Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Oh my fucking God, Evan! Could you be any worse at this? I need an onion, STAT!”

“Well, sorry that I didn’t let this soup set on fire! Give me a sec, you impatient little—”

On the TV screen a cartoon woman with a neat brown bob and a raccoon in a wheelchair were chasing through an impossibly impractical kitchen set-up, chopping ingredients and tossing them into pots and passing items back and forth over the line of counters that separated the room in two.

“I absolutely cannot give you a sec. This game has a time limit and if you don’t— What on earth are you doing?!” Jared’s voiced went up in both volume and pitch, until it ended in an ear-piercing shriek.

Despite him clearly being agitated as well, Evan’s voice was remarkably calm in contrast. “I’m waiting for that plate I told you to pass me! The order’ll go away, if you don’t bring it.”

“That’s no excuse for standing about!” Jared was aware that he had absolutely been standing about waiting for an onion just a few seconds ago. “Here’s your plate. Now give me that fricking— Do not serve that now, serve, while I chop the onion, give me an onion, onion, onion.” 

Judging by the way his character stumbled about, dropping the requested onion and running into one of the protruding counters, this attempt to encourage Evan only served to trouble him more and more as Jared continued chanting the word “onion” over and over.

“Shut up!” Evan spoke loudly over Jared’s insistent nagging. “You’re stressing me out so much.”

“If you just gave me that fucking on— Thanks plenty,” Jared said, eyeing the merciless timer that ticked down in the corner of the screen and talking faster than a sports commentator during the Olympics’ sprint finals to outrun the clock. “I don’t remember the exact rating right now but I’m pretty sure we’ll pass, if we can get this order done, if we don’t pass, I swear to God, Evan, I will poison you, put this in the pot now!”

“Thanks, I know how the fucking game works,” Evan said under his breath. “I need a plate for this, too; you’ve hogged them all over there.”

A sudden cold rushed through Jared’s veins as he looked at the timer again, which showed a frightful twenty-three.

“Oh, shit, shit, I fucked up.” His character ran to the sink. “I didn’t keep up dish washing duty.” Jared’s voiced climbed a few notes again as he handed the now clean plate over.” “Okay, here, now serve, serve, serve!”

“I can’t serve it yet; it’s not done.”

“Well, maybe it would have been, if somebody had given me an onion just a little quicker.”

The air in the room felt like an already tense rubber band getting stretched and stretched and stretched. Both of them glanced between the pot and the timer, Jared’s character running in a circle, Evan’s standing still as he rapidly clapped the controller against the palm of his left hand.

“Come on!” Jared begged.

The rubber band snapped as the game declared that the soup was ready and Evan, cheered on by Jared, swiftly plated it, made his character head towards the serving station and — 0:00.

The screen changed, proclaiming that they had finally passed the level, albeit with only one star. For a few moments, the two sat there just staring at it, flash-frozen. Out of the corner of his eye, Jared noticed Evan’s face start to melt into one of incredulous triumph.

“Oh, that is shameful!” Jared exclaimed, wildly gesticulating to the screen with his Xbox controller, before defeatedly dropping it next to himself. “That last order would’ve given us two stars. That’s an absolute disgrace. We have to re-do that level.”

Even he had lost count of the number of times they had attempted to beat the level and two out of three stars would have been good enough to go back to when they had beaten the rest of the game. But as glad as Jared was to have passed this god-awful level, he was still a completionist, when it came to video games. He craved the sweet satisfaction of knowing he had bested all the levels, found all the secrets, earned all possible achievements.

“Ugh, no, please, no, we did it. Why would we put ourselves through that again?” Evan groaned, which Jared chose to ignore for now.

“And just so you know, I blame you entirely for this miserable failure.”

“Hey! You’re at least a little guilty! You didn’t keep up with the plates,” Evan protested. “It’s a co-op game anyway. You can’t blame just one half of the team.”

“Whatever.” Jared let himself fall back on his bed, narrowly avoiding Macavity, a long-legged cat, who had curled up with his back to them. He couldn’t stand looking at that disastrous outcome anymore. “You chose the My Mom Character, so really you were out of line from the start but whatever.” He pushed his glasses up onto his forehead and rubbed his eyes with both hands.

