I came up with the title for this after watching Tangled lmao

Lucas tucked his hand into mine as we entered his house, sighing in relief at the rush of warm air that greeted us.

I'd told him in the car that school had pretty much sucked for me today. The guys were acting all weird around me for some reason, I'd failed a calculus test, and I'd earned myself detention on Saturday for falling asleep in class for the third day in a row. Club practice had drilled me into the ground on Monday and Wednesday, and with my parents home to add unneeded stress to my life, I hadn't been getting enough sleep. In short, I was exhausted. Of course, Lucas said it wasn't my fault, but my teacher thought otherwise.

He'd said he was going to make my day a whole lot better. I didn't know exactly what he meant by that, but I figured he was implying that he always made my day better—which, in fairness, he did.

"I've got something for you," he mused, trying and failing miserably to conceal a smile. I eyed him suspiciously as I hung up my coat—he was up to something.

"Yeah?" I asked, curiosity painted in watercolor across my expression.

"Yeah," he affirmed, re-grabbing my hand. "You wanna see?"

What kind of dumbass question . . .

"Well of course I wanna see!"

He led me upstairs to his room and sat me down on the bed. Then he disappeared into the closet, and I had nothing but the sounds of shuffling to use to guess what he was doing.

Then his form reappeared, holding so much stuff that he looked like he was about to fall over, and I choked on air.

A bouquet of roses. A pink teddy bear. A heart-shaped box of chocolates. Another box of red-sprinkled cookies. And, balanced meticulously on the box of chocolates, a long black box.

I thought back to my seventh period and asked myself what date I'd put on my paper. It couldn't be . . . There was no way . . . I would've remembered.

I recalled my messy handwriting absentmindedly scrawling out 02/14. Today was Valentine's Day.

I looked up at Lucas, who was staring down at me expectantly with his classic smile. "Oh my god," I breathed. "I forgot."

Lucas snorted. "Well I didn't. So?"

His prompting tone hit me like a slap in the face, and I finally realized that he'd bought all of this lovey-dovey shit for me. Me. Flowers, chocolates, a teddy bear . . . For me.

"Fuck," I cursed as I felt myself starting to get emotional. But I couldn't help it—I was a guy that had gone all of his life without getting gifts for events like Christmas or my birthday; unless money counted. No one had ever thought of me that way—as someone to put time and effort and thought into picking things out for. It had become normal for me by now. I didn't expect gifts from anyone; why set expectations for something that you know will just let you down in the end?

And yet here was Lucas, standing before me with a fucking boatload of gifts meant for me, and god I felt like a fucking girl because I was pretty sure I would either scream or burst into tears.

Instead, my voice seemed to lose itself in the twisted maze of everything I was feeling. My brain was a useless pile of hormonal mush. Only my body seemed to work, and I beckoned Lucas forward. He shuffled toward me obediently, still struggling with the mass of objects he was carrying

Then he, ceremoniously as ever, dumped the pile onto me and hopped onto the bed beside me.

In any other situation, I would've laughed. Now, though, I only stared down at what was around me. The first item I encountered was the teddy bear, which had landed quite perfectly on my lap.

It was as tall as my torso, and when I held it, it was soft. I'd only had a teddy bear once in my life, when I was little. Named it Fozzie after my favorite Muppets character. It had been my prized possession, until Jenna was born and my parents decided they would give her mine instead of buying her one of her own. Rich people, it seemed, were always the cheapest when it came to matters of affection.

Jenna had lost Fozzie at a park soon after. I'd cried for two nights straight.

The teddy in my lap brought back fond memories I'd all-but forgotten. My happiest times, when life was pure and simple. I silently named it Fozzie.

Then I looked at the flowers. Red roses. Typical of Valentine's day. I'd always thought flowers were a girl thing, but when I lifted them to my nose, I understood the obsession. There was something so romantic about being given something so fresh and lovely. Sort of symbolic.

"Thank you," I whispered as I took another deep inhale. I could feel Lucas' eyes on me, and wondered to myself if I was weirding him out. After all, he'd only meant to share with me a nice gift, as boyfriends do. And here I was, hardly talking, cuddling a teddy bear and sniffing flowers like a freak.

