wilbran fic PART ONE! wil's perspective ! The screen door banged shut behind us, cutting off the heavy hum of the Texas cicadas, but the heat followed us right up the stairs. My bedroom felt smaller than usual the second Brando walked into it. It always did. He took up space without even trying, his presence instantly shifting the gravity of the whole room. Brando didn’t ask before dropping his keys on my desk, right next to a stack of loose notebook paper I hastily tried to slide out of view. He kicked off his sneakers and collapsed onto my mattress like he owned it, face down into the pillows with a dramatic groan. “I am officially dead,” his muffled voice came from the fabric. “The heat today is insane.” “You’re the one who insisted on driving around with the windows up,” I said, leaning against the closed door. I tried to sound casual, anchoring myself to the wood so I wouldn’t just stand there staring at him. “I told you to roll them down.” He flipped over onto his back, wincing slightly as he shed his heavy brown racer jacket and tossed it over the footboard. I loved that jacket. The color looked so good on him. He was left in a plain, faded white tank top. I quickly looked away, focusing entirely on the ceiling fan spinning overhead, its rhythmic click-click-click the only sound filling the silence between us. “Come here,” Brando said, patting the empty space on the mattress beside him. “Help me pick a movie or something. My brain is fried.” My chest tightened and the butterflies trapped in my stomach went crazy again. I walked over and sat down on my mattress, keeping my knees pulled tightly to my chest to create a deliberate barrier between us. But the mattress dipped under our combined weight, gravity naturally rolling us a little closer together. Brando didn't seem to notice—or care. He unlocked his phone, the bright blue light reflecting in his eyes, and started scrolling through a streaming app, holding it up so we could both see. He leaned his shoulder against my knee to balance the screen. He was so warm. The smell of his smoky perfume was trapped in the fabric of the bedsheets now, thick and suffocating, yet comforting. Sitting this close, I could see the exact pattern of his eyelashes, the tiny freckle just below his left ear, the way his chest rose and fell with every breath. I didn’t want to look away. “What about this one?” he asked, turning his face toward me. We were suddenly millimeters apart. If I leaned forward just a fraction, my forehead would touch his. I thought about leaning in just a bit, but I stopped. My heart started that frantic, train-on-a-track thumping again, so loud it felt like it was rattling my ribs. I was terrified he’d feel it through the mattress. “Yeah,” I choked out, still looking at Brando. “Yeah, that one’s fine.” Brando clicked play, completely oblivious to the fact that I was suffocating in mid-air right next to him just because we were sitting so close. He settled back against the pillows, entirely comfortable in our shared space, while I sat there with my hands clenched tight, desperately trying to figure out how to survive the next two hours without giving myself away. But then I thought about it. I wanted him to know how I felt. I really did. It’s been so long since I’ve liked him; years, actually. He made me feel safe. The smell of his cologne that lingered on my sheets hours after he’d left made my house feel more like a home than ever before. “Brandon, I…” The air was heavy and suffocating. I stared at him, my eyes wandering over his slim frame. Brando looked at me with his big hazel eyes. God, I love his eyes. “Yeah, Wil? You never call me Brandon.” “I love you,” I choked out, my eyes watering. Brando’s eyes widen. “I love you. I love your eyes, the way you smell, your voice… I love it all. I love all of you, Brando, and I might be stupid for thinking you might love me back, but –” I was interrupted by Brando’s lips slamming against mine. His hands wandered up my back and into my hair, pulling on it just a little. I kiss him back, my tongue dancing with his, and I don’t want this to end. He pulls away slightly and rests his forehead against mine. “I love you too, Wil.” He kisses me again, smiling against my lips, and I think to myself, I’ve officially found home. OKAY THAT'S PART ONE! PART 2: THIS IN BRAN'S PERSPECTIVE:
