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Prologue
Maddison couldn’t remember a time when Sam was not there with him.
Every time he looked for Sam, he was there. A steady light, a guide for when Maddison didn’t know what to do in his darkest moments. A pillar to lean on when everything seemed to crumble, when nothing went right, when he was frustrated with himself and with all that was surrounding him.
Sam was permanent. Constant.
But even that changed, or at least Maddison knew it was about to change, when he realized he was in love with his best friend.
It happened on a late afternoon, a rather normal one where they were walking home together after club activities like often. They just rounded the corner that led to the narrow bridge, laughing at something silly Maddison said. The last rays of sunset glowed behind Sam, brilliant orange and golden yellows with hints of purples and blues and pinks indicating that night was on its way to take over the day. The effect made Maddison stop and stare. There’s something about the twilight that changed Sam’s appearance in front of him. And as Sam’s laughter died upon noticing Maddison’s blatant gawking, the other felt heat rushing to his face and he was forced to look away from the breathtaking sight before him.
When he looked back, the glow was still there, and Maddison didn’t understand it then — why his heart was thumping loud, wanting out of his ribcage, nor was he flushing, and his hands trembling. He was confused at first, flustered. This was just Sammy, so why?
He jolted when Sam nudged his shoulder lightly, telling him to quit staring, weirdo. Maddison laughed it off, coming back with a weak insult that had Sam’s arm encircling his neck and his fist on top of Maddison’s head.
They went their separate ways when they reached their block, Sam waving as he crossed the street opposite Maddison’s house, where his two-story home was, tile roof navy blue and wooden fences white, a sight Sam had been familiar with for as long as he remembered.
“Let’s play Smash Brothers after homework,” Sam called before jumping over the fences, not bothering to open the kissing gate. Maddison nodded with a wave and a little smile.
Yelling a quick “I’m home”, Maddison rushed up to his room, his back pressing his door closed and breathing a sigh of relief in the solitude it provided. Only when he watched Sam enter his house from his bedroom window was he able to breathe properly, heartbeat going back to normal. He placed his cool palms onto his heated cheeks and looked around his cluttered room, canvas and paints scattered all over the floor. An easel stood right beside the window overlooking the front yard; overlooking Sam’s room which was adjacent to his own.
When they were little, around seven or eight, they used to take their whiteboards and markers to the windows and talk that way, big, wobbly letters written and silly drawings made for each other when they were past their curfews to play. They now had phones and computers, so the game seemed useless when they could easily communicate with just a couple of taps on a screen. It never failed to make Maddison smile when he remembered that though.
Sitting down on his bed, he breathed yet again another sigh, his hand tapping his pants. He had the urge to paint, his dainty fingers itching to touch his brushes. Gathering his materials, he sat down in front of the vacant easel and grabbed a blank canvas, mixing paint and preparing water right beside it. He didn’t bother changing out of his clothes — he couldn’t care less. He needed to do this now. He looked out the window, across the street and at Sam’s window. The beige blinds were down, and he was sure his best friend was still downstairs and eating dinner. Sam would most likely do his homework right after, because unlike Maddison, Sam liked to follow his schedule diligently like the athlete he was. Maddison was spontaneous, impulsive. If he needed something, wanted something to be done, he had to do it then and there, no more waiting for later. And right now, he needed to paint, needed to let these confusing emotions out.
He closed his eyes and thought of what he wanted to see on the canvas in front of him. The images his mind conjured were all of Sam’s. Beautiful Sam; from the first time they met when the Baileys arrived in the neighborhood; their primary school days, their first summer festival together sans their parents when they were nine; to when Sam decided he wanted to attend the same middle school as Maddison; to the moment he became the volleyball club’s ace, the proud smile he offered Maddison when the latter won his first art competition. The moment he cried so hard when their team lost the regional finals, losing their chance at the nationals, Sam’s snot and tears staining the front of Maddison’s favorite Area51 shirt until he fell asleep. That one time they won and he looked around the crowd for Maddison and waved at him the moment his sight landed on his friend, his eyes twinkling so bright Maddison could see it from where he was standing at the second level of the gymnasium. The glowing look he had under the sunset that afternoon, just a little less than an hour ago.
Maddison opened his eyes, realized what he had to realize, and started painting that very last image. It was the first painting he had done of Sam. Sam, his best friend, his partner-in-crime, his first love.
They were in the last year of middle school when Maddison Flynn realized he was in love with Samuel Bailey.
Chapter 1
“Sammy, hurry up!”
Maddison was bouncing on his feet, practically buzzing with excitement as he stood waiting on the Baileys' porch for his best friend to come out of the door. It was their first day of high school, and though it was a bit early, the opening ceremony not starting until an hour later, Maddison was rushing to get to their new school, where they would be creating new memories and learn a whole new set of things for three years. Hillwood High School was just a fifteen-minute walk away from their houses, but Maddison was eager. A part of him knew it wasn't because of their new school, but because Sam chose the same high school as he did, so they would still be together for a while.
“Since when are you excited to go to school?” A grumble. Sam walked out the door, and Maddison had to stop his breath from whooshing out loud. It was unfair. No one should be that good-looking in a shirt and dark blue jeans.
“Hey, Sammy. I'm always excited to go to school,” he retaliated, stepping closer to his best friend. “Here, your hoodie is bunched up.”
“Thanks.”
Maddison grinned, admiring his best friend openly. He was wearing the same thing as Maddison, but where Sam’s shirt was black, his was pastel purple under a navy cardigan paired with the lightest color of jeans he owned. Maddison didn't think he looked as good as Sam did in them. And his light brown slacks hugged his hips and backside in all the right ways and puberty was kind to Sam and it was just so, so unfair.
He wasn't exactly insecure of himself — in fact he was confident in his looks. A lot of girls in middle school were proof of how cute he was, to say the least, receiving confession after confession, but of course he rejected them all. He just didn't see the point. Over the summer, he grew taller than Sam, and he started using hair products while his older sister taught him how to use skin care products as well to 'maintain his soft, creamy-white skin'. It was unfair how Sam didn't need to use anything like that but still looked effortlessly beautiful.
“We're going now!” Sam called out as they went down the three steps off the porch, only to be stopped by Sam's mother, who was holding a lunch bag. She handed it to Sam with a soft smile.
“Good luck on your first day, Sam,” she said before looking at Maddison with a brighter smile. “My, my, did you grow prettier, Mads?”
Maddison giggled, hand moving to the back of his head. “Thank you, Erica. Taller too!”
“You did, huh. You're taller than Sam now. You can take care of him better now, I bet.”
“Of course.”
“Doll face, you can't even take care of yourself.”