Then I felt his hand. It started at my lower back and moved upward slowly, then back down, and I knew he knew. That this wasn't just any gift to me, that it meant something. Even if he didn't know exactly what or why, he knew he'd done something more than raid the Valentine's Day section at the supermarket.

I probably could have spent all day cuddling that teddy bear and sniffing those flowers, but I forced myself to put them aside and turn to Lucas. Somehow, thank you wasn't enough. I wanted to communicate to him how much he'd changed my life—not just now, but so many months ago when he'd agreed to be my link. I was so much better with Lucas Morgan, it was uncanny.

Before I could even attempt to speak, however, he held up the long rectangular box. I'd forgotten all about it.

I took it in my hands; it was velvet, soft under my fingers. When I opened it, it revealed a silver band, hung over a thin chain. Words were inscribed across its circumference.

"Before you freak out," Lucas said beside me, "It's not a promise ring or anything. Obviously it's not an engagement ring. And I know you can't wear it around for the world to see—that's what the chain is for. And . . . Yeah."

I could tell by his voice that he was nervous. Maybe he thought I wouldn't like it, or would think it too much. I would've said something to reassure him, but I was once again caught in sweet speechlessness as I stared at the object in front of me. I loved it. Of course I loved it.

It was so pretty. So simple, but so pretty. I slipped the ring portion over my finger, just to see how it would fit when I could wear it out and about. Like a glove. Then I slipped the chain around my neck. It was so light, I feared I would break it. It felt like nothing.

I lifted the ring so that it no longer dangled in midair, turning it over appreciatively in my fingers. The words were in a neat, clear font.

     At first, I didn't understand. I looked over the words again and again. I'll be your friend -L.M.

     It was a nice saying, but what did it have to do with us? Did my boyfriend just friend-zone me?

     And then I gasped softly as a memory I didn't think I had shoved itself to the front of my mind after five years of silence.

I was alone, on the back porch of this very house. I wasn't in the best mood, having been ditched by all the other boys. At the same time, I couldn't blame them. If I were them, I wouldn't want to hang around me either. God, I must have looked like such a loser.

Then approached a tall, skinny boy whom I'd always known but never really known. Lucas Morgan, a kid with skin was so pale he looked anemic. His nearly-black hair was messy and kind of long for a boy's. His eyes were almost too green; I thought they were fake. Colored contacts, maybe.

"You look lonely," he said, which to me seemed like a strange conversation starter. Nevertheless, I laughed, because I could tell just by looking at him that he meant no malice.

"What gave it away? My complete solitude?"

The other boy scrunched his nose playfully. "Nah, just a hunch."

I only hummed in response, and Lucas frowned. "Hey, c'mon, you're at a party! Lighten up a bit, have some fun."

"Oh, they don't want me in there." I blew a strand of my hair—which had been much longer and much blonder back then—out of my face. "I'm no fun."

"I don't believe that," Lucas said. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah? How would you know? You don't know me."

A determined look crossed the boy's face. "Well then I'll find out."

I snorted. "And how are you gonna do that?"

"I'll be your friend, of course."

"I don't think it's that easy."

Then again, I wouldn't know. I didn't have many friends.

"Oh yeah?" He held out his hand for me to shake. "Well I'm making it that easy. Let's be friends, Nathaniel Jean."

"I'm guessing you remember?" Lucas said in response to my drawn out silence. I turned to look at him, nodding slightly, and he grinned. "Good. It would've been really awkward if you didn't."

"How'd I get so lucky?" I breathed, half to myself, as I looked at the bear and the cookies and the flowers and the chocolates and the ring. Lucas smiled warmly and pressed a kiss to my cheek.

"Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day," I said, an unstoppable smile pulling at my lips. "I'm sorry I forgot."

"You know I don't care about that," Lucas said as he wrapped his fingers around the back of my neck, pulling my face toward his. Then, right before our lips touched, in a lower voice, he added, "I do care how you thank me, though."

Safe to say, he was more than satisfied with the way I showed my gratitude.

