telling your cis best friend one drunken late night that you think you might be a boy too. next morning you come to regret it, taking it all back and passing it off as a dumb thought.
he doesn't let you.
he doesn't push it, but you notice changes. he doesn't filter himself around you as much anymore, punches your shoulder a little harder when he teases, puts you in a headlock far more often that he would a girl. he builds it up in subtle ways, like switching from your old name to a nickname, or maybe even your last name. he tells you to fight back harder in the moments you're laughing and wrestling each other.
"c'mon, man up! is that all you've got? nah, i know better!"
he doesn't care nearly as much about changing in front of you, and he tells you all of the dirty details he can think of. you're just boys, right? he'll make you see that.
wrestling and dumb jokes turn into late nights with smoke swirling, mentioning a porno he saw the other night that he's still thinking of now as you lie on your backs staring at the ceiling with the posters. nicknames and telling you to man up turns into palming at his cock and encouraging you to pull yours out. he won't accept your dumb excuse of not having one. this is what boys do.
he'll make sure you know it.
