Chapter Text
Hawke makes him a sad mix CD, knowing full well that Anders doesn't own a CD player. Isabela gets him a box of tissues and Varric, a one copy of Chicken Soup for Teenage Soul. Anders wants to be mad at friends but really, he's not. He does, however, throw the CD at Hawke's face where it lands with a pathetic flop. Hawke laughs and then tells him there was really never anything in the CD, anyways, who even uses CDs anymore?
It's just a stupid crush, Anders tells himself. Karl is right, he's going to college soon and what did Anders hope was going to come out of it?
Being rejected (as much as one could get rejected without saying anything) wouldn't be so bad if Anders doesn't feel like he's also lost a friend. Regardless of their age difference or going to different schools, Anders and Karl has been friends, for years, and Anders hasn't really considered that ever changing. But maybe it will be different once Karl leaves for college. It’s that thought of not being friends with Karl is the thing that upsets him the most.
Things are awkward between them now. Sure they still say hello to each other in the hallways and occasionally hang out in the library together but things are not the same. There is a hesitation in Karl's casual touches now, awkward pauses in their conversations, texts deleted and calls unmade. The distance between them is so tangible that Hawke actually looks worried when Anders accompanies him to his JV football practice for the third time in the same week.
The bleachers aren’t exactly the best place to do homework, balancing both his textbook and notebook on one knee is precarious at best. The sunlight makes the white of the paper too bright and he has to squint to see what he’s writing. It makes his handwriting sloppier than usual. It’s unusually warm for late October so at least he’s not freezing his hands off.
“Hey, Andy.” Isabela plops down next to him, Varric climbing the bleachers behind her.
“Hi,” Anders says, bit miserably.
“Aw, are you still depressed over what’s-his-face with the great ass?”
“His name is Karl and you know it.”
“Of course I know,” She leans back, stretching out her legs in front of her. “Doesn’t mean I have to use it.”
“What she means is that,” Varric interrupts, “she’s sorry he dumped you.”
“He didn’t dump me!” Anders squeaks. “And we’re still friends.”
“Then why are you out here instead of at the library you love so much?” Isabela asks, flicking Anders’ ear lightly.
“Because,” Anders says, then pouts, unable to think of a good answer to that.
“I know why you’re really here, Anders.” Isabela nods sagely.
“You do?”
“It’s because his ass isn’t the only great pair of asses out there.” Isabela waves her hand out to the field where Hawke has just landed a touchdown.
“Uh,” Anders says while Varric starts shaking his head.
“Just look at what’s out there,” She puts an arm around Anders’ shoulder, gesturing grandly with the other hand. Out on the field, Hawke gets tackled by three other guys.
“Right.” Anders says skeptically.
“Of course I’m right,” Isabela says, ignoring his tone, “you’re a pretty cute guy Anders, and trust me when I tell you that you can land anyone in this school.”
Isabela pauses, then adds, “Who are not seniors.”
But Anders doesn’t want anyone else, he thinks.
Anders doesn’t answer. He snaps his books shut, giving them up as a lost cause and leans against the bleachers, ignoring the metal digging into his back. Next to him, Varric has struck up a conversation with Isabela, something about the upcoming school newspaper. A small distant cheer goes up in the field when Hawke does something spectacular, again. A small breeze kicks up, ruffling Anders’ long hair, cooling the sweat that’s gathered under the collar of his jacket.
Distantly, Anders wonders what Karl is doing right now.
Anders takes out his phone from his back pocket and scrolls down to Karl’s name in his address book. He types up a quick message, nothing special, just asking what Karl is up to. His finger hovers over the send button for a bit. Why was he hesitating? This was stupid.
Anders hits delete.
“Hey,” Isabela calls, tucking Ander’s hair behind his ears.
“Hm?” Anders says without turning around to look at her.
“Do you want to get your ear pierced?”
Isabela is quick with the needle though it still hurts, a lot. She slips a little golden ring into his ear before Anders can even say stop, swabbing the lobe with a cotton ball wet with disinfectant.