It was much later that night, after we'd somehow managed to go through all of the chocolates and cookies, that I found myself thinking about the future.

I was hovering over Lucas, who lay with one arm crossed behind his head and the other folded comfortably over his chest. I was kissing him, and he was half-responding, half-relaxing underneath me. I'd realized early on in our relationship that he loved it this way, though he never verbally admitted it. To just lay there and be kissed. To simply receive the affection that was often lacking in his day-to-day.

Things were actually serious between the two of us, I realized. This wasn't something either of us had dealt with before. We knew flings, not relationships. We could really go somewhere. Lucas had said that the ring didn't mean anything today, but who knew what could happen? Maybe in a few years there would be a ring that did mean something.

The thought gave me shivers. I'd never even considered commitment before Lucas, and now I was thinking of marriage?

It wasn't unpleasant, though; nor was it scary. It was actually really, really exciting.

I felt Lucas smiling against my lips. Curious, I pulled away, and watched his too-green eyes flutter open. "What?" I asked. "Why are you smiling?"

Lucas shrugged. "Because you make me happy."

It was 6:40 PM the following Wednesday when my phone started buzzing on my bed. I'd been halfway through getting ready for soccer practice when it rang, and I may or may not have fallen onto my ass while attempting to answer the call and pull on my sock at the same time.

"Hello?" I greeted to whoever it was that had decided to call me. I never checked caller IDs—for no good reason besides my own laziness—and this was no different. That said, you can probably understand my surprise when I was met with loud-ass sobbing from the other line. "Uh . . . Hello?"

I figured now would probably be a good time to check who was crying incessantly in my ear. It was when I looked at my phone screen and saw the name Lucas M displayed that I grew alarmed.

"Lucas? What's wrong?"

But he just kept crying. I heard my name in between the sobs at one point, but that was all.

Worry flared up in my gut. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Had someone hurt him? Was it Shawn? Did something happen to a family member? What if it was something urgent?

Whatever the case, I was already on my feet. "I'll be right over," I promised. I managed to make out a few subtle, tear-muffled protests from Lucas, but I was already pulling a hoodie over my soccer uniform. Then my phone, at the worst time possible, died.

I moved as if I was on a quickly waning time limit. Ignoring the fact that I had one sock on and one only pulled half-up, revealing my shin guard underneath, I slipped on a pair of slides and hurried out of the house, taking the steps three at a time. The cold bit at me as soon as I was outside, reminding me that this hoodie was certainly not substantial for Nebraska's winter weather, but I hardly noticed.

Speeding was not something I did often—Sheriff Patberry was always more than happy to ticket us "rambunctious teens"—but I found myself surpassing the limit by fifteen, maybe twenty, as I hurried to Lucas' house. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe there was nothing too serious going on. But all I knew in that moment was that my boy sounded upset, and that didn't sit well with me at all.

     Lucas' garage was open, and within it I saw a sleek black Cadillac and a BMW SUV. Lucas' parents' cars. Shawn's was, thankfully, nowhere in sight—he must have already left for practice.

     I hesitated for a moment. The Morgans were home. If I rushed in there worrying over Lucas, it would raise a question.

    Then again, the Morgans were among the few people in this town who'd supported Lucas since the moment he told them he was gay. I was nowhere near ready to come out, but if anybody were to know, I supposed they weren't the worst option.

     Then again again, I was friends with the boys who gave Lucas hell. His parents probably maybe wouldn't want me dating their son.

     Maybe they'd be okay with it . . . ?

    With this half-comforting thought, I stepped out of the car.

     I hesitated again as I stood in front of the door. This was suddenly a lot scarier. I definitely wasn't ready, even if they were good people. They weren't the problem; it was the stress and anxiety that came with the idea of anyone knowing, having the power to do with the information as they desire.

      But Lucas had sounded really upset. I knocked on the door.

     It took a minute, but soon the dark wood swung ajar to reveal the face of Elena Morgan.

     She was the mirror—though obviously more feminine—image of Lucas. The same thick, nearly black hair; the same pale skin, though hers had a more olive undertone; the same dimpled smile; and the same height. Yup—Elena Morgan stood at about six foot one.

