"You got a girlfriend, son?" Mr. Gray asked, cutting into the steak before him.

Steven Gray was an interesting man. He was incredibly tall, taller than anyone else Vincent had seen. He rocked broad shoulders and bulging biceps, the veins in his arms so visible, Vincent was convinced he could see Steven's blood pump through them. He had the same eyes as Ethan, only his hair—still as full and fluffy as a seventeen-year-old's—was a soft brown.

What Vincent hadn't been expecting, though, was the kindness blaring so clearly in his eyes. His lips seemed to always be pulled in a permanent grin, his features welcoming and friendly. His attitude reminded him of Mrs. Gray's, and he quickly saw why the pair got along so well. It was almost sickening the way they gazed at each other like love-sick puppies.

Ethan nearly scoffed. Vincent hadn't said he was completely gay, but, for some reason, Ethan couldn't picture him being with a girl.

"No, sir," Vincent replied, grinning.

"Boyfriend?" Stephanie followed up, pouring herself some water.

Vincent hadn't been expecting the question, but smiled when he heard it. "Not that, either," he said, briefly glancing at Ethan.

Ethan had already been watching him, as his interest piqued at the question. He didn't know why, but relief swelled in his chest when he'd heard Vincent's answer.

"You swing for that team?" Mr. Gray asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nervously, Vincent bit his lip, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Ethan. He tried to keep his voice from straining as he uttered the next words, "I swing for all teams, Mr. Gray."

Mr. Gray boomed with laughter, patting Vincent on the back. "Atta boy!"

Vincent chuckled, letting out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Suddenly, Mr. Gray's expression grew serious. Deadly, even.

"The kids at school don't give you any trouble, do they?" he asked sternly, his jaw set, all traces of amusement gone from his eyes.

"No, Mr. Gray. The few homophobes, I can handle them." he spoke.

"Steven, son, Steven," he corrected. "Well, if anybody ever does, you know who to call," he concluded, downing the rest of his drink. Stephanie stared after her husband fondly, while Vincent couldn't help but smile.

"Thank you, Mr-" he shot Vincent a pointed look. "I mean, Steven. Thank you, Steven."

"So, have you started thinking about university?" Stephanie asked, smiling sweetly at Vincent.

"Yeah, a little bit. I—um—I might go to CalArts. I really want to study art and I think it's one of the best schools for that in the country," he said.

Stephanie's eyes widened. "Really? That's impressive. You paint?"

"A little bit," Vincent said, but his voice mingled with Ethan's as he spoke, "He's amazing."

Vincent blushed, rolling his eyes. "I wouldn't say amazing-" he began, but was soon interrupted.

"Well, I would," Ethan asserted. "You should see his work, Mom. It's...beautiful. Just so raw and emotional and..." Ethan caught himself rambling, and quickly shut his mouth. This time, it was his turn to blush. Uncomfortable heat traveled up his body and he found himself tugging at the collar of his shirt.

Stephanie stared between the two, amusement dancing in her doe eyes. A smirk was fighting its way onto her face as she looked at her awestricken son.

Steven, mercifully, decided to break the tension, unaware of the awkwardness in the first place. "That's really nice to hear! Ethan was planning on Astrophysics, now, wasn't he?"

Vincent turned to look at Ethan with bewildered eyes. Astrophysics? Vincent had picked up on Ethan's obsession with outer space, but found it hard to fathom why anyone would want to study something with Physics in the title.

He almost shivered, thinking of the subject. He hated it, and was honestly quite impressed that Ethan was this good at it.

Ethan looked away from Vincent's intense gaze, feeling small. "Ethan, that's amazing! Where do you wanna go?"

"I don't know yet-" he started, but Steven quickly cut in.

"We were thinking of MIT the other day. Great physics department," Ethan's father said, making his son squirm uncomfortably.

Vincent turned to him, concerned. He was able to read the other boy, unease practically oozing out of him in waves. Desperately trying to change the subject, he complimented Stephanie's cooking.

To that, she smiled widely and helped him to a second serving, despite his protests. Vincent's stomach was about to explode from all the food he'd shoveled, but, if it meant Ethan would feel better, he'd gladly finish another plate.

And another, and another, and another, until he physically couldn't anymore.

"You wanna hang out in my room for a bit before you go?" Ethan whispered in Vincent's ear, startling him.

Vincent really wanted to, but he knew his dad would start getting worried if he didn't come home soon. "Um, I think I better head home, actually. It's getting late," he said.

Ethan's eyebrows furrowed in distaste. He felt...disappointed?

"Oh," was his curt response. "You want a ride?"

Vincent shrugged. "If that's okay with you, sure."

Ethan nodded, "Let me just go put my shoes on." Then he disappeared.

Vincent turned to Stephanie and Steven with a smile. "Thanks so much for dinner, guys."

They beamed back at him. "You're a sweet boy, Vincent. Ethan could use more friends like you," Stephanie spoke.

"Yeah, you and that Mason kid. You know Mason?"

"Oh, yeah, I know Mason. We don't speak much but he seems cool," Vincent said nonchalantly.

"Who seems cool?" Ethan asked, stepping back into the kitchen.

"No one," Vincent retorted. "You ready to go?"

Ethan dismissed it, nodding in agreement. They buckled up into his car, and after a while of driving, Vincent decided to break the silence.

"So, MIT, huh?" Vincent started carefully, studying the other boy's reaction.

Ethan's face remained static, but Vincent caught the slight tense of his shoulders.

"Well," he started, not letting the least hint of discomfort to slip into his tone, "It's what the old man wants. I probably won't even get in."

Vincent could see how much the though troubled—maybe even scared—Ethan. So, he settled for cocking his brow and asking, "Why the hell wouldn't you? You're the quarterback, and an amazing one at that. What school wouldn't want to?"

Ethan scoffed. "MIT is different. Football is nothing if you don't have at least decent grades. Don't know if you've noticed, but I'm failing half my classes. Besides, I don't even like Boston."

Vincent frowned. "Then why bother?"

"I'm just trying to make my dad happy," Ethan shrugged.

"What about making yourself happy?"

Vincent's tone was so soft, that Ethan's head snapped his way on its own accord. Just like back in Ethan's room, neither of them could pull away, even if they wanted to—which they didn't, for the record.

Vincent's eyes just looked so inviting, coercing Ethan to give into them with each different shade of blue that danced inside. And so, Ethan gave in. He drowned in the swirl of bright, striking mix of colors that always seemed to lure him in.

Only then, did Vincent realize that the car had come to a halt. And, when he saw his father peeking at the pair through the first floor window, he realized they'd already pulled up in front of his house.

Vincent cleared his throat, making Ethan snap out of his trance. To spare the embarrassment, Vincent acted like the last five minutes—to him, it'd felt like eternity—hadn't happened.

"Thanks for the ride. You wanna meet up at my place tomorrow?" Vincent suggested. Ethan just shrugged.

"Fine by me. I'll see you after practice, Van Gogh," he teased, smirking as Vincent's cheeks tinged crimson.

"You do realize Vincent Van Gogh was one of the greatest artists of his time, right? Calling me that isn't exactly going to insult me," he retorted, smiling cheekily.

"I know. It's just cute to see you blush like that."