“Oh, don’t be such a baby.” Isabela scolds, clicking her tongue.
“Ow.” Anders says again, just to spite her. Hawke sniggers next to them, flipping through a sports magazine, sprawled out on the floor of his bedroom.
“Here, take the bottle,” She tells him, handing him the disinfectant. “Make sure you disinfect your ear everyday.”
“I don’t even know why I agreed to this.”
“Probably because Karl?” Hawke answers and Anders sticks his tongue out with him.
“No, it’s obviously because he wanted to match with me.” Varric sighs dramatically, pointing to his own ears.
“It’s true,” Anders throws himself on Varric’s lap, “you are the only one for me, Varric.”
Varric pats his hair.
When Leandra calls them all down for pizza, Anders takes a picture of himself with his new earring while everyone else heads downstairs.
How do i look? Anders texts, then presses send.
Absolutely dashing. Karl texts back.
The October pumpkin decorations melts into November snowflakes, autumn breeze into winter chill in remarkably short time. Anders pulls his jacket closer to his body though that leaves his wrists exposed- sleeves are always too short for him. He shivers as he bounds into the school, thankful that despite all its faults, the Kirkwall High School doesn’t shy away from blasting its heaters.
“Cold day today, huh?” A familiar voice says behind him. Anders whirls around and comes face to face with Karl, wearing dark wool coat over a gray hoodie.
“Yeah,” Anders says a little breathlessly, he hopes because of the cold.
“Well,” Karl pulls off his backpack and hands it to Anders. “Hold this.”
“Okay?” Anders takes the bag, holding it awkwardly in his hands. “Karl, what-” He starts to say but feels his mouth go dry when Karl peels off his coat, taking off his hoodie. The thin, black shirt Karl is wearing inside the hoodie rides up on his hips for the briefest moment.
“Uh.” Anders makes an unintelligible sound when Karl takes the bag from his hands, replacing it with the hoodie.
“Wear this.” Karl says simply, shrugging his coat back on.
The hoodie is still warm in Anders’ hands.
“What about you?” Anders swallows.
“I always get too hot in school anyway,” Karl replies casually, as if he hadn’t just stripped in front of Anders. “Just make sure you bring it back to me after school, yeah?”
“Okay, sure.”
Karl walks off, his bag slung over one shoulder.
The hoodie is soft and warm and smells like soap. It’s also pretty big on Anders, Karl still has a few inches on him and a much broader shoulder so Anders has to roll it up a few times so that the sleeves aren’t covering his hands. Though it keeps Anders warm inside and out throughout the day, it also makes him look like he’s just raided his dad’s closet. It’s probably why Isabela immediately latches onto it at lunch.
“That’s not your hoodie.” She says flatly, waving her plastic fork at him.
“No.” Anders confirms, looking down at his sad bowl of salad.
“It’s Karl’s.” Varric tells her. Anders decides that he doesn’t even want to know how Varric knew that.
“Karl?” Fenris asks over his sandwich, marking the first time Fenris has ever participated in their conversation without being wheedled into it by either Hawke or Varric, since he’s started sitting with them a few days ago. Normally, Anders would say something about that but right now he finds himself too busy blushing to come up with something clever.
“This senior.” Hawke supplies helpfully, taking a large bite out of his own sandwich.
“Ah,” Fenris nods once with understanding, then says seriously, “the one that he’s busy making heart eyes at.”
Hawke chokes on his sandwich, spluttering with laughter making Fenris look pleased with himself. Anders throws a crumpled up napkin at Hawke.
“It’s really nothing, I was just cold and he wasn’t, so!” Anders says, only half believing his own words.
The rate at which the school empties always alarms Anders, the school going from overcrowded and noisy to a deserted labyrinth in less than five minutes. The corridor is littered with loose paper and crumpled paper balls, broken pens and bits of rubbish. Anders’ footsteps echo in the empty hallway as he jogs his way to Karl’s locker, located on the second floor, where the refurbished lockers shone with new paint, a nicer part of the school, Anders always thought.
