Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wylan decides, right exactly now, that being single in your 20s is all just about discovering what the worst possible first date can be. 

Is it the guy who showed up 45 minutes late? No, because he’s beaten out by the guy who never showed up at all, and then sent a text the next day asking if he still wanted to come over. Is it the guy who burst into tears midway through the date because he missed his ex? Almost, but then there was that guy who left to go to the bathroom, and then emerged 15 minutes later with ruffled hair and a hastily tucked in shirt with their waiter. 

Wylan still slept with three out of the four of them. He refuses to tell his friends which three.

Wylan decides on this right now because he’s on—truly, this time—the worst possible first date. And, unsurprisingly, he’s familiar with going on bad dates—he’s introverted at his best, and in a city renowned for merchant-trade, Wylan’s been on more dates than not where his date has whipped out a laptop to send over a quick spreadsheet. He doesn’t even qualify those as bad dates anymore. This date makes Wylan realize that men with 80 hour work weeks and no actual interest in him are the best of what Ketterdam had to offer. 

Currently, Wylan sits across the table from a man named Gert, who has asked him all of one question since arriving— “You’re Wylan?” he asked, to confirm his identity from the dating app. It’s the worst first date, because it’s not even uniquely bad; it’s just bad. His date is boring, rude, and self-absorbed. Wylan hasn’t even said a single word in over 10 minutes, because currently, his date is still prattling on about how crazy his ex-boyfriend was. Wylan sympathizes with the ex. 

“—and he’d just flip out over the most stupid stuff, too?” Gert says, rolling his eyes. “I mean, all I said is that I wasn’t a fan of blonde hair. That’s an opinion, I’m allowed to have them! Just because he has blonde hair, it doesn’t make that like, a personal attack or anything. He could’ve just dyed it if it made him so upset that I found him ugly.”  

Wylan stares at the door of the restaurant longingly, envious of the group of three who just left. He can’t walk out the door, but he thinks if he asked their waitress to sneak him out the kitchen door, she’d do it—Gert was, unsurprisingly, an ass to the waitstaff. 

“—I think my type is just darker hair, like, it’s just an opinion. My mother, now she had the most gorgeous black hair, and so—”

Wylan keeps staring at the door; if he looks at it enough, maybe he’ll miraculously find himself on the other side of it. 

That doesn’t happen. Instead, he stares at the door so intently, that Wylan makes Jesper Fahey appear.

Wylan’s first feeling is relief, but it’s immediately followed by immense panic. 

Relief, because Jesper is his best friend, and Wylan would love to see Jesper’s face at any time, especially over Gert. And then panic, because Wylan really doesn’t want Jesper to see how pathetically horrible this date is going; Jesper, though unintentionally, is the reason Wylan has been going on all these dates. 

Wylan’s always considered himself a fairly rational person. When he first met Jesper—funny, intelligent, kind, charming, handsome Jesper Fahey—in their first year of university, Wylan assumed Jesper wouldn’t want anything to do with him. But he had been wrong—somehow, something about him and Jesper just clicked, and they became fast friends. But it’s impossible to be just friends with someone like Jesper—again, funny, intelligent, kind, charming, handsome Jesper Fahey—without developing a small crush on him. 

It was a doomed, pointless crush, Wylan knew. Jesper might’ve offered him friendship, but he would never be truly interested in someone like Wylan, and, beyond that: Jesper didn’t do relationships. He went on dates every so often, but in all the years that Wylan had known Jesper, Jesper had never once had a long-term partner. 

Wylan’s silly little crush had never interfered with their friendship, and it never would. After spending five years secretly pining away for his best friend, Wylan decided the only real way to get over such a thing would be to find a boyfriend, and leave his friendship with Jesper as just that—a friendship. 

As such, he no longer had a crush on Jesper anymore. He decided that. He was pragmatic that way. Any lingering jealousy Wylan felt now, seeing Jesper enter the restaurant with a pretty girl with strawberry blonde hair, was only because he would rather Jesper’s company over Gert’s.  

Jesper spots him, and Wylan feels his face heat up by instinct. Jesper waves a bit, and Wylan tries to smile back. He doesn’t want to bother Jesper and his date by sending him an SOS face or message, although Wylan really, really wants to.  

“You know—” Gert says suddenly, leaning in over the table. He reaches a hand over, touching Wylan’s hair, and Wylan tries not to flinch away. His face is burning red, but that’s from the idea of Jesper witnessing this, and Wylan really hopes Gert doesn’t get the wrong idea. “I’m not usually into redheads either.”

Wylan moves back, smiling politely. 

Jesper is still standing, waiting to be seated; the girl he’s with laughs, throwing her head back at something Jesper just said. Wylan is unsurprised that Jesper has made her laugh, and the jealousy flares again. Not over Jesper, of course, only because he’d rather hear one of Jesper’s jokes over Gert’s conversation. He decided that. 

“You’re really quiet,” Gert says, snapping Wylan back into focus. “I just complimented you.” 

Wylan blinks. He thinks he might’ve missed the compliment, but he’s not really willing to fight it out right now. 

“Thanks,” Wylan offers. Jesper is looking at him again, and Wylan needs to leave this establishment now. “Listen, I–”

“Hey, I hate to do this,” Gert says, snapping at the waitress for the bill. Wylan winces, giving her an apologetic look as she comes over. “But I have work tomorrow morning…”

Wylan feels, for the first time, a genuine flicker of happiness. “Same! I guess I should get going, bye! This was–”

“I just mean I can’t have you over,” Gert continues, appraising Wylan. “But I brought my car if you’d want to…?”

Wylan raises his eyebrows. “If I’d want to what?” 

“I can drive you back home,” Gert says chivalrously. “After you…”

Wylan starts to glare. “After I do what?” 

“C’mon,” Gert says conspiratorially. “Don’t play dumb. I took you out on the date, so you should…”

“Do you want to finish your sentences?” Wylan asks frostily. “I’m not going to do anything for you just because you suggested the restaurant.”

Gert wrinkles his nose. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s seriously unattractive.” 

Wylan’s jaw drops, and he sits up a bit straighter. He isn’t generally a fan of confrontation, nor does he really want to be mean, but if Gert thinks that this is Wylan being unattractively dramatic, then he can just wait a second longer because Wylan can do a lot more. 

Wylan takes a deep breath. 

“I think I’m just going to head home now,” Wylan says shortly, restraining himself.  

Gert rolls his eyes. “Don’t be like that, c’mon.” 

“I’ll pay for my half at the front,” Wylan says, because he really doesn’t want to wait another minute at this table. 

“Wait!” Gert says, reaching out his arm to grab Wylan in desperation. In doing so, he manages to knock over Wylan’s glass of water, right into Wylan’s lap. 

Wylan attempts to avoid the water, and succeeds in—failing, really. The water spills on him, and then, because this really is the worst date ever, the glass bounces off his leg and shatters onto the floor. 

Wylan turns bright red, again. He stands up quickly, grabbing his napkin to dab to dry himself. He can’t see Jesper at the front anymore, but that’s only a small comfort because everyone in the restaurant definitely just heard that. 

“You’re wet,” Gert says unhelpfully. “If you want, in my car, you can get out of your wet clothes–”

Wylan tosses the napkin at Gert—not his best defense, really. 

“I’m not going to your car to take my trousers off and have sex with you!” Wylan snaps, and then he buries his face in his hands because everyone who wasn’t looking at the site of the glass crash is most definitely looking at him now. 

Gert scowls, standing up as well. “No one ever said anything about sex. You could’ve just given me head or something.”

“You cannot be–”

“Not that I’d even want that now,” Gert says scathingly. He stands up, and even though the door is behind him, he walks around to Wylan’s side of the table, just to walk into him and shove him back with his shoulder. Wylan stumbles back, bumping into a waiter; because his life is miserable, Wylan finds himself drenched in some sort of soup. While Wylan apologizes profusely to the waiter, Gert knocks into his shoulder again, muttering defensively, “Ugly bitch.”

Wylan gapes, and Gert storms out. 

Wylan thinks he needs at least two months to process all of this— Gert stormed out, after everything? And left Wylan with the bill?—when a hand comes down on his shoulder. 

“Saints,” Jesper mutters, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Give me a head nod if you want me to run over and punch him.” 

Wylan turns to him, absolutely mortified. He shakes his head quickly, because as much as Wylan wants to see Gert with a broken nose, he thinks he’ll die if he makes any more of a scene. 

Jesper gives him a small smile, but he looks slightly aghast as well. He resumes glaring at the door Gert just stormed out of. “Are you okay?”

Wylan clears his throat. “I—I’m yes. I mean, I’m good. Yes, I’m good. Yes, I’m fine.”

“He was a real piece of work,” Jesper says, ignoring Wylan’s obvious fluster. “At least from the two minutes I saw.”

Wylan attempts to smile. “Yeah, well—yeah. He wasn’t any better before your two minutes either, so…”

“Dickhead,” Jesper mutters, glowering out the door. He squeezes Wylan’s shoulder gently. 

Wylan blushes, but at least this time, not from his abject public humiliation. Then, Wylan realizes he’s covered in soup and water, and the waitstaff are around him and looking at him, as they clear up the two broken dishes. Jesper drops his hand to Wylan’s elbow to pull him away from the glass, and thereby closer into Jesper’s body, which suddenly feels incredibly intimate. 

“I’m sorry,” Wylan says, blushing. “I’m going to–”

“You should join Lucy and I,” Jesper says, easily and smoothly, like that’s not an insane thing to offer. 

Wylan thinks he’d rather sit through another hour of a date with Gert than join Jesper on his date with—Lucy, presumably. Firstly, because there’s third-wheeling, and then there’s being added to a date out of pity while covered in soup. And second, Wylan doesn’t want to see Jesper on a date. 

Jesper doesn’t have bad dates. He’s returned from dates with people who aren’t that interesting, had a few awkward moments, but Jesper has never had a thoroughly bad date. Jesper is just a charming person; whether that means he has a different caliber of people he takes out, or that he’s just suave enough to overcome any uncomfortable situation, Wylan knows with certainty that Jesper Fahey has never ended a date being called an ugly bitch, covered in soup.

Wylan takes a deep breath. “Jesper, I really couldn’t–”

“She wouldn’t mind!” Jesper says kindly. “Whoever you were seeing was such a dick, Wylan. Seriously.”

Wylan fidgets with his sleeve, looking around awkwardly. “Do you think everyone in the restaurant… heard?” 

“No!” Jesper says immediately, which means everyone did, and Wylan covers his face again. 

“I think I’m just going to go home,” Wylan says finally. “I’m in soup.”

“Do you want me to walk you back?” Jesper asks.

“I can manage,” Wylan says, his voice slightly dry. “Go, before your date thinks you’re bailing on her.”

“She knows we’re friends,” Jesper says, throwing a smile back to the table Lucy is seated at. “And she saw how awful—I mean, not that we saw, but–”

“Like I said, I think I’m just going to go back and try to forget this ever happened.”

“Alright,” Jesper concedes. He glances back at the door, and then puts a hand on Wylan’s shoulder again, to stop him from moving. “Let me check to make sure he’s left.”

“You really don’t have to mind me–”

“I heard what he was saying,” Jesper says, his voice going a bit lower. He starts glaring again, and Wylan finds himself oddly flustered by it. “I don’t want him to bother you.” 

Jesper goes back outside, not hearing another word of Wylan’s protests. Wylan sighs, and wishes he could go on first dates with people like Jesper Fahey. 

**

Wylan is grateful for the brunch he and Jesper have planned for the next day—Wylan never has to overthink hanging out with Jesper. As best friends living in the same building, just a few floors away from each other, their hangouts are common enough. Wylan knocks on Jesper’s door at 11 so they can walk down together. 

Jesper opens the door, beaming. Wylan smiles, walks into Jesper’s apartment, and then instantly wants to die. 

“Oh, hello!” the strawberry blonde from yesterday, Lucy, greets, just as amiable as Jesper. 

“Hi,” Wylan says, attempting to mimic the tone and failing. “I…”

“I’m leaving now, sorry,” Lucy says apologetically. Wylan’s eye twitches when he notices she’s wearing one of Jesper’s sweatshirts over her dress. “Let me wash up the mugs, Jesper—”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, seriously!” Jesper says, shooing her away from the sink. “You’re sure you won’t take any coffee to go?” 

Lucy smiles— She’s really pretty, Wylan thinks miserably—and shakes her head. “It’s fine, I’ll probably pick up a drink on my way to the clinic.” With a small laugh, she says knowingly to Jesper, “Not a lemonade, obviously.”

Both of them laugh over whatever inside joke they already have about lemonade. Wylan debates the efficiency of defenestrating himself to get out of this room. 

To Wylan, Lucy says, “Jesper told me you work at the lab in Ketterdam University’s Hospital?”

Jesper was talking about me? Wylan thinks, before he realizes that Jesper probably had to explain that he knows the pathetic man in the middle of the restaurant causing a scene. 

Wylan nods. “I—yeah.”

Lucy smiles again—it’s annoying that she’s pretty and friendly, actually—and says, “I’m a veterinarian! I work at that clinic a few streets over from the university bookstore!” 

“Oh, I’ve seen it!” Wylan says cheerfully, ignoring how absolutely ridiculous he finds it that Jesper not only goes on dates with pretty, nice, intelligent people, but he also manages to go on dates with people who work romcom jobs as well, instead of one of those nebulous finance jobs where all you do is send emails all day. Jesper himself is a bartender at their local place, The Crow Club, which is far more exciting and sexy than Wylan’s research assistant position; Wylan channels this bitterness into deciding he absolutely hates Lucy.  

“It was really nice to meet you!” Lucy says kindly. “We should grab a coffee sometime!” 

Wylan thinks there’s something wrong with him, surely, for how much he hates someone who seems genuinely friendly and sweet.  

“It was nice to meet you too,” Wylan says, his voice a bit softer. “We should.”

Lucy gives him a sunny, bright smile, and then turns back to Jesper. “I’ll head out now, see you!” 

“You’ll get home alright?” Jesper asks, courteous as ever. 

Lucy nods. “Oh, I’m just a walk away.”

“I’ll take you out for iced tea some other time,” Jesper says with a wink, and they both titter over whatever stupid joke about lemonade and iced tea they shared over the dinner they had when Wylan was wiping soup off of his hair. 

Wylan’s not bitter about it at all. He’s fine. 

Jesper sees her out, leaving Wylan to awkwardly ruminate on this. Jesper returns a moment later, and Wylan gives him a tight smile. 

“She seemed nice,” Wylan says. 

“She is,” Jesper says easily. “Did you make reservations somewhere, or have somewhere you wanted to try?”

“I didn’t make any reservations,” Wylan replies. He pauses for a second, and then says, “So, do you think it’s serious between you two?” 

Jesper gives him a wry look. 

Wylan knows the answer is no, because it always is. Wylan unabashedly doesn’t understand this at all—not because he judges Jesper, but because if Wylan went on one date as good as Jesper’s hookups are, Wylan would probably marry the guy out of shock. 

“Neither of us are looking for a relationship,” Jesper says, shrugging. “I might see her again, though.” 

Wylan exhales, slightly frustrated. Jesper raises his eyebrows, and Wylan flushes. 

“Sorry,” Wylan mutters. “Just… You’re so good at having good dates. It’s annoying.”

Jesper shakes his head, amused. “You just have bad luck with the guys you pick.”

“I’m flattered that you think I pick the guys,” Wylan says, scowling. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“Have you considered that might be the problem?” Jesper asks, giving Wylan a look. “You’re… You shouldn’t settle for the first person who meets your standards.”

“I’ll marry the first person who meets my standards,” Wylan says bluntly. “I’ll go on a date with anyone who treats me like a human. And even that…”

Jesper groans, putting an arm around Wylan’s shoulder. Wylan takes comfort in the feeling, of the weight of it. It relaxes him, somehow, and Wylan smiles into Jesper’s arm. 

“I’m just being dramatic,” Wylan says, and Jesper gives him another look. “I just want to be done with all of these mediocre-to-awful dates. Get married or whatever.”

“Get married?” Jesper says incredulously—almost panicked, for some reason. “You’re not even 24.”

“Not actually get married–get married,” Wylan sighs, trying to verbalize his point. “Just… be done with the search part of everything, you know? I don’t know how many first dates I have left in me. But until I meet someone, I need to…”

“You don’t need to do anything,” Jesper says, giving Wylan a small squeeze. “There’s no rush or anything.” 

Wylan waves a hand. “I know that.” But I need a boyfriend to prove that I’m over you so I don’t accidentally ruin our friendship. “But just—just generally, the timeline of things… I mean, my parents got married when they were 24. They had me when they were 26. In three years, I would be having me, Jesper.”  

“With all love, Wy, I don’t think you should use your parents as examples for anything.”

“Fair point,” Wylan says glumly. 

Jesper throws him a grin, shaking his head. “Don’t worry so much, love. Focus on whether you want to try that new cafe down the block, or that other place with the orange chairs.”

Wylan raises his eyebrows. Both of those places were places Jesper and him had been meaning to try. “We’re not going to get seats for either place at brunch time.”

Jesper beams at him. “We wouldn’t…” he pauses dramatically, waiting for Wylan to give him an expectant look. “ But— I made reservations for both! I actually managed to think ahead, for once. So you get to choose—cafe or oranges?” 

Wylan laughs, delighted. Jesper’s smile grows.  

**

They end up choosing the restaurant with orange chairs, and, in the tradition of any trendy brunch place, the place is packed. The two of them wait in the front with other groups waiting to be seated. 

In the midst of this crowd, Wylan hears a familiar interaction play out behind him.

“Hi! Wait—Juliana, right?”

“Yeah! It’s nice to meet you! Sorry I’m late, you said you were wearing a blue jacket so I was searching for someone wearing a denim jacket–” 

With a slightly awkward, flustered laugh, her partner says, “You’re fine! Ha, that’s my bad…” 

Jesper is also unsubtly listening in. The corners of Wylan’s lips turn, and he mouths to Jesper, They’re on a first date. Jesper grins at him. 

There’s an awkward silence between the couple, before Juliana says, “Um, I’ve heard this place is really good?” 

A cough from her partner. “Yeah… Same. Um, I put our names down already, so… we should be seated soon…” 

“Cool!” 

Cool! Jesper mouths to Wylan in imitation. Wylan elbows him. 

Juliana and her blue-jacketed date are seated before them. Both him and Jesper peer at them, probably too unabashedly, for no reason except to be gossips. 

Then, Jesper turns to him, and dons a wide-eyed, semi-excited, semi-wary look. “Hi! Wait, you’re—you’re Wylan, aren’t you?” 

Wylan snickers, and plays along immediately. He puts on his best ‘meeting someone off a dating app’ face, and says, “Yes, hi—Jesper? So nice to meet you!”

“Yeah, thanks for making the brunch time work! I know it’s sort of an unusual choice for a first date.” Jesper’s voice is more theatrical than normal as he says it, but Wylan finds himself imagining this stage-reality anyways; what would it be like to be going on a first date with Jesper? 

As quick as Wylan thinks it, he tries to push that image away. It’s never going to happen, and imagining it now would only make him flustered. 

He continues their play-acting. “I don’t mind the time—I like it.” With a dash of sincerity, since the next part is true, he adds, “Thank you for making the reservation for us, Jes.” 

Jesper smiles at him, a true one. “Anytime, Wy.”

Wylan ducks his head, and goes back to their impromptu skit. “Out of curiosity, why did you pick a brunch date?”

“It felt like a step up from coffee,” Jesper says, looking pensive. “Give us more time to get to know each other, you know. And… It fits better with my work schedule.”

“Oh? And what do you do for work?” 

“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that information. I had to sign an NDA with the Kerch government,” Jesper says seriously. Wylan giggles, which makes Jesper break character for a second to grin. But he continues, and says with a wink, “So what about you? You must be a model, right?”

Wylan scoffs, and tries to ignore how pleasantly warm his face feels. He breaks character to say, “That’s such a cheesy line.”

“Don’t lie, it totally worked on you,” Jesper teases, also ending their act. 

Their table is ready, and they follow the waiter to the spot. Another group leaves at the same time, and Wylan steps to the side to let them pass. He touches Jesper’s waist to gently guide him to the side, lest he get trampled by a party of six who clearly took advantage of the bottomless mimosas, and he feels petulantly reluctant to let the fabric of Jesper’s shirt go as they continue walking. They’re both quite touchy with the other, so it’s not like physical affection would be abnormal, but Wylan can’t help but wish for more. He would rather like to walk arm in arm with Jesper to their table, to wrap an arm around his waist, to pull out Jesper’s chair before he sits. 