Quiet fell over the room.

Honestly, they both had clearly got rusty at the game because the two of them had not properly hung out in ages, not since before the summer. That was definitely Jared’s fault. He had always found a reason to cancel, or “post-pone,” or avoid making plans in the first place, including excuses like them not being able to further their Overcooked progress anyway because Evan would not be able to hold a controller with the cast he had had for a while.

It was just so much easier on Jared’s heart to exclusively interact with Evan at school, where there were plenty of distractions preventing him from getting too lost in his feelings. But now maternal intervention had forced them together in Jared’s room again.

Heidi had asked his mom, if Evan could come over tonight, since she had no way of getting out of her evening-shift and the trick-or-treaters made him nervous, apparently.

“Well, not the, uh, trick-or-treaters exactly,” Evan had corrected him, when Jared had confronted him about these embarrassingly mom-coordinated plans. “It’s more opening the door to strangers all night, and then I wouldn’t know what to say, or what if we run out of candy, or they don’t like the candy we have, so— I didn’t ask my mom to ask your mom by the way. I would’ve been fine just… pretending I wasn’t home.”

“Oh, that’s shitty, though. You can always tell, when people are only pretending not to be home.”

“Uh, yeah, but, uh, obviously I would’ve asked you directly, if I had known. About my mom. But I didn’t know and I didn’t want to bother you anyway.”

That had stung a bit but it was not like Jared didn’t know exactly why Evan had not dared to ask, if he could come over. Still, Jared had resented his mom a little for simply telling Heidi that Evan could come without consulting him at all.

“Fine, I’ll be his babysitter but I can’t guarantee that I’ll be nice to him,” he had begrudgingly agreed, not really wanting to let down Heidi Hansen of all people.

“I think you will be,” Jared’s mom had replied with a look on her face that said “I know you better than you think I do”, which Jared hated so much.

The resentment had completely melted away now. When the not-so-unwelcome guest had arrived, there had been surprisingly little awkwardness, considering Evan had not been there for months, and an equally surprising, quick settling into their routine, which consisted mainly of playing video games, possibly discussing some gossip Jared had picked up at school and eating whatever baked goods his mom had made recently or brought home from work. Tonight, pumpkin spice cookies grinned at them with carefully iced-on jack-o-lantern faces.

And Jared had to admit that he had missed this. He was happy to spend time with Evan. Really happy. And maybe he could spend time with him without revealing his feelings or damaging his own heart further after all. He had not thought about his brutally frustrating crush for a good while now and it was really only little things that even reminded Jared of it. Like right now, Evan was fiddling with the controller, gently running the pad of his thumb over the four lettered buttons arranged in a neat square. Over and over. Causing an almost inaudible clicking noise. Somehow making Jared’s heart fizz softly and his brain wonder what it might feel like to be that controller.

“Thanks.”

When Evan broke the silence, Jared was still focused on his nervous hands. If the quiet had disrupted their night being close to comfortable, he was about to annihilate that now, make it weird. Despite knowing that, it took him a couple of moments to peel his eyes away from the sight.

“What?”

Evan, who luckily seemed not to have noticed Jared’s misstep, looked down at Jared from where he sat perched on the edge of the bed with one of his legs awkwardly manoeuvred underneath himself. “For letting me come here? Because I’m sure you had better things to do on Halloween than babysit me and—“

“I’m not babysitting you. Chill.” 

Evan looked so genuinely grateful and relieved at his words that a little bitter regret about using that same word talking to his mom a few days ago rose in Jared’s throat.

“Just hanging out with my bro.” It took everything in Jared not to visibly cringe at his own words.

“Oh.” A small, familiar crease appeared between Evan’s eyebrows. “But we—“

“Besides,” Jared could absolutely not let Evan finish whatever thought he was developing, “the only real alternative was going to Sabrina Patel’s party but, like…”

Jared ended vaguely and gave an overacted shrug as pronounced as he possibly could while lying on his back. Truthfully, he had not been keen on going because the only people there would be acquaintances from school and Jared had once before made the mistake to assume that people would be more open to socialising with people outside of their usual friendship group at a party. Evan did not need to know that though.

