Three weeks before Jerelr's birthday—and just before the release of the book the two of them had poured their hearts into—Egemed walked to Jerelr's house for their usual writing session. That night, they were discussing how alcohol affects a person's behavior.
Jerelr talked about his father:
"He only drinks once a month. And always before bed. He never causes trouble."
They had never tasted alcohol in their lives, because Egemed would always warn him:
"Jerelr, never indulge yourself in an inhumane ways. It could kill someone else."
But that day, Jerelr was strangely persistent.
"Just once," he said with a teasing grin. "Just one sip."
Egemed ignored him again and again.
Yet Jerelr kept pestering, nudging, smiling, insisting with playful desperation, until at last Egemed gave a small, reluctant nod.
It was a silent night. Jerelr's parents had gone to sleep, leaving only the two of them, bent over their writing. Jerelr moved with careful, measured steps, making sure not a single creak of the floorboard betrayed him.
He slipped downstairs to the hidden cabinet where his father kept the bottle, retrieving it with practiced stealth. Returning upstairs, he held two glasses carefully in his hands and closed the door softly behind him, sealing them in their private world.
They sat cross-legged on the mat, the glasses placed between them, staring first at each other, then at the amber liquid. It was as if they were two boys standing at the edge of a forbidden river, daring each other to take the first step.
"Brother, did I force you?" Jerelr asked.
Egemed smirked. "No," he said, almost as if he too were curious.
"Then you go first," Jerelr grinned. "You're older than me."
Egemed hesitated. His hand trembled slightly as he lifted the glass.
"Only this once. We will never do it again. Never indulge in inhumane manner—it will kill someone else."
"I knew you'd say that," Jerelr laughed. "Okay, just once."
Egemed raised the glass.
"Cheers—to our first late-twenties drink!"
Before Jerelr could stop him, Egemed downed the entire glass in one go.
"BROTHER?!" Jerelr yelped. "I thought just one sip! Are you okay?"
Egemed blinked, shocked by the bitterness.
"It's bitter… that's why I didn't stop. Now it's your—your—"
He didn't finish his words. The warmth of the alcohol crept quickly through him, slow and insistent, until it hit his head like a gentle but firm shove. His eyelids drooped, the world tilting sideways, and with a soft thud, his head sank onto the mat.
For a moment, he lay still, dizzy and light-headed, the edges of the room blurring into a gentle haze. The glasses in front of them seemed impossibly far, and the laughter he wanted to release stuck somewhere in his chest.
"Brother! Brother Ege!" Jerelr knelt beside him, panicked.
The world began to spin. Voices stretched. Walls melted into shapes. Then, without knowing how, Egemed found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, head resting against the wall.
Jerelr stood far away, guarding the door as if protecting him from unseen threats.
"Why are you dancing?" Egemed mumbled.
Jerelr collapsed in laughter, rolling on the floor clutching his stomach.
"Brother, do you want to play?" he asked between gasps.
Egemed nodded drowsily—he didn't really understand the question.
Jerelr opened his wardrobe, took out a tie, and returned to him.
"I'll tie your hands so you don't stand up and fall, okay?"
Egemed, still dizzy, nodded.
Once his hands were loosely secured, Jerelr picked up his own glass and took a careful sip, then grinned mischievously. "Alright… now, let's play a game."
Egemed's sleepy eyes widened slightly. "A game?"
"Yes," Jerelr said, his tone teasing. "Close your eyes. I'll count to five, then you have to come find me."
Egemed laughed softly, a little unsteady. "Are you… are you going to… dance with me?"
Jerelr chuckled, the sound warm and low. "Not exactly. Just… trust me."
He crouched a little closer. "Close your eyes… now."
Egemed obeyed, letting the darkness take him. Jerelr's voice counted slowly, deliberately:
"One… two… three… four…"
Before he could finish, he leaned closer, drawn by a force he could barely control. The world felt impossibly close, and his heart thudded painfully in his chest.
Egemed's eyes were half-lidded, uncomprehending. "Hmm?" he murmured.
Jerelr's hand hovered near Egemed's cheek, trembling. "I… I want you so bad," he whispered.
He paused. The words slipped out before he could stop them. His lips hovered above Egemed's, and for a heartbeat, he almost crossed the line.
Then, he leaned in, kissing Egemed softly on the lips, then rested a warm, lingering kiss on his forehead.
Egemed froze. He didn't move, didn't kiss back, just stared in bewildered silence as the world spun around him.
Jerelr's eyes snapped open in horror.
He pulled back immediately, shaking, heart hammering.
"I… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" he whispered, retreating to the other side of the room.
Egemed stayed silent, undisturbed, dizzy and overwhelmed. He didn't even understand, nor hear clearly, what Jerelr was apologizing for. His vision blurred, the world swaying gently around him, and before he could make sense of anything, sleep claimed him.
The Next Morning
Egemed woke in Jerelr's bed. His hands were free, his clothes untouched, but the memory of warm breath near his lips lingered, sending a shiver down his spine.
He sat up abruptly, trembling. His hands rose to his temples, fingers threading through his hair as he tried to piece together the fragments of the night. He pressed his palms against his forehead, rubbed his eyes, and then glanced around. Jerelr wasn't there.
Panic fluttered in his chest. "Where…?" he murmured, scanning the room. The bed beside him was empty, perfectly made, untouched. He pressed his palms to his face again, trying to remember, to make sense of what had happened. Slowly, the fragments returned—not Jerelr's words, not the exact actions, only the warmth, the closeness, and the kiss he could not erase. It had happened. It had to be true.
What did I do?
What did he do?
Was it a mistake?
Did I cause it?
His body shivered with fear, shoulders tensing as if bracing against the thought that their friendship might be broken. He clenched his fists on his knees, almost on the verge of tears.
Then, a quiet, steady voice in his mind brought reason:
We were drunk. It must have been a mistake.
Egemed loosened his grip on his knees, exhaled slowly, and let his hands rest lightly on his lap.Then he reminded himself—they had both been drinking; it might have been a mistake. If he asked Jerelr about it, it could hurt him the most. Jerelr might think Egemed was angry, and their relationship could shatter.
After a moment, Egemed made a decision and accepted it within himself: he had forgiven Jerelr. And if Jerelr came asking for forgiveness, he would not be mad—he would not mind, for they had both been drunk. He would still love him and treat him the same.
"I won't let this destroy our friendship." He murmured.
Then a cheerful voice entered the room. Jerelr's smiling at Egemed like nothing had happened.
"Good morning, Brother Ege!"
Egemed returned the smile, softly: "Good morning, Jege…"
While Egemed was folding the blanket neatly in its place.
Jerelr looked at him with a mischievous smile, eyes sparkling like he knew something.
Egemed sighed, his voice calm and gentle. "Why are you smiling like that at me?"
Jerelr laughed lightly, "Hahaha… hillarioooous! Let's go have breakfast—we'll talk later."
Egemed nodded and followed him downstairs, still feeling the lingering warmth of the memory, the unspoken tension settling quietly between them.
That same day, Jerelr asked Egemed if he wanted to go to the Valley of Breath. Egemed agreed to join him in the evening...