But Wylan does, ultimately, let go. Jesper sits in his chair, and Wylan sits in his own. Jesper opens up the menu and puts it sideways on the table, reading it aloud to Wylan as they pour over the options. Jesper always does this, and Wylan always finds it sweet, but in the circumstances of brunch it’s a bit redundant; they’re only going to do what they always do. 

What they always do is—first, they’ll both state they’re unsure about whether they want to eat something savory or sweet for brunch. They’ll go through each of the pancake and waffle options, and then all the different savory, usually egg-based meals. They’ll wonder whether to get one of those combo specials, that’ll do pancakes with eggs and strips of bacon, but for some reason, they never choose that. Instead, Jesper will order something savory that Wylan wants to eat, and Wylan will order something sweet that Jesper wants to eat, and then they’ll eat half of each other’s meals and complain about food stealing, even though—they have done this, without fail, every single time. 

They order, and their food and drinks arrive, quickly proving that this time is no exception; Wylan takes a forkful of Jesper’s scrambled eggs and Jesper groans. 

“Thief!” Jesper cries, which makes Wylan snicker. “Bastard. I didn’t even try them yet.”

“They’re scrambled eggs. You’re not missing out on that much.”

 “I’m missing out on ⅓ of my eggs, now.”

“You have one of my waffles on your plate–”

Jesper makes a dive for his plate, and Wylan yanks it back, laughing loudly. Two girls sitting at the table next to theirs both glance over, and Wylan gives them a slightly sheepish, apologetic look. 

“We’re going to get kicked out of this place for disorderly conduct,” Wylan warns, through a smile. 

Jesper tilts back on his chair and shakes his head as his eyes scan the room. In a low voice, he says, “That sounds like a challenge, love.” 

Wylan looks away. Jesper is so carelessly handsome, it’s frustrating. 

“Oh—don’t turn around, but it’s the first date couple,” Jesper says, calling Wylan’s attention back.  

Jesper’s eyes gesture behind Wylan, and Wylan waits a second before doing a semi-subtle turn over his shoulder. Juliana is leaving, with the blue-jacket date nowhere to be seen. Jesper whistles lowly. “Damn. Their date didn’t even last 45 minutes.”

Wylan sympathizes. In an attempt to be optimistic, he suggests, “Maybe she parked in one of those short-term parking meter places and needs to add more money.” 

Jesper snorts. “Who the hell drives a car in this city?” 

“My date from last night did,” Wylan says, with clarity. “He really wanted me to have sex with him in it.”

Jesper makes a derisive noise. “Saints, he’s a nightmare. If I see him again, I really will kill him.”

“I don’t know if he was murder-worthy,” Wylan says mildly. “And besides—annoying as he was, dates are a two-way thing. It’s half my fault.”

Jesper shakes his head adamantly. “I really doubt that.”

“I’m horrible on dates,” Wylan says honestly, feeling slightly embarrassed. “It’s like everything I’m supposed to say leaves my brain the second a date starts.”

“There isn’t anything you’re supposed to say.”

Wylan snorts. “You’re only saying that because you say everything you’re supposed to say.” Jesper opens his mouth to protest again, and Wylan sighs. “It doesn’t matter. Anyways, the–”

“But I disagree with you,” Jesper interrupts, his brows furrowed. “I mean—even in the 10 seconds we pretended to be on a first date, to make fun of those people—you sounded like you’d be a great date. Even now,” he gestures in between them, “this is… I mean, when you think of it, this is sort of a date, isn’t it? And it’s an excellent one.”

Wylan feels his face heat up, though he’s not sure why. “This is different.”

Jesper nods, but his gaze is fixed on the napkin by his glass, picking at the edge of it absent-mindedly. “How so?” 

Wylan shrugs, trying to keep his demeanor nonchalant. “Because you’re—you’re you. I don’t have to overthink or… act any differently around you.”    

“Maybe then, you should date me?” Jesper suggests—teases, certainly. 

Wylan flushes fully. I don’t have a crush on Jesper anymore, he reminds himself. There’s no reason to feel so hopeful by those words.

So Wylan scoffs, and asks, “What, for practice?”

There’s a moment, a brief, painful second where they’re both silent, and Wylan thinks Jesper might possibly say no— that he meant that sincerely. But of course, it only lasts the second. 

Jesper looks away, and casual as ever, shrugs. He faces Wylan again with a grin. “Yeah. Yeah, I mean, why not?”

“What do you mean?” 

Jesper shrugs again. “Nothing, I mean… We could, like, set up hypothetical situations that happen on dates, and you can… practice it, with me. And I can give you advice or whatever.” 

“I’d roleplay going on dates with you,” Wylan says slowly. “And you’d tell me what I was doing wrong?” 

“Not what you’re doing wrong,” Jesper protests. “It’d just be like we’d figure out… strategy together.”

“But–”

“The next date you set up, I’ll tag along in secret,” Jesper says smoothly, like it’s that simple. “And then I can make sure you’re—everything—is all okay, and then afterwards, we’ll talk about it, and re-create the date. Only between us, obviously. You know, planning ahead.” 

“This sounds like a horrible idea,” Wylan says, shaking his head and coming to his senses. The idea of roleplaying dates with Jesper sounds personally tortuous, but the idea of having Jesper witness even more of his mortifying first dates sounds even worse. “Especially having you tag along.” 

Jesper looks affronted. “Why? I’m–”

“Because I don’t have a public humiliation kink, Jesper!” Wylan snaps. The two girls at the table next to them go silent, and Wylan is quite certain they’re eagerly listening in. Wylan coughs, wills for his blush to go down, and says, more measuredly, “It just feels like a bad idea. I don’t need you to watch me embarrass myself every Friday night to know I’m hopeless.” 

“You wouldn’t embarrass yourself, and you’re definitely not hopeless, Wy,” Jesper scolds. He bites his lip, and then says, “It could be good. And, I mean, worst case scenario and the date is going horribly—I’d be there! I could start a fire and help you abandon ship.”

“Right, because that’s reasonable,” Wylan says dryly. 

“I’d do it for you,” Jesper says sincerely. 

Wylan feels his face heat up, though he’s not sure why. 

He’s also not sure why he’s so against this idea. Jesper is a good dater, if such a thing was possible. And this is, if Wylan were to think about it—almost a controlled, experimental sort of way to go on dates. A clinical trial, of sorts. And, if it worked, then Wylan would theoretically have a boyfriend, or at least a second date. The worst thing that could happen is that he and Jesper end up roleplaying a movie-dinner date. That’s practically their usual weekend routine as it is. 

(A small, anxious part of Wylan thinks—no, the worst thing that could happen is that he re-awakens his completely flattened crush on Jesper, in which case, he’ll be pining for another five years minimum, and subsequently destroy their friendship. But that couldn’t happen, because his crush on Jesper is utterly dormant now. Non-existent, really. He decided that). 

Wylan exhales. With a small reluctance, he says, “Alright. Alright, we can try it.”

Jesper grins at him. Wylan isn’t sure what Jesper is getting out of this, but he supposes Jesper is just that sweet of a friend. “Perfect. Set a date and tell me the time—I’ll be there. And then after, we’ll start changing up the variables.”

Wylan’s lips twitch up. Had Jesper also been thinking of this in terms of controls and experiments? Or did he just read Wylan's mind with that? If anyone was able to, it would be Jesper. “Will you write a lab report?”  

“If you want me to,” Jesper says, smiling himself. The longer he looks at Wylan, though, the more his smile seems to fade away. Wylan’s brows furrow, but Jesper quickly continues and says, “What sort of dates are you planning? If you set up a dinner at the Crow Club, I can take a shift off the bar and be your waiter instead.” 

“Please don’t make things difficult for yourself on my behalf,” Wylan implores, moving on instinct to grab Jesper’s hand over the table. Jesper stares at their now connected hands for a few seconds in silence, before Wylan realizes and pulls his hand back, flustered. “And… And, besides—if you’re our waiter, my dates might leave me for you.” 

Jesper is still looking at the spot on the table where their hands were touching, but he pulls his own hand back to run it through his hair. He winks at Wylan. “Oh, you think I’m that attractive?”

Wylan feels his face heat again. Carelessly, irritatingly handsome, Jesper is.    

Jesper seems slightly abashed at the lack of response, and he shakes his head. “That definitely won’t happen, Wy.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time that's happened,” Wylan says. Hastily, he adds, “Not with you, obviously. I don’t think you understand how awful I am at making conversation, Jes.”

Jesper gives him a look, sighing and gesturing between the two of them. “Then what are we doing right now, hm?”

“You’re different,” Wylan says, his voice a bit softer. “You’re you.” 

Jesper stares at him, but when Wylan meets his gaze, Jesper quickly looks down. 

“At least I trust you not to hook up with my date in the bathroom,” Wylan offers, lightening up his tone. “Not all waiters do that.” 

Jesper looks mildly horrified. “Where do you find these guys?”

“To be fair, our waiter that night had been very attractive.”

“Don’t be fair to him!” Jesper groans. 

“I wasn’t going to be!” Wylan says defensively. “I was ready to yell and throw a drink on him or whatever you’re supposed to do—but funny enough, my date became a lot nicer afterwards? I think it relaxed him or something.”

“Fantastic,” Jesper deadpans. “What a gentleman.”

“He was,” Wylan says primly. “He got me coffee and everything the morning after.”

Jesper pauses, taking in Wylan’s words. Then, entirely horrified, he says, “For the love of all Saints, Wylan— please tell me you didn’t sleep with him?”

The girls next to them fall silent again. Wylan’s lips thin, and he says nothing.

Chapter Text

A date is chosen and planned by Wylan. He’ll go out with Leo, who, according to his dating app profile, is a 24 year old with light brown hair, who likes traveling and hates pineapple on pizza. That’s all Wylan really knew about him, but Leo also was forward enough to propose a date at the Ketterdam Art Museum, which suited Wylan just fine. 

It did not suit Jesper. 

“I still don’t like him,” Jesper complains, lounging from Wylan’s couch as he gets ready. “He’s just…”

Wylan crosses his arms. “You haven’t once said what’s actually wrong with him. He seems perfectly fine.”

“He barely has spoken to you after asking you out!” Jesper says defensively. 

“So we can get to know each other in person, on our date,” Wylan counters. 

Jesper waves his hands around a bit. “It’s just… He just seems…”

“See! You can’t even think of anything! He’s fine.” Wylan says triumphantly. 

Jesper sighs. “I think you can do better than fine. Be more picky, Wy.”

“I will quite literally run out of people in this city,” Wylan says, scowling. “Unless you want me to up the age range on my app to above 40.” 

“I just think there has to be someone better than—wait, your age limit is already up to–”

“Anyways,” Wylan interrupts, snatching his phone back. “This will be fine! I mean, the fact that we’re going to a museum means he’s probably into art— I like art!”

Jesper doesn’t comment on this. He makes a show of looking for his phone on the couch, and then stands up and says, “Speaking of the museum—you two are seeing the Golden Age exhibit, right?”

“That’s what he said.”

Jesper nods his head to himself. “Alright. I’ll see you there—well, you won’t see me, but–”

“You’re not going to crawl around in the vents or anything, right?” Wylan asks, suspicious because he doesn’t put it past Jesper. 

Jesper winks. “Not as of now. But it depends on where you go.”

“Please don’t do anything illegal—”

Wylan’s pleas are mostly ignored, but Jesper gives him another grin. With that, Wylan finishes getting ready and heads out to the museum. In some part, he wishes he could’ve gone with Jesper, but he figures it’s not the best look to show up to a date with another man. 

Wylan gets to the museum, and he meets Leo at the entrance, where they exchange the typical greetings. It was more fun to mimic and mock it with Jesper, but Wylan pushes the thought from his mind. Wylan has no clue where Jesper could be, and as they walk into the ticketed exhibit, he keeps glancing over his shoulder to try and find him.

When they enter the exhibit, a special seasonal exhibit on the Kerch Golden Age, Wylan does feel a genuine sense of excitement. This is a very well-curated exhibit, striking that perfect balance between varied and exact. And the room itself is very lovely too; there are three full walls of art, with two smaller adjoined rooms with sculptures and artifacts. At the head of the room, there is a large mirror instead of another wall, which made the room feel bright and huge—somewhere anyone could spend ages in, without running out of things to see. And Wylan himself probably could spend ages in this room, in this museum, staring at everything in awed silence. 

It’s only then, that he realizes he has been staring at everything in awed silence. He had darted to one of the paintings he recognized, and hasn’t said a single word to Leo, though nor has Leo said a single word to him, since they entered the room. 

Wylan looks at Leo with some nervousness, but he doesn’t track any irritation or excessive boredom on his face. He doesn’t seem particularly interested in the art, either, but he’s at least looking at the portrait ahead of them and not sending an SOS text to one of his friends, so Wylan takes it as a good sign. 

“Sorry, I got distracted by that portrait,” Wylan says, embarrassed. 

Leo glances backwards at the portrait they just passed. “Yeah, it’s cool.” 

Wylan opens his mouth to say something else, but then closes it when he realizes he has nothing to say. Leo, also, does not speak. They make their way halfway down the first large wall, with Wylan setting the pace. Wylan has the faintest sense that Leo isn’t particularly looking at the pieces, and is more so just humoring Wylan’s interest.

“So…” Wylan ventures, since Leo clearly isn’t going to start the conversation first. “You’re interested in… art?” 

“Um.” Leo scratches his head. “Kind of. It’s alright.” 

“Oh,” Wylan says unhelpfully. “Uh, same. I like it too.”

“Nice.” 

They fell back into an awkward silence. 

You like art! Wylan reminded himself mentally. Say something about one of the paintings! Ask him about it! Make conversation, you can do it!

“Do you like this painting?” Wylan asks weakly, blindly pointing at whatever is in front of him. 

Leo glances at it, and his brows furrow. “I think that’s a museum directory.”

It is. Wylan feels his face turn red. “Right. Sorry.”

“It’s a cool directory, though,” Leo offers, stilted but polite. He jokes, “And it’s easier to understand than half the pieces here. Like, what’s this one supposed to be?” 

He gestures to a painting—an actual painting, this time—to their side, of a woman holding a balance. Wylan felt a spark of inspiration to prompt conversation as he looked at it too; he knew about that painting, because it had come up in one of his art history classes back in school.  

“This one is really interesting, actually. I learned about it in one of my classes, ages ago,” Wylan says, another venture into the discussion. Leo doesn’t look horribly off put by the implication of Wylan elaborating, and Wylan—well, he wants to elaborate. He’s remembering all the details of the piece, all the analysis that went with it, and is instantly more excited to have the information on hand. 

So, Wylan begins explaining. 

“So, if you look at the clothes the woman is wearing—it isn’t the black suits that merchants today wear, obviously, but based on the fur-lining and the colors of the cloak, the woman is obviously wealthy, a part of the merchant class. And then behind her, there’s the painting within the painting of a religious scene, which is so interesting for the era because prior to this time, art had usually only been commissioned for churches, but because the subject of the painting is a merchant, or a merchant’s wife, this piece must’ve been commissioned for a merchant instead. But then, that fact is made even more interesting because the actual scene in the painting—the jewels, the balance, that stands in contrast to the religious scene also in the painting, and then when we look at how the lighting and shading falls, and how the gold of the frame is illuminated by the sunlight in the painting itself, the viewer’s attention is drawn to–”

Leo quickly checks the time on his phone. 

Wylan clamps his mouth shut. Leo, with the appearance of a child caught with their hand in a cookie from a jar, scratches his head and says, “Um—sorry, I got a text.”

Wylan had witnessed that there was no text, but he wouldn’t bring it up lest he make things even more uncomfortable. “Sorry,” he mutters, sheepish himself. He clears his throat, attempting to save face. “It’s an… interesting painting.”

“Yeah,” Leo says awkwardly, nodding. His eyes are still a bit glazed over from Wylan’s impromptu lecture, so it’s no surprise to Wylan when Leo checks his phone time again, and then says, “I’ll be right back, I’m going to the restroom.”

“Of course,” Wylan says, attempting to sound cheerful. 

The second Leo walks away, Wylan spins around, searching for any sign of Jesper. He figures, if there’s any chance of salvaging this date, he needs Jesper’s advice, now. And, maybe he just wants the comfort of seeing Jesper as well.

“You’re looking for me?” 

Wylan whirls around, almost jumping in the air. Jesper is standing right behind him, with his usual easy-going and charming smile, though faintly out of breath too, as if he had sprinted over—and as Wylan looks at him, he really wonders how he didn’t see Jesper.

Jesper, between leaving Wylan’s place and arriving here, added some clothes. He is currently wearing an extraordinary bright red jacket, with a matching red knit hat. It’s the exact same shade of an emergency alarm, or a firetruck—things designed to be spotted at all times. 

“Where were you hiding?” Wylan asks, more alarmed than impressed. He is also physically unable to tear his eyes away from Jesper’s atrocious hat.  

“I have my ways,” is all Jesper says in explanation, before setting his hands on Wylan’s shoulders. “What’s the problem?”

Wylan groans, and briefly leans his head into Jesper’s shoulder. “Everything. Me. Haven’t you been watching?” 

“I have been! You’ve been a great date.” Wylan gives Jesper an incredulous look, but Jesper just sniffs once. “It’s that guy you’re with who’s the problem.”

“He’s completely normal,” Wylan protests. “I’m the one–”

“No.” Jesper shakes his head adamantly. “You’re trying to make conversation, and you’re talking about really fascinating stuff—he’s giving you one word answers.”

Wylan spares another thought as to how Jesper is hearing him so closely, but decides he’ll ask later. “I’m boring him, Jes.”

“That’s on him,” Jesper says stubbornly. 

Wylan sighs. “I thought you were going to give me advice?”

“Hard to do that when you’re perfect.”

“Jesper.”

“I mean it when I say he has to give you more than one word answers,” Jesper forewarns. “But—alright. Maybe just… get to know each other a bit more? Ask him questions about his life, his other interests. He doesn’t seem super into the museum.”

“He’s not,” Wylan confirms. “I might sound like I’m interviewing him then, though.” 

“Well, ideally, he’d ask you a question back so it wouldn’t feel like that,” Jesper says mildly. “Try it. If you want to bail, just shoot me a text. Or look very panicked.”

“I think I naturally look like that,” Wylan grumbles. 

Jesper snorts, giving Wylan’s arm a quick squeeze. He heads off down the hall then, crossing paths with the returning Leo; Wylan tries not to watch Jesper too closely, still wondering where his hiding spot is. 

Leo joins his side with a quick greeting again. They continue down the wall, still not making any conversation. Wylan tried pointing at some pieces and saying, “Oh, this is nice!” to see if there was anything that sparked Leo’s interest, but Leo only replied with, “Yeah.” each time, so Wylan stopped doing that. 

“So…” Wylan tries to follow Jesper’s advice, and thinks of safe, general information they can exchange with each other. “Do you have any siblings?”

“I have a sister,” Leo answers. 

He does not ask about Wylan, but Wylan offers the information anyways. “I have a younger sister.”

“Oh, cool.”

They move on to another painting, though neither of them are actually looking at the art. They stand in silence, while Wylan fidgets with the hem of his sleeve. 

It’s been too long to continue the conversation, but Wylan blurts, “Is your sister older or younger?” 

“What?”

“Your sister—you said you have a–”

“Yeah, I have a sister.”

“I know that,” Wylan says, and then he winces at how impatient he sounds. “And is your sister younger or older?”

“Oh, she’s older,” Leo says distractedly. 

“How much older?” Wylan says, with the same effort of someone pulling out their own tooth. 

“Three years older.” Leo glances warily at Wylan, and seems to realize it’d be polite to ask a question in return. “And… And have a younger sister?”

He asked it as though it was a wild guess, and not something Wylan had said a minute earlier. But still, Wylan smiles and says, “Yeah.”

The conversation dies there. They do not bond over having sisters, although in hindsight, Wylan thinks this is a good thing. If Leo asked any questions, Wylan would be only five questions away from having to explain his father, how he married to a woman who could be Wylan’s older sister, and now he has a half-sister sixteen years younger than him that he doesn’t get to see very often, because he’s been effectively disinherited from his family because of his dyslexia. Not really a first date conversation.   

They’ve moved down past all the art on the wall now. They go into the small alcove with some select pieces, watch the informational video that plays on a loop, and then return back to the giant mirror on the wall. It might have been five minutes since either of them has spoken, and Wylan is painfully aware of it. 

A giggling, overly affectionate couple are taking pictures of themselves in the mirror. They’re taking photos on a phone with a red phone case, which pathetically reminds Wylan of Jesper’s outfit. 

