His eyes widening, Sebastian hissed, “What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?”
“If anyone has a problem, they should be the ones leaving,” Vlad said.
“What happened to ‘I’m not a faggot’?” Sebastian said, confused as hell. He had thought Vlad would try putting as much distance between them as possible at the mere suspicion that they were together. “Why aren’t you freaking out that people think you’re gay?”
Vlad frowned. Perhaps he was surprised, too.
“I don’t know them and I don’t give a damn what they think about me,” he said. “But I don’t fucking like how they’re looking at us. If that’s how you felt when I shamed you for your sexuality, you should have punched me every time I opened my mouth.”
Sebastian felt his jaw drop. Of all the outcomes of Vlad being subjected to homophobia, this outcome was the one he certainly hadn’t expected.
“I did try punching you,” Sebastian said with a smile. “Not my fault you’re built like a tank.”
“No, it’s not your fault,” Vlad said in a strange tone, returning to scanning their surroundings warily, his gaze sharp and hard.
Sebastian let himself relax and lean against Vlad. It felt insanely good to have Vlad’s arm around him, to feel Vlad’s warm breath against his ear, to feel Vlad’s strength with his own body. Sebastian wasn’t a small man, but, tucked in against Vlad, he felt small, vulnerable, and protected in the best possible way. Despite the hostile looks, he no longer felt nervous, somehow sure that no one would do anything. It was so stupid. Moreover, it was dangerous.
But his stupid heart and his stupid body didn’t listen, reveling in the feeling of being warm, of being held and protected.
Of being cared for.
Christ, he was so, so screwed.
Halftime passed in a blur, with Vlad talking quietly into his ear about the substitutes both team managers should make. Sebastian found himself nodding dazedly and contributing very little, his mind occupied with squashing down the small spark of hope that had raised its ugly head. He couldn’t read too much into Vlad’s behavior. If Vlad was behaving like a boyfriend, it didn’t mean he wanted them to be boyfriends. It didn’t.
When halftime ended and the match finally resumed, Sebastian was relieved to have something else to focus on.
Chelsea started the second half better and soon Sebastian was on the edge of his seat, murmuring “come on” as the team launched attack after attack.
When Gabe DuVal finally scored in the fifty-sixth minute, he jumped to his feet, cheering loudly. “Fuck yeah! Get in!”
Vlad hugged him from behind, grinning, and pecked his cheek.
Warmth spread through Sebastian’s body, his heart fluttering like a trapped bird. He leaned back into Vlad’s chest, wishing there weren’t so many layers between them. Other fans paid them no attention now, too busy hugging and celebrating the goal.
All too soon, the referee blew the whistle, signaling the players to resume the match.
His heart still beating fast, Sebastian plopped down on his seat and, after a moment of hesitation, huddled into Vlad for warmth.
“So how much did you win?” he said, smiling at Vlad and feeling ridiculously giddy.
Vlad stared at him. “More than I thought,” he said, wrapping an arm around him again.
Beaming, Sebastian settled against him, feeling much too warm and content to care about the glares of the homophobic jerks around them.
As the match neared the end, Vlad pressed his nose into Sebastian’s cheek.
Sebastian’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t dare move.
Nuzzling into his cheek, Vlad dragged his mouth along Sebastian’s jaw and sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I can’t be your friend. I don’t want to be your friend. I want more.”
Sebastian closed his eyes, fear, hope and violent delight surging through his body.
If he allowed this to happen, he might get his heart broken again and this time he might not recover. The emotions he felt for Vlad were far stronger and deeper than the teenage infatuation he used to feel for Mike; the fall would be much harder.
There were so many reasons why they wouldn’t work. Vlad had too much baggage. Vlad might decide he wasn’t gay after all and leave him after a few months. Vlad might resent him for “making him gay,” poisoning their relationship with his resentment.
Vlad might never love him.
But he also might.
Sebastian opened his eyes, his throat painfully tight with fear. The fear of making the wrong choice.
He suddenly remembered his sister’s words.
Don’t let a past mistake or the fear of a future one ruin your life. Don’t let him win.
Sebastian turned around to look at Vlad.
Vlad met his gaze, his expression unguarded and open. Sebastian realized he wasn’t the only one who felt unsure and vulnerable.
He put a hand on Vlad’s scruffy cheek and felt the tightness in his throat ease when Vlad leaned into the touch.