Anders has Karl’s hoodie in his hands, the day having been warmed up enough in the afternoon for Anders to go around in his thin windbreaker.
As Anders nears the corner, he hears the murmuring of voices, ones that he can tell is Karl’s and his pretty friend. He slows his steps, one part because he doesn’t want to interrupt, another part because he’s not exactly looking forward to embarrassing himself again, in front of Karl’s friend.
“So?” Anders hears Karl’s friend say.
“The Winter Formal?” Karl asks her and Anders stops completely, just before he turns to the corner. Right next to him, a flyer for the Winter Dance hangs, decorated with snowflake clipart and tacky blue lettering. Seniors Only! it says, rather cheerfully.
“Yeah.”
“You know how I feel about dances, Solona,” Karl groans.
“Well, it’s almost like you want me to go alone.” Solona says, tucking her pretty black hair behind one ear. Karl laughs, a rich and warm sound that curls into Anders’ belly.
“I would never do that to you.” Karl answers and Anders’ heart drops.
“So you’ll go with me?” Solona asks again.
“Of course,” Karl says, “you know you’re the only one.”
Anders turns around, walks back the way he came, the hoodie still clutched in his hands. He doesn’t want to hear any more of this, not after the agonizing months, perhaps more than a year of harboring feelings for Karl, this stupid crush that both lifted him up to the sky and at the same time caused him to crash into the ground.
But that was exactly what Karl was trying to tell him, wasn’t it? During that car ride in the rain, Anders thinks, barreling down the empty corridor, his footsteps becoming heavier, louder with each one he takes. But still he held on to hope, maybe when he was older, some indeterminate time in the future when he wouldn’t be a freshman with pimples and a voice that cracks, and Karl would still be his own self, grown, and self-assured, with laugh that Anders loves. But he’ll never be more than what he is now.
It will never happen.
How could Anders ever measure up to Solona, with her shiny black curls like coal, laughter that tinkling like windchimes? His arms and legs are still awkward, frayed jeans and worn shirts, perpetually too short on him. His face is always dotted red and pink with pimples, on what ground has Anders held on to hope that Karl could, one day, returns his feelings?
It feels as if someone has shoved a knife into his chest. He feels his heart break into a million little pieces, tiny pin pricks prickling behind his eyes. There is a hollow feeling somewhere between his head and his lungs. It feels like loss.
Anders shoves the hoodie into his backpack, he doesn’t know if he can ever look at Karl in the eyes to return it.
His phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s Karl.
Hey, why don’t you keep my hoodie for a few days, I heard it’s going to get colder this week.
Anders doesn’t send a reply, he doesn’t think he can be friends with Karl anymore.
Anders gives up.
Back in school in that deserted corridor, Karl puts away his phone.
“It’s only as friends though, you know that, right?” Solona says, her voice playful. Karl rolls his eyes at her.
“Obviously, I’m not too eager to have my neck sliced open by your girlfriend.”
“Man,” Solona scuffs her boots on the floor. “I really wanted Leliana to come.”
“I know,” Karl says sympathetically.
“And what about you?” Solona asks, desperate to have someone share in her lonliness, “What about that kid?”
“What?” Karl asks, surprised by her question, “What kid?”
“You know, the cute blonde one, the one you’ve been spending all your time with.”
Karl feels his face heat up. “Anders? He’s, he’s just a friend.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Solona says, rubbing his arm sympathetically, “I know he’s still a freshman, but it’s obvious you care for him a lot.”
Karl sighs, he’s thought about this a lot too even without Solona telling him.
“Yeah, but, it’s just not a good time.” He shakes his head, “I’ll be gone next year and he’ll find someone that’ll be there for him.”
“Maybe.” Solona says, sounding dubious.
“He definitely will.” Karl says firmly, “there is no reason why he can’t.”
“And are you going to be okay with that?” Solona asks.
“I will have to be.”