Wylan takes another stab at discussion, and asks Leo about his work. Leo responds with a one word answer of the company name, which tells Wylan next to nothing. But at least it prompts Leo to ask, “What do you do?” 

“I’m a research assistant,” Wylan says. 

“So what do you do?” 

And from there, Wylan has to admit, he’s the one who ruins it. Instead of loosely defining his job and summarizing it, for some reason, he starts talking in depth about how the research his lab is conducting, how it involves mice, and how he really doesn’t like it because it makes him miserable to see them in cages, and how he’s not squeamish necessarily, but it isn’t what he imagined himself doing, although he’s always known he would probably end up doing something within a chemistry-biology field, because he’s always been better at science, but he’s never loved it, but a job is a job, and hey, isn’t that life? 

Wylan thinks it might be a panic response to fill in the silence, which is ridiculous, because he’s never had a problem with silences. That was Jesper. If Jesper was here, there would be no awkward silences. 

Leo’s eyes are entirely glazed over, and he also still looks vaguely uncomfortable at the mention of mice experiments. They are nearing the end of the exhibit now. 

Ask him questions about his life, his other interests, Wylan repeats in his mind, trying to focus on Jesper’s advice instead of Jesper himself. The problem is, he’s realizing, is that he doesn’t really care about Leo’s life, or his interests. He’d rather go around this exhibit with someone like Jesper, who might not be interested in art or paintings either, but would act much more excited to be there. 

Wylan recalled a few months ago, going to a museum with Jesper. Jesper had spent the entire time listening to Wylan’s rambles about the paintings he liked, and pointing at some of the portraits and mimicking their expressions with an exaggerated (but surprisingly accurate) gusto. 

Wylan sighs, somewhat forlorn, but Leo doesn’t hear it. It doesn’t matter either way, because they finish making their way around the room. 

“I guess we’ve seen everything,” Leo says, sounding slightly relieved. “Nice.”

“Nice,” Wylan echoes, knowing this was only one room of the museum. 

Leo scratches his wrist, and then steps closer to Wylan, looking almost remorseful. “Uh—unless you want to see more of the… portraits and stuff… We can go into other exhibits and stuff, then.” 

“That’s okay,” Wylan says amicably. Leo nearly sighs in relief. Mostly amused by this, Wylan asks mildly, “You aren’t really a museums-person, are you?”

“I’m not,” Leo admits, a little guiltily. Wylan snorts, and Leo smiles sheepishly. “I just get the tickets for free.” 

Wylan smiles too. “Oh? How?”

Leo explains, “From my job—the company I work at has some sort of deal with the museum, since we supply their art restoration crew with all the chemicals.”  

“Art restoration? That’s so interesting!” 

“You would like it,” Leo says wryly. “Chemistry and art.” 

Wylan laughs, and Leo grins at him. With these few words of actual conversation, Wylan begins to reconsider. Maybe this date wasn’t that bad after all—they could go to a cafe, maybe, or just walk around and try to actually talk without the presence of paintings. 

As Wylan thinks it, he sees—or maybe just imagines—a flash of red. Jesper? 

Wylan whips his head in the direction, but there’s no longer any sign of him. He peers around the corner suspiciously, and it must be very obvious, because Leo clears his throat.

“All good?”

“Yes, sorry,” Wylan says, feeling flustered. “I thought I saw someone I know.”

The awkward silence is back. Wylan checks his phone to see if Jesper has sent any messages, but there’s nothing. But it was Jesper he saw, Wylan is almost sure of it. That shade of red is unmissable. 

“So…” Leo ventures. “We could go see the giftshop? Or, I mean, if you’d like…” Leo’s voice gets lower in pitch, and he touches Wylan’s arm lightly. “My place isn’t too far away from here… If you’d like a drink or something…?”

This was, Wylan knew, the typical start to an average-to-alright hookup. It wouldn’t be the worst end to an average date, he considered. Leo seemed generally nice, and he was handsome in a plain, nondescript sort of way. That felt mean, but Wylan didn’t mean it as an insult. He just had a habit of comparing every man’s physical appearance to Jesper’s, because Jesper was outrageously attractive. And Leo was no Jesper, certainly. 

Wylan’s whole body nearly jerked, remembering that—somewhere, somehow— Jesper was witnessing this. For some reason, he could not bring himself to go home with someone else in front of Jesper. 

Wylan leans in closer to Leo, opening his mouth to give a polite rejection. The second he moves closer, both of them immediately jump back— 

The fire alarm starts ringing. 

Wylan scans the room again, incredulously, and looks up at the ceiling too for good measure. He still can’t see Jesper, but he knows, intrinsically, that Jesper must be behind this. 

“We should probably get out,” Leo says, shuffling towards the door as everyone else rushes past them.  

“Right,” Wylan says, moving out with him. “I think I have to head home after this…”

“No problem,” Leo says. “This was, uh, fun.”

Wylan smiles, or maybe grimaces. There will not be a second date, he can predict, but it wasn’t the worst first date he’d endured. 

They say goodbye—a farewell, really, since Wylan doubts he’ll ever see Leo again—and then he sees Jesper’s bright red hat and jacket approaching. 

Wylan looks at him accusingly. “Did you set the fire alarm off?”

“I would never,” Jesper says, all but confirming that he did.

Wylan pokes his side. “It wasn’t even that horrible. Leo was… not great, sure, but he was friendly. I was getting along with him for like, 10 seconds, wasn’t I?” It occurs to Wylan then, that maybe Leo had still looked entirely miserable, and that had been obvious to Jesper. He deflates a bit, and asks, “Nevermind. I was awful, wasn’t I?”

“You weren’t awful,” Jesper insists. “You two just… weren’t matched well.” He winces and says, “And you guys were getting along fine by the end.” 

“Then why did you set the fire alarm off?” Wylan challenges. 

Jesper does not answer this. Instead, he asks, “Do you want to see where I was hiding out?” He holds out his hand for Wylan to take. 

Wylan lets the question slide unanswered and takes his hand, but glances back towards the museum; the sirens have stopped, but they haven’t seemed to let anyone back in yet. “I don’t think we can go back in.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Jesper asks, now giddy. He pulls Wylan along with him. “A little breaking and entering makes for a perfect date.”

Wylan groans, but he lets himself be pulled. He doesn’t like breaking rules, but there is something slightly thrilling about sneaking past the crowds together, ducking into the empty museum. 

Jesper takes him down a hallway near the exhibit. There’s a large red sign over the door, which although Wylan can’t read, he understands means DO NOT ENTER. 

“Is this legal?” Wylan asks warily.

Jesper opens the door in the hallway, checking over his shoulder. “Not exactly. But, hey—worst case, if we’re caught, we’ll just say we saw the door open.”

“I don’t think that’ll work.”

Jesper hushes him, pushing him inside. It’s a strange room, completely empty except for a bench in the center. More strange, is the wall on one side—and its direct view into the exhibit they had just been in, where the mirror had been. 

Wylan scoffs in disbelief. “It’s a one-way mirror?”

Jesper nods, grinning. “There used to be an exhibit here, like, four years ago that used it for some artsy commentary about art and spectators—they never got rid of the room. Maybe they use it for security now.”

Wylan narrows his eyes. “And how do you know about it?”

Jesper shrugs. “I researched it a while ago. I have to keep up with your art facts, don’t I?”

Wylan isn’t sure why that should flatter him so much.

He stares out the window—the mirror—and observes the room. His face is flushed, although the room itself is freezing cold. He smiles at Jesper, and teasingly says, “This is still enormously creepy.”  

“It’s useful for spying in bright colors, though,” Jesper says, giving him a nudge.  

Wylan grins back, despite himself. “That’s true. But how did you hear me? When I was talking about the painting…”

Jesper gives Wylan a warm look, one that makes Wylan feel the urge to lean in towards Jesper, somehow. “I didn’t need to hear you. You didn’t even have to face me. I can tell when you’re excited about something—you practically bounce up and down.”

Wylan flushes. “Ghezen. I need to stop that.”

“Don’t,” Jesper says, his voice suddenly so firm, it makes Wylan look up at him in surprise. Jesper rubs the back of his neck, and says, “Don’t… Don’t get less excited about the things you’re excited about. Especially not for some random date.”

His voice is so sincere, it makes Wylan’s breath catch. And then, Jesper’s gaze seems heavier— hotter. Unwillingly, Wylan’s mind flashes to imagining another context where Jesper might look at him like this—before a kiss, maybe. He shivers, imagining how easy it would be, to lean into Jesper right now, and to let their lips meet.

“Are you cold?” Jesper asks, and Wylan sucks in a breath to remind himself of where he is. 

He cannot kiss Jesper. He doesn’t even know why he’s imagining it right now—it must just be the atmosphere of the room, perhaps. 

“I am,” Wylan says hastily. “We should–”

“Here, take this.” Jesper takes the knit hat off his head, shakes it out once, and then puts it on Wylan’s head. He purposefully pulls it down too far, so Wylan yelps in protest and has to pull it off his eyes again. 

When Wylan does, when he can see again—Jesper is looking at him like he’s one of the paintings in the museum. 

The complaints fall from Wylan’s mind. He just blushes instead, turning his whole body away from Jesper. 

“The red matches your hair,” Jesper says finally, amusement and affection all wrapped up together in his low voice. 

Wylan touches the knit, just above his ears—his ears are certainly bright red as well. “It does not.”

Jesper just hums, and then stands next to Wylan; both of them look out to the exhibit.

“Which painting was the one that you knew a lot about?” Jesper asks. He points to the general spot Wylan had been earlier, although he misses the painting of the woman and the balance. “Tell me about it?” 

Wylan smiles, ducking his head down. Then, he grabs Jesper’s hand, guiding it in the right direction so that they were jointly pointing at the correct painting. Wylan leaves his hand with Jesper’s, and he waits for Jesper to pull his hand away—but he doesn’t. 

“That one,” Wylan says, almost shyly. “‘Woman Holding a Balance.’ Not the most creative title, I guess.”

“I love a straightforward title,” Jesper says adamantly. He gives Wylan another nudge, and then whines, “C’mon, tell me about it. I know it’s all there, in your pretty little brain–”

Wylan half-heartedly shoves Jesper. He probably shouldn’t get so flustered over teasing remarks, but here he is. 

Hesitant at first, but less so as Jesper looks at him encouragingly, Wylan explains whatever he knows about the painting. Jesper interrupts him every so often to ask questions, which makes something in Wylan’s heart flutter. 

If, somehow, this scenario were to ever happen on a first date—holding hands while Wylan explains different paintings, trapped inside this strange little spy room, wearing his date’s hat to keep warm—Wylan would be half-way in love. 

“Wait, so—the vanishing point in that painting would be like, over there, right?” Jesper asks, interrupting Wylan’s internal musings. He points to another painting, to the vanishing spot that Wylan had been explaining. He still keeps his hand intertwined with Wylan’s.

Wylan’s face pinks, and he isn’t very sure why. He knew Jesper had been paying attention to his semi-lecture, if only because he could always tell when Jesper was distracted—but it feels different to know that now, now that he’s thinking of this all in the context of a date.  

It almost makes him feel like he’s half-way in love with Jesper. 

Wylan pulls his hand away abruptly. Jesper looks at him curiously, and Wylan stammers out an agreement to Jesper’s question. Privately, he curses himself for ever agreeing to this. This wasn’t even recreating the date properly; he couldn’t recreate this feeling with anyone other than Jesper. And he was supposed to be moving away from feeling half-way in love with Jesper. He had been half-way in love with Jesper for so long, it practically could’ve been plain and simple in love. 

“This would never happen on a first date, by the way,” Wylan says, in the same tone that someone might say I told you so, in an attempt to regain his dignity to himself. 

Jesper doesn’t say anything for a moment. But eventually, in a tone that is both careful and leaves no room for protest, he says, “It could happen.”

Chapter Text

“This wouldn’t even be a first date,” Wylan complains loudly, because otherwise, he’d be blushing too profusely. “Not even a second date.”

“Could be a third one, though,” Jesper offers, putting his arms down for a second, just to shrug them. “We’re practicing all the bases.”

Wylan does succumb to his blush, then. It’s unaided by the fact that Jesper raises his arms once more, towel still in hand, to try and fan out the air around the active, ringing smoke detector in Wylan’s kitchen. It makes his arms look incredible, and Jesper’s shirt lifts while he’s at it, revealing a sliver of skin above his waistband that Wylan point-blank refuses to look at. 

Wylan hasn’t gone on a single date since the museum, for the sake of this practice. He and Jesper practiced a movie date (which they effectively did at every new release anyways), a picnic date (it started raining and Jesper held his jacket over Wylan’s head to protect him from it, and even though Wylan knew he wasn’t doing it to be romantic, now Wylan could never go on a picnic date because nothing would ever beat that), and another museum date (this time, to a science museum, which Wylan also loved). 

And now, they were practicing a cooking date. 

Wylan goes back over to the stove, poking the burnt vegetables sadly. “I don’t think this would win me another date.” This is, of course, assuming he’s managed to even get up to three dates with someone. He sighs. 

“Hey, it could be! It’s a good way to show off your skills,” Jesper says, grinning. He looks at the burnt vegetables and their soggy pasta still in the strainer, and scratches his head. “Probably should pick a meal that you know how to make, though.”

Wylan scowls. “The fire alarm has never gone off when I’ve made this before.”

“Fire alarms going off is part of it,” Jesper says easily. “It’s romantic, if you think about it. Because you’d be so lost in the moment, you didn’t realize the food was burning.”

Wylan snorts. “‘Lost in the moment?’ That’s what we’re calling you, going to the fire escape and leaving the running stove to eavesdrop on an arguing couple?” 

“You followed me!” 

Wylan crosses his arms and rolls his eyes, if only because—yes. He did follow Jesper. Of course, he followed Jesper. 

“Anyways,” Wylan says primly. Jesper grins, accepting his unacknowledged victory in their argument. “We can salvage the broccolini. We have more we can cut up.” 

Jesper salutes. Wylan rolls his eyes fondly.

As Wylan slices up the veggies, Jesper leans back against the countertop and they talk. Wylan is never able to explain to Jesper how this is the thing about dating he’s never able to manage. He appreciates Jesper’s tips and tricks greatly—Wylan needs all the advice he can get. But there’s no one who he can talk to like this, and there’s no one he feels this excited to talk to, either. 

One of the broccolini stems accidentally drops to the floor. Jesper goes to pick it up, lightly touching Wylan’s waist to move him aside. Wylan freezes at the touch, and so does Jesper. 

Jesper shakes himself first. “Another positive of a cooking date—” he says smoothly, “cooking together creates lots of excuses to touch.” 

Wylan hums impartially. Jesper, now taking it on himself to prove this, nudges Wylan’s side and trails a finger up his forearm. 

Wylan, currently holding a knife, tries not to chop his finger off as his face pinks from the touch. The next cut of his broccolini, as a result, takes half the leaves off. 

Jesper snickers. “Saints, you’re bad at that.”

Wylan glares at him. “I am not.”

“Here, let me help,” Jesper says, eagerly and warmly. 

Jesper loops around to stand behind Wylan, and then gently encircles his waist. Wylan makes a small noise, and the knife clatters onto the chopping board. Jesper laughs again.   

Wylan clears his throat rapidly, attempting to regain some dignity. He can feel his face burning now. “This would be… This would be what I do on a date?” 

Jesper clears his throat too. “If you want. It’s sort of seductive, you know?” 

“Seductive?” Wylan repeats, his voice a pitch higher than usual. 

Jesper leans down, so that his face is right next to Wylan’s. “Is it seductive?” he asks. 

“We can plate these,” Wylan says quickly. He pulls away from Jesper’s hold, and runs a hand through his hair. “Um, and—and stir the sauce.”

Jesper does not comment on this. Obligingly, he starts stirring. With his back turned, Wylan presses a hand to his cheek to try and cool it off. 

He needs to get a hold on himself; he isn’t even sure why he’s so flustered right now. He and Jesper are no stranger to holding hands and hugs. Was it just the implied context of a date that’s made him so warm? Does Jesper pretending to like him romantically really make him that incapable? 

Wylan runs another hand through his hair, as if that would clear the musings from his brain along with it. He moves closer, until he’s almost directly behind Jesper. It would make sense on a date, he considers, to hug Jesper’s waist as he stirs the sauce. He can imagine resting his chin on Jesper’s shoulders, pecking Jesper’s cheek, burrowing his face in Jesper’s neck. 

Not Jesper specifically, Wylan reminds himself. He should imagine doing this with a date, not Jesper. 

Wylan skirts to the side, bypassing Jesper’s back to stand next to him. He leans against Jesper’s arm, and Jesper smiles at him before lifting it, inviting Wylan underneath. Surely this is a safer, less intimate, more platonic form of physical affection? It could be, but Wylan finds himself imagining again—he could rest his head on Jesper’s shoulder now, still kiss his cheek, or Jesper could kiss his forehead like this, or Wylan could kiss Jesper’s neck—

Wylan takes a deep breath. It doesn’t make anything easier. If anything, it makes it worse, because now he just took a nose-full of Jesper’s cologne. It isn’t the one he wears on a daily basis, Wylan recognizes; it’s warmer and deeper somehow, maybe more woody. It’s a scent equal parts thrilling and comforting—but maybe, it’s only comforting because it’s Jesper. 

“You smell nice,” Wylan mutters, before Jesper catches him sniffing his neck like a puppy. 

Jesper beams. “Thanks. It’s the cologne I wear to impress pretty boys.” 

Wylan rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not kidding!” Jesper cranes his neck, gesturing to the spot he must’ve dabbed the scent in. “I only wear it for the most romantic of occasions.” 

“Ha.” It’s not Jesper’s usual scent, sure, but it’s hardly a special one, let alone romantic. “You’ve worn it since university.” Wylan leans into Jesper, sniffing him blatantly, and then rolls his eyes again for good measure. “I think you wore it in the dining hall, that second time we ever got lunch together.” 

Jesper pulls back suddenly, and Wylan realizes how close he’s left his face to Jesper’s neck.  

“Yeah, I was wearing it then.” Jesper doesn’t meet Wylan’s eyes for a second, before he takes a deep breath. Then, the full weight of his gaze is on Wylan, and Wylan feels himself grow warm from it. “That was the first time I wore it, actually.”

Wylan tilts his head. He isn’t sure why Jesper is telling him this—until, the realization hits him. He connects the dots of Jesper’s vague words. 

“Oh!” Wylan says, in complete understanding. “I should get a new cologne?” 

Jesper blinks. “What?”

Wylan sniffs his collar self-consciously. “Is this one… I don’t smell bad, right?”

“What? No, of course not! Your—” Jesper takes a deep breath, calming his flustered tone. “You always smell good. That wasn’t what I was saying.” 

Wylan furrows his brows. “What were you saying, then?” 

“Just… Just, y’know. Um, you don’t need a new cologne.” 

“Okay?”

“Good to stick to the classics.” Jesper nods to himself rapidly, and then, catching wind of a new idea, snaps his fingers. “Music!”

“What?”

“You should play romantic music,” Jesper explains, or diverts. “While you cook, so—so, you know. It sets the mood.”

Without waiting for Wylan to respond, Jesper pulls out his phone and starts searching for a playlist. Wylan watches him, half bemused, and half affectionate. Fully affectionate, really. 

“Got it!” Jesper announces, pressing play on the song he found and setting his phone down on the counter. He gives the sauce a quick stir as the orchestra swells, and the singer starts crooning. 

It’s a slow ballad, something from the decades prior. Wylan can’t place the song or the singer, but it’s familiar in its style. This is the sort of song you and a partner would slow dance to in the kitchen, holding each other close. 

The image of that is overwhelming; rational thinking bypasses his brain. 

Impulsively, Wylan holds out his hand to Jesper. 

Jesper’s eyes go wide, but only for a split second; so quickly, that Wylan might’ve just made it up. With an easy-going smile, Jesper teases, “You want to dance?”

Wylan blushes, and folds his arms. Jesper protests, tugging his hands back. 

“Slow-dancing in the kitchen is romantic,” Wylan says defensively, although Jesper isn’t arguing with him. “I thought… If this was a date, wouldn’t that be—romantic?” 

“It’s very romantic,” Jesper agrees. With a small smile, he says, “I didn’t think you were the dancing type.”

I’m not, Wylan thinks automatically. I would never in a thousand years do this with some random man on a first, second, or even third date. I could only do it with you. I only want to do it with you. 

Wylan shrugs, hoping he looks casual. “I had to do all the lessons when I was a kid.”

Jesper laughs. “Cute. Are you as good a dancer as you are a cook?” 

