"Dude, I'm pretty sure you're in love," John told him when Smitty explain his ordeal.

"But I've never been in love before. Why fall in love now?"

John shrugged, "Maybe it's the world telling you that you finally need to get laid." Smitty smacked John's arm, and John laughed. "I'm kidding, Smit. But seriously, you're gonna have to do something about it."

"Says who?"

"Says me, because although I love you, it's pretty fucking annoying hearing you talk nonstop about him. Grow a pair and ask him out!"

Smitty blushed, "I don't talk about him that much."

John raised an eyebrow at him, "Are you serious? 'Oh, John, he did this today and my heart stopped, and he looked and talked to me and I swear the gods were looking upon me today and-'"

"Shut up!" Smitty hissed suddenly.

John looked up at Smitty who was looking above his head. John leaned his head back and saw someone. "Smit, you're really fucking gay," he said, before whistling. "Yo, Marcel!"

"John!"

Marcel began walking over to where they were, and John looked back at Smitty and smirked. "Get over it, pussy."

"Hey guys," Marcel greeted.

"Sup, Marcel," Smitty greeted, leaning back and pretending to be calm. John gave him a look, and he glared back.

"Hey, Marcel, are you doing anything for Valentine's Day?" John asked. Smitty glared at him again.

"Nope, just playing some video games probably. Why?"

"Cause me and Smit wanted to know if you were up for games that day, that's all."

"Well, hit me up, dude. I'm open."

"Sweet."

"Well, I gotta go. See ya John, see ya milkbag." He gave John and fist pump and ruffled Smitty's hair before leaving.

Once Marcel was out of sight, John began laughing at how red Smitty's face was. "Smit, you're so fucking gay," he giggled.

"Shut up!" Smitty hissed.

"Don't get mad at me, I did you a favor."

"Favor my ass, you're gonna embarrass the hell out of me!"

"Well, I can't embarrass you if I'm not there."

"Wait, what?"

John just winked at him.

"John."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Valentine's Day came around, Smitty was ready. Well, more like John was ready for Smitty. He had everything planned out for Smitty to do because, in his words, "You're so lovesick that your head is up your ass and you can't think straight - see what I did there? - so I've done it for you. You're welcome."

The plan was that John would pretend to be "sick", leaving Smitty alone with Marcel.

Then Smitty would give this speech John wrote (it was surprisingly good; Smitty refused to believe John wrote it for the longest time), and then hand him a bouquet of flowers.

As John put it, "It's the best fuckin' thing a guy could get. You have to get some dick after this!"

Now all that was left was for Smitty to actually go through with the plan.

If he ever left his room.

"Smitty, grow a god damn pair and get out of here!"

"Fuck off, John!"

"If you don't ask Marcel out, I'll ask him out myself!"

"... You'd do that?"

"I meant I'd ask him out for me, dumbass. Not you."

"Oh."

John sighed. "Smit, please. Just get out here. If you do, I'll buy you ice cream."

There was silence, followed with some shuffling. "You will?" Smitty's voice was much clearer now, as he was right up against the door instead of talking from his bed.

"Yes, I will. Now open up you nerd."

The door opened slightly, and Smitty peaked his head out with a frown. "I'm not a nerd."

"You're a lovesick nerd and you know it, now get out of there."

Smitty frowned even more, but opened the door fully and stepped out. He crossed his arms, "Happy?"

"Very. Now get your dumb bouquet and go get your man."

"You were the one who came up with the bouquet!"

"It's still dumb because you're the one giving it to him. Now go!"

Before Smitty could protest, John pulled him to the front door and shoved him out, shutting and locking the front door afterwards. "Dick," Smitty mumbled. He looked at the bouquet and sighed.

Maybe he could just go somewhere, throw the bouquet away, and pretend it didn't work.

The only problem was, he was pretty sure John would fight Marcel for that, and that was something Smitty definitely did not want to deal with. He sighed again and took out his phone to dial Marcel. "Eyy, what's up milkbag?" Marcel greeted.

"I'm on my way to your place for shitty Valentine's Day games. And John got sick, so he isn't coming."

"Of course he got sick on fucking Valentine's Day. Come on over, Smit."