The hole Karl leaves in Anders’ life is bigger than Anders expects. His English teacher says something that Anders thinks Karl will have an opinion about and Anders stops himself from making plans to stop by Karl’s locker. A hundred different times a day, Anders has to restrain himself from texting Karl, sending him a funny video he saw on the internet, a picture of a street cat that lives near his house, a line from a book that he thinks Karl might enjoy. Anders has never realized just how much of his life has been touched by Karl. It’s as if Anders has torn out half his life to leave with Karl.
The worst thing, though, is not how much Anders misses Karl and it’s not the sympathetic glances that his friends give him when they see how miserable Anders is. The worst thing is the little frown that Karl makes when Anders studiously ignores his hellos in the hallways, the furrow in his brow, his confused smiles, the waves that never get answered.
But times moves on, Hawke lands a touchdown during a match against the Starkhaven Archers, Fenris cracks a joke for the first time, Varric publishes another column in the school newspaper, Isabela gets caught making out with a sophomore boy behind the boys’ locker room and lands a detention.
Karl eventually stops waving to Anders.
It snows the first day of December, though not enough to warrant for a snow day. Anders blows little puffs of white air into the air, watching them dissipate into the cold winter morning. He has a bit of time today, having gotten up early enough to walk to Hawke’s before going to school, except he had forgotten Hawke had morning practice today.
Today would’ve been the kind of day he would have texted Karl, begged him to come and pick him up.
But the quiet is nice, the snow makes everything muted. Anders takes out his phone to plug in his earphones for his walk to school.
Then a familiar silver car rolls up next to him.
“Anders,” Karl rolls down his window and calls out. Anders, for a brief second, considers ignoring Karl but here, in the quiet streets of Darktown, there are no crowd to escape into, no school bells to excuse his hurried steps.
He can’t run away.
Anders turns and looks at Karl’s face for the first time in nearly a month.
“Good morning.” Karl says pleasantly, “Do you need a ride to school?”
“No,” Anders says, his heart twinges with little aches. “I think I’m good, thanks.”
Karl frowns, but recovers quickly, like he’s been expecting that.
“Anders,” Karl calls again, carefully, this time. “Have I done something wrong?” He asks.
Anders wants to laugh because it’s so very much like Karl to blame himself when he hasn’t done anything wrong at all. It would be so much easier if Karl had made himself unlikeable or something, but it’s not because why would anything in Anders’ life be easy?
“No, Karl,” Anders says, voice tired though it’s not even eight in the morning.
“Then why?” Karl asks.
Anders sighs.
“You know I like you, right, Karl?” Anders says, then adds before Karl can interrupt, “Not just as friends, either.”
Karl tightens his grip on the steering wheel. He looks through the windshield, at the falling snowflakes and then nods stiffly.
“Yes.” He confirms.
Anders exhales hard through his nose, white breath swirling out in front of him before disappearing.
“I just don’t think I can…” Anders looks for the right words, “continue to be your friend with that.”
Karl doesn’t say anything, still looking at Anders with an expression that Anders can’t quite understand. Anders wishes Karl would say something, anything.
Anders laughs, a tiny pathetic sound that he doesn’t mean.
“You don’t need to worry about picking me up anymore, Karl.” He says.
Karl looks up, something in his eyes, the frown of his lips makes him look vulnerable.
“Anders,” he starts to say but suddenly Anders doesn’t want to hear what Karl has to say.
“Bye, Karl.” Anders says with finality. He turns to walk towards the school.
As it turns out, the Winter Formal is something of a major event for the seniors. They get half of the day off of school so that they have time to prepare for it, the underclassmen that has been given invites from their senior partners are also excused. The school seems equal parts buzzing with anticipation and empty with so many students missing. It’s also only a week before the winter holidays and Anders occupies himself with gift shopping for his friends and trying to finish up the last of his homework he needs to hand in before the break starts.
“Hm?” Anders looks up when Hawke pokes him on the arm. “What?”
