“Ma’s gonna kill me when she finds out I ditched,” Michael moaned. His sneakers kicked up dust as he chased Brian down the street.

“Then go back,” Brian called back at him. “More for me!”

“More what? C’mon, Brian, at least tell me what the big emergency was!” Michael said, breathing hard. They’d been running a long time. Brian’s house was a good walk from the bus stop and for some reason Brian was in a big hurry to get there. It was probably the first time he’d ever been in a hurry to get home.

Brian stopped dead in his tracks, and Michael ran right into him, making them both grunt. “What day is today, Mikey?” Brian asked, turning to give his best friend a superior look. He was holding a half-melted Snickers bar, and he shoved the last of it into his mouth.

“Uh… Tuesday?” Michael replied, scratching the back of his head. It was just warm enough to build up a sweat, and his hair was sticking to his head. He thought somewhat longingly of the air conditioned classroom he could be sitting in.

“It’s April 20^th, Mikey,” Brian replied. “April 20^th.” He licked the melted chocolate and caramel from his fingers and shoved the wrapper into his pocket.

Michael stared into Brian’s hazel eyes, trying to avoid staring at the way his pink tongue flicked over his fingers. “It’s not your birthday or anything.”

Brian rolled his eyes dramatically and sighed. “Mikey, Mikey, Mikey. It’s four-twenty! The best holiday of them all.”

Michael blinked at Brian, trying to remember what holiday fell in the middle of April. Easter had already passed, and Valentines Day was long-gone. Brian’s family was Catholic just like his ma (although much more devoutly) so he was pretty sure it wasn’t a religious holiday. “Brian,” Michael said evenly, finally catching his breath. “There aren’t any holidays today.”

Brian stuck his tongue in his cheek and smirked at Michael in that way that made Michael’s stomach do flip-flops and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “Oh, but there’s where you’re wrong.”

Michael sighed heavily and followed Brian the last half block to the Kinney house, and in through the front door. He glanced around nervously, looking for any sign of Brian’s parents. They terrified him, his father especially. “You’re sure no one will be home for a while?”

“If I wasn’t, we wouldn’t be here,” Brian said. He pushed open the door to his room and kneeled on the floor, reaching under his bed for something.

Michael stood in the doorway, staring at the way Brian’s ass looked in his skinny light colored jeans. He was pretty sure his own ass didn’t look anything like that, and wouldn’t ever.

“Got it,” Brian grunted, coming out from under the bed with a dustbunny stuck in his hair and a shoebox in his hands. “Shut the door and open the window.”

Michael pushed the door shut and went to the window, cracking it open. He flopped onto the floor next to Brian and picked the ball of dust from his hair, grinning. “You gonna tell me what’s going on now?”

Brian’s eyes narrowed and his eyebrows arched. He held up the old shoebox in his hands and opened it. “This is what four-twenty is all about.”

Michael’s eyes widened and he stared into the box. There was a large baggy full of some kind of fuzzy looking green stuff, and a bunch of small pieces of paper. “What-“

“Weed, Mikey. Herb. Pot. Marajuana.” Brian smirked at his friend and sat the box down, opening the baggy. “Four-twenty is the stoner holiday.”

Michael breathed in deeply. The smell of it filled the air. “I don’t know about this, Brian… I don’t… do drugs…”

Brian snorted and nudged Michael with his elbow. “It’s not drugs. It’s pot. It’s just a plant. It grows that way, so it can’t be bad for you, right?”

Michael frowned and thought about the mushroom he ate when he was in cub-scouts, and the vomiting that had ensued. “I don’t know about that,” Michael said slowly.

Brian snapped the lid of the shoebox shut loudly and held up the clumsily rolled joint. “Then don’t have any.”

Michael watched as Brian lit the joint and inhaled deeply. “You’ve done this before.”

Brian nodded, and handed the joint to Michael. The lit end glowed softly in the dim mid-afternoon light that was slipping through the blinds, and the end that had been in Brian’s mouth was wet with saliva. Michael licked his lips and took the joint. His heart began to pound harder, and he lifted the joint to his lips.

