Tommy suddenly snapped his fingers, as if a thought had just hit him square in the face. He turned sharply to Liam, eyes wide.
"Wait," he said loudly, pointing. "Hold on. Liam—didn't you feel repulsed just now?"
The music seemed to dip for a second.
Liam frowned. "Repulsed by what?"
Tommy gestured wildly between them. "You literally took Oliver's cigarette from his mouth and put it in yours. That's… kind of gross, man."
Oliver stiffened beside Liam, his ears burning. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Liam cut in calmly.
"Oliver isn't feeling well," Liam said, his tone smooth and firm. "He shouldn't be smoking. That's why."
Tommy blinked. "That's… why you used his cigarette?"
Liam shrugged. "Yeah. He's been sick lately. Weak lungs. Sensitive chest. Doctor's orders."
Oliver stared at him in disbelief. Doctor's orders?
Paul scratched his head. "Huh. That actually makes sense."
"Yeah," another boy chimed in, nodding seriously. "He does look fragile."
Oliver's eye twitched.
Julian coughed to hide a laugh, adjusting his glasses.
Tommy squinted suspiciously. "Still doesn't explain why you didn't just take it away instead of—"
"Tommy," Liam interrupted flatly, "do you want to carry him to the hospital if he collapses?"
There was a brief pause.
Tommy raised both hands. "Alright, alright. Say no more."
The group nodded in agreement, though none of them fully understood what had just happened.
Oliver leaned closer to Liam and whispered under his breath, "Sensitive chest?"
Liam didn't look at him. "Be grateful," he murmured back.
Oliver bit his lip, fighting a smile.
Paul clapped his hands suddenly, grinning like he had just discovered the best idea in the world.
"Alright, this is getting boring," he announced. "Let's play truth or dare."
A few people cheered immediately. Someone turned the music down a little, and Paul grabbed an empty bottle from the table and placed it on the carpet between them.
"No skipping," he added seriously. "And no lying."
Liam leaned back against the couch. "This already sounds dangerous."
"That's the point," Paul replied, spinning the bottle hard.
At first, the game moved slowly. The bottle landed on one person, then another. Someone was dared to sing badly. Another had to admit who they liked the most in school. Laughter filled the room, growing louder as everyone relaxed.
Oliver sat stiffly at first, hands clasped together. He wasn't used to games like this—or rooms filled with smoke, laughter, and people who spoke so freely. He watched more than he talked, smiling quietly when others laughed.
Then the bottle slowed.
Tick.
Tick.
And finally stopped—its mouth pointing straight at Oliver.
The room went quiet for half a second.
"Oh?" Paul leaned forward, eyes lighting up. "Looks like it's Oliver."
Oliver's heart skipped. "M-Me?"
"Yes, you," someone laughed. "Truth or dare?"
Oliver swallowed. "Truth," he said quickly. Dare sounded terrifying.
A few of them exchanged looks, clearly amused.
Paul rested his chin on his hand. "Alright then. Easy question."
He paused dramatically. "Do you have a girlfriend?"
Oliver's face heated instantly. "What?"
Liam turned to look at him, eyebrows raised, curious on how Oliver would reply.
"Well?" Paul pressed. "Maybe not currently, maybe before, or are you planning on having one?"
Oliver shook his head quickly. "No. Of course not."
Someone chuckled. "You sound offended."
Oliver muttered, "Do I even look like someone who has a girlfriend?"
That made them laugh louder.
"Fair point," another boy said. "Have you ever dated anyone before?"
Oliver froze. His ears were burning now. "I—no. I haven't."
"Oh wow," Paul said, pretending to be shocked. "A rare species."
Julian smiled gently beside Oliver. "Leave him alone."
Liam said nothing, but he hadn't looked away once.
"So," Paul continued teasingly, "you've never held hands? Never went on a date? Never—"
"Stop!" Oliver blurted out, covering his face. "That's enough truth for one lifetime."
The group burst into laughter.
Liam's jaw tightened as the laughter went on a little too long. The jokes were harmless, but the way Oliver kept shrinking into himself made something twist uncomfortably in Liam's chest.
Before anyone could throw out another question, Liam reached out and pulled Oliver closer by the shoulders, firm but gentle. Oliver stiffened in surprise, then froze.