“I said,” Hawke says, “Are you going to be okay to go home alone tonight?”
“Aren’t you coming with me?” Anders asks.
“Nah, I have a practice I forgot about, I swear coach thinks we’re getting worse with every practice.” Hawke complains.
“Oh, yeah, that’s fine, you just gotta give me your keys then.”
Hawke rummages through his pockets.
“You wouldn’t happen to be stopping by the library tonight?” He asks as he drops his keys onto Ander’s open palm.
“Uh, maybe, why?” Anders asks as though he’s not been avoiding the library for over a month.
“I have a couple of reports I have to print out for Bio and the printer at home crapped out.”
“Oh I see how it is,” Anders says, “You want me to do your homework for you.” He shakes his index finger at Hawke.
“Hey now,” Hawke snatches at Ander’s finger, grinning, “They’re all done, you just need to hit print.”
“Fine,” Anders says with a fake sigh, “the things I do for you, Hawke.”
“It’s because you love me.” Hawke makes kissy faces at him.
“Now, don’t let Fenris hear you say that,” Anders teases and laughs when Hawke flushes red.
On his way to the library, Anders sees a Karl’s car driving down the street. It crosses him and for the briefest moment, he meets Karl’s eyes on the driver’s seat. Next to him is Solona dressed in silky blue dress, her black hair curled and pinned up with a shiny silver ornament.
At least Karl won’t be at the library, Anders thinks.
Karl stretches his neck away when Solona reaches over to fix his bowtie for the fourth time in a row.
“I swear, you have no idea how to dress yourself.” She tsks.
“That’s unnecessary.” Karl comments drily.
“Oh please, you would have shown up in jeans if I didn’t pick your outfit for you.”
“Yeah, the matching blue was a bit over the top, wouldn’t you say?” Karl says, raising his eyebrow at her. “We wouldn’t want your girlfriend to get jealous.”
“Oh please, Leliana doesn’t care, she knows I love her.” Solona says simply, “I’ve always wanted to wearing matching dresses though.”
“I suppose I should be glad that you didn’t pick out a matching dress for me then.” Karl says, taking a drink out of his glass.
Solona laughs, clapping her hands, “Now, that would’ve been a sight!”
“No.”
“You’re right,” Solona nods solemnly, “you would definitely look better in purple, maybe something tight to show off your great ass.”
“Maker,” Karl sighs, rubbing his forehead. “I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Neither have I,” Solona says, “We’ve been here for two hours and you haven’t asked me for a single dance.”
“I’m an awful dancer.”
“You’re a great dancer, Karl, don’t lie. I’ve seen you move.” Solona leans back, now adjusting the corsage on her wrist.
“Come on Karl, it’s obvious you don’t want to be here.” Solona gestures vaguely at the Winter Formal in full swing around them. Karl has been to the Winter Formal only one other time before his own this year, when he was invited by a senior girl last year. Once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all, he thinks.
But Solona is right, Karl doesn’t want to be here, in the sea of his friends and loud music blasting away, with the red carpeted dance floor dimly light with rainbow lights. He runs his hand over the white tablecloth in front of him. He knows where he would rather be.
Anders had looked so… alone when Karl drove past him just a few hours before.
Karl doesn’t want to be here with Solona. He would rather be at the library with Anders.
“You should go.” Solona says firmly.
“What?” Karl asks, surprised. Solona rolls her eyes.
“Go where you really want to be, seriously, Karl.”
Karl frowns at her. “Are you sure?”
“Dead serious. You’re really bringing down my party spirit.” Solona looks stern for a moment before softening her expression. “I hate see my friend sad.”
Karl wonders if he’s been that obvious.
He gets up halfway from his seat and hesitates. He doesn’t want to leave Solona all alone. After all, he had agreed to accompany her to the Winter Formal.
But Solona shoos him with with her hands.
“Come on get out of here.” She says, “so that I can go find Jowan to hang out with or whatever.”
Karl smiles, for the first time that evening.