     She didn't hide her surprise to see me. "Nathaniel?" She smiled politely, but I could already see her less-than-positive opinion of me displayed in her eyes. I'd never noticed the slight accent in her voice until recently, now that I knew she was Romanian. "Shawn's not here, honey. He just left."

     "Oh I'm not here for Shawn," I told her. "Is Lucas around?"

     The change in her demeanor was instant. Her eyes narrowed, ever so slightly, and her entire form seemed to tense protectively. "Yes," she answered honestly. "But he doesn't need any trouble right now, alright? Come back some other time. Or don't."

      She began to push the door shut, but I held out a hand to stop it. "Ma'am, you've got me all wrong," I said. "I'm not here for trouble. Your son, he called me. He was crying. I'm just here to see if he's okay."

     Elena eyed me suspiciously. "My son called you," she said disbelievingly.

     I nodded. "Yes, ma'am. We're . . . Friends."

     She stared at me for a moment, and I realized she even shared Lucas' unnerving, analyzing, soul-reading gaze. Then her eyes rounded, just a tad, and her mouth formed an 'o' shape. "You're his friend," she repeated.

     "Yes," I nodded quickly. "Close friend. Can I . . ."

     "Of course," she stepped aside to allow me in. As I passed her, I noticed her slight smile; the left end of her lips lifted just beyond her right. Just like Lucas'. "Lucas! Nathaniel Jean is here to see you!" Then she turned to me. "Come on, hun. We'll meet him halfway."

       She led me into the living room where I'd spent so many days alone with her son, unbeknownst by her. "By the way, he's fine."

     Fine? Then why was he . . .

     Lucas appeared at the entrance of the room, disrupting my thoughts entirely. He had definitely been crying. He still was. His eyes and cheeks were red and wet with tears. But he was smiling like a madman. A piece of paper was clutched in his hand.

     "Lucas, what's wrong?" I asked, worried all over again. Instead of answering, he all-but ran forward, wordlessly shoving the paper into my chest and watching me expectantly as I read it.

     I think I might have screamed.

     Okay, I definitely screamed.

     I must have squeezed the life out of poor Lucas, but he hugged me back just as fiercely. I swung him around in a circle, unable to contain my ecstasy for him, because my boyfriend had just been accepted into Juilliard.

      I wasn't sure how long we stood like that, hugging and screaming and giggling like little kids, but I probably could have gone on for days. Words couldn't describe the immense pride I felt for Lucas in that moment, unrivaled by any I'd felt before.

     "Oh my god," I breathed as we settled down; our grips had eased and the jumping and spinning had come to an end, though we still rocked from foot to foot in each other's arms. "I fucking knew it," I said. "I knew you would. I never had a doubt."

     I'd never seen Lucas' face so bright. He was absolutely beaming, probably the happiest he'd been in his life. This was what he'd been training for, this was the start of his dream.

     He sighed into my shoulder. I could feel my shirt growing wet, but now I knew that he was crying tears of joy, not despair.

     "Nate, I don't wanna alarm you." His voice was a whisper that only I could hear. "But my parents are right there."

     I glanced over Lucas' shoulder. Bruce Morgan, his father, must have been there the entire time, sat comfortably on the couch. Elena had joined him, and they were both blatantly staring at us.

     Nervous energy seared my skin. "I know."

     I wasn't sure why I did it. Maybe I was too high on happiness and nerves to think properly. Maybe it was some sort of unspoken message, aiming to show Lucas that I wanted to be with him and wasn't ashamed of it. Maybe I just really wanted to kiss him.

     Whatever the case, I took that blissful moment to lift Lucas' chin, though admittedly with shaking hands, and bring his lips to mine, right in front of his parents.

    It was quick, of course—I wasn't about to leave an indecent impression on the Morgans. When I pulled away, Lucas' expression was a lovely blend of awed surprise and Do you know what the hell you just did?

     "Nate," he whispered. "What did you do?"