Wylan sniffs. “I did cotillion. I can manage a basic ballroom dance.”

Jesper yanks Wylan’s arm, sudden enough that it makes Wylan yelp and stumble into Jesper’s arms. 

Jesper is grinning. “Waltz with me, then.”

Wylan gives Jesper a shove, but laughs and puts his hands into the proper position. He switches them immediately, unsure of if he should put his hand on Jesper’s shoulder or waist. Jesper snickers. 

“You’re taller, you’re supposed to lead,” Wylan defends.  

“I don’t know how to waltz, though.”

“Why do you keep saying waltz?”

“Isn’t that a ballroom dance?”

“There are different types of—and this isn’t even the appropriate music for a waltz!”

“Would you like to switch the song to something appropriate, then, Great-Waltz-Expert Wylan?” Jesper pokes his ribs, eliciting another peel of laughter from Wylan. “Tell me, what’s so scandalous about this song?”  

“It’s not scandalous. Waltzes are in ¾ time. That’s like, the one fact everyone knows about them.”

“Oh sure, make fun of me for not doing cotillion.” 

“This is not cotillion exclusive information–”

Jesper sighs fondly. “Saints, Wy, are you going to argue or dance with me?” 

Wylan groans and laughs at the same time, and relents. He throws his arms around Jesper’s waist and he presses his face into Jesper’s shoulder—a hug, more than any type of dance. There’s a moment of stillness, where Wylan is about to pull back, before Jesper’s hands settle on Wylan’s hips. Another beat of stillness, where they might not even be breathing. And then slowly, gently, they sway to the music. 

It’s not a waltz. It’s not even a ballroom dance. If any of Wylan’s old cotillion teachers saw this, they would shriek at the lack of distance between their bodies, at the way almost every part of them is connected—but Wylan is hardly thinking about them right now. All that he could ever think about, all that he ever wants to think about, is exactly here, in his arms. 

Jesper hums along to the song. Wylan shuts his eyes. 

Wylan thinks, rationally and realistically, that this is not a very good indicator that he’s gotten over his crush on Jesper. He thinks he should feel more anxious about this. 

But he can’t bring himself to be. His heart is racing, but he feels utterly at ease—like this is his natural state of being. This is what he wants to do, forever. 

Tentatively, Wylan lifts his head from Jesper’s shoulder, but he doesn’t pull away. Jesper meets his gaze. 

They’re already so close. Their faces are already so close. How much more would it really take, for Wylan to press up and let their lips connect, or for Jesper to lean down? 

Wylan’s fingers tighten in Jesper’s shirt. He tilts his face up. 

The song is winding down. He feels Jesper’s hands fidget; is it to pull him closer, or to push him away? One of these options is elating, and the other is purely devastating. The jump between them is so large, Wylan doesn’t want to think about the answer. 

“Wylan,” Jesper murmurs. 

Wylan’s eyes shut again, as if Jesper whispering his name is a physical force. And with that, he realizes—this can only be devastating either way. He has to think about the answer. 

This is practice. This isn’t real. 

“The sauce is done,” Wylan blurts. He shoves himself away and whirls around to face the opposite counter. 

Wylan barely hears the clank of bowls and cutlery that Jesper is pulling out, seemingly at lightning speed. He feels as though he just sprinted the length of the city—he probably looks it, too. He’s breathing heavily, his face is bright red, and his heart pounds in his chest. All from almost— almost— kissing Jesper.   

Wylan exhales.  

It’s fine. They’ll move on. Soon, his blush will go down, and his heart rate will settle, and he’ll forget the feeling of Jesper’s hands on his hips, the almost-nearly-there brush of Jesper’s lips against his own. Or, he won’t forget it, probably for as long as he lives, but he’ll at least go back to being normal about things.  

Jesper scoops the pasta into two bowls, his expression completely neutral—almost strangely neutral. Wylan wonders how it could possibly be that blank, only of course it’s that blank—Jesper never had a crush on him, and hadn’t spent the better half of five years imagining that sort of moment going just a bit further than their practice. (Wylan also had spent the better half of five years imagining that sort of moment going much further than just a kiss, but that’s no one’s business). 

Wylan exhales again. Yes, this is fine. He’ll go back to being normal about things; Jesper will help him choose a new date, and give Wylan advice, and everything will work out fine. 

*

Wylan couldn’t be normal about things. 

He managed to get through dinner with Jesper just fine, falling back on their usual banter and conversation. But after Jesper left, all he could do was stare up at the ceiling and replay their dance and almost-kiss over and over again in his mind. 

It was exactly as he feared—he was supposed to be over his crush on Jesper, not spend the night dreaming about him. It was more proof that he needed to find a partner, before everything with Jesper became irrevocably awkward. But the very premise of talking to Jesper about some random, likely mediocre, date felt impossible. 

So, sensibly, Wylan opened up his dating app, and in a fit of either pure panic or straight genius, matched with someone new and set up a whole date for himself, all within 15 minutes.  

He’s already on his way over to the restaurant for this semi-spontaneous dinner date when he informs Jesper. 

Jesper, over the phone, is reasonably bewildered. “What? Since when? And with who?” 

“It was—I just sort of… It’s just with a guy.”

Jesper snorts. “No kidding.”

“It’s just a dinner. Barely even a date, actually.”

“But you should’ve mentioned earlier—I’m on the other side of the city!” Jesper complains. 

I know, that’s why I waited until now, Wylan thinks guiltily. “It was all last minute.” 

“Who is he, though?” Jesper presses. “Let me at least make sure he’s not a walking red flag.”

“You’re going to invent a problem with him regardless,” Wylan says primly. One of these invented problems, perchance, could be the fact that his date is double his age—a byproduct of setting up a date in desperate panic, potentially. Wylan can imagine Jesper raising some red flags with that one. “He’s not a serial killer or anything. Probably.”  

“Really convincing statement,” Jesper mumbles. From the noise on his end of the phone, Wylan can guess that he’s hurrying through the Ketterdam roads. 

“I’ll call you if there’s a problem,” Wylan promises. Jesper’s face from last night flashes in his mind, and just that quick flash is enough to make Wylan take in a sharp inhale of air. Be normal. He’s your best friend, and you don’t like him anymore. Don’t mess things up. The very prospect of that—of ruining his relationship with Jesper—is enough to send another shot of guilt through him. “I’m sorry, I’ll see you soon,” he mutters apologetically, before ending the call. 

And so, his date begins. The man, Niels, is already seated and waiting for him. They both introduce themselves amicably, and Wylan tries to recall any of Jesper’s advice to help him as the first, practically scripted portion of their date comes to a close. But thinking of Jesper’s advice makes him think of Jesper, and that does nothing to help him know what to say. 

Niels doesn’t seem to mind the awkward lull in conversation, at least. Niels is clearly much older than him, but he’s also exceptionally handsome. He looks like the sort of person who’d play a professor in a movie—wire-rimmed glasses, graying at the temples, an old blazer draped over the back of the chair. He would look extraordinarily sexy in front of a blackboard, or with chalk dust on his hands. Wylan notes all of this, somewhat distractedly, while he thinks of a question to ask.  

“Are you a student?” Niels prompts, flashing him a smile. 

“Not anymore. I graduated from Ketterdam University last year,” Wylan says, smiling back. 

“Oh, what did you study?”

“Chemistry. And I had a minor in art history.”

Niels whistles lowly, nodding encouragingly. “Science and arts? That’s impressive.” 

Wylan blushes, and he tries very hard not to beam at the compliment. He feels the slight desire to impress Niels now, although that might have less to do with Niels, and more to do with his instinctual urge to seek validation from any man generally around his father’s age. 

Wylan spares a single thought to think he’s really glad Jesper isn’t witnessing any of this. 

“I’m teaching at Ketterdam right now,” Niels says charmingly. 

“Oh,” Wylan says awkwardly. It was sexier to imagine Niels as a professor versus him actually being a professor who went on dates with people roughly the age of his students. “Um. What do you teach?” 

“Economics,” Niels responds easily. With another charming smile, he asks, “Red or white?” 

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you prefer red or white wine? I’ll order a bottle.” He hands the wine list over to Wylan, which Wylan pretends to read. “Choose whatever you’d like.” 

Wylan bites his lip. Tempting as an offer it may be, he’s not sure if it’s the best idea to drink half a bottle of wine on a first date. He made this date in a small state of panic, anyways—better to have a clear mind and follow Jesper’s most recently given, unintentional advice, and make sure Niels isn’t a walking red flag. 

Niels’ eyes widen at Wylan’s hesitation. In apparent understanding, he says, “Oh—don’t at all worry about the price. I’ll pay.”

Well. That’s one way into any Kerchman’s heart. There’s some sort of principle in economics about sunk costs, anyways.  

*

A bottle of red and appetizer are ordered, and all in all—the date is going well. There are a few hiccups. Wylan finds it slightly odd to call Niels Niels, and has to fight the impulse to call Niels Professor, which only grows stronger with each additional sip of wine. But that would make this feel less like a date, and more like office hours, so Wylan wisely tries to avoid that. 

But generally, Niels is friendly. He knows how to keep a conversation going, and he’s generous with both his money, and his compliments. He isn’t particularly funny, and he’s made at least two eyebrow-raising jokes about how young Wylan looks, but it’s not the worst date he’s ever been on. 

Wylan thinks that, actually, verbatim: This is not the worst date I’ve ever been on. 

Niels’ phone starts ringing. Wylan wonders if he jinxed it, but then Niels turns the ringer off. 

“Sorry about that,” Niels says apologetically. “Don’t know who could be calling at this hour.” 

Wylan smiles in sympathy. The number calling ends the call, and the screen goes back to Niels’ usual lockscreen wallpaper, bright and clear on the table. It’s a photo of Niels, another man, and two dogs, like a family portrait. The other man has his arm around Niels, and Niels is kissing his cheek. 

Niels clicks his phone off, turning it facedown on the table. It’s with that motion that Wylan notices Niels’ left hand. 

He doesn’t wear a wedding ring, which is generally what you want to see when you’re on a first date with someone. But where there could be a wedding ring—there’s a notable tan line. As though Niels had a wedding ring, but had only taken it off within the hour. 

Wylan drains his glass of wine. Jesper’s words about walking red flags bounce around in his mind. 

“I’ll be right back,” Wylan says, hopefully kindly. “Restroom…”

“Of course,” Niels says graciously. 

Wylan dives into the bathroom—it’s empty, mercifully—and dials Jesper’s number. Jesper picks up within the second. 

“Are you okay?” Jesper asks, forgoing a greeting.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Wylan says. “I… It’s not an emergency, but I need…”

“Advice?” Jesper suggests. Wylan can’t read Jesper’s tone as he says it, which is odd. 

“Not advice, necessarily. More… your thoughts?” 

“Alright,” Jesper says evenly. 

“The date has been going alright, I think,” Wylan says, biting his lip. “But—okay, just now, he got a phone call? And then I saw that his lockscreen is him, and another man, and these two dogs. And he’s kissing the other man’s cheek… And then, I noticed he’s—Jesper, he has a tan line where a wedding ring should be. Do you think he could be–”

“You think he’s married?” 

“I don’t know!” Wylan hisses. “Maybe he’s really-freshly divorced? And he hasn’t changed his lockscreen yet? I can’t exactly ask him about it, can I?”

“Okay, what’s his name?” Jesper asks, serious and professional. “I’ll do some sleuthing.”

“I only have his first name—Niels.” 

“Profession, a sports team he likes, a social media account—just a little more information, love.”

“He’s teaching at Ketterdam University!” Wylan says. “In the economics department–”

“Teaching? Like a PhD student? Oh wait, I found him,” Jesper says. And then, a second later, in a hushed, stern whisper: “Wylan. He’s 47?” 

“Shut up,” Wylan whispers back. “Like you haven’t gone out with someone older than you.”

“Older than me, not—Saints, I’m choosing your dates next time,” Jesper mutters. 

Someone walks into the bathroom, and Wylan taps his fingers to his wrist anxiously. A minute goes by, before Jesper speaks, his voice slightly awkward:  

“Alright, so… Unless he got divorced three days ago, I think he might be married. His probably–husband posts him a lot. They celebrated a 5-year anniversary last week, so…”

Wylan makes a distressed sound. 

“Maybe they’re in an open relationship?” Jesper suggests hopefully. “Or maybe he’s looking for a threesome?” 

“But shouldn’t he have mentioned his partner? And why did he take the wedding ring off, then?” Wylan counters. “And if it was for a threesome—wouldn’t he bring his partner too?”

“The name does imply that there’d be three people there. Would you want a–”

“Jesper, focus!” Wylan whisper–shouts. 

“Alright, I have a plan,” Jesper continues. “Your location says you’re at the Kooperom. You’re there, right?”

“Yes—Jes, what are you—what do I do?”

“Hang tight, act normal.”

“I am homewrecking!” Wylan hisses. “How do I act normal–”

Jesper hangs up with no response, and Wylan curses. The person washing their hands next to Wylan looks at him judgmentally. 

Wylan forces himself to pretend everything is normal—which has not been his strong suit, lately—and goes back to sit across from Niels. 

“Ah good, you’re back!” Niels says cheerfully. He puts his hand on Wylan’s over the table top, and Wylan tries not to wince. “I’m still deciding between the entrees…”

Like you’re deciding between partners? Wylan wants to say coldly. 

“What are you in between?” Wylan says instead. His tone is a bit chillier though, at least. 

Niels describes the two menu options, and Wylan nods along. He’s tapping his finger anxiously against his knee, wondering what Jesper’s plan was here. Was he going to call, with a fake emergency lined up? Get someone he knows at the restaurant to pull the fire alarm? Was Jesper going to—

Jesper is here. Jesper is outside the restaurant. 

Wylan blinks, jerking his head up, but Jesper doesn’t give him any indication of a plan from the window outside. And then, before Wylan can summon him over at all, Jesper storms into the restaurant, marching up to Wylan’s table.

Jesper looks angry. And out of breath, but that adds to the fury. Wylan’s eyes go wide.

“How could you, Wylan?” Jesper cries, gripping the table dramatically.

Niels puts down his menu awkwardly. “Um—Do you–”

“You told me you were going to work!” Jesper continues, his voice just loud enough to be sincerely furious, but not loud enough to draw the attention of any other table. “And here I find you with—what are you, a date?” 

“I—uh…” Niels stammers. “Yes? I didn’t–”

Jesper makes a small wailing noise. Wylan is still just staring at him. 

“We were just about to celebrate our 4th anniversary together, too,” Jesper moans, clutching his heart. “And now—now it’s all ruined.” 

Niels pales at that, like he’s seen the Ghost of Relationships Past; immediately, Wylan catches on.

“I’m sorry!” Wylan cries, just as dramatic. “Please—I didn’t mean to throw away all our years together for one date!”

“How can I trust you again?” Jesper seethes. “After everything we’ve been through—what will our dogs say, Wylan?”

“I—um, think I should go,” Niels says, standing up. “This seems private…”

Jesper turns to Niels beseechingly. “I don’t blame you for this. You couldn’t have known, could you? You would never knowingly homewreck… or cheat?”

Niels looks ready to pass out. 

“I’m so sorry,” Wylan says to Niels, making his tone as watery as possible. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this—I just got greedy, I suppose. I didn’t cherish the partner I had, and now—now, I don’t know what will happen!”

“I can answer that one,” Jesper says hysterically. “I’ll leave you. And then you’ll be all alone, in your cold, empty apartment. I’ll take the dogs, too! You’ll never see them again! And there’ll be no one to tell all your interesting—uh—economics facts to–”

“I need to leave!” Niels says loudly. He throws some kruge on the table without looking at either of them, and sprints out the door. 

Jesper maintains his angry posture until Niels clears the street. Then, Jesper lets out a little whoop and slides into the seat across from Wylan. 

“You are insane,” Wylan scolds, but he’s grinning too wide from the adrenaline-high. “Insane. You couldn’t have called and made up an emergency?”

Jesper waves his hand. “I wanted to see you. And terrorize the creep trying to get with you.”

“He wasn’t a–”

Jesper holds up a hand. “Do not defend him.”

“I’m not defending him, I’m defending myself,” Wylan grumbles.

Jesper grins at him. He starts counting the cash left out on the table. 

Jesper lets out a low whistle. “Well, on the bright side—your professor was loaded. He wasn’t bad looking either.” 

“I know,” Wylan mutters. Glancing at the cash, he scratches his head and asks, “Should I return it to his partner or something? I don’t know what the ethics of taking money from a cheater are.” 

“I think we can take the money,” Jesper says easily, peering at the label on the wine. “Although best not to mention it in the very awkward message you’ll have to send to his husband about today.”

Wylan groans, putting his head in his arms on the table. He keeps his head down, even as the dramatics wear off, mentally steeling himself for Jesper to have a smug, I-told-you-so look on his face. Wylan thinks he would have one, if the situation was reversed—naturally, it never would be. Jesper doesn’t have bad dates to warrant needing a friend’s tutorage in the first place, nor is he panicking over a once-held crush on said friend, thereby forcing him to increase the age range on his dating app and accidentally become a homewrecker. 

The dramatics haven’t worn off yet, clearly. Still, Wylan sighs and lifts his head, but finds that Jesper is only watching him affectionately. 

Jesper passes him one of Niels’ ten kruge bills and winks. “Here—buy some dessert. On me.”

“I couldn’t,” Wylan says with a small smile. He passes the note back. “Not after I was caught cheating on you.”

“I’ve already forgiven you,” Jesper says, smiling and resting his cheek on his hand. “You have me wrapped around your little finger, Wy.” 

Wylan blushes, even though Jesper is just leaning into the bit. 

“That was surprisingly fun,” Wylan admits, his voice a little soft. “Even if a fake emergency call would’ve been more efficient.”

Jesper smiles genuinely. “I’m glad. We make a good team.”

“We do,” Wylan agrees, nodding. Jesper smiles wider, and Wylan bites his lip. He hesitates before saying, “I’m sorry I didn’t… follow our plan.”

Jesper shrugs. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

“I think I just got… overwhelmed, a little, after the… lesson,” Wylan explains awkwardly. Jesper’s eyes widen, and he looks apologetic, so Wylan quickly adds, “Not because of you!” even though it’s half a lie. He overwhelmed himself by imagining dating Jesper, which was ultimately, Wylan’s own fault. “I was thinking of… all the ways I need to change—well, everything, really.”

“You don’t need to do that at all,” Jesper says sincerely. “I mean it, Wy. You’re perfect.” 

Wylan just sighs and shakes his head. It’s a lost cause, trying to argue against Jesper—even if Wylan doesn’t believe the words himself, he’s coming to understand that the two of them can only ever be on the same side, ultimately. Arguments are frequent, but futile. 

As he thinks that—being on the same side as Jesper—an idea comes to mind. Wylan perks up and says, “Wait! I just thought of–” at the same time that Jesper takes a deep breath and says, “Wylan, I–”

Both of them fall silent. 

“You first,” Wylan says, now feeling flustered.

Jesper shakes his head quickly. “No, after you.” 

Wylan gives Jesper another second of silence, waiting for him to speak again. When he doesn’t, even after Wylan gives him a prompting look, Wylan tries again. 

“I just had the idea,” Wylan says, biting his lip. “What if we…” 

Jesper’s spine stiffens. A sudden apprehension weighs down on Wylan—if Jesper seems so on-guard just at the mention of a we, how would he respond to this? 

Wylan looks away, and decides to make his suggestion to the light fixture in the corner of the room. “What if we went on a double date?” 

Jesper doesn’t say anything. Wylan stares at the light, unwilling to face whatever expression is on Jesper’s face. 

“I don’t know, it’s a stupid idea,” Wylan says hastily. 

“It’s not,” Jesper says. There’s something strained in his voice, and it makes Wylan wince. 

“You don’t want to do it,” Wylan surmises, finally looking over at Jesper. He doesn’t look horrified by the suggestion, but he does look like he’s hiding a grimace behind a grin, which is hardly promising. 

“No, I do. I’ll do it!” Jesper protests. He smiles jovially; it has the same sort of falsity that his hysterical acting had earlier with Niels, and Wylan sees through it instantly. 

“Jes,” Wylan says, exasperated. “You clearly don’t want to. And that’s okay, I’m—Ghezen, I’m hardly going to make you go on a date with me— alongside me,” he clarifies hastily, feeling his cheeks redden at the slip of tongue. “The idea just… popped into my head. I think I just like the idea of being on the same team as you.”

“I’m always on your team,” Jesper says softly. 