“Sabrina’s having a party?”

“Yeah, her parent’s are away for the weekend or something and her older brother, who’s supposed to supervise, is super chill apparently. She invited, like, everyone in our year.”

The crease between Evan’s eyebrows had faded but returned deeper than before now. “Hm.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure she just sent the same text to everyone in her contacts. She didn’t, like, personally invite everybody or anything.” In spite of himself, Jared leaped into damage control mode as well as he knew how. He was not above teasing Evan for his subpar social skills, of course, but some part of his subconscious must have decided to prove his mom right. “She probably just doesn’t have your number. I mean, does anybody other than me and Heidi have it?”

Maybe not particularly nice but Evan would have to deal. Which he did by narrowing his eyes a little at the air in front of him and humming again. “Yeah, no, I, I don’t think she has it and I mean, obviously, even if she did, she wouldn’t have to invite me just because she invited everybody else because it’s her party and—“

“Look, I’m sure she would have invited you, if she had you number. She invited fucking Matt Holtzer. Like, he’s insufferable and I don’t think they’ve ever even interacted other than for, like, school projects, so…”

Quiet again.

“Let’s go.” Evan delivered these two words carefully, like a drunk person trying to enunciate a tongue twister to prove they were sober, and steadily like he had rehearsed them in his head until the words sounded foreign rather than familiar.

“Where?” If he kept going like this, perhaps Jared could get through all basic question words tonight. But he had to ask because there was no way that Evan was suggesting what Jared thought he was.

“To Sabrina’s party.” No way.

Jared propped himself up on his elbows and raised his eyebrows so violently that his glasses dropped back down onto his nose. “Are you feeling alright? Are you, Evan Hansen, actually saying we should go to a party? To what might well be a fricking kegger?”

This was about as out of character as Macavity calmly staying in whatever spot he was lounging in, instead of dashing into the kitchen as if his life depended on it at the sound of his dry food rattling into his bowl.

“It’s not like we have any better plans, right? Because I am not doing that stupid level again.” A grimace flashed across his face as he nodded towards the TV as if otherwise Jared might not have known what level he was referring to.

Jared studied his face for a couple of seconds to determine, whether Evan was fucking with him. Studied it for a bit longer than he needed to to come to the conclusion that he seemed to be completely sincere about this.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Evan seemed baffled for some reason.

“Yeah, o-fucking-kay, let’s go partake in teenage mayhem or whatever. If I remember correctly from, like, middle school, Sabrina’s mom makes the best pakoras, so if we’re lucky, we might be able to sponge some high quality snacks.”

Meanwhile, Evan had grabbed another cookie and was now eating it in that infuriatingly slow and infuriatingly adorable way he always did, breaking off small pieces and carefully bringing them to his mouth. He had a contemplative look on his face that Jared was all too familiar with. Three, two, one—

“Do we need costumes?” Evan exploded. “Because obviously I don’t have one, since I only came here to, to, uh… to hang out. But I don’t even know, if people still wear costumes? People our age I mean, to Halloween parties, not in general.”

Jared snorted and sat up, pulling Macavity into his lap, who looked displeased at being resettled and attempted an attack on Jared’s fingers. “Let me love you, you stinky dickwad! Her text said that everybody should come in costume but I don’t think Sabrina would deny us entry. It’s a pity though. Costumes are basically the entire point of Halloween.” He scratched the side of Macavity’s ginger neck, the cat now showing his appreciation by rhythmically digging his claws into Jared’s thigh, and thought for a second. “Actually, we can probably throw something together, if we look around the house a little.”

Some rummaging around his own closet first and then the rest of the house with some direction from Jared’s mom later, they had accumulated a pile of different costume parts on Jared’s bed, in front of which the two of them now stood to figure out what they were going to do.

Jared held up a black cape with a stiff, fan-like collar. “So, one of us can definitely just throw this on and be a vampire.”

Evan nodded, repeatedly sucking in his bottom lip, a habit of his that frustrated Jared to no end for a whole herd of reasons.

