Kyle sat to the left of me on the right side of a king bed. I could hear the faint sound of loud music from the ongoing party through the door to the room.

“Thank you.” a very drunk Kyle said.

“For what?”

“All this - everything really.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was silence for a nonspecific amount of time.

“Are you gay?” Kyle asked.

“Yes.” I answered.

“Ah.” Kyle said.

The music continued playing.

“There’s this dream that I keep getting, and I hate it.” Kyle said. “It’s like, it’s when like, we’re at your house for some party, and like I follow you up into your room, and then we drink beer and then you fuck me.” Kyle drunkenly said.

“Oh” I said.

“Yeah…” Kyle said; he looked into his eyes - I kept looking into his without changing expression. Kyle couldn’t really focus on my face, and kept looking off into the distance behind me or slowly shifting his eyes around.

“Can you kiss me?” Kyle asked.

I thought about it, “No.”

Kyle grabbed my arm, I pushed him off with little effort.

Then he leaned in to try and kiss me anyway, I held him back, “No, Kyle, stop.” I said, “You’re drunk, stop.”

“But I wanna.” Kyle complained.

“No - it’s not like you’ll remember it anyway.” I rebutted.