“Thanks, Solona.” He kisses her cheek instead of a good bye.
“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Her voice is fond.
It’s not like Anders planned on staying at the library so late but he also hadn’t wanted to go to Hawke’s place without Hawke. Leandra and Malcolm would have been as welcoming and warm as usual but Anders still feels like an intruder to their kind and bright home some days.
Anders has already finished all his homework, printed out both his and Hawke’s reports and still he has an hour to spare. He flips through the comic books that he’s already read before for a lack of better things to do. It’s quiet in the library, as it always is, the armchairs are comfortable as the day he’s first fell asleep in them.
Anders snorts and considers taking a nap, just for old time’s sake.
Then he hears Kathy the librarian take a sharply breathe in, then shushing someone.
“No running in the library!” She says in a loud whisper.
Someone stops hurriedly in front of Anders so he looks up. He sees Karl standing there, breathless, cheeks still slightly red from the cold outside.
Karl isn’t wearing a jacket. In fact, he’s wearing a well fitting tux with a silky blue bowtie, the one that Anders only had a glimpse of, earlier that day. There is a corsage of blue carnation and tiny white flowers tucked into the breast of his shirt. His hair is set a different way from how he usually wears them, brushed to the side, it looks neater, makes Karl look older. Anders can smell a whiff of sweet cologne.
Karl looks handsome.
“Anders,” Karl sounds a bit wild. He’s breathing hard like he’s just run a mile.
“Karl?” Anders says, unsure of what else to say. “What, what are you doing here?”
“I didn’t think you’d still be here,” Karl starts, “I went to your place and drove by your friend’s but the lights were off so I came here…”
“What?” Anders asks. His heart thuds loudly in his chest.
“I just,” Karl looks… lost, something Anders has never seen on Karl’s face before. All the times Anders has been Karl’s friend, Karl has always been so confident, he always knew just the right thing to say, it’s alarming to see this new side of him.
“I wanted to find you,” Karl says and takes a step forward, towards Anders.
“Well, you found me.” Anders still doesn’t know what to make of this. Shouldn’t Karl still be at the Winter Formal, with Solona? Why is Karl here, instead?
Karl runs his hand into his hair, messing it up.
“Anders,” Karl starts, then stops.
“Yeah?”
“I’ve missed you.” Karl says simply.
“Oh,” Anders doesn’t know what to say to that.
“I thought,” Karl says, frustration coloring his voice, “I thought, I was doing what was best for you, I wanted to do what was right.”
“But I’ve missed you so much.” Karl looks into Anders’ eyes, searching for something. He looks so lost, so unsure of himself and what he’s saying.
“And I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”
Blood rushes into Anders’ ears. His heart drums loudly, Anders can hear it beating fast, little rabbit heartbeats.
Anders’ mouth is suddenly dry but he swallows.
“I can’t, Karl,” Anders starts to say, his face crumpling, “I can’t just be friends when-”
Anders words never leaves his lips because Karl kisses him. It’s sudden and unexpected but it’s also soft, chaste little thing, something that feels more like a dream when it ends too soon.
“I don’t want to be just friends.” Karl says, voice small, still so uncertain.
“But.” Anders manages to croak out. His face is on fire. “But, aren’t you and Solona…?”
“What?” Karl nearly yelps, “No, she’s just a friend.” He puts both of his hands to Anders’ cheeks. It’s still cold but familiar. “Is that what you’ve been thinking this whole time?”
Anders can almost cry from relief.
“I thought,” Anders stammers out, “I thought you wouldn’t have time for me anymore.”
“Oh Anders,” Karl smiles, eyes crinkling in the corners. He puts his forehead against Anders’ own. “I’ll always have time for you.”
Karl kisses him again, just the lips again.
“Now, that’s great and all,” Kathy calls out from the front desk, grinning, “But I’m going to have to ask you two to leave, you’re being disruptive.”
Karl laughs. It sounds watery.
“Of course, Kathy.” He takes Anders’ hand onto his own.
Anders holds on tight.