Wylan smiles at him. He ignores the way his heart beats faster, and forces himself to stay firmly in the present, to not get lost in daydreams and what-ifs. “Then that’s more than enough for me. I think I’m going to put a pause on all the dates, anyways.” 

Jesper looks at him for a moment. In a muted, almost sad voice, he asks, “But you don’t want to?”

“I want…” Wylan hesitates. “I’m not sure what I want, exactly. I can’t say these dates have been good, but… I want proof, maybe.”

Jesper’s eyebrows furrow. “Proof of what?”

Proof that I don’t still have a crush on you, proof that I’m not completely unlikable, proof that I won’t end up alone.  

Wylan picks at the skin around his nails. “Proof that I can, I guess. Go on dates—at least a second date, maybe.” Quietly, he adds, “It’s not very fun to feel unwanted. That’s all.” 

Jesper’s eyes go wide, and his fingertips curl over the table, as though he’s in physical pain. Wylan looks at him apologetically, now feeling silly for his melodrama. That statement felt a bit too real, all of a sudden. He clears his throat, before Jesper’s expression can become even more stricken, and adds, “And—anyways. It’s like I said. I think we make the best team.”

Jesper still looks as though he’s in pain, searching for words to say. Helplessly, he says, “I want to help. I don’t want you to feel–”

“I don’t!” Wylan says quickly, feeling his cheeks burn again.

“Let’s do a double date,” Jesper decides. 

Wylan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jes. I’m not–”

“No, I want to,” Jesper says, nodding rapidly. “I mean it. I only thought… no at first, because…” Jesper scrubs the back of his neck as his eyes dart around the room. He eventually settles on, “Because I’m not really a going-on-dates sort of person, you know? You know how I am. And I wouldn’t want one of your friends or anyone to get the wrong impression, and want something long-term, and then—uh—have it cause any problems or anything for you…” 

“Oh,” Wylan says, feeling surprised. He hadn’t considered that, but he supposed it made sense; Jesper wasn’t looking for a committed relationship. 

“Yeah,” Jesper says, with a newfound energy to him. “I mean, if you have a friend that’s okay with that–”

“I think I do,” Wylan says thoughtfully. 

“Oh,” Jesper says. “Good, then. Let’s plan a double date. Pick a friend for me.” 

There’s something slightly stunned in Jesper’s tone, and on his face too. Wylan tries to understand it. 

“You can’t be that surprised to know I have other friends. There’s at least three other people,” Wylan teases gently, after a long enough silence. He isn’t sure how to resolve this new tension that’s between them—it’s somewhere between awkward and charged, as though they’re both waiting for a balloon to burst. At Jesper’s continued quiet, Wylan adds, “But don’t worry, you’re still my best friend.”

Jesper does grimace now. Before Wylan can question him on that, Jesper grins, and then says firmly, “This will be fun! And it’ll be… good. I’ll pick a person out for you, and that way it’s sort of… vetted. Good.” 

Wylan exhales nervously. “I really don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to do, though.”

Jesper bites his lip. “I want to do this. It’s a good idea, Wy.”

“Okay. If you’re sure,” Wylan says, nodding slowly. “I’ll try and find a friend for you.”

“Same,” Jesper says, looking down. His eyes settle over the wad of cash still on the table, and his eyebrows raise. “And rest assured, I’ll only set you up with someone single.”

Chapter Text

“It’ll be so much fun!” Wylan says, in his best attempt of enthusiasm.

Nina remains looking entirely unconvinced. Wylan leans towards her on the bench they’re both seated at for an efficient lunch, outside the Ketterdam University Hospital.  

He takes another stab of his salad, and another stab at selling the activity of a double date to his incredibly busy friend. “It’ll only be an hour or two. Dinner and dessert! And Jesper really is a fantastic date!” He says this sincerely, because he means it sincerely. On the topic of Jesper, Wylan begins to smile. “You’ll have a really good time with him. Jesper’s really funny, and you’ll probably laugh the entire time you’re there, and he—he never makes you feel awkward or anything if you talk on and on about something, or if you say something strange. Not that you will say anything strange, just that—Jesper’s really kind! And he’s courteous too, although you wouldn’t really expect it because he can be so ridiculous at times–”

“I’m so confused,” Nina interrupts, an eyebrow raised. “If you’re in love with Jesper, why am I going on a date with him?”

“I’m not in love with him!” Wylan protests immediately, feeling his face go red. “I had a crush on him. Ages ago. But I don’t anymore. Like him, I mean. I mean, as more than a friend.”

Nina regards him with open suspicion. Wylan lifts his chin, refusing to let his gaze falter, even though he really wants to stare at the ground instead. If this double-date is going to work, he sort of needs Nina to agree. If he’s being honest, there’s a limited number of real friends he has to work with, and he doesn’t want to entrust this to a mere acquaintance. He won’t get jealous, but he doesn’t think he’ll… enjoy witnessing it. 

He won’t think about that, anyhow. He thinks Nina will agree, and he also thinks that she and Jesper would be well-matched; at the very least, they’ll be able to flirt a free dessert out of their waiter. 

“This date will be better if you’re there!” Wylan implores again, bypassing the zone in his brain that only thinks complicated thoughts about Jesper. He says again, a little desperately, “It’ll be fun? Please?” 

Nina taps her fingers on her knuckles, deliberating. “Alright, fine, I’ll do it,” she relents. Wylan beams, and Nina shakes her head with dry amusement. “Do you know who Jesper’s setting you up with?”

“No, not yet. I’m sure he’ll be… fine.”

Nina’s eyebrows go up at his tone. “You don’t sound very excited.”

“I’m just keeping my expectations low,” Wylan says simply. “I’ve told you about my dates—they never really work out. Just using statistics, here, I’m not sure this will be any different.” 

“Ever the optimist,” Nina mutters. She stills for a moment and looks at Wylan inquisitively. Then, she asks, “Are you keeping your expectations for this date low because of statistics, or is it just that you’d rather be on a date with Jesper?” 

Wylan’s cheeks go red again. “It’s not that! I…” He hesitates. “Even if I would, hypothetically, rather be on a date with Jesper—it doesn’t matter in the end, because he wouldn’t want to be on a date with me. So I wouldn’t—hypothetically—ruin our friendship and ask for that. It wouldn’t be worth it.” Nina’s gaze softens with sympathy, and Wylan looks away. He clears his throat and says, “Besides—it’s also statistics. Did I tell you about the date I had who hooked up with our waiter mid-meal?” 

*

Wylan and Nina were the first ones to arrive at the restaurant, unsurprisingly. After several years of knowing Jesper, and knowing his habits, Wylan anticipated him running a little late. If his estimates are correct, Jesper is probably sprinting down a street somewhere, with Wylan’s mystery date in tow. 

“Wy!” 

Wylan turns his head at the familiar shout, to see—just as predicted—Jesper bouncing down the street. Keeping pace with him, though certainly not bouncing, is a very tall, broad shouldered blonde man—Wylan’s date. The closer he gets, the warmer Wylan’s face seems to feel. 

His date is incredibly attractive. It’s almost upsetting. 

Jesper reaches the two of them first, and gives Wylan a side hug in greeting. 

Immediately, Nina says, “So you’re Jesper?”

“Guilty,” Jesper says charmingly. “And you must be Nina. Wylan mentioned you were stunning, but I’m afraid he undersold it—words don’t compare.”  

Nina looks entertained. “Oh, did he now? Did Wylan feed you the pick-up line too?” Jesper grins, shrugging his shoulders as if to say ‘ Guilty’ again. Nina gives Wylan a sly look, and adds, “Wylan said the same thing about you—he really didn’t do you justice. You’ll have to have a conversation with him.” 

Both Jesper and Nina laugh at the indignant expression that rises on Wylan’s face—he had told both of them that the other was incredibly good-looking, he did his part, thank you very much—and Wylan’s mystery date smiles. Wylan looks at him, and notes how he seems to have a calmer amusement than the boisterous laughter of the other two.     

Wylan’s gaze draws Jesper’s attention. “This is Matthias,” Jesper says cheerfully, patting Matthias’ shoulder twice, in the way one would pet a large dog’s head. “And this, of course, is Wylan.”

Jesper gestures to Wylan with a dramatic flare, which only makes it more likely that he’s going to turn red. Or, more red, if he’s being honest. His face has already been made pink from the fact that Matthias is absolutely, ridiculously handsome. Even if this date has a non-zero chance of ending as a dumpster fire, Wylan can still acknowledge that Matthias must be one of the most attractive men Wylan’s ever seen before in his life—not the most, though. 

“Should we head in?” Jesper asks the group. A general murmur of agreement is enough for Jesper to whirl over to the door. He winks and holds the door open for Nina. “After you, gorgeous.” 

Nina winks back, with a knowing, playful grin on her face as she walks through. Jesper holds the door open for Wylan as well, but he goes off to open the second door past the entryway for Nina again, chivalrous date that he is. 

This leaves Wylan, propping open the door for Matthias. He could, theoretically, try to mimic Jesper’s flirty tone and find a way to throw Matthias a compliment—Ghezen knows it wouldn’t be difficult to call Matthias gorgeous in a multitude of ways—but Wylan also knows that if he even attempted, his face would turn such an alarming shade of red, the rest of his body might turn blue. So he throws that idea out the window and holds open the door with a friendly smile. Matthias smiles back and thanks him, and they leave it at that. 

With their reservation in hand, they get seated immediately; they follow the hostess to the table, a booth seat in a cozy corner of the restaurant. 

It is here, though Wylan fails to notice, that their group makes a consequential error. In the rotation of the four of them shuffling to their booth, Wylan ends up sitting down first, against the wall. Jesper slides into his row, so they’re sitting next to each other. 

This doesn’t seem like a problem, because Matthias and Nina sit on the opposite side, across from Wylan and Jesper respectively. But the division of the table becomes noticeable, after a point. After their brief introductions, Wylan and Matthias seem to have settled upon a perfectly amicable silence, letting Jesper and Nina take the lead of the group’s conversation. As such, Wylan keeps peering up at Jesper whenever he speaks—which is quite often—and angling himself away from Matthias and towards Jesper by accident. He doesn’t feel too bad about it though, because Matthias does the same thing whenever Nina speaks—which is also quite often. 

The divide between their two sides gets worse when the waiter arrives with their menus. The restaurant they’re at only seems to have those massive, size-of-a-toddler style of menus, which makes it unreasonable—impossible, even—to open more than one on each side. The only logical thing to do, really, is have Wylan and Jesper share one menu while they deliberate their options, while Nina and Matthias do the same on their side. 

In a soft, low voice, Jesper reads out the options to Wylan. After some indecisive deliberation, Jesper murmurs, “I’m not sure if I should get the Cashew Chicken, or that pasta with shrimp?”

“We can get both and split?” Wylan suggests. After saying it aloud, he wonders if it’d be bad etiquette to share food with someone other than your date on a double-date. 

Jesper grins at him, but doesn’t respond. The waiter comes around to take their drink orders, and the conversation of appetizers occupies their full group for a short time. But a discussion of flatbreads can only last for so long. 

“So,” Wylan ventures, noticing the lull in conversation. He wants to open this conversation to Matthias, but he glances towards Jesper again, who gives him a warm smile. He coughs, and asks, “So, you work with Jesper at the bar?”

Matthias nods. “Yes—security, mostly. I only just started.” 

That explains the muscles, Wylan thinks, totally not staring at Matthias’ arms. 

As he totally-does-not-stare, Wylan realizes he should probably ask a follow up question, or—well, speak, since he brought up the conversation. He opens his mouth, searching for something to say, and Wylan feels the silence start to go cold, shift into something awkward. Why is it such a struggle to come up with words? And why is it, that, the longer the silence seems to stretch, even if just by the millisecond, the more Wylan is inclined to give up trying at all and let them sit in the quiet? He’s always been a bit all-or-nothing, he supposes. 

Jesper jumps into the silence. He’s very all-or-nothing too, Wylan knows. Whatever the grey matter that awkward silences are, they both are eager to push it to black or white. 

“He’s only part-time, though,” Jesper tells the group, his voice smooth. “He’s in law school right now, too.”

“Oh? At Ketterdam University?” Nina asks.

Matthias nods again. “Yes, I’m in my second year.”

“Any chance you know Zoya–”

“Nazyalensky?” Matthias completes, with a surprising burst of vigor. “Yes. She’s brilliant, but…”

“But what?” Nina demands, her voice sharp. 

Matthias looks a bit taken aback, but holds his ground. He eventually settles on the word: “Intimidating. Anyone in the M.D-J.D program is.” 

“Oh.” Nina has the look of a person braced for a fight, but no longer has a reason for it. Self-aware of the fact, the corners of her mouth turn upwards wryly. “I’ll give you that one. But I won’t hear a bad word about her.” 

Matthias grins. It’s the most animated he’s looked so far, Wylan notices. “How do you know her?”

“I’m a year under her.”

Matthias’ brows furrow quizzically. “Oh—you’re also in law school?”

“You’re getting warmer,” Nina teases. She smiles and turns more towards him to explain. “I’m a year under her, with her other degree. And we work together in an advocacy group for pregnant patients and their families.”  

“You’re in med school,” Matthias realizes; he looks at her, openly impressed.“Also at Ketterdam?”

“Yes, but not at the main campus—I’m in the hospital.” Nina, who suddenly seems to realize that they’ve angled out Jesper and Wylan, hastens to add, “And that’s how I met Wylan! He works at the hospital.”

“In a lab,” Wylan clarifies. “I’m not a student, I just do research.”

Jesper scoffs. “Just.” To Matthias, he declares, “Wylan’s a genius.” 

Wylan rolls his eyes for the table’s benefit, and then gives Jesper a small kick under the table. “I definitely am not,” he mutters under his breath. 

Jesper nudges him back. “Ha. You’re saying that when I’m easily the least qualified person at this table?” Jesper’s tone is light and playful, but there’s a current of something small there too—not quite insecure, but not at ease, either. It’s not noticeable, not in his words or in his posture, so it doesn’t interrupt the flow of the conversation, and Wylan realizes that that must be by design. 

But his discomfort is clear as day to Wylan—even if it’s not clear to Jesper himself. 

Wylan puts his hand on Jesper’s forearm, resting it there. It’s a small bit of comfort, in comparison to the monologue Wylan could recite about how brilliant Jesper is—how he draws connections and finds the greatest understandings, how quickly his mind as a whole seems to move—but Wylan knows, with a bit of understanding of his own, that Jesper wouldn’t want him to draw attention to any of that right now.  

So he rests his hand on Jesper’s arm, and when Jesper turns to look at him, his gaze is soft—he understands. Jesper smiles at him, and though it’s genuine, it’s not his usual smile. It's a small, tightly held smile that Jesper doesn’t give out often; a smile that maybe exists only between the two of them. 

With both of them more soothed, Jesper turns back to the other two at their table. Nina and Matthias didn’t seem to notice this interlude—or, if they did, they’re choosing not to comment on it. Hastily, Wylan removes his hand from Jesper’s.

“I’m surprised you even have the time for a date,” Nina says, lightly goading Matthias. “Aren’t law students supposed to spend 23 hours of the day pouring over their readings?”

“This is my hour off,” Matthias responds dryly. Nina laughs brightly, and Matthias smiles, a pleased blush creeping up the side of his face. “But is it not the same for med students? I’m sure you have flashcards in your bag right now.”

Nina clicks her tongue. “Paper flashcards, for all those diagrams and figures?”

“What do you use then?”

“Trying to steal study-tips?” Nina teases gently. “I use an app. You can import all the pictures you need right in—it’s super useful.”

Matthias nods, looking both thoughtful and impressed. “Oh, I can imagine.”

“Oh, it’s more than useful.” Nina snorts, charmingly self-deprecating. “Believe me, with my art skills–”

“Wylan,” Jesper says suddenly. Wylan turns to him, thinking he’s been called, as do Nina and Matthias. There’s a second of thoroughly awkward silence—odd, because Jesper is rarely the cause of these sorts of things—before Jesper clears his throat and says, pointedly to Matthias, “Wylan is a great artist.”

Wylan turns to smile at Jesper. “Thanks, Jes.”

“I’m serious. You have to see his paintings, he’s fantastic!” Jesper slings an arm around Wylan’s shoulders, nodding at Matthias. 

Matthias’ eyes go from Jesper, to Wylan, and to Jesper’s hand on his shoulder, before nodding as well. He smiles, a little tentatively, and says, “That’s amazing. That’s… Painting is… That’s great.”  

Matthias opens and closes his mouth, visibly searching for ways to elaborate on Jesper’s compliment. He gives Wylan an apologetic, slightly nervous, smile. 

In that moment, Wylan has the realization that had this not been a double date—if he and Matthias had been left to their own devices, without Nina and Jesper’s extroversion—they would probably not be speaking. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It’d be a comfortable silence, between the two of them. Wylan can envision working separately, but productively at a coffee shop with Matthias. There isn’t apathy between them, certainly, but there isn’t…

“Could you pass the water?” Nina asks, pointing to the pitcher that’s been left by Matthias’ side. 

“Of course,” Matthias responds, his voice low. He does not give the water to Nina, though she holds her hands open for it, and serves Nina himself. There’s a small, pleased expression on her face, and she thanks him. Matthias doesn’t say anything in return; he gives her a smile and meets her gaze, and in space between the two of them, there’s something warm, and simmering—

Chemistry, Wylan thinks. 

Unsure as to why he should feel so absolved with this realization, Wylan exhales. Matthias has returned to looking at Wylan now, back to trying to find a connection of any kind between them. 

Wylan decides to call time of death on this as a date, and just have fun. He can make friends instead. He can play matchmaker. To Nina, he asks, “What’s the app you mentioned called? I’m sure Matthias could use it too.”

Nina agrees, and pulls out her phone to demonstrate the app to Matthias. Matthias’ eyes flicker between the screen and Nina’s face, in a way that he probably assumes is subtle, but really isn’t. They both draw closer to one another, 

Wylan smiles and leans back in the booth, a little smug, leaving the two of them to their little bubble. Jesper gives him a slightly bewildered look, but Wylan pays it no mind. And maybe he’s playing the long game, really, because now, when they order their food and Jesper and Wylan share—because of course they share—it’s barely even noticed. 

 *

By the time they ended dinner, there were two things abundantly evident. One: the dessert options at the restaurant were abysmal, and it made more sense to go somewhere else. And two: this was a date between Matthias and Nina, and neither Jesper nor Wylan could complain. Nina and Matthias just make sense together—even as they bicker, as they do now in the first icecream shop they found after leaving. 

Jesper and Wylan watch them in joint amusement, icecream cones in hand.  

“Could I try the strawberry, please?” Nina asks the worker, surveying the options in the glass case ahead of her. 

Matthias looks confused, if slightly judgemental. “You haven’t tried strawberry icecream before?”

Nina accepts her trial spoon of strawberry icecream gratefully, and then gives Matthias a fully judgemental look. “Every store is different?”

“How different can they really be?”

“Of course you’d say that.” Nina points at Matthias’ vanilla cone accusingly. “Vanilla is the same every place in the world.”   

“That isn’t true.” 

“It’s quite literally the most basic flavor in existence!”

Matthias bristles. “Real vanilla icecream—the kind in Fjerda, not this sugary Kerch creation–”

(“It’s icecream, it’s supposed to be sweet,” Wylan mumbles defensively, though only Jesper hears him.)

“–is completely different!” Matthias continues passionately. “You actually taste the vanilla bean, not artificial flavoring–”

“But that’s just my point with strawberry!” Nina’s accepted a waffle cone of strawberry icecream now, and the teenaged worker seems hesitant to interrupt her to ask for payment. Silently, Jesper and Wylan both move to the counter and pay for their respective dates, while Nina continues her argument. “Some places make it all weird and artificial, but it’s only good if it tastes fresh. Personally, I can’t stand it when it tastes chemical-y!”  

(“As opposed to the people who enjoy chemical-y icecream?” Jesper mutters slyly to Wylan.)

Nina and Matthias continue their impassioned debate, walking on ahead as they leave the store; Jesper and Wylan follow, but several paces away. 

“So,” Wylan says, when they’re solidly out of earshot. They’re both thinking it, but he’ll say it aloud first. “I think the double date was successful.”

“Sure. Just not–”

“–for us,” Wylan finishes, with a sigh. “We set Matthias and Nina up perfectly.”  

“I’ll kill Matthias,” Jesper grumbles good-naturedly. “Sorry you got stuck with me.” 

Wylan nudges Jesper. “I’m not sorry. Nina and Matthias seem good together, and—and I always like spending time with you. It’s much less stressful than a date.” 

“I’m low-stress?” Jesper jokes. “First time I’ve heard that.”