"That's enough," Liam said, his voice casual but edged with something serious.
The room quieted slightly.
"He doesn't need a girlfriend," Liam added, glancing around at the others. "He's got me."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Paul blinked. "You… what?"
Tommy burst out laughing. "Since when are you a replacement for a girlfriend?"
Liam shrugged, keeping his arm where it was. "Since now."
Oliver's face turned a deep shade of red. "L-Liam," he muttered, trying—and failing—to pull away.
Julian adjusted his glasses, lips twitching. "That's one way to put it."
"Ohhh," someone teased. "So that's how it is."
Liam ignored them, leaning slightly closer to Oliver. "Relax," he murmured quietly. "They're annoying."
Oliver swallowed, his heart pounding for reasons he didn't fully understand. He nodded, letting himself stay there, pressed lightly against Liam's side.
The others soon laughed it off, already moving on to the next spin of the bottle.
After several more rounds filled with laughter and noisy dares, the bottle spun again, wobbling before slowly stopping.
This time, it pointed at Liam.
A chorus of cheers rose immediately.
"Well, well," Billie said, leaning forward with a grin. He was broad-shouldered and loud, always enjoying moments like this. "Looks like it's your turn, rich boy."
Liam straightened slightly. "Truth," he said, already wary.
Billie didn't hesitate. "Have you ever been… intimate with Lorette?"
The room went unusually quiet.
Oliver's heart slammed painfully against his chest. For a second, his thoughts scattered. He didn't understand why the question bothered him so much—but it did. A lot.
He kept his eyes down, fingers curling into his sleeve. What if Liam says yes?
The thought made his chest tighten, his stomach twist with something dangerously close to fear… and anger.
Liam didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked at Oliver.
The pause stretched. The others leaned in, waiting.
Finally, Liam cleared his throat. "No," he said firmly. "We haven't. Not even close."
Someone blinked. "Seriously?"
Liam nodded. "We haven't even kissed."
There was a mix of disbelief and groans, but Oliver barely heard them.
He let out a slow breath he didn't realize he had been holding.
Relief washed over him—warm and confusing and entirely unwanted. He frowned slightly, unsettled by his own reaction. Why do I care? he wondered. He didn't have an answer.
Liam glanced at him once more, brief and unreadable, before the bottle was spun again and the noise returned.
Later in the night, when the music grew louder and the laughter messier, Liam noticed that no one was paying attention anymore. He gently took Oliver by the wrist and led him away from the noise, out onto the balcony of his room. The air outside was cooler, quieter, carrying the faint hum of the city below.
They leaned against the railing, standing close but not touching. For a while, they talked about nothing important—school, teachers, how loud Liam's friends were. Then Liam went quiet. He stared ahead, jaw tight.
"Oliver," he said suddenly, "do you want me to break up with Lorette?"
Oliver's heart skipped violently. He turned to him, shocked. His lips parted, then pressed together as he bit down hard. His mind raced. Why would he even ask that?
"N-No," Oliver said quickly, almost defensively. "Of course not. Why would I want that?"
Liam studied his face for a second too long, then let out a short laugh. "Yeah. Right. Forget I asked." He waved it off like it meant nothing, though his eyes said otherwise. "Her birthday's coming up anyway. In two weeks."
Oliver nodded, unsure what to say, the moment slipping through his fingers like water.
As the evening wore on, people began to leave one by one, until only Julian, Tommy, Liam, and Oliver remained. The house felt strangely empty after all the noise. Eventually, Tommy clapped Julian on the shoulder.
"Come on," he said. "You should get home."
Julian hesitated, adjusting his glasses. He glanced at Oliver, then nodded and followed Tommy out, the door closing softly behind them.
Liam grabbed his bike keys next. "I'll take you home," he told Oliver.
The ride back was different from before. Liam said almost nothing. He drove slower, steadier, one hand firm on the handle, the other careful whenever Oliver shifted behind him. Every turn was gentle, every stop deliberate, as if Oliver were something fragile he didn't want to break.
Oliver noticed it all—the silence, the care, the distance that somehow felt closer than before. He didn't ask anything. He just held on, his thoughts tangled...