He thanks you quietly when you hand him his mug; you sit down next to him and sip gingerly at your own, which, like his, is piping hot.

"You didn't have to invite me in, you know," Lewis says.

"You didn't have to give me a lift all the way home," you reply. "I guess we're even, then," you add.

Lewis sighs. "Yeah."

He seems a little more... subdued than usual, it's got to be said. He's acting very unlike how he was in the car earlier.

"Are you alright?"

"What? Oh, yeah. I'm good."

"Something wrong with the coffee?"

"No, it's fine."

"You seem upset about something, Lewis."

"I'm fine, (Y/N), honestly -"

"Lewis?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to tell me or not?"

Lewis sighs, setting down his cup of tea on the coaster on the table. "I don't want to bother you with something so stupid," he mutters, more to himself than to you.

"Lewis, if you're upset and need to say something, then just say it. I won't tell anyone. It's what friends are for."

"It's something stupid, you know. You'll think I'm being stupid."

"I won't!"

"Look," Lewis says. "You know you're one of my best friends in the whole universe and I'd never hide anything from you. But this whole thing - I'm not avoiding telling you because I don't want you to know, or because I don't trust you. I just don't want to burden you with this."

You hesitate, but decide not to continue to pressure Lewis - he's clearly not in the mood.

"Alright," you say finally, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Thanks," Lewis says.

You notice his hand moves down, almost subconsciously, as he speaks then, to his trouser pocket - it's a tiny little thing, you know, and to anyone else, it would mean nothing. But you can't help but notice it, because you know him so well, and you know that it's not one of his little habits. It's something he's thinking about.

And because you know him so well, you know that that trouser pocket is where he keeps his phone.

It's something to do with his phone, isn't it? Something maybe he read, or saw on the Internet - maybe some hate mail or something? You make a mental note to check social media after Lewis has gone.

And it makes sense, doesn't it? Lewis was reading or watching something in the car.  

"Thanks for the coffee," Lewis says tautly, setting down his empty mug.

"No problem," you say. You check your watch; it's only seven o'clock. Plenty of time to play something to get whatever's bothering Lewis off his mind. "Do you want to play something?"

"Sure, yeah. I've got my laptop with me, if we need to use it."

"Don't bother. I've got a spare," you say. "You can use it. Do you want to play Rust or something?"

Lewis clicks his tongue. "I'm going to be honest, I'm a little bored of Rust at the moment."

You gasp in mock horror; Lewis smiles. "I've spent about seventy-two odd hours on it in the past week. I think that wonderful Rust-loving part of my mind just died, (Y/N)."

You shrug. "Sure. What do you want to play?"

Lewis grins. "You've got the Bomb Game, haven't you?"

"What, Keep Talking And Nobody Explodes?"

"Yeah, that one," he says. "How's that sound?"

___________________________________________

"I forgot how fucking tense this game is," you mutter, eyes glued to the "the bomb exploded" screen.

"Yeah," Lewis agrees. "Do you want to swap? You'll probably be better on the manual."

You and Lewis have been playing for almost an hour now - about half of that time, you've been stuck on one level that you still haven't beaten.

You shrug; by now, you'd pretty much given up. "We're never going to beat it. How about we take a break and switch to a different game?"

"Aw, come on!" Lewis whines. "Just one more try?"

"Lewis -"

"How about this," Lewis interrupts. "If we beat this level, you get a kiss from me."

You feel your cheeks heat up immediately, but ignore it. "Not this again," you pretend to complain. "And how's that supposed to motivate me, anyway?"

"Well, it did the job when we were playing Hearthstone last Thursday, didn't it?"

You roll your eyes, continuing to ignore the burning on the skin on your cheeks. "One more go, then. I'll be on the manual."

"Right." Lewis hovers over the "start" button. "Starting in three, two, one..."

"What've we got?"

"Simon says, symbols, wires and - shit. Morse code."

"It's alright. I think we can do this," you say. "Let's start with the worst first - Morse code."

"Okay. So, it goes..."

And three minutes later, everything's done but the wires. And Lewis has twenty seconds left.

"How many wires?"

"One, two - six," Lewis counts.

You read out the instructions and Lewis follows them flawlessly - or at least you think he is; you have no idea what he's doing - but it's not enough.

"Five seconds, two strikes and still one wire to cut," Lewis says.

"Shit," you say, leaning back in your chair. "We were so close, as well..." 

"I'm just going to cut a random one," Lewis says.

"How long have you got?"

"One second," Lewis says. You brace yourself for the explosion sound effect.

And it never comes.

"We did it," you say weakly. You look up at the screen. "With zero point one four seconds left -"

"We did it!" Lewis cheers, much more enthusiastically, standing up and throwing his arms around you.

"Jesus, Lewis," you say. "Luck or what?"

Lewis doesn't answer. Instead, arms still around your neck, he pulls you close, and his lips meet your cheek.

Immediately, you feel alarm bells going off inside your body; your heart begins to speed up again, you feel your arms instinctively wrap around his waist, and you feel burning on your skin, and tingling rattling your bones -

And it's all over in a moment, because that's how long Lewis kisses you for.

He pulls away quickly, grinning, arms still around your neck, while yours are still around his waist.

"I kept my promise," he says, laughing; and you laugh with him, because if you don't laugh it off, it's going to be unimaginably awkward.

"I know," you laugh.

For a second, neither of you move. You're both trapped in the other's embrace, not daring to pull back, because this moment is gold.

It's gold for both of you, because there are few moments that encapture friendship as well as this one.

But for you, it's more than gold, because you can't think how you can love Lewis any more than you do at the moment.

And maybe he loves you back.

It certainly seems like it.

"Lewis, I've got something to tell you," you say finally. You didn't think it was possible, but your heart begins to beat even faster.

"Oh yeah?" Lewis says, loosening his arms on your neck and pulling back slightly, forcing your arms off his waist, perhaps intentionally or unintentionally.

And a little part of you dies then, because it's then that you realise you were wrong, because if Lewis loved you back as much as you loved him, he wouldn't have pulled away from you. He would have stayed as he was, expecting you to say those three words.

You try not to choke on the tears welling up in your throat. "I just want to say I love having you as a friend," you say.

Lewis smiles. "So do I. You're one of my best friends in the whole universe, you know."

Somehow, his words make you feel even more guilty, and this guilt is what pushes you over the edge; you feel your eyes moisten, but no tears fall - but they're threatening to drop. You can feel it.

But now's not the time. You bite back the dull ache of tears in your throat and the pinpricks of pain all over your skin - all the strange feelings that come with huge disappointment.

"Thanks for everything," Lewis says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"No problem," you say quickly. "Thanks for the lift home."

"It was nothing," Lewis says. He sighs. "Look, I'm so sorry for being such a downer earlier - I was being a real twat about the whole thing."

"No, it's fine!" you reassure him. "To be fair, I've been a real twat about some of my shit as well."

Lewis smiles. "But you know, hanging out with you has really cheered me up."

"It has?"

"Yeah!" Lewis claps a hand on your shoulder, and your eyes flit up to meet his; he's smiling, without a care in the world, without any idea that you've fallen hopelessly in love with him. "Well, I should go. I've intruded on your property enough tonight," Lewis jokes, withdrawing his hand, making his way over to the door.

"It's been no problem," you say.

"We should hang out together more," Lewis says.

"I thought we did that a lot already."

"Not just us, we don't," Lewis says, smoothing out the short strand of hair that's hanging over his forehead in the most adorable way.

"I guess," you say, a little awkwardly.

Lewis laughs. "You could be a little more enthusiastic about it, you know," he says. "I'm wonderful really."

You smile, and open the door for Lewis. "Take care, alright?"

"You too," he says. He hesitates, as if he's about to say something else, but he doesn't.

"Are you coming in tomorrow?" you ask him.

He shakes his head. "I'm recording Triforce from home."

You nod. "Cool. I'll see you on Monday, then."

"Yeah, see you."

As soon as the door closes, you lean against it, not out of relief, or exhaustion.

Just disappointment.

__________________________________________________

"Have you asked him yet? What's happened?"

"No," you say carefully. "I haven't."

"What're you waiting for?" (Y/B/F/N) says frustratedly. 

"I've got an update on him and me, though," you say.  

"Go on, then."

"Well, he was giving me a lift home because it was hailing -"

"I noticed," she says sarcastically, her sigh audible over the phone.

"And I invited him in for a drink, and then we -" You suddenly realise how stupid it'll sound. I was playing a game with him and when we won, he kissed me. 

"Yeah? What did you do?"

"We were just talking, and then he said he loves being my friend, and - and he kissed me."

"He kissed you?"

"Yeah!"

"Where?"

"On the cheek."

You hear her sigh of disappointment. "Well, it's better than nothing, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Well, is that all you had to say?"

"Yeah, pretty much," you say, a little embarrassedly; you'd already decided to not tell your friend about how you'd almost told him, but then lost the confidence again. It'd be too difficult to explain.

She clicks her tongue. "You know, a guy kissing a girl on the cheek isn't a big thing."

"He - he kind of put his arms around me, pulled me closer - it felt kind of more intimate than just a friendly peck."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's progress, then, isn't it?"

"Yeah!"

"Look, (Y/N)," she says. "I know you're scared to ask him, but you'll never truly know unless you actually ask him. You can't just expect him to fall in love with you magically and confess it for you. You've got to actually do something about it."

"It's so much easier said than done!"

"I know! But you've got to push yourself to do it. Because if he's as deadly attractive as you say he is -"

"He is."

"- then he's bound to find a girlfriend soon, isn't he?"

You sigh. "Yeah, I guess."

"Okay. I'll talk to you another time, alright?"

"Yeah."

"Bye."

"Bye."

___________________________________________________

With nothing to record, you make your way to the common room; Duncan and Mark Hulmes are there, prepping something.

"What're we doing?" you ask them.

"Planning the show for i57," Duncan says. "Do you want to help?"

"Sure, yeah. I've got nothing else to record for the rest of the day," you say. "What've we got so far?"

"We've got charades," Duncan says. "And that's it."

You laugh. "We're the Yogscast - I'm sure we can just turn up and dream something up to do."

"That's probably what we'll end up doing," Mark admits. "Do you have any ideas?"

You shrug. "Is it like a quiz night thing?"

"Kind of, yeah."

You work with them to piece together some good activities, and make up some things to mime for the Charades game. By the time you've finished, it's 4 o'clock.

"Well, thanks for helping me out with this, folks," Mark says.

"No problem," you and Duncan say.

"I'm going to hit the road, anyway. I'll see you guys later."

"Take care," you say.

"Later, man," Duncan says, digging out his phone. You turn to a nearby computer as well to check social media.

"Lewis seems like he's having fun," Duncan says after a while.

It takes you a moment to realise he's talking to you, because there's no one else in the room. You swivel round in your chair.

"What's he doing now?"

"Hanging out with Ellie."

"Ellie?"

"Yeah. Don't you know who she is?"

"No," you say cautiously.

"Here, I'll show you a picture." Duncan scrolls through his gallery and eventually gets to a photo of a very attractive young blonde lady, smiling shyly at the camera.

"Who is she?" you ask him, your heart already sinking, because you already know the answer.

"He's Lewis' new girlfriend," Duncan confirms.

A/N: please message me or comment any suggestions you may or may not have. :) 

Love you all,

Fridge