There’s that tone again—jovial and cheerful, except the playful self-deprecation doesn’t ring the same in Wylan’s ears. A discordant note, he can’t help but notice. 

Wylan loops his arm through Jesper’s elbow. He leans into his side, so that it makes Jesper stop and look at him. With his attention, Wylan bumps his head against Jesper’s shoulder, and then gently scolds, “You’re wonderful, Jes. In every possible way.” 

Jesper smiles at him, almost shyly. He brings his unoccupied hand up to his neck, scratching behind it—suddenly, he looks flustered. The expression fills Wylan with a rush of affection. He laughs, and leans in closer to tilt his head down onto Jesper’s shoulder. He lifts his head off once the bout of fondness stops overwhelming him, and drops his hands for propriety’s sake— he’s not the one on a date with Jesper. Still, they still walk close enough that their hands brush at each step. 

“I can still kill Matthias for this,” Jesper says, with mock severity. “Just say the words. We have the element of surprise on our side.” 

Wylan looks at Jesper fondly. “I won’t make you do that—for your sake. I’m not sure you’ll win.” 

Jesper scoffs. “I obviously will. I grew up on a farm, you know?”

“And that helps you in murdering tall, muscle-y Fjerdan men how exactly?”

“Wow, want to add any more adjectives there, love? You’re two words away from calling him jawdroppingly sexy–”

Wylan shoves his elbow into Jesper’s side, hissing at him to lower his voice. Nina and Matthias are in no danger of overhearing, still lost in their own conversation. At that realization, or maybe just from the situation as a whole, Wylan and Jesper both burst into snickers. 

“I should tell Nina that I’m not interested in Matthias,” Wylan says, after their laughter has faded. “She won’t ask him for a second date otherwise.”   

“I’ll do the same with Matthias.”

They catch up to the other two in their group, and do a quick switch in partners. Wylan gestures for Nina to hang back, and once Matthias and Jesper are solidly ahead of them, Wylan asks, “So… Did you like Jesper?”

“Yes!” Nina says, very quickly. “He’s great! He’s so nice!”

“Yeah?” 

“I had a fun time,” Nina continues. Her eyes drift briefly towards Matthias, and then snap back to Wylan’s with guilt. “And you and Matthias! You two look so cute together!”

“Nina.”

“I think you two will get along great,” Nina says, as if to convince herself. “And he thought you were really… nice too, we were just saying—you should go for a second date–”  

“Nina, I won’t ask him for a second date.” Nina freezes, momentarily stunned. Wylan snorts. “And I really doubt he wants to ask me, either. Even if he thinks I’m nice.” 

“He did say you were really friendly,” Nina says weakly. 

“I think we’re better off as friends, then,” Wylan says, nudging her with his arm. “So you should ask him–”

“I wasn’t even the one looking to be set up,” Nina protests. She chews her lip, and asks, “Are you sure? Actually, positively sure? I don’t want to steal your date.”

“You’re not,” Wylan says earnestly. “And Jesper’s okay with it too.” 

Here, the corner of Nina’s lips twitch up. “Hm. Yeah, I gathered.”

Wylan frowns. “What do you mean?”

Lightly, Nina says, “Nothing. Only that—I get the feeling that Jesper didn’t mind ending up paired with you.”

Wylan shifts from one foot to another. “Well—I should hope not? We’re friends. He’s used to spending time with me.” 

Nina sighs. She ushers in a final reorganization of their group, so that they’re back in their original pairings. Now walking with Matthias, who has already gotten the gist of the situation from Jesper, Wylan keeps things blunt and brief. He says that while he had fun, he also thinks Matthias and Nina are better paired. 

Matthias didn’t seem to expect the candor, but looks pleased by it anyhow. “I do like you,” he says; his words are stilted, though it seems to be more from a lack of saying things like that aloud rather than from Wylan specifically. “But… Yeah.”

Wylan smiles at him. “I like you too.” Daring himself to be bold, he adds, “I really would like to be friends.”

After saying it, he winces. He’s never had an easy time making friends, and he worries he sounds too much like a child on a schoolyard, openly and earnestly asking for friendship. Because he is, ultimately, openly and earnestly asking for friendship.

But to Wylan’s surprise, Matthias only seems to appreciate this. He smiles genuinely, a broader, more crooked smile compared to his cordial looks from throughout the dinner. They follow Jesper and Nina’s path, eating their icecream, and talk far more freely than before. Wylan wouldn’t call it a romantic date, but it’s still, all in all, a rather lovely date. 

“Will you get home safely?” Matthias asks seriously, noticing how dark it’s gotten. Wylan appreciates how, whether it be because of translating Fjerdan to Kerch, or just his personality as a whole, Matthias is straightforward and sincere. And it always feels nice to feel cared for by a friend. 

“I will. I’m going home with Jesper.” Matthias’ eyebrows furrow, and Wylan reddens. “Not like that! Not as in—It’s that we live in the same building. So we’re going home in the same direction, anyways…”

Matthias nods quickly, which Wylan takes as an indicator to stop rambling. But after a moment, Matthias’ expression becomes slightly quizzical. Apprehensively, he says, “I was wondering… About you and Jesper…”    

“What about us?” Wylan says, perhaps a little sharply. 

“Nothing,” Matthias says hastily. “I only… I noticed–”

“Nina’s coming,” Wylan interrupts. As smooth as he’ll ever be, Wylan power walks away from Matthias, allowing Nina to take his place. He’ll catch up to Jesper, who’s walking ahead of them all and checking something on his phone. But, while he’s still close enough to Nina and Matthias, he overhears his name in a hushed tone, which—well, then it’s his prerogative to eavesdrop, isn’t it?   

Matthias’ voice is hesitant, but undoubtedly curious as he asks Nina a question. “I don’t mean to pry, but… With Wylan and Jesper, by chance… Were they ever—” He searches for a word. “Courting?”

Nina snorts loudly, but her voice is softer when she makes fun of him for his word choice, perhaps aware that Wylan could overhear. It might also be softer because Matthias is definitely blushing—Wylan doesn’t need to see him to know it—and Nina, despite her teasing remarks, is charmed. 

But Wylan is overhearing, too, of course. He stares studiously ahead, only grateful that Jesper is still several paces ahead of them, and cannot hear this oh-so subtle inquiry between Nina and Matthias. He isn’t sure he wants to hear their take on his and Jesper’s friendship, but he’s also morbidly curious to know what they’re thinking. 

Nina answers Matthias’ question, at least, after a few more snickers. “Not that I know of. But I think they’re… very fond of each other.”

“That’s what I thought!” Matthias says, his voice hushed. Whereas someone else might sound eager to gossip, Matthias has a grave quality to his tone at this assessment, as though he was carrying out a military operation. “After Jesper mentioned Wylan once, it was like opening floodgates. He couldn’t stop talking about him. It felt like more than friendship.”

Wylan’s eyes widen, and he stumbles in his step. The idea of Jesper talking about him at all is enough to make him blush. He can’t bring himself to consider the idea of Jesper liking him. Wylan knows his own feelings—he knows he had a crush, and he knows he’s over Jesper now, definitely, surely, positively. 

But. The overheard mention— insinuation, actually—that Jesper might like him has his head spinning. It makes a traitorous hope rise in his chest, something bright and fluttery that has him wanting to do something stupid, like run up to Jesper and kiss him until they’re both out of air.

But. That brings him back to the brutal facts of everything, back to the very first problem—Jesper couldn’t like him. Wylan thinks, with no hyperbole at all, that Jesper could have anyone in the whole world if he wanted to. He already goes on almost perfect dates with almost perfect people, and even those never amount to anything more because—although Wylan doubts Jesper thinks of it so egotistically—why should Jesper settle for anything less than the very best? And Wylan is not the very best, not even close to it, not in any regard.  

“Saints, Wylan’s the exact same,” Nina responds, with a somehow audible eyeroll. “You should’ve heard him gush over Jesper when he was trying to sell me on the double date.”

Wylan scowls, but Matthias laughs. “But if they both are so fond of each other, why aren’t they together?” 

“Isn’t that the question?” Nina mutters. “It’s because they’re both idiots, probably. Mark my words, they’ll get together within the year.”   

Another merciless flutter of hope and want. It’s too much to bear. Wylan decides he’s heard enough, and with his face burning, hurries to catch up to Jesper. 

Chapter Text

Wylan isn’t sure how he ended up on this date.

It was only this afternoon that he and Jesper had taken full advantage of the dreary and miserable weather to marathon a litany of bad films. They were moving through genres, starting first with a mid-budget action movie, then a comedy that aged so poorly it was akin to a horror movie, and now they were on a torrid, melodramatic romance. Each movie they watched was worse than the last, and they wasted way too much money on ordering takeaway. It was Wylan’s ideal day, truth be told. 

But the reason he’s on a date now, set up by Jesper, is because of their conversation after that one scene in the movie.   

The couple in the film stumbled into their bedroom after a poorly-acted argument, passionately making up by making out. There were a few tasteful shots of clothing being tossed off and prolonged eye contact, before the camera panned away from the bed, as the couple—presumably does more than kiss. 

For some reason, Wylan turned bright red. 

Jesper saw this and snorted. 

“I know for a fact you’re not that shy, Wy,” Jesper teased. “They didn’t even show anything good.”

Wylan raised his eyebrows. “How would you define good?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jesper said with a roguish wink.

Wylan blushed harder, even though it was hardly the first time Jesper had made a flirtatious, teasing comment to him. And Wylan wasn’t that shy about sex—a cheesy, fade to black romantic scene in a film usually wouldn’t make him blush. 

But recently, he had been thinking. Testing out a hypothesis, so to say. 

Wylan had told himself that he was over his crush on Jesper. But, ever rational, even he had to concede the facts: he still felt the same fluttering, warm feeling in his chest whenever Jesper smiled at him. He still sought out Jesper’s care and attention, above all others. He still wanted to be the person Jesper confided in and came to first. He still wanted to spend every minute of his time with Jesper, even if it meant he had to watch the most god-awful movies; everything became enjoyable, where Jesper was involved. 

Wylan could acknowledge these actions individually, but acknowledging these actions might mean something as a whole—that wasn’t possible. If he did acknowledge that, maybe, he liked Jesper—what did that mean? Was it the final step up the ladder of feelings, or would saying he liked Jesper be the first step, and thereby make it true that he liked Jesper? And to test either of these, he would have to acknowledge that there was something to acknowledge—and by this point, he was so successfully tied up in the yarn of his own thoughts, he would never be unraveled. There was safety in that. 

Regardless, where it left him then was sitting on the couch, extraordinarily flustered, while two D-list actors pillowtalked, bedsheets carefully arranged over their chests. He wondered if he should go on another date, and hope to push whatever mess of feelings he currently felt on the shelf. 

He asked aloud, “Should I go on another date?”

“Sure,” Jesper said after a moment, shrugging. “Why not?”   

Something about the ease of Jesper’s manner was suspicious. Wylan narrowed his eyes. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”

Jesper met his gaze, then. Slowly, he said, “I think… I think if it’s the right guy, it could be good.”

“Well, who’s the right guy?” Wylan challenged. 

They stared at each other for a long, slow moment. Wylan lifted his chin by just a hair, refusing to be the first to break eye contact. He was daring Jesper to do something, and prove him either right or wrong. He wanted Jesper to say, Me. I’d be the right guy for you, and take the questioning out of his hands. 

He wanted Jesper to just kiss him, so he would know. 

Jesper did neither. He turned away, focusing back on the screen, where the couple were now arguing. 

“Alright,” Jesper said finally. “Give me your phone. Let me try playing matchmaker again.” 

They didn’t finish the movie, and then Wylan was here, standing in the entryway of a restaurant. The rain had let up, but his shoes trailed water in. Jesper was with him too, and if he remembered any of that odd tension between them, he didn’t show it. 

Cheerfully, Jesper says, “I’ll see you. I’m hiding out in the cloakroom if you need me.” As if this needs further justification, he adds, “That’s where they keep an uncovered fire alarm.”

Wylan sighs, too amused to really belabor the point. He and Jesper part ways, and Wylan only waits another thirty seconds before someone taps him on the shoulder. 

“Hey,” a charming voice greets. “You’re Wylan?” 

“You’re Sebastian,” Wylan fills in: Jesper’s pick for him. His date is tall, with copper-colored hair, and light blue eyes, a murky sort of color that nearly makes them grey. Of course, they’re not grey, because Wylan is very familiar with grey eyes, because he’s used to seeing Jesper’s. There’s nothing murky about Jesper’s eyes at all; there’s always a spark in them that makes them bright, almost luminous.

But that’s not the point. The point is Sebastian has basically-grey eyes, and Sebastian is handsome. 

He’s smiling at Wylan now. “I am. Sorry I’m late, all the trains were delayed.”

“You’re not late at all,” Wylan protests politely. “The trains in Ketterdam are awful.”

“They are, aren’t they? If they were ever on time, it’d be the headline of the Ketterdam Times.”

Wylan laughs lightly. He’s happy that small talk arises easily between them, but their topic of choice also can’t help but draw his thoughts back to Jesper. Much like Kerch trains, Jesper is never on-time; whether that means he’s showing up out of breath because he’s 10 minutes late, or that he’s walking laps up and down the block because he arrived an hour early, that’s anyone’s guess. Wylan is endeared by it either way. 

Wylan forcibly derails that train of thought. He follows along with Sebastian’s complaints about transportation in Ketterdam, and finds that it’s quite easy to. By the time they’re seated, they’ve moved into a conversation that’s actually—if Wylan can believe it— enjoyable. 

They have similar interests, and regale each other for a few beats of conversation about orchestra scores. They both work in research, albeit in entirely different disciplines, but can commiserate over the perpetually frazzled professors they work with. They have similar dispositions, similar senses of humor, and similar outlooks. Wylan notices, at one moment when his mind is drifting off, that they even have vaguely similar colorings. 

It’s irrational to find this irritating. Wylan should be happy—no, ecstatic, actually—that he’s managed to find someone he gets along with in this hellscape of a city. Wylan doesn’t believe in the necessity of opposites attract—he’s seen plenty of like-minded couples, and they’re as happy as anyone else—but he wonders, not for the first time in his life, if it might be what he needs. 

Wylan’s mind drifts to one person in particular. Guiltily, he snaps his focus back to the date in front of him.  

Now, Wylan is slightly overly-determined to find a difference between him and Sebastian. He studies the minutiae of Sebastian’s facial expressions, which means he has to speak less. But he has his own mission now. 

The opening presents itself when the drinks they’ve ordered arrive. Sebastian’s nose crinkles, ever-so slightly and briefly, when Wylan’s gin and tonic arrives.

“You’re not a fan?” Wylan says immediately; he sounds nearly vindictive as he blurts it, but he can never really control how his bluntness comes across. 

Sebastian looks confused, and slightly alarmed. “What?”

“Of gin and tonics?” 

“Oh. Um—it’s not bad, but it’s never been my pick.” Sebastian grimaces again, but more playfully. “Tastes too medicinal for me.”

Wylan brightens. His annoyance at having their difference more or less amended is bypassed by his ability to provide an explanation. “It is technically a little medicinal. Probably not this one, but originally—so, the tonic would have much higher amounts of quinine in it, because quinine is antimalarial. So it was drunk in areas with lots of mosquitos, but then the taste was so bitter that they’d add gin for flavor!”

“Oh, cool.” Sebastian’s expression isn’t glazed over and bored, which Wylan takes as a good sign; still, he doesn’t look particularly interested.

Aware of this, Wylan smiles apologetically. “Sorry. Sometimes I… get into things.”

“No, no, it’s cool,” Sebastian insists. “It’s… Um, so is that why gin and tonics are like, an afternoon drink? Because that’s when all the mosquitos are out?”

Wylan pinks under the attention. “I never thought of that! Probably!”

Suddenly, Wylan’s phone buzzes with a text. He ignores it, and then it buzzes again. As subtle as possible, trying to be conscious of the fact that this is a good date, and he doesn’t want to ruin it by being on his phone, he checks to see who texted. 

It’s Jesper’s contact; he recognizes the string of emoticons immediately, and the lime green heart that follows. All Jesper has sent is a thumbs up sign with a question mark. At Wylan’s lack of immediate response, he followed up with a concise ‘?????????????????’.

Wylan replies with a thumbs up of his own. 

“Sorry,” Wylan says to Sebastian. He puts his phone back on the table, and it almost instantly lights up with a phone call.  

Sebastian raises his eyebrows. “Are you going to take that?”

Wylan rationally would think the answer Sebastian wants to hear is either, ‘No, it’s not important,’ or a profuse apology before picking up the phone at the table, saying he’s busy, and hanging up.

Unfortunately for Sebastian, the sight of Jesper’s contact photo is enough to bypass all the rationality sensors in Wylan’s brain, and he acts on pure instinct alone. 

“Sorry, I’ll be just a second,” Wylan says, sweeping himself off the table and rushing off to an empty hall in the restaurant to take the call. “Jes?”

“All good? You went kinda quiet.” 

Wylan whirls around in a circle. “I thought you said you were in the cloakroom? Don’t tell me there’s a one-way mirror there, too.”

Jesper snickers. “There isn’t, but I still have my ways. I’m there right now.” 

Wylan hurries over, and the ease and familiarity of being around Jesper washes over him in the most pleasant way, counteracting the general anxiety that being on a date, even a good one, prompts. 

When he arrives to the cloakroom, and Jesper greets him with a grin, that feeling only intensifies. 

“So?” Jesper prompts. “Has the date been alright?” 

“It’s been good, actually.” The pleasant surprise is evident in his voice. “I like him more than I was expecting.” 

Jesper is quiet again. “Yeah?” 

“I mean,” Wylan fumbles with his words, suddenly flustered. “We get along. We’re… similar.” He gives a small shrug, because that doesn’t particularly add to his appeal for Wylan. But it’s certainly something Wylan can notice. 

Jesper’s expression doesn’t change. But it’s very still. Everything about him is still, and silent. Wylan frowns, and then Jesper says, “You’re really happy with him?” 

Wylan smiles at the severity in Jesper’s tone, because whenever Jesper is that serious, it’s usually only as a joke. It falters immediately when he realizes Jesper isn’t joking. Dimly stunned, he says, “You’re making it sound like I’m getting married.”

Jesper grins too, but his smile is tighter than usual. “Ha. You know I like to be dramatic.” He moves fast, quickly wrapping his arms around Wylan. For a second, there’s no sound. If Wylan listens closely, under the noise and chatter of the restaurant behind them, he can make out their two heartbeats. His own heart starts to beat faster. 

Jesper’s voice is quiet against his skin. “I’m happy for you. I’ll leave you to it, then.” 

Wylan pulls back, trying to meet Jesper’s eyes. His instinct is to ask, you’re leaving? but he doesn’t know how to ask that without creating a paradox. Because he doesn’t want Jesper to leave, but he also doesn’t want Jesper to stay and watch him on this date. But Wylan still does not want Jesper to leave. 

“Come over for lunch tomorrow.” Jesper winks, his jovial tone returning to him at once. “We have to finish the movie.”

The first and only thought in Wylan’s head is: I want to do that right now. And that’s ridiculous, because the movie they were watching was objectively atrocious, and he likes his date right now. And yet, at Jesper’s words, there’s a sharp longing in Wylan now, as though a glass shattered in his throat. Suddenly, he can barely speak. All he can think, all he would say, is that he wants to be with Jesper. 

It’s always been this way. But it never quite clicked until now, until he sees Jesper’s back facing him, walking out and leaving. 

Wylan doesn’t want Jesper to leave. He wants Jesper to stay. 

Or, location is irrelevant. Wylan wants Jesper to be with him. He wants to be with Jesper. He wants to be with Jesper, because—

Because he wants to be with Jesper. 

In the end, the realization isn’t a difference between climbing up the last rung of a ladder or starting it. It’s the ladder being knocked out from under his feet, though the impact doesn’t necessarily hurt so much as it’s felt. It isn’t so much a conclusive experiment, as it is a mystery solution being added to an unknown beaker, and causing an explosion. 

The first words to leave Wylan’s lips are a panicked, “Jesper!” He hasn’t spoken loud enough to call him back, and Jesper walks on. Wylan can’t let him leave, but he also should let him leave, because what would he even say if Jesper turned around? 

Jesper, wait, I just realized—I have feelings for you.

A strangled noise emerges from Wylan. He braces a hand to the wall to hold himself upright. Nonsensically, he argues with himself that saying that wouldn’t even be the most accurate. Really, he would have to say: 

Jesper, I have feelings for you—again. 