“Careful,” Brian said, his voice thick as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Take it easy, and keep it in your lungs as long as you can. But don’t choke yourself.”

Michael wrapped his lips around the joint and felt his heart pound harder yet. It had been in Brian’s mouth. It tasted like chocolate and caramel from the Snickers bar. He inhaled slowly, until he felt like his lungs were going to burst, and then he tried to hold his breath. Two seconds later he was coughing loudly.

Brian laughed and patted Michael’s back gently. “I told you to take it easy.”

“I don’t… think… I like this…” Michael said between coughs, handing the joint back.

“You will,” Brian replied. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t know,” Michael said, rubbing the backs of his hands against his eyes, wiping away the tears that had formed there from coughing so hard.

“Mmm,” Brian mused, in a tone that Michael knew only meant trouble.

“What?” Michael asked, dropping his hands and peering into Brian’s eyes again. “What are you thinking?”

“I’ll help you,” Brian replied. He lifted the joint back to his lips and inhaled deeply.

Michael frowned, scooting away from Brian a little. “What do you mean? Help me?” When Brian got that look in his eye, it always meant he was about to do something that would probably get one or both of them into trouble.

One eyebrow arched, Brian lowered the joint and smirked. Michael felt his dick harden in his pants, just like it always did when Brian looked at him like that, and the sweat on the back of his neck suddenly seemed colder. His heart raced.

Brian reached over and wrapped a hand around the back of Michael’s neck and tried to pull him close, and panic washed over Michael’s body. He tensed and tried to scoot away, but Brian was too strong. He leaned back, trying to push himself backwards on the old fuzzy carpet, but only succeeded in pulling Brian with him, until his back was on the floor, and his best friend was leaning over him, hazel eyes dark, pink lips quirked into a playful smirk.

Michael gulped for air, and he knew that his face was bright red.

“Exhale,” Brian said in a thick, choked voice, letting a small amount of smoke out.

Heart racing, palms sweating against the rough carpet, dick hard and throbbing in his pants, Michael did as he was told. He exhaled completely, and watched as Brian’s face lowered to meet his.

Their lips touched, and Michael’s eyes shut tightly. Brian was kissing him. Brian was kissing him. BRIAN was kissing HIM.

The soft, warm lips against his own parted, and Michael let his own move with them. His entire body began to tremble, and he wondered fleetingly what the fuck Brian was doing.

Then Brian was exhaling into his mouth and Michael’s eyes opened again, wide. He choked and then inhaled, not sure what else he was supposed to do.

Brian sat up and leaned back against the bed, staring at Michael with a smirk on his face. “Hold it in, Mikey.”

Michael shut his eyes tightly and lay there, lips pressed tightly together, the taste of Brian and pot and Snickers filling his mouth. When he could hold it in no longer, he opened his mouth and exhaled.

As he watched the smoke dissipate into the air he began to feel light, and calm. His heart wasn’t racing anymore. His dick wasn’t throbbing with that adolescent urgency that he hated so much. His eyes were watering a little, and his lungs felt slightly strange, but the panic was gone.

Brian laughed and leaned his head back against his bed. “Fuck, Mikey, you really are a lightweight.”

Michael sat up slowly and scooted back over to where his best friend sat. “Asshole,” Michael said.

“Why am I an asshole?” Brian asked, pretending to be offended.

“You just are,” Michael said fondly, and rested his head against Brian’s shoulder. He smelled like sweat, and like pot, and like boy.

Brian sighed and wrapped an arm around Michael’s shoulders loosely and rested his head against Michael’s. “We’ll finish this off, and then I’ll show you where I keep my secret candy bar stash.”

Michael giggled softly and shut his eyes. “Snickers?”

“Of course, Snickers,” Brian replied, ruffling Michael’s hair affectionately.

Michael sighed happily and nuzzled his face against Brian’s neck, taking the joint back when Brian handed it to him.

“Happy four-twenty, Mikey,” Brian said, sounding amused.

“Mmm,” was all Michael could say. His mouth still tasted like chocolate, and caramel, and something else, something subtle that he was certain was just the flavor of Brian.