     I let out a shaky, uneven breath. "Something very unlike me," I muttered, focusing on Lucas' face because I was pretty sure I would shatter like glass if I looked at his parents.

     This wasn't about me, though. This was Lucas' moment. The focus should be on his accomplishments, not my . . . whatever the hell you'd call this.

      "You're gonna be off to New York pretty soon, huh?" Was my not-so-subtle subject switch. Lucas smiled, apparently deciding to go with the change.

     "Yup," he said, popping the 'p'. He wrapped his arms loosely around my neck. "And you'll be right up there with me, right?"

     I returned his grin in earnest. "Wouldn't miss it—even if I fail to get into every NYC school in existence."

     "Which you won't."

      I realized then that my lifetime aspiration, which I'd held onto for so many years now, was quickly shifting. The destination was the same: New York City. But the picture was different, and momentously so, because now I didn't imagine myself fleeing to The Big Apple on my own. I didn't have to make my escape alone. My new dream included Lucas, and it was crazy to me how big a difference the seemingly small change made.

     "Okay, hold on for a second."

     The voice wasn't mine, nor was it Lucas'. It was much deeper, and held a very confused tone. "Am I missing something?"

     I turned, half-terrified, to face Bruce Morgan.

     "Sir, I . . ."

      "Fucking finally," Elena muttered, effectively cutting me off. "I thought he'd never get a boyfriend."

     "Mom!" Lucas whined. Elena grinned at him, blowing a cheeky kiss.

     Bruce still looked wary. "You sure you're good news, Jean?"

     I swallowed nervously. Bruce Morgan was a huge man, tall and bulky with muscle. He may not have been trying to intimidate me, but he sure as hell was. I finally understood the stigma around 'meeting the parents'. This was horrifying.

     "I try to be," I told him, hoping he couldn't tell how much I was inwardly quivering under his gaze. I regretted the words as soon as they'd left my mouth. I should have said something more reassuring—a simple 'yes' would have sufficed. I'm such an idiot. Fuck, I'm gonna die.

     Bruce crossed his arms sternly. "I know your type. I don't trust you."

"Dad," Lucas groaned.

     I thought I might piss myself right there, but then Elena smacked Bruce's arm lightly and rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop it Bruce. The poor boy looks like he's seen a ghost."

     Lucas snickered behind me. I couldn't understand what on Earth was even mildly amusing, until Bruce's lips twitched and I noticed for the first time that he was holding back a smile.

     I had no idea what the hell was happening. So I, ever so intelligently, said, "Huh?"

     Bruce gave up on suppressing his grin and chuckled, standing up from his seat on the couch. Despite his much friendlier expression, I had to command my feet not to step backward as he approached.

     When he held out his hand to me, it took me a moment too long to realize that I was supposed to shake it. He laughed again; the sound was deep and hearty and genuine. "Lighten up, son. I'm just messing around."

    I blinked, then glanced back at Lucas, who was still snickering behind me. Bruce's grip was firm but not tight. "Yes, Sir. I mean . . . Okay."

      Bruce's eyes twinkled with amusement. "You're not gonna hurt my boy, right? He's dealt with enough shit as it is."

     "O-of course not."

     He smiled. "Great then. I'll spare you the rest of the dad talk—at least for now. As of this moment, I welcome you into the family."

     And that was that. The Morgans invited me to stay for dinner—I figured this was worth dealing with the repercussions of missing practice—and any tension dissolved quickly. My nerves dissipated, because they were just too damn nice and funny and genuine to be nervous around.

        They, despite who I was and who they'd known me to be, accepted me into their home just like that. Maybe they didn't quite trust me now, but they were willing to keep that to themselves and try.

     They were the polar opposite of my family. And holy shit, I loved it.

      I got to spend the next two hours laughing with my boyfriend and his parents, celebrating his success, feeling like I was finally becoming a part of something wholesome. I forgot about the fact that I'd just faced one of my biggest fears and come out to near strangers. I forgot about my fucked up family, and my shitty grades, and the fact that my 'friends' had been acting really, really weird around me lately.

       None of that mattered right now, because my mind was occupied with better, prettier, more important things.