No, he can’t even say that, either. Because the truth, the real and honest truth of the matter, is:

Jesper, I have feelings for you—still, and always. 

Wylan clenches his eyes shut. He breathes in and out. 

Later, later. He’ll have to talk to Jesper later. He’ll talk to Jesper, and maybe find a way to word it so it doesn’t make their friendship end on the spot, because Ghezen knows he can’t hide this for any longer, not if he remains as is. Will he be able to hide it tomorrow? Ghezen, he’s watching the ending of a shitty romance film with Jesper—who he has feelings for, he traitorously reminds himself— tomorrow. He can only hope it ends well. Maybe if he looks pathetic enough, Jesper will take pity on him and let him down gently, and Wylan will suddenly develop a new personality wherein he takes this with grace and doesn’t hold onto the rejection and let it fester in his chest for the rest of his life. 

He definitely looks pathetic enough. 

Wylan breathes in, and out. He removes his hand from the wall. Slowly, he makes his way back to Sebastian. 

“Is everything alright?” Sebastian asks, somewhat warily. 

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Wylan says, dazed. “It was just my friend.”

Wylan realizes, then and there: actually, he can’t wait until later to talk to Jesper. He cannot be on this date any longer. He can’t, for a million good reasons that involve Sebastian’s feelings and honesty, but that’s not really what Wylan thinks of. He can’t be on this date any longer, because saying just my friend makes him feel dizzy. Jesper cannot be just his friend. 

“Your friend?” Sebastian’s voice is plainly suspicious now. 

“He, uh, wanted to watch a movie.” Wylan shakes his head, as if to brush off any lingering thoughts of Jesper. It is unsuccessful, as is the action of faux-casualness. His throat is dry. He downs a glass of water. “I said no, obviously.”  

“Okay,” Sebastian says mildly. Wylan can physically witness him deciding to ignore this. “Have you seen that new movie musical that just came out? It’s pretty good. I mean, there were tons of problems with the way the vocals were recorded—you can hear the way… Hey? Are you alright?” Sebastian jokes, waving a hand in front of Wylan’s still-stricken face. 

I’m being an awful date, Wylan thinks. He smiles apologetically and weakly, and he tries to focus back on the conversation. Movie musicals. Bad instrumentation. He can talk about that for hours.

But he can’t. All his thoughts keep firing back to Jesper, uncontrollably. He knows he’s being an awful date right now. He’s about to be a worse one. 

“I’m so sorry,” Wylan responds, already sounding pleading. “I… I really am sorry, but I don’t think I can do this.”

Sebastian blinks—then, he looks bewildered. “What? What did I do?” 

Wylan shakes his head rapidly. “Nothing! Truly, nothing. I think I might…” He takes a deep breath. “It’s possible that I still have feelings for someone else, and it wouldn’t be fair to you–”

“Saints above,” Sebastian swears under his breath. “Every guy in this city is the same.”

“I’m so sorry,” Wylan insists; he’s mortified to know that he will be the topic of some angry rant later, between Sebastian and his friends, but such is life. “I don’t want to lead you on, and–”

“I wouldn’t have gone on a second date with you anyways!” Sebastian says, very defensively.

Wylan grimaces. Fair enough.  

Sebastian isn’t done ranting. “And you met up with the guy you’re in love with during our date?” 

“I never said in love with!” Wylan protests weakly, cheeks flaming. As he says that— which serves as a strong confirmation for Sebastian’s question, anyways—Wylan comes to another realization. 

He knows he loves Jesper, because Jesper has long been his best friend. It’s become impossible to ignore the fact that he has feelings for Jesper again—he never even stopped. And now that that shroud of denial has been lifted from his head, he suddenly sees the reality plainly in front of him. 

Wylan doesn’t just have feelings for Jesper. 

He is in love with Jesper. He’s horrendously, stupidly, undeniably, impossibly in love with Jesper. 

And this is an awful time to come to that realization. 

“Get out!” Sebastian snaps, glowering at Wylan. 

“I am so sorry,” Wylan apologizes again, rapidly and mournfully, but his mind is already elsewhere. 

He’s in love with Jesper. Why does that idea excite him so much? He should be terrified. He should be cursing himself, actually, for being stupid enough to fall for his best friend, because now their whole friendship is on the line. But being in love with Jesper— admitting he’s in love with Jesper—seems to give him an electric shock of energy, as if being in love with Jesper can make Jesper’s best qualities transfuse over to him. He allows himself to feel reckless and hopeful. He feels fearless. He wants to sprint down the street, dance in the rain, shout it from the rooftops—he loves Jesper. 

Wylan pays for whatever they’ve both ordered—with another heaping of apologies for being such an awful date, none of which seem to move Sebastian—and then he does run. 

He does not have to run far. Once he’s off the street the restaurant is at, Wylan gets the sense to call Jesper, because surely he couldn’t have gone far—and, fatefully, that’s exactly when he sees him. 

Jesper is standing under a bus stop across from him, finger tapping away on the pole incessantly. Wylan’s heart stops, and it’s the best feeling in the world when Jesper lifts his head up, and their eyes meet across the pavement. Jesper tilts his head, and when recognition hits, his eyes widen. 

Wylan runs to him.  

“Hi,” Wylan says breathlessly. Jesper is right in front of him now. The man he’s in love with is there, standing only a few steps away. 

“Is everything okay?” Jesper asks, casting glances over Wylan’s shoulders, expecting to see Sebastian materialize. “What happened with Sebastian? Did he–”

“It’s fine,” Wylan says quickly. He needs to speak fast, otherwise this wind of courage will blow over, and from there, there’ll be no recompense. “I just… The date wasn’t working out. Do you have a minute to talk?” He gestures to the bus stop they’re at; it’s not the bus they’d need to take to go back to their apartment building. “Were you going somewhere?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Jesper says immediately. He pulls Wylan away from the sign, into a small alleyway to give them privacy. With a low voice, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

Wylan’s brows furrow. “Where were you going?” 

Jesper’s eyes scan Wylan’s face. Cautiously, he says, “Nothing, really… I was going to go see Lucy? You know, the vet who works–”

“Near the university bookstore,” Wylan finishes. Midway through speaking, the words suddenly went numb on his tongue. 

A second later, and now everything feels numb. 

He’s grateful that his brain was able to supply the information, and that his mouth was able to move on autopilot. The energy and motion is zapped back up again, leaving him just as he is. As such, he feels completely stupid; a familiar, but never fantastic, feeling. 

“I only just texted her,” Jesper says hurriedly. He looks concerned now, which is mortifying. “It’s not like, a set thing—I’ll tell her something came up–” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Wylan smiles weakly. “Please don’t change your plans for me. We’ll talk later.”

They’ll talk, surely, but they won’t talk about this. Wylan won’t be able to. All the courage in him has evaporated, and whatever remains he tries to grasp at, to at least get him through this conversation, slip from his hands like water. 

“What happened with your date?” Jesper asks again, touching Wylan’s shoulder lightly. 

“Nothing. It was fine.”

It was a fine date. And Wylan would get past this, maybe, and then go on more fine dates. Not every first date could be the worst; one of them, even, could be the best. But it would never be enough. Because now he knew. The date could be perfect, with a funny, normal man, and they could get along wonderfully, and Wylan could say everything right, and it still wouldn’t be better than spending a lazy afternoon with Jesper, ordering food and watching trashy movies. He could go on a first date with every man in all of Kerch, and Jesper would always, always, be the point of comparison. As long as Wylan loved him, no date would ever compare. 

And Wylan would always love Jesper. He didn’t want to envision a time where he didn’t.

“Let’s grab food on the way home?” Jesper says casually, in that gentle manner he has. He knows something is wrong, and he knows Wylan won’t talk about it now, and there is no one in the entire universe who knows him as well as Jesper does; the lump in his throat only grows now, because it’s cruel for Jesper to do that when he doesn’t love Wylan back. 

Wylan takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut so he can escape Jesper’s gaze. His voice is unbearably shaky when he speaks, and it’s humiliating. He opens his mouth to say something—something embarrassing and pathetic, no doubt—when a loud voice in conversation from outside the alleyway turns both of their heads.

“—like who does that? It’s literally the worst first date of my life—he was actually crazy, like actually—” 

It’s Sebastian. He must have been walking down the street, and now has unknowingly caught up to them. He’s on the phone with someone, arms gesturing wildly at the bus stop in front of where Wylan and Jesper are hidden. 

“Isn’t that your date?” Jesper asks, his voice low and confused. 

Wylan nods once. Jesper looks like he wants to leave the alley, perhaps to get a better look or to say something to him, but Wylan quickly holds his arms out to stop him.  

“I didn’t even like him!” Sebastian rants on. “I was bored out of my mind the entire date! He went on and on about the most fucking boring things in the world, and mosquitos, and then he— exactly! Exactly! I deserve better! I’m glad it ended early, exactly.”

Wylan would wince, but he’s more concerned with the way Jesper’s expression is rapidly turning from confused to angry. 

“I don’t know why he did it either!” Sebastian cries, while the person on the end of the line undoubtedly reassures him that he just has bad luck in choosing dates. Wylan is only grateful that he hasn’t said anything too incriminating about being in love with another person, or something too hurtful. “No, you’re right—it was definitely some sort of attention thing. Every hot guy in Ketterdam is desperate for attention, I swear–”

It’s very nearly a compliment. Judging by the way that Wylan is practically holding Jesper back now, Jesper clearly doesn’t seem to think so. 

“—and that’s the best thing I can say about him, honestly!” Sebastian continues savagely. “I can’t think of anything I liked about him!” 

In a quick succession of events, five things happen. 

First, Wylan hears Sebastian’s words, and thinks— well, that hit the nail on the head, didn’t it? Because at the crux of the matter, it was exactly this: Wylan was utterly unlikable. And the thing is, he didn’t particularly care that Sebastian thought this. Wylan could give him some grace for ranting to a friend after a shitty date, and, dispassionately, Wylan considers that these are hardly the meanest insults that have been hurled his way, courtesy of a certain father he no longer is in contact with.  

But the second thing still happens, regardless—Wylan’s eyes fill with tears. Because he is unlikable, and the more Wylan thinks about that, the more ridiculous his newly realized crush on Jesper becomes. Why —how— could Jesper ever like him? It’s quite apparent that no one likes him, and Wylan can’t fault them for it. He struggles to find a redeeming quality in himself, anything that has a chance of turning his pathetic, once-again-realized love for Jesper into anything real, and all that means is that this is hopeless. 

Then, the third thing: Jesper sees Wylan’s eyes fill with tears. His expression, already quite angry, turns murderous.  

And fourth, Wylan realizes that Jesper has witnessed his eyes fill with tears, directly after Sebastian insulted him, and is now, correspondingly, assuming that Wylan is crying because of Sebastian and his words specifically, when Wylan is actually crying because of his own feelings of self-hatred and unrequited love. Fair mistake. 

But before Wylan can correct him on that—and Wylan has no clue how he’d exactly do that without giving anything away, but he does open his mouth to try—the fifth thing happens. 

The fifth thing, very simply, is that Jesper lunges out from the alleyway, grabs Sebastian by the collar, and then punches him square in the nose. 

“Jesper!” Wylan shouts, rushing into the fray. He grabs Jesper’s arm before he can give a shouting and bewildered Sebastian another punch. Sebastian’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees Wylan.

“You, again!” Perhaps Sebastian and Wylan aren’t so similar after all, because Sebastian seems to know exactly what to do in a fight. He resolutely smacks Jesper's hand away, and Wylan shoves his way between them. Wylan tries to give Sebastian as apologetic of a look as he can with Jesper struggling behind them, but—understandably—it does little to soothe him. Sebastian shouts, “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Wylan waves his hands in panic. “I didn’t—this is a misunderstanding, I’m so sorry–”

“Don’t apologize to him!” Jesper says, aghast. He glares at Sebastian, raising his fist again. “You should be apologizing–”

“No, no, he doesn’t need to–”

“I don’t need to! And I didn’t know you were listening!” Sebastian complains, which re-ignites Jesper’s fury, and makes Wylan wince. He glowers at Jesper, and gestures back to Wylan. “I only left because he–”

“This really is all a misunderstanding,” Wylan says quickly, giving the two of them imploring looks. It has a better effect on Jesper, more than Sebastian. 

“This is the worst date of my life, that’s what,” Sebastian mutters. He wipes at his nose, and touches the bridge of it tenderly. He gives Jesper a dirty look. “You’re lucky that you didn’t accidentally break my nose, or else I’d fucking sue you.”

Jesper responds with a withering look of his own. “Do you think that’s a threat? And what do you mean, accidentally? If I wanted to break your nose, I would’ve–”

“He’s joking,” Wylan interrupts. Jesper opens his mouth, solely to reiterate that he’s really not, and Wylan puts his hand on Jesper’s forearm again. He looks at him pleadingly. “It really is just a huge misunderstanding.” 

Jesper’s determined eyes soften into some type of acceptance, though his posture remains tense and ready to fight. Wylan squeezes his arm in thanks. 

“Is this your friend?” Sebastian asks Wylan, incredibly sourly. Wylan hesitates, and then nods once. With an intensified scowl, Sebastian spits, “Good riddance to you both.” 

Wylan tugs Jesper away before the scene can recommence. Luckily, it’s Ketterdam, so not a single person has made note of the three men fighting on the street, and they’re able to flee without any theatrics. All along their fast-paced walk back to their building, Jesper keeps turning to face Wylan, as if about to start a line of questioning before thinking better of it. 

Wylan is grateful for that; he hopes that by the time they reach, his thoughts will have congealed into something easier to say. Easier to lie about, more specifically. The best he can hope for is that all of these emotions simmer down, so Wylan can try to avoid them for the rest of his life. 

But Jesper’s patience can only last for so long. Once they arrive at their building, Jesper walks Wylan to his flat first. In the safety of his own living room, Wylan relents to giving Jesper a resigned, prompting eyebrow raise. Jesper bursts, “Why did you apologize to that asshole?” 

Wylan sighs. “Because, Jes. It really was—it was my fault.”

Jesper makes a pained nose. “You can’t say that–”

“No, I mean…” Wylan exhales again. “The date really was going fine. I was the one that left–”

“Of course you left! He’s an ass!” Jesper fumes. 

Wylan isn’t sure how to explain that the Sebastian at the bus stop hadn’t been like that the entire date, not without explaining what caused Wylan to leave in the first place. The recent memory of that makes him cringe now, in the way an embarrassing moment from adolescence sneaks up on you moments before you sleep. Recklessly realizing and thinking he could confess his feelings to Jesper—it might be the stupidest thing he ever could have thought. 

Wylan clears his throat, forcing himself not to tear up. Jesper, still ranting and pacing in circles, stops abruptly. 

“You can’t listen to anything he said, okay?” Jesper has an air of distress as he says it, a desperate plea. “I don’t know what he said on your date, but everything he was saying on the phone–” 

“Thanks” Wylan interrupts, his voice slightly steely. All his insecurities are dredging up again, rising like the lump in his throat. To himself, he mutters, “But it’s not like he said anything incorrect.”  

“Don’t,” Jesper says fiercely. “You cannot listen to the stupid, bitter ramblings of one random guy–” 

“But it’s not just one guy, is it?” Wylan bursts, and the sudden presence of tears—in his voice, in his eyes—startles him. That irritates him, intrinsically. He makes a noise halfway between a groan and a scoff. “It’s all of them, Jesper. If every single guy I go out with thinks I’m stupid and boring and unlikable–”

“Wylan–”

“At some point, the problem has to be me, doesn’t it?” Wylan says, with some finality. Jesper looks heartbroken, and Wylan turns away. He tries to level out his voice again, but there’s still an angry note in it—a deep-seated anger, only towards himself. “There’s something wrong with me.”

Jesper moves suddenly, turning Wylan’s face back with a gentle hand, all but cradling it. “There is nothing wrong with you,” he whispers urgently. “Not a single thing.”

“People meet me, and then they don’t want anything to do with me,” Wylan says, his voice shaky and fragile. “Not romantically, at least. What else could that possibly mean?” 

“That they’re stupid! That they don’t deserve you–”

Wylan shuts his eyes. If he thinks about what he deserves and doesn’t deserve, he’ll spiral so horrendously, he may never be able to get back up. Flatly, he manages, “Let’s not.” 

Jesper gives him an exasperated look. It’s so familiar, this look, the incredulity and affection all in one glance, it almost makes Wylan sob. Everything about Jesper is familiar, because Jesper is his best friend. But how is he supposed to convince himself this time around that that’s the extent of his feelings? He’s right back down on the foot of the mountain, hopeless and pining again, and no amount of avoidance can make him turn away from the climb. But he must, he must, because how is he supposed to live if Jesper isn’t his best friend? No matter how he sees it, he’ll ruin things between them. 

“You should go,” Wylan says hollowly. 

Jesper sighs. “No. I’m not leaving you like this.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Jesper says, holding Wylan’s hand. “Please let me stay. I want to stay.” 

“It’s really not–”

“Come here,” Jesper murmurs, giving Wylan a tug into his arms. 

And, like the worst sort of coward, Wylan follows. He presses his face into Jesper’s neck, and Jesper traces a pattern onto his back, obliging his need for comfort and love without a second thought. 

Wylan takes a stuttering, shaky inhale. He loves Jesper so much, it makes his chest ache. 

Jesper pulls away, so there’s just enough distance to see whether Wylan is crying or not. Wylan isn’t sure what to say, or how to reassure Jesper in any way, so he smiles faintly and shrugs. 

“I’m fine. I just feel stupid,” he says softly. 

Jesper holds him tighter. “I’m sorry, Wy. I’m so sorry. If I ever see that guy again, I swear I’ll kill him.”

Wylan snorts. “I think punching him in the face was enough.”

“Sorry,” Jesper says again, looking guilty. 

“No, not—I mean, I guess you shouldn’t have done that, but I…” Wylan says, suddenly flustered at Jesper’s apparent shame. “I appreciated the meaning of it, I mean.”

Jesper gives him a small smile, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. Wylan frowns, and Jesper shakes his head. 

“I hate that I’m making things difficult for you,” Jesper says, his voice a bit hollow. 

“What?” Wylan nearly scoffs. “How could you ever?” 

Jesper’s fingers pick at the hem of his shirt. “I shouldn’t have suggested the date, Wy. Any of your dates. This whole plan, of giving you tips and practicing—I never should have entertained this idea at all.” 

Wylan feels like something sharp is lodged in his throat. “Why? Because I’m that hopeless of a cause?”

“For Saints sake, Wylan,” Jesper mutters, exasperated. “No. Obviously not! You don’t need advice. You don’t need to change anything—you never have! If you’re going on dates with guys who don’t want to spend the time to get to know you, or who don’t see how wonderful you are, then they just don’t deserve you. That’s it.” 

A sudden irritation flares up in Wylan, then; he feels as though they’re right back to where they started, back to the original problem. No one that Wylan goes on a first date with thinks he’s wonderful, or leaves wanting to get to know him more, because he is bad at going on dates. Jesper, meanwhile, can say that because—again—Jesper Fahey does not go on bad dates. 

“I can’t afford to be that picky, Jesper,” Wylan snaps. “I’m not you.” 

Jesper looks taken aback. “What does that mean?”

Wylan lets out a slightly frustrated laugh. “You know what it means! It means you’re—you’re perfect, Jesper! You’re kind, and funny, and attractive, and a good conversationalist, and really caring, and—Ghezen’s hand, you could practically have your pick of any person in all of Kerch–”

“I couldn’t,” Jesper interrupts, an edge in his voice now. “I know I couldn’t.”

“Oh please,” Wylan says, crossing his arms. This feels all the more ridiculous now, now that he’s no longer denying his own feelings. “Everyone in the world wants to date you–”

“They don’t,” Jesper says coldly. 

Wylan makes an incredulous noise. “Who, Jesper? Which idiot wouldn’t want to go out with you?”  

Jesper exhales. He looks more tense. “Wylan, listen…”

“I’m serious,” Wylan says, glaring. “You could have anyone. Meanwhile, I’ve gone through half the men in Kerch–”

“I can’t have just anyone,” Jesper says through gritted teeth.  

“Well, it’s better than me!” Wylan shouts, waving his hands. “No one wants to date me!”  

Something in Jesper’s eyes snaps and shatters. It reminds Wylan of fireworks.  

“Who the fuck am I, then?” Jesper snarls, and before Wylan can register those words, Wylan finds that his eyes are shut. 

His eyes are shut, because he’s kissing someone; because there are lips against his, and a hand in his hair, pushing him closer towards a body. 

Not just a body, not just a hand, not just lips, not just someone—

Jesper. 