“Okay, so you’re the vampire and I—“ Jared said and shoved the cape into Evan’s arms, who received it with a strange squeak and then looked at Jared quizzically, opening his mouth again as if to say something but Jared cut him off. “Dude, I can’t be a vampire. It has to be you.”

“‘Cause you’re not intimidating enough?” Evan said, a specific smile, where he bit his bottom lip like he was trying to prevent himself from breaking into a full grin, on his face, that Jared only saw, when Evan was teasing him. Which Jared also had a heavy load of feelings about and even worse so now that he had not seen it in a while.

“Hey! I am intimidating, asshole! But, like, I am self-aware enough to know I’m not hot enough to be a generic vampire.” He should really just bite his own tongue off. In a desperate attempt to not make Evan think about that too hard, he rambled on, “Maybe it would work, if we had the skills to turn me into a Buffy vampire, you know, all wrinkly-foreheaded and angry-eyebrowed. Then my intimidating self could really shine. But we don’t.”

To Jared’s immense relief, Evan just sucked in his bottom lip once more, before changing the topic. “So what are you going to be then? Mr. Mistoffelees?” He pointed to a pair of black velvet cat ears that was part of a set that included a tail as well.

If he had not been occupied with laughing, Jared would have kissed Evan right then and there for something as stupid as referencing Cats, which he was pretty sure Evan only knew because Jared had made him watch it countless times when they were kids. That was a slightly embarrassing truth about himself, he realised and quickly pushed it right to the very back of his brain.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m quite the right kind of person to wear a sexy cat costume. And besides, I really do not need people to think I’m a fricking furry.” Jared’s mouth involuntarily twitched into a smile at the small laugh that dumb comment got out of Evan.

A couple of minutes were spent on further contemplation, which meant that Jared was mainly talking to himself with Evan making occasional remarks or noises of agreement. Eventually Jared came to the decision that he would be the lamest person on Earth and dress up as Harry Potter. His mom had kept a Gryffindor tie Jared had worn as a ten-year-old, when he had had a proper Harry costume, and that had been too large on him then. It was probably somewhat original again, actually, now that the biggest hype had been over for years. Plus, it had been a decision between that, the godawful cat ears, or admitting to the world and Evan that he did, in fact, own a Charmander onesie, which, really, was not an option at all.

Jared pulled the one plain white shirt he owned out of his closet, only to throw it onto the discarded items on the bed. His eyes landed back on Evan, who had swung the cape he had been assigned over his shoulders already but instead of tying the strings, he was just holding them, one in each hand, elbows jutting out at somewhat awkward angles. He was looking at the TV, which was still displaying the same One Star Screen of Shame.

“Yeah, that is a truly horrifying sight still,” Jared said, hoping to gently ease Evan off whatever train of thought had taken him away. “I’ll go ask my mom some stuff real quick. You can turn that off in the meantime, so you won’t miss me too much.”

“Uh, okay, yeah. See you.” Evan blinked at him.

Jared snort-laughed. “Yeah, catch ya later, you dork.”

Then he thundered down the abysmally creaky stairs, already yelling for his mom.

Evan knew he was overthinking as he switched off the Xbox like Jared had told him to. And he was overthinking the wrong thing. Surely, he was supposed to be worrying about the party that he had just instigated them going to and that he technically was not invited to. But he wasn’t, not really. There would be people there and it would be loud and there was always the threat of neighbours calling the police but while all of that sounded vaguely terrifying, it was overshadowed by an almost giddy excitement. The last time he had been to a party had been in sixth grade, when fucking insufferable Matt Holtzer had decided that inviting Evan to a pool party was suitable payment for letting Evan do almost all the work on an English project they’d gotten an A on. And Evan thought, perhaps, if he went to this party tonight and perhaps, if everything did not go horribly wrong and perhaps, if he had a good time even, then perhaps things could be different and perhaps he could be someone else than his anxious self for once. He could be someone who did something other than stay at home reading or watching whatever every Saturday night; he could be someone who did, instead of staying stagnant. Even if it was just this one time. Even if nobody noticed or would think any different of him (and they wouldn’t because Evan knew going to one single party would not result in a complete change in image and that was not what he wanted anyway) but he would know it for himself. He wanted to know that this one time he could do a normal teenage thing without letting his anxiety stop him. At least he hoped he could.

