay?'

He laughed and it sounded so good running through my ears.

'Not entirely?' We laughed together and it made me happier than it should have.

He slid off the heater and grabbed my hand to pull me down as well. We walked up the second flight of stairs holding hands, fingers intertwined, leaving the fallen book to be forgotten.