Jesper’s lips are against his, urgent and pressing but still somehow soft; as Wylan kisses back, one of Jesper’s hands tangles itself in Wylan’s curls. Wylan deepens the kiss, because his mind is off right now, all he knows is the feeling, the absolute ecstatic feeling he has right now—and as Wylan’s hand wraps around Jesper’s waist, Jesper mirrors him and brings his other hand to Wylan’s as well, pulling him in even closer.  

If there is any thought going through Wylan’s head right now, it’s just a happy and pleasantly dull realization, more a feeling than anything else. It’s the knowledge that this is what it’s supposed to be like, this is what a kiss should be, this is what everything should be. 

This is what happiness is, Wylan realizes. 

It’s just Jesper. 

Wylan gasps a little, because now he knows—he knows, he knows that this is all he wants. This is all he needs, just to be in Jesper’s embrace, to be Jesper’s in some way—to be able to love Jesper. And it’s happening right now. 

Jesper lips brush against his once more, and then he pulls his head back. Wylan brings a hand to his mouth immediately, speechless and utterly dazed at the realization, at the fact that he just kissed Jesper. 

Or no, because specifically— Jesper just kissed him. 

Jesper just kissed him. Wylan kissed him back. They kissed. Wylan likes Jesper. Of course he kissed him back. But why would Jesper kiss him first? Jesper doesn’t like Wylan. But Jesper did just kiss him, which—

Does that mean—does Wylan dare to even hope—that Jesper could like him? 

Wylan summarizes all these thoughts with a delirious, “What?”

Wylan glances up to finally meet Jesper’s eyes; Jesper’s eyes are wide, and for the first time, in all the years that Wylan has ever known him—

Jesper looks scared.

Wylan blinks, shaking himself out of his daze immediately. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, anything, Jesper pulls his hands away and takes a step back. 

And then Jesper turns around and sprints out the door. 

Chapter Text

After a lifetime of loneliness, the benefits of living in the same apartment building as your best friend were always quite obvious to Wylan. They could always walk home together, knock on each other’s doors without warning, stay together for hours and hours and never have to worry about leaving to make the last train— 

But the real benefit has never been more apparent than now; Jesper runs out the door, and by the time Wylan snaps himself out of his daze to follow, he hears the elevator doors closing. He rushes to it anyways, unsure as to why he’s so out of breath, until he remembers that Jesper just kissed him, and his heart rate skyrockets even more. Wylan watches the little digital number above the elevator doors tell him that the lift is going up, up, and then goes up past Jesper’s usual floor. 

He grits his teeth. Unless Jesper was secretly renting another room in the building, he must have gone up to their cement rooftop, which was technically illegal to stand on, and also three extra flights of stairs. But Wylan could complain about that later—right now, he had stairs to run up and minor residential laws to break.  

He doesn’t beat Jesper to the rooftop, if the ajar door is any indicator, but only just barely. A second later, seeing Jesper pace in a circle, a hand wringing in his hair, Wylan gets his proof of that.

“Jes—”

His voice is entirely out of breath, practically a wheeze. Still, Jesper whirls around. It is remarkable how quickly he can smooth over his expression, smooth out his hair, and open his arms in a pleasant recognition, like he had unexpectedly bumped into Wylan on the street. Like he hadn’t kissed him, and sprinted out the door. If not for the strain in the corner of Jesper’s eyes, a stress and anxiety that feels so distinctly wrong on Jesper, Wylan might almost believe that he had hallucinated the last few minutes of his life. 

That, and the taste of Jesper is still on his lips. Nothing in even his most vivid of dreams (and, admittedly, there have been many of them) matches the feeling he now knows, of the weight of Jesper’s lips on his own.  

Jesper opens his mouth, and Wylan cuts him off, raising his finger accusingly. He’s still breathing heavily from running up all the stairs, and maybe also from the constant, yet each time equally surprising, realization that Jesper kissed him. Him. 

As such, the words that escape Wylan’s mouth are, bluntly: “You kissed me!” 

Jesper looks away sharply. He’s scribbling a tight spiral onto his hip with his pointer finger as his mind tries to spin an excuse. 

Wylan doesn’t let him. He rushes forward, boldly. 

“Why?” he asks, weaker than he was anticipating. More nervous. He likes to think he’s a logical man—he likes to think that if Jesper kissed him, there’s only so many things that could mean. But then, Jesper has always been the one to make the lingering rationality in Wylan’s brain fly out the window. He wets his lips. “Why did you…?”

“I’m sorry—I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable–”

“That’s not an answer to my question,” Wylan says. The urgency in his voice makes his voice sound sharp, and he winces. Finally daring to really look up at Jesper, he softly asks, “Why did you kiss me?” 

Jesper meets his gaze. 

“You want to know?” His voice is rough and raised, but not angry. Just soft enough in tone that Wylan can lean forwards, unafraid and searching. “Everytime you talk badly about yourself, it physically hurts me. I hate it. It makes me want to do anything, anything in the world to make you see otherwise.”

Wylan’s heart sinks. So it was a—sympathy kiss? A pity kiss? 

Jesper catches the fall in his expression, and his next words coming out rushed. “I really would do anything. Even if that meant—all of this. Setting you up on dates, watching you be with someone else. Someone who’s not me.” Jesper shuts his eyes, looking pained, just as Wylan’s widen. “And I know that it’s ten types of selfish to hate that too, but I do. Almost just as much.” 

Wylan’s mouth opens and closes, mind whirling. The two seconds of silence that passes is unbearable for both of them—maybe especially for Jesper. His fingers resume tapping an erratic, jumpy rhythm. The urge has never been stronger than it is now for Wylan, to put his hands over Jesper’s and steady him for even just a second. 

Wylan exhales slowly. Cautiously, not daring to imagine what Jesper’s words could mean—and at the same time, having his mind filled with the idea, regardless—he takes a step closer still and asks, “Why? Why would you hate that?”

“Wylan,” Jesper says incredulously. For the first time in the conversation, he sounds truly, though fondly, exasperated. “It has to be obvious I’m in love with you.”

It’s like a light switch, hearing those words—those words directed at him. Jesper loves him. A light switch is too mundane; this is a bullet, a gunshot, something that hits him like a blast to the chest and leaves him with nothing but joy. Maybe a small gasp leaves his lips on the impact, maybe his face manages to capture the happiness, but Wylan can’t be sure. It overwhelms him entirely, but not in a bad way. All he knows is that this is the same exhilarating, wonderful feeling that he had when Jesper had first kissed him—and with that, there’s only one thing Wylan can do.

Wylan surges towards Jesper, grabs his collar, and kisses him. Jesper’s hands wrap around his waist immediately, pulling him even closer—an instinctual response—and everything makes sense again. He doesn’t care about the noisy, eternal commotion from the Ketterdam streets below, because the sounds all seem to sync with Wylan’s heart; everything in the world is aligned for the two of them.    

But just as suddenly as the kiss had started, Jesper drops his hands. He breaks away first, though he looks incredibly unhappy to do so. Wylan imagines he doesn’t look much different himself. 

“Wait, wait—” Jesper says. Wylan doesn’t break his grip from Jesper’s shirt, and can feel his chest rise and fall rapidly. “What are— why are… Do you… What?” 

“What?”

“Why did you kiss me?”  

Now, Wylan is the one driven to stunned, exasperated silence. He waits for a second, and when Jesper continues to look bewildered, he says, “Why do you think, Jesper?” 

“I don’t know what to think!” Jesper says defensively. “You were on a date with another guy an hour ago!”

“But that wasn’t—” Wylan begins, shaking his head. It’s only then where it occurs to him that maybe—possibly—Jesper cannot read his mind and understand that for practically as long as Wylan has known Jesper, he has loved him. He only hadn’t admitted it, neither to Jesper nor himself, until now. 

He still hasn’t admitted it to Jesper, yet. 

“None of those dates meant anything. And not just because most of them were horrible,” Wylan says adamantly. Jesper’s lips twitch up. “I was only doing it because—well, a bit because I felt like I had to, in a way. That it’d prove I’m not… unwanted. But also…” 

Wylan takes a deep breath, eyes darting up to Jesper’s before turning away. He remembers, at once, all the hesitations and doubts he had, all the reasons why he never would’ve said anything before—that Jesper is his most adored and best of friends, and the risk of losing that if anything goes wrong is utterly unfathomable. But if a line has been crossed, between the two of them, it’s already happened; maybe, everything will go up in flames if Wylan keeps talking, but it can’t go back. It’s too late for that. 

Softly, he admits, “A relationship would’ve been proof that I didn’t still have feelings for you. Because I’m in love with you too. I always have been.”   

Jesper’s lips part. Wylan waits for him to ramble or make a joke to interrupt the silence, but that doesn’t happen. There’s something gentle and delicate between them, worried and wondrous all at once.   

But still, silence is silence. With the words catching in his throat, Wylan says, “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to—”

“Of course I want it to mean—Saints, Wylan, I love you,” Jesper says, practically panicked. “I want— yes. I want everything with you.”   

He moves his face towards Wylan’s, as though to kiss him again—an outcome Wylan wouldn’t mind at all, certainly—but he just hugs him instead. With Jesper’s cheek brushing against his own, Wylan lets out a small, startled laugh; his heart is still racing wildly, but the dread has left, leaving him with a happy, flustered sort of feeling. 

“I love you too,” Wylan responds. He feels unable to think of anything but this moment, and at the same time, he’s not quite sure this is real—it’s too close to a wonderful dream. Burrowing his face closer towards Jesper, he shuts his eyes, and opens them again. Real. This is real. 

Against his skin, Jesper mumbles, “I never thought this would happen.”

Wylan laughs. “I was just thinking that. I liked you— loved you—for so long, this feels unreal.” 

He feels Jesper’s smile. Teasingly, he asks, “For so long? How long?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Wylan mutters. Face burning, he aims for a nonchalant, casual tone—and misses spectacularly—as he earnestly says, “Probably the first day we ever met. Probably.” 

Jesper lifts his head. Aghast, he says, “No, you didn’t.” 

Wylan takes a small step back, ducking his head down as a blush rises over his face—still smiling, all the same. Everything feels lighter now, somehow, now that he’s revealed the truth and the world hasn’t collapsed. “I really did. I mean, I guess I did try to tell myself it was just a crush to try and get over you before you caught on. I didn’t want to mess things up between us.” 

“‘Before you caught on,’’’ Jesper repeats, scoffing. “Wylan, I never would have guessed.”

Wylan’s flush darkens “I was so obvious. Especially when we first met, Ghezen. You’d be standing right next to me, and all I wanted to do was hold your hand, and I’d imagine just…” With a faint, nervous confidence, Wylan takes Jesper’s hand in his own. He squeezes it once, cheeks burning brighter. “Doing just that.” 

Jesper smiles down at their intertwined hands; slowly, he raises them up to his lips, kissing Wylan’s knuckles. 

“You imagined holding my hand, huh?” Jesper teases. Gently, he raises their hands higher, guiding Wylan’s hand up until their two fists come up to lightly wrap on Wylan’s head. “How is imagining supposed to be obvious?” 

“Everyone could tell!”

“You want to know obvious?” Jesper tugs at his hand, not pulling it away from Wylan, but pulling Wylan towards him. Wylan happily stumbles into him, until they’re back in each other’s arms. “Right after I met you, I wanted to impress you, so I got this new, fancy cologne to wear. I’d only ever wear it around you, because I had the bright idea that you’d notice that I smelled better around you than other people. But then I realized since I only ever wore it around you, you probably would just think I smelled like that always—which isn’t the worst thing in the world, in hindsight, but still. For the past few years, I’ve only ever worn it when it’s just the two of us, thinking you’d notice.” 

Wylan blinks. He knows exactly which cologne Jesper is talking about. “That cologne—you wore it to the dining hall? Right after we met?”

“See? Obvious.”

“That is not obvious,” Wylan protests. Jesper looks ready to argue the point, but Wylan mulls over the story. In a softer, hesitant voice, he asks, “Have you really liked me since then?” 

Jesper smiles, almost nervously. His hands are fidgeting where they rest on Wylan’s waist. “I’ve really loved you since then. Sorry if that’s—weird, or something–”

“No, it’s not weird at all, just…” Wylan searches for words, feeling dazed. “Just… surprising.” 

Jesper raises an eyebrow. “Why’s that so surprising? You’re very easy to love.” 

Wylan’s heart stutters. Jesper tilts his head, a small smile playing on his lips, and Wylan is reminded of how perfect Jesper is. He believes Jesper, and trusts his love, and at the same time, he needs to check—

Wylan takes a deep breath. “Because I wasn’t joking when I said you could have anyone.” He’s nearly irritated with himself to bring it up, lest Jesper somehow recall this fact and leave him on the rooftop alone. He scratches his forearm, removing his hands and himself from Jesper’s embrace. “You really could. Are you sure that I’m the–”

Jesper groans loudly, interrupting him. “Oh, not this again. I don’t even know where you’re getting that idea from—alright, so I’ve had better luck on first dates than you have.” Shrugging, he shakes his head. “But I never thought you’d be interested in me—not when you’re leagues ahead of me. Let alone—this,” he gestures wildly in the small space between them. “Loving me.”  

I do love him, Wylan thinks first, somewhat dreamily. It’s a very distracting thought. 

Then, the rest of Jesper’s words hit him. “How?” he asks, entirely incredulous. “How could you ever think that?” 

“Because you’re brilliant, Wylan.” The words come out of his mouth earnestly, a type of sincerity that Jesper doesn’t usually offer. Maybe he’s aware of that, because he only looks more distressed after saying it. “You’re brilliant, and lovely, and kind, and the most wonderful person I–”

“Jes,” Wylan interrupts, flustered. His mouth opens and closes a few times, before shaking his head. Bluntly, he says, “But that’s what you are.” 

Whatever Jesper had been expecting, it didn’t seem to have been that. He quickly scratches his neck. “I… Yeah, sure, I’m alright. But for you, I mean—I’ve just always pictured…” Jesper’s face falls, like he can’t bear the sight he’s imagining. “I always thought you’d be with someone… incredible, you know? You deserve someone as good as you, for them to be worth your time. Someone who has their life together, at the very least. All your dates prove that—you deserve better than anything this whole city has to offer.” He laughs, more awkward than bitter, but still never the laugh Wylan wants to hear from Jesper. “And who knows how I measure up to that?” 

Wylan’s first instinct, admittedly, is to open his mouth and argue that all his failed first dates proves the opposite. This all strikes Wylan as completely ridiculous— Jesper, of all people, thinking he’s not good at enough—and with that, he realizes how ridiculous this entire discussion is. 

Jesper loves him, and all that entails. And he knows he loves Jesper, everything about. What’s left to do? 

“On every date,” Wylan says, his voice trembling with urgency. “Maybe on every date I’ve ever been on my whole life— I was always comparing it to being with you. Someone could make me laugh, but it would never be as much as you could, and I’d like them less for it. I could have a good, easy conversation with someone, but it’d never be better than even the dullest conversation we could have. I tried to convince myself that it was just because—I don’t know, that because you were my best friend, so I just wanted to spend all my time with you. And that is true. You are my best friend.” He glances up at Jesper, biting his lip. “I do want to spend all my time with you. Which was why none of the dates were ever good, because I was searching for you in all of them, and that would never work because—I just wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted you.” 

Jesper opens his mouth, searching for words for a moment. Finally, vulnerability undisguised, he asks, “Really? Do you mean that?” 

“I really do,” Wylan says, nearly pleading. “More than I’ve ever meant anything in my life. It’s only ever been you, for me.” 

Wylan can almost see the exact second on Jesper’s face that those words reach him, having travelled the short distance between them, and then processed—once, twice, and maybe an incredulous third time—before being understood. 

Jesper’s face splits into a grin. 

Jesper laughs, the sound taking the space for relief and awe. Wylan’s lips tug up in a smile hearing it, and without thinking twice, he raises himself on his toes to give Jesper a quick, chaste kiss. 

“So now what?” Jesper asks, grinning. “Do I get to call you mine?” he asks this sincerely, but casually—carelessly charming, in just the way that makes Wylan’s face flush. 

Wylan smiles, ducking his head. “You always could.” 

“It’s not too soon? We haven’t even been on a date yet!” Jesper jokes.

Wylan gasps. 

“I have to plan our first date!” he realizes aloud. “We haven’t been on a date!” 

“You’re going to plan it, are you? That means you have to ask me.”

Wylan clears his throat. Gently, he holds Jesper’s hands in his own. “Jesper Fahey,” he says seriously, “will you go on a date with me?” 

Jesper laughs, loud and delighted. Maybe he starts to nod, or say yes, but Wylan is too impatient either way—Jesper, standing so close to him with head tilted back and laughing, is too beautiful to go a second without kissing. 

Their lips meet again, and it’s still a surprise to Wylan how suddenly entirely right everything feels. Wylan has a sneaking suspicion that it will always be this way; that every time he kisses Jesper, however happy he was before, it will all pale in comparison. 

He’s not sure how long they stay standing like that, only the answer must be, not for very long—when Wylan opens his eyes again, he and Jesper are both sitting on the cement of their roof, all but in each other’s laps, still kissing like they’re making up for lost time. In some ways, Wylan supposes they are—he could’ve been kissing Jesper precisely like this years ago, instead of experiencing the horrors of Ketterdam’s dating scene. But at the same time, Wylan can’t be angry at it, not when it all led back home to Jesper anyhow. 

“So, where are you planning on taking me for our date?” Jesper asks slyly, when they pull apart long enough for someone to speak.  “Dinner and a show? A picnic? We could do another museum–”

“No, it has to be new,” Wylan interrupts, sorting through all the ideas in his mind. Very quickly, he backtracks, and says, “Or we can do something classic. What would you prefer?”

“I thought you were deciding.”

“I need to think,” Wylan says, frowning. “It has to be perfect.” 

Jesper grins and swings an arm around his shoulder. “Maybe we can skip it,” he suggests off-handedly. Wylan must give him a wildly offended look, because he hastily adds, “You know I’d be happy either way! And besides, you’ve been on so many first dates already! So we could call this our first, save you the trouble…”

“I’m not calling us illegally sitting on a cement roof our first date, Jesper.” 

“I’m just saying, I don’t mind staying here. If you don’t mind.” 

“Of course I don’t mind,” Wylan murmurs. He nuzzles into Jesper’s neck, enjoying the feel of being so close, no longer with any guards up. Now, there is only an openness—only love and happiness. “I could stay here forever.” 

There’s an anticipatory beat, one where Wylan imagines Jesper’s mind working to find a way to poke fun or tease him for the sudden sincerity. But Jesper only presses a kiss to his hair, softly. 

Wylan smiles against Jesper’s skin. “But I’m still going to plan our first date,” he repeats. “And it’s going to be perfect, because–”  

Jesper grins. “You’ll finally be putting my tips to good use?” 

Wylan blinks. “Sure. I’ll have to, afterall—I won’t have you to pull the fire alarm if something goes wrong.” Jesper snorts, and Wylan pokes him. “I was going to say, ‘It’ll be perfect, because it’ll be with you.’ But I guess that goes without saying.” 

“You’re so romantic! I taught you well!” Jesper announces gleefully, suddenly ruffling Wylan’s hair. Wylan’s small noise of affectionate complaint is lost under Jesper’s laugh. “Now that’s a line, Wy.” 

Wylan rolls his eyes, pulling his head back enough so he’s sure that Jesper can see it. Jesper’s gaze—already warm and fond—seems to soften even more, and without words, they both lean towards each other for another kiss. It’s a slow, innocent kiss, but Wylan finds himself blushing regardless. He’s not sure how to adjust to this new reality—one that feels so surreal, and yet, is the most natural thing he’s ever done. 

Jesper’s face is warm underneath Wylan’s palms too, a fact that makes Wylan feel impossibly delighted. When they pull apart, Wylan pecks his cheek, because somehow, he can now. 

Jesper smiles. Softly, he murmurs, “It was worth saying though. If you’d like to take a shot at it again.” 

Wylan takes Jesper’s face between his hands—and just because he can, again—gives him a quick kiss. Then, though he matches Jesper’s wide grin, he earnestly says, “Our first date will be perfect. Because it’ll be with you.”

Jesper laughs, and Wylan beams. At the same time, they both say, “I love y—” and then break into more giggles, solely from having spoken at the same time, about to have said the same thing. Everything seems to become increasingly hilarious to them, the longer they sit there in each other’s arms, laughing, and talking, and kissing, that neither of them actually finish the sentence. After all these years, they don’t really need to—but they will, of course. For now, it goes without saying, too.