He sat back down on the end of Jared’s bed, his back to the TV now, and reached one hand out to the grumpy cat, who had reclaimed his place there by sprawling across the costume parts and Jared’s white shirt, after Jared had so rudely disturbed him earlier.

Macavity eyed him in his usual suspicious manner but after nosing his hand shortly, gave it one sandpaper-tongued lick and rubbed his head against it to encourage Evan to pet him between the ears.

I can’t be a vampire. It has to be you.

I am not hot enough to be a generic vampire.

The subject of Evan’s overthinking echoed through his head again. There were probably a hundred ways to interpret these sentences on their own and in connection with one another and Evan was just too simple-minded to think of any other than the one that did not make any sense because it was impossible to fathom that Jared would ever think of him and the word “hot” in any context other than to to make fun of his sweaty hands perhaps (which surprisingly were not sweaty at the moment, except now that he thought about it he could feel them moisten a bit, so he quickly wiped them on his jeans). Or the bar for appropriate vampire hotness might be so low that basically everyone passed it and this was just Jared making a self-deprecating joke as an excuse because he simply did not want to dress up as a vampire. Or he probably did not mean anything by it and it was a pure coincidence that the two sentences sounded like that, when extracted from context.

“This isn’t even overthinking; it’s wishful thinking,” Evan quietly said to nobody in particular but Macavity’s left ear twitched, which Evan took as his cue to continue. “I’m blowing one sentence completely out of proportion. Jared probably hasn’t thought about it twice. Or once.”

Evan watched as the tabby repositioned himself, curling his tail neatly around himself.

“You’re lucky that you’re a cat. You don’t have to worry about any of this. You don’t get crushes on other cats, do you? And if you do, it’s probably way less complicated than in the human world. You don’t have to worry about the lady cats liking you, hm?”

“Are you pestering my cat with your romantic tribulations?”

Evan jerked up his head to see Jared casually leaning in the doorway with an expression way too smug for somebody who used to read his cat bed time stories and who, Evan knew for a fact, still conversed with his cat on a regular basis.

“No, I wasn’t— Or, well—“

“‘Cause trust me, he does not care to listen to you all moon-eyed and going on and on about Zoe Murphy’s amazing guitar skills or how she smiled her perfect little smile at you, when she bumped into you in the crowded cafeteria and you almost dropped your lunch tray and came in your pants.”

“I didn’t— Stop. I told you I don’t like her anymore. Not like that.”

Jared eyed him with a look that clearly stated he had chosen not to believe Evan on that. But it was true. While his crush had been embarrassingly intense last year, it had sort of fizzled out over the summer. Giving  this other one the opportunity to rear its head again.

“Also,” Jared continued, “I’m ninety percent sure he’s gay and having an affair with Billy from across the street, three houses down.”

The smug look on his face now seemed a little more forced than usual, something around his mouth looking tense.

“Uh, okay? But like I said, I wasn’t talking to him about that.” Evan tried very hard not to look to the top right or bite his lip, his hands at least occupied with petting Macavity. “But… if that’s true, wouldn’t that mean he does understand, uh, romantic tribulations?”

Jared pressed his lips together but Evan could see the corners of his mouth twitching good-naturedly. “Whatever. Come with me. We’re vamping you up.”

He turned on his heel as Evan carefully eased himself away from Macavity, mulling over that at least mildly worrying statement. With Jared it was often hard to tell, whether he was going to be really casual or really dramatic about something and there was a very specific, probably unreasonable but persistent worry in Evan’s head that Jared would whip out some fake vampire fangs for him to wear, which he would have to refuse on grounds of the mere thought of putting them in his mouth making his gums itch and the thought of having to mumble around them all night making him want to puke. And Evan knew that was so stupid and so lame.

The upstairs hallway was less of a hallway and more just a landing of about twenty square feet from which three doors led to a bathroom, the bedroom of Jared’s mom and her girlfriend Ruth and, of course, Jared’s bedroom. Jared now led him into the other bedroom, which Evan had only ever been in once before, when the then not-quite-family had moved in, and it had not been fully finished at the time, so he only knew it from glances he had caught through the usually half-open door. (Rosemarie Kleinman was not a believer in closed doors.)