He ended the call. Smitty took in a deep breath and let it out before he began walking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Smitty was glad he packed a bag with him. He was able to stuff the flowers in his bag while he was waiting for Marcel to open the door. He didn't want to seem too obvious.

Soon Marcel opened the door, and greeted Smitty with a smile. "Hey, man. Come on in." Smitty smiled back and walked in. Marcel closed the door behind him and walked into the living room, where all the gaming stuff was set up. Marcel already had a game picked out, and he handed a remote to Smitty.

Smitty took it, and set his bag aside. Marcel eyed it, "What's in there?"

Smitty instantly became flustered, "I, uh, it's-it's nothing," he said. Marcel lifted an eyebrow at him, but didn't ask any more questions. He just looked at the screen and started the game.

The game was filled with them yelling at each other and laughing and the dumb shit they did. Smitty forgot why he was there for a second, just enjoying the time the two of them spent together.

After more than a few game sessions, they took a break. Marcel was wiping his eyes from laughing so much, and Smitty was still trying to breathe. "I'm gonna get a drink, you want one milkbag?"

"Yeah, thanks man."

Marcel got up and went to the kitchen. Smitty looked around. The place was really nice his his opinion. His eyes landed on his bag, and his face flushed. Should he do it?

Before he could decide, Marcel had come back with the drinks.

"Here's a glass of water. I forgot to ask you what you wanted but whatever."

Smitty took the drink and sipped it, "It's no big deal."

Marcel took a sip of his own drink and sighed.

"Can I tell you something?"

Smitty paused his drinking and put the cup down. "Yeah, what is it?"

"So, I like someone..."

Smitty's heart started racing faster after that one sentence. Was this gonna be like those cheesy movies where the guy says he likes someone and describes the person he's talking to before telling the other person that he likes them? Smitty could only hope.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it's really dumb but... I like John."

And then Smitty's world crashed down. Those last three words just cut into him like a knife. He wiped his eyes, pretending that there was something in them because no he totally wasn't starting to cry because crying is dumb and he was dumb for even thinking that Marcel would like him.

"Oh."

"Yeah, I know, it's dumb. I don't know what about him just... I don't know, man. I figured that I could tell you and you could give me some pointers cause, you know, you're his best friend and all. I was actually gonna try and ask him out today, but he got sick, the fucker. Oh well, maybe next time, right?"

"Yeah, maybe next time." Smitty's voice was quiet, afraid that if he raised it his voice would crack and he'd start crying. He check his phone, and grabbed his bag. "I actually gotta go. See ya, Marcel."

"See ya, milkbag. Thanks for letting me talk to you."

"No problem."

Smitty quickly left, and as he walked to his house slowly, it began to rain. He didn't have an umbrella, but he didn't try to run for cover. He let the rain drench him, and that's when he let the tears fall. He stopped when he could see his house, and grabbed the bouquet out of his bag. He stared at it, watching the flowers become as drenched and him.

When he finally got to his house, he dumped the flowers into the trash. He dropped his bag onto the table and trudged to his bathroom. He started up a hot bath, tears still rolling down his face.

He sat in the bath for a while, not doing anything. Just sitting. And crying. He stayed until the tears stopped, until his sobs no longer interrupted his thoughts, until his thoughts ceased to exist. He sighed, and almost let his head fall under the water of the tub. He wondered if that would make everything better, if he just held it there long enough, to where the bubbles from his mouth and nose stopped altogether.

He quickly shoved that thought away; it was too dark for him, too depressing. He didn't need to be more depressed than he already was.

Once out of the bath, he put comfortable clothes on, and sat on his bed. He looked at his hands for a while, not thinking or feeling anything.

The ring of his phone brought him out of his blank thoughts. He tiredly picked up his phone, looking at the screen to see who was calling.

The name on the screen made Smitty's heart pound, but not out of love or freight. It was anger. He clenched his teeth, and with all his might, chucked his phone at the wall with a scream. The phone shattered against the wall, and the call from his best friend ended before it could begin.

Smitty began feeling tears run down his face, and all emotions hit him at once. He sobbed, putting his face into his hands.