Rafa let himself melt into your couch, yellow tinged smoke leaking lazily from his nostrils as he exhaled. He stared at the joint in between his fingers with half lidded eyes, rolling it back and forth. His eyes then lazily swept to you, who was sitting next to him, intently staring at the television screen, playing some lame-ass documentary about time traveling that Rafa wasn't paying attention to.

"You want some?" Rafa piped up, passing the joint over to you. He purposefully nuzzled his hand into your bicep just to feel his warmth through his shirt. He smiled, his eyes looking up and down your form as you sat there on the couch. He couldn't help himself from staring; you looked too damn good sitting there, not a fuckin' care in the world. Rafa wished he could get his mind as empty as yours probably was at that moment.

Rafa, on the other hand, couldn't stop fucking thinking. It didn't matter how much he smoked or how much he snorted, he couldn't get his goddamn brain to turn off. He couldn't stop thinking about you. Yes. Yes, he had fucked dudes before. He'd fucked twinks bareback in the bathroom at parties, he'd forced his dick down the throat of some gay until he cried, but Rafa didn't do emotions. He didn't. He didn't feel a fucking thing for the guys he fucked.

But, fuck. You. Shit. Rafa wasn't even sure what to think at this point. He had never had a girlfriend, at least not a girl that called herself his girlfriend, and he wouldn't be caught fucking dead with a boyfriend. Rafa was feeling things he wasn't familiar with, and when he googled them, it wasn't any help. Three "Am I gay?" quizzes later, and he wasn't any closer to figuring out what he was feeling.

Shit, though, being this close to you felt nice. It felt really nice. It was like you were the only person that actually understood Rafa, the only one that would hear him out, the only one that could make him laugh, take care of him when he got too high, the only one that actually fucking cared. You weren't another gang banger who used people and then tossed them to the side like all of Rafa's other fuckass friends. No, you were something important to Rafa, and that thought terrified him to his core.

Rafa took the joint back before you could take it. His heart was pounding, and he was sure it wasn't because of the line of coke he had done a few moments earlier. It was because of you. Rafa took a long drag of the weed, hoping and praying it would calm him down some. But as he looked back over to you, he couldn't help but find himself leaning in, as if his body was moving on its own.

"Actually-" And Rafa cut himself off by pressing his lips to yours, blowing smoke against your face, the joint falling loose in his hand, nearly setting the couch ablaze before falling to the floor, Rafa's sneaker snuffing it out.

He didn't care that he just got rid of a perfectly good joint. Hell, Rafa didn't even really care that he was kissing his best friend. Well, he probably would when he realized what he was doing in a few seconds, but at that moment, all the noise blissfully stopped.