“Well, come on in,” Jared said to Evan, who had been lingering in the doorway. “I wouldn’t enter this room, if I thought we might find any traumatising naughty stuff, so you can chill,” he added after directing a pointed glance at Evan’s hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt.

Evan forced a grin and an awkward, nervous half-laugh he did, when he did not know what else to say, a quite literal “Heh,” which he regretted every time, and stepped into the relatively small room. There was a strong colour scheme of a gentle lavender and a rich cream going on that complimented the honey-coloured wood of the double bed. Various perfume bottles and containers of beauty products were neatly aligned on a white vanity table that stood under a window, some hanging flower pots above it.

Jared was looking through the wardrobe, which Evan could only assume held Ruth’s clothes, since he knew Rosemarie had taken to using the scarcely occupied guest room downstairs as a sort of dressing room.

“I know,” Jared said into the wardrobe, seemingly struggling with something. “My mom insists that lavender is calming or some shit, even though I told her purple is like the number one depressing colour.”

“I think it’s… it’s nice, actually.”

“Yeah, you would.” Evan couldn’t see Jared’s face but he could tell that the was probably rolling his eyes at him. Jared succeeded in pulling free what he had been struggling with, which turned out to be a black and a white dress shirt, and did a clumsy pirouette, the shirts flying behind him like a rhythmic gymnast’s defunct ribbon. He gestured toward the vanity table with the two clothes hangers still in hand. “Sit down.”

As soon as Evan sat down on the fluffy upholstery of the stool, his hands returned to the hem of his shirt, folding it in on itself like an accordion. His eyes were firmly trained on the action. Evan registered Jared stepping close to him and then reaching across the vanity table and, by extension, him to open one of the drawers. He was close enough that Evan could smell him. Not in a bad way or an especially good way, just…  like a person, just like himself. The small drawer he had pulled open was filled with dozens of small tubes in black and silver and a range of colours in transparent ones.

“I didn’t know vampires wore lipstick,” Evan said a little shakily but tacking on a quick, breathy laugh at the end. He looked up from his shirt origami for a second, realised that Jared was standing even closer than he had expected him to be and tried to bring some more distance between them.

“Shut up, of course not. Well, they might actually but, like, as much as I would absolutely adore seeing you in drag, I don’t think I’m quite at that level as a make-up… person yet.”

Evan tried to lean back even further, half-fearing that he would fall off the stool as Jared started rummaging around the drawer, hard plastic clacking against hard plastic. “So, what’s, uh… what’s the plan then? Why are you—“

“Jesus, I swear my mom has a problem, look at this! Surely no woman needs this many different colours for her fricking lips,” Jared turned to look at Evan in disbelief, before jerking back with his entire body, wincing loudly and rattling the perfume bottles as he bumped against the vanity table.

Evan needed a moment to piece together what had just happened but could not help but laugh a bit. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Jared had turned back to the drawer and was now putting a couple of lipsticks onto the tabletop a little more forcefully than was strictly necessary. “Just didn’t expect you to be lurking so close behind me.”

That was not really what had happened; technically, Jared had invaded Evan’s space but Evan decided not to press the matter because he noticed that Jared’s ears were tinted significantly rosier than usual. Instead he hoped asking a third time would be the charm to find out exactly why Jared was digging around his mom’s lipstick drawer, which in itself was a concept Evan was having a hard time wrapping his head around.

“So, what’s with the lipstick then?”

“Well, all I wanted was a tiny bit of red lipstick, so we can, like, make it look like you have some blood on your face because how will anybody know you’re a vampire, if you don’t present yourself as a sloppy eater— I swear there’s at least three of each colour just with different packaging. Eh, whatever.” He shoved the drawer half-closed, a final faint rattle audible. “I think we have a decent pool of candidates here.”

He stepped back, so Evan finally had some room to breathe again and didn’t have to think about how soft the orange flannel Jared was wearing looked on him. He could also see the tabletop again, where half a dozen lipsticks in different shades and sizes lay. Jared was looking at him expectantly, waiting for an opinion he could not provide. “I don’t really care.”

“Of course you care. You care about literally everything.” Jared held another lipstick in his fingers, which he erratically waved about, making Evan fear for the safety of his own eyeballs. “Do you want a fresh blood look, or do you want it to look like it’s been a while since you last fed? What do you think?”

So it turned out that Jared was somehow both being casual and being dramatic about this at once.

“I think that it’s very rich to criticise your mom and then present four identical colours to me and making me choose.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Jared grinned and threw the lipstick at Evan.

He frantically tried to catch it, since he was not sure how fragile these things were. He almost grabbed it a couple of times, only to have it slip though his fingers or propel it up in the air again. Finally, he managed to trap it between his hand and his chest right above his sternum. The two looked at each other with wide eyes and broke into shocked laughter.

It only took Jared another minute to decide on a comically bright, obviously fake blood red (“It’s like in the Sweeney Todd movie!”), which was labelled a “liquid lipstick” and came with a little brush thing, which they supposed would be easier to use than the blunt end of a regular lipstick.

“Look up a bit.” Jared tapped Evan’s chin twice with the pinkie of his right hand, which held the tube with the colour inside, his left already equipped with the almost dripping brush part.

He was bend over slightly and looking down at Evan, which felt stranger than Evan would have thought. Their height difference was not too extreme, only a couple of inches, and while it was probably noticeable to outsiders, Evan was so used to it that he hardly noticed it himself. So it should not be so strange to have it reversed. However, it was an added layer to this entire bizarre situation Evan had somehow found himself in. Having someone put make-up on his face was not an event he had ever anticipated happening; even as a kid he had resolutely refused to let his mom put any face paint on his skin.

Evan had no idea where to look as Jared started smearing the colour around the right corner of his mouth. He tried looking down, his default, but that turned out to be weird because it meant he could sort of see what Jared was doing but not really and he had to keep his head tilted up slightly, so Jared could do his job, which meant his line of sight lead him to somewhere around Jared’s chest and that was just a weird place to be looking at. Instead Evan let his eyes wander, until they, inevitably, landed on Jared’s face, closer to his own than Evan would usually be comfortable with and too far away at the same time.

Jared paused, running his hand through his hair and ruffling it in that way that made Evan want to smooth it down or mess it up more. With the tip of his tongue sticking out from between his teeth, Jared continued patting on some more of the slightly sticky pigment. And then, heart-stoppingly, he looked away from Evan’s mouth and straight into his eyes as if he had felt him looking but a tiny quirk of his eyebrows made Evan think that he had not expected their eyes to meet.

In a desperate attempt to make Jared think that Evan looking at him had been completely coincidental, Evan quickly jerked his gaze away, roaming about the room again instead, but when it returned to Jared, he found the other still looking at him with a entirely indecipherable but astonishingly soft look in his eyes that made Evan’s veins shiver pleasantly. 

The air between them felt as viscous as the liquid lipstick and time seemed to drip equally as sluggishly. 

Despite wanting to search the rest of Jared’s face for more clues about the meaning of this softness, Evan could not quite manage to will his eyes away from Jared’s for a second time. Jared’s eyes had always been his give-away and had for some time now been what had kept Evan by his side, no matter how insensitive he could be. It had not taken long for Evan to figure out that Jared had begun to almost always put up some kind of facade but no matter how hard Jared tried there was a certain kind of sincerity in his eyes that let Evan know that somewhere behind even the most poisonous of his stings, there was a kind heart. And right now all of that bravado was stripped away and there was a hint of what looked like vulnerability in Jared’s eyes, which was entirely new.

Evan finally managed to tear his gaze away from Jared’s eyes only to let it flicker to his lips that were a barely parted curtain, revealing his front teeth.

“Yeah, I think that’s as good as it’s going to get, weirdo,” Jared spat, hastily screwing the lipstick shut and throwing it back among its friends that still lay on top of the vanity table. He took several steps back and pushed his glasses up his nose. All his guards were back up in the blink of an eye.

The tension in the room had turned from sweetly suffocating to something that latched awkwardly onto Evan’s throat and threatened to rip out his Adam’s apple, if he swallowed too hard.

Instinctