Several years prior...

The rusted hinges screamed as the door inched open, each metallic shriek piercing my skull like an ice pick. I screwed my eyes shut against the searing pain, every throb of my pulse sending fresh waves of agony crashing through my head. Fragments of memory flickered behind my eyelids—the burn of cheap whiskey, raucous laughter, Michael's crooked grin as he slid another shot my way. I sent up a desperate prayer to any deity listening to make it stop, I'd do anything.

"Rise and shine, homeboy!" Michael's voice sliced through the silence.

"Go away," I retorted weakly, pulling the blanket over my throbbing head as if it could shield me from reality. The world kept spinning in dizzying circles even behind my tightly shut eyelids.

The mattress dipped as Michael perched on the edge of the bed. "Oh, come on, I'm not gonna drag your sorry ass outta bed." Amusement colored his words, both infuriating and familiar. His fingers curled around the edge of my blanket fortress and tugged.

"I hate you," I ground out through clenched teeth. The world spun in dizzying spirals, even with my eyes screwed shut.

Michael's drawl rang out again, his accent thickening with barely-suppressed laughter. "If you don't get up by yourself, I'll have to bring out the big guns." I could picture the smirk on his face as clear as day, could practically feel the chill of the water bottle he no doubt brandished inches from my face. A cold dousing definitely wasn't on my agenda for this morning's hangover.

Gritting my teeth, I shoved myself upright, the searing pain in my head ratcheting up a notch with the movement. I squinted at the indistinct shapes of the room, each one blurring and wavering like a heat mirage. My tongue rasped against the roof of my mouth, as dry and rough as sandpaper. "Why...why do I listen to you?" I croaked, my stomach roiling with equal parts nausea and frustration.

My gut churned, threatening to spill over as Michael's chuckle grated against my hangover-raw nerves. The unspoken 'I told you so' thickened the air between us, as stifling as the stale reek of spilled beer and sweat that saturated the room. "Not like I forced that whiskey down your throat, man." His chin jerked toward the space behind me, a smug grin conquering his face. "Plus, looks like your night turned out pretty damn good, all things considered."

I blinked, bleary eyes struggling to focus, my stomach plummeting to my toes as my gaze landed on the woman sprawled across my bed. Her face was a blur, her name lost in the black hole of my memory. Panic clawed its way up my throat, burning the back of my tongue. The last thing I needed was to vomit on this poor girl.

I stumbled out of bed on unsteady legs, gripping the dresser for support as the room tilted and spun around me. My eyes darted down my body, taking in the wrinkled clothes that still clung to my frame. At least I was mostly dressed. A sigh shuddered out of me, equal parts relief and dread.

"Who the hell is she?" I croaked, swallowing back the acid that threatened to surge up my throat.

Michael's shrug offered no comfort, his smirk devoid of sympathy. "The chick from the bar who had you eating out of the palm of her hand. She stole your shirt after you made a fool of yourself. Lucy or Lacy, something like that."

The woman stirred, her hair tumbling in sleep-mussed waves around her bare shoulders as she pushed herself up on one elbow."It's Lilly, actually," she corrected, yawning and covering her mouth with the back of her hand, voice husky with lingering drowsiness. She tucked a stray dark curl behind her ear, her hazel eyes catching the light as she glanced up at Michael.

Heat bloomed in my cheeks under the weight of Michael's sidelong glance and growing shit-eating grin. He was enjoying my mortification far too much.

Lilly stretched with feline grace, tugging my pilfered shirt snug against her curves. A light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks became visible as she moved into the morning light, her full lips curving into a coy smile. "We met at Flannigan's Pub downtown," she clarified, rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes. "You were pretty sloshed, but in an endearing way. I didn't take advantage, scout's honor. Just helped your buddy here pour you into bed, and then...I guess I didn't feel like leaving. Hope that's alright?"

The scorching blush intensified as I raked my fingers through my disheveled hair, dredging my fractured memories for any clear recollection of our encounter. "I, uh... Shit, I'm sorry, it's all a blur," I mumbled, dropping my gaze to the scuffed hardwood floor. "I really hope I didn't make an ass out of myself. Or puke on your shoes."

Lilly's laugh, a sunbeam piercing the fog of my humiliation, filled the cramped confines of our dorm room. "You were a riot last night! Kept going on about Saturn and its moons. What do you say we try this again, with a little less whiskey next time?"

I cut a glare at Michael, but he just quirked an eyebrow, the picture of feigned innocence. "Sure," I said, the word tripping off my tongue before my brain could catch up. "Sounds perfect, as long as we skip the endless shots."

In response to my snappy comeback, Michael's laughter echoed off the bare walls of our room. "Good luck with that!"

Lost in a whirlpool of regret, tentative hope, and searing embarrassment, I hardly registered Lilly wriggling into her jeans, balancing on each foot in turn with the lithe grace of a dancer. She scooped up her shoes and tugged at the hem of my shirt, which hung loose on her slender frame. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I'm keeping this, just so you know. I dig your style."

She sauntered past Michael, who inclined his head in a gesture of respect. As she vanished down the hall, his voice floated back to me: "Better check your phone, handsome. I'm looking forward to date number two! Or you know, round one, if you play your cards right." She giggled as she passed through the front door. 

The instant the door snicked shut behind her, Michael rounded on me, his face split by a Cheshire cat grin. "Damn, she's a firecracker! You get her digits?"

I fished my phone from my pocket, my heart sinking as I scrolled through my contacts. No new entries. I collapsed onto the bed, a groan seething between my teeth. "Nope. Missed my shot. But there's another rager tonight. Maybe she'll make an appearance."

"Attaboy," Michael said, his smile crooked and teasing. "Now haul ass and get dressed. Class starts in twenty, and for the love of God, put on some pants this time, dumbass." He spun to face my dresser and began pawing through the drawers.

At that moment, a buzz against my palm alerted me to an incoming text. As I scanned the message, a grin crept across my face, slow and unbidden.

"Hey handsome."

_________________________________________________________

"Did you take your pill today, bub?" Michael strode up, his backpack thumping against his shoulders with each step.

"Fuck, forgot it. Gotta go back," I grumbled.

"Had a hunch you'd blank." Michael procured a capsule and a plastic bottle, offering them to me. "I've got your back."

"Thanks, babe," I mumbled, popping the pill and taking a swig of water.

As Michael matched my pace, the tension radiating from him was a near-tangible force. I turned to him, my eyes narrowing. "What's your malfunction?"

He fidgeted with his cross necklace. "It's weird, man," he said, avoiding my gaze.

"What, hitting on you?" I shot back, irritation rising in my voice. "We've been making people think we're gay for each other since we were kids. It's a bit late in the game to tell me it makes you uncomfortable."

His head swung from side to side. "Nah, not that. It's Emily, dude. She's got beef with..."

"Jesus, not this song and dance." My temper ignited, the words sharp-edged. "If she's shoving that holy roller crap down your throat, I swear to God..."

"Cool your jets, Alec! This ain't about the man upstairs putting the kibosh on queers." An exasperated sigh gusted from his lips. "She just doesn't dig our shtick, you feel me? Ain't a fan of the gag."

"Can't she take a fucking joke?"

"Thinks it's outta pocket, is all." His eyes remained fixed on the ground as he forced out the words.

I stepped into his personal space, my stance a mocking threat. "You cruisin' for a bruisin' over this, pal?"

He backpedaled, a strained chuckle escaping him. "Ease up, psycho!"

A bitter edge cut through my laugh. "Christ on a cracker, man. Broad's trying to drive a wedge between us. You 'member when it was ride or die, just the two of us against the world?"

"No way," Michael replied firmly. "We're brothers, always. But yeah, we've got our own lives now."

"You were always the mature one," I scoffed, walking backward with a smirk. "See you at the party tonight, then?"

"Yeah!" He brightened. "Gonna behave yourself tonight?"

"Fuck that," I smirked, walking backward. "I'll be there, getting shit-faced. Smoke like a fish, drink like a chimney!"

___________________________________

I stumbled into the lecture hall, my entrance snagging Professor McCarrin's razor gaze. "Mr. Sumner, dim the lights, please," she commanded, her tone devoid of warmth. Whoops. Pissed her off.

"S-sorry, Ms. McCarrin. Rough night," I mumbled, flicking off the glaring fluorescents. She dissected me with her stare, her expression pinching. "Your nights seem consistently lengthy, Mr. Sumner. Without your exemplary test scores, I might question your dedication to astronomy."

The room fell silent as she continued her lecture. "Tonight, we're observing an extraordinary cosmic event. A group of near-Earth objects, or NEOs, will pass closely by. These bodies are astrophysical anomalies due to their radiation absorption properties, rendering them nearly invisible despite their proximity. Their material composition eludes us, but recent advances in optical and infrared astronomy have revealed intriguing characteristics. These asteroids display gaseous and particulate 'clouds' around their nuclei, approximately 0.25 miles in diameter. This phenomenon potentially mirrors the cryovolcanic eruptions on Io, induced by Jupiter's intense tidal forces."

With a click, an ancient projector whirred to life, casting a high-contrast image of Jupiter and its moon, Io. Dark masses, now identifiable as asteroids, stood out starkly against the luminous backdrop of the gas giant.

"Observe here," she indicated with her laser pointer. "These objects exhibit full-spectrum radiation absorption, a characteristic observable through a combination of astrometry and spectral imaging in both visible and infrared wavelengths. We've deduced that each NEO comprises numerous smaller bodies, each with its own unique composition, suggesting a geologically active nature. Yet, their clustering behavior and potential interstellar origin raise questions about unknown gravitational dynamics, perhaps even influenced by dark matter."

She paused, allowing the class to absorb the information. "These bodies are no longer in a stable orbit around Jupiter. Their trajectory and velocity suggest they're moving at unprecedented speeds, currently passing through the asteroid belt, and bringing them closer to Earth than anticipated. Tonight, they'll pass near Mars, providing us with an opportunity for closer observation and analysis. This event has garnered significant attention from the global astronomical community due to its potential implications for understanding dark matter and interstellar phenomena."

As I slouched in the lecture hall, Professor McCarrin's words about celestial phenomena faded to a distant hum, drowned out by the storm raging in my mind. My eyes glazed over the images of distant asteroids projected on the screen, my thoughts tangled elsewhere, snarled in the labyrinthine web of my past.

I drifted back to my childhood, to the sterile, antiseptic corridors of the pediatric oncology center in San Diego. That's where I met Michael. Amidst the constant beeping of monitors and hushed whispers of nurses, we forged a friendship under the shadow of our mortality. Just kids, grappling with life-threatening illnesses, yet finding an unexpected closeness in each other's company.

I vividly remembered the day we met. In group therapy, Michael cracked a morbid joke about dying, wildly inappropriate to most, but to me, a moment of genuine humor in a bleak situation. I was the only one who laughed, and that laugh marked the beginning of a lifelong friendship. We shared the same sense of humor, the same music taste, favorite shows - even the same rare form of liver cancer. 

The two years Michael and I spent in the hospital seemed like a lifetime, and they forged a bond between us that was unyielding and deep. When we were finally released, new organs in tow, it was a cocktail of relief and melancholy. 

Our homes sat on opposite coasts, and the thought of separation loomed over us like an ominous cloud. But fate, it seemed, had different plans. Our families, recognizing the strength of our friendship and its positive impact on our health, made the monumental decision to move closer together. This allowed us to continue our journey together, not just as friends but as brothers in arms against the adversities we faced.

We enrolled in the same school, shared the same classes, and our free time was spent in each other's company. We even developed our own secret language, a private code that was ours alone. For a while, life was blissful, a rare respite in a world that had been unkind to us both.

And then, with a sickening crunch, it all came to an end. Michael's mother died in a car accident on a frigid winter night. 

I was there for him, offering support as his world unraveled. But his father, consumed by grief, turned to alcohol, and his life spiraled out of control. His descent into alcoholism was rapid and total, each day blurring into the next in a haze of liquor and despair. He became a ghost, a shadow of the man he once was, his life revolving around his next drink. Michael and I found ourselves caring for him, our lives consumed by this new responsibility, picking up pieces too heavy for our tender hands. Michael had to drop out of school and work to keep the lights on, relying on me for support.

The day Michael called to say "he's gone," referring to his father, it was an expected yet painful reality. Michael, now alone, declared himself an emancipated adult and asked to move in with my family. My parents welcomed him with open arms, refusing to accept any rent from him and giving him a space to heal.

Together, we navigated life, taking up jobs at local diners, ice cream parlors, and burger joints. We became known faces around town, and our hustle and ambition were evident in every step we took. Michael sold his father's house, a decision that brought with it a small financial relief. He used the money wisely, buying us vehicles and saving the rest. Eventually, we pooled our resources for college. Michael swapped his college roommate for me, ensuring we stayed together.

But then Emily entered Michael's life, and things began to change. He found faith, a path I couldn't follow, and our friendship began to shift. I found myself reminiscing about the bond we shared, rooted in shared trauma and profound connection. Yet, as people grow and change, I realized, so do relationships. We could drift apart, not because of any dramatic conflict, but simply because our paths were diverging.

But Michael's newfound zeal for converting me? That was a bridge too far. I flat out refused. I didn't need or want to follow in his footsteps. I was content living life on my own terms, without the need for salvation. Eventually, he came to terms with my stance, but it put a slight distance between us. I think he harbored some resentment over it. He had embraced this new life of his, while I held steadfast to my old ways.

Yet, this change in Michael didn't dampen his love for social gatherings. He may have given up drinking, but his appetite for the party scene remained undiminished. He seemed to take a twisted pleasure in seeing the aftermath of my nights out—the hangovers that followed.

Speaking of which...

"Fuck," I groaned, massaging my throbbing temples as the hangover's vice grip threatened to crush my skull. Professor McCarrin's words drifted in and out of focus, my brain struggling to process her lecture through the haze of pain.

"...can't detect them with our usual tools. Their complete lack of visibility is the only clue..." Her voice faded, drowned out by the pounding in my head. I forced my eyes open, the fluorescent lights of the projector stabbing into my retinas like white-hot needles.

A decision loomed before me, the weight of it settling in my gut like a lead ball. Michael's party beckoned, the promise of Lilly's warm embrace a siren's call I yearned to answer. But the once-in-a-lifetime astronomical event Professor McCarrin described tugged at my academic curiosity, a magnetic pull I couldn't ignore.

I shifted in my seat, the hard plastic digging into my back as I weighed my options. My dick throbbed, urging me to choose Lilly's supple curves over the cold, impersonal lens of a telescope.

I pulled out my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen as I debated the message to Lilly. The throbbing in my skull intensified, each pulse a reminder of the night before. Fragments of memory flickered through my mind - the burn of whiskey sliding down my throat, the press of bodies on the dance floor, Lilly's laughter ringing in my ears. But the weight of the decision settled heavy in my gut.

Professor McCarrin's words echoed in my head, tangling with the remnants of the hangover. An astronomical event, she'd said. Once-in-a-lifetime, she'd said. And the Prof wasn't keen on embellishment, this meant something. The kind of thing that could rewrite the textbooks, change everything we thought we knew about the universe. And here I was, contemplating blowing it off for a party and some potential pussy. Fantastic, guaranteed pussy, more like... God dammit, Alec! Be an adult for once!

My thumb hovered over the keypad, the unsent message rolling through my brain. I could picture Lilly's face when she read it, the disappointment that would flicker in her eyes. But the pull of the unknown, the chance to witness something extraordinary, was impossible to ignore.

I typed out the message, my fingers clumsy on the screen. "can't make it 2nite so sorry important field work for class." I hit send before I could second-guess myself, the phone heavy in my hand.

"Now," McCarrin continued, "I have a stack of papers here detailing what we know about these objects. You're welcome to study them on your own, or join our group tonight for the observation." Her announcement stirred a buzz among the students, a tangible air of excitement filling the room. "Remember, folks, this could revolutionize our understanding of the universe!"

The phone buzzed in my pocket, Lilly's response no doubt. But I ignored it, my mind already racing with the possibilities of what lay ahead. The unknown, the unexplored, the chance to witness something that could change everything.

I shifted in my seat, the hard plastic digging into my back as I focused on Professor McCarrin's words. This was my choice, my decision. 

And I knew, deep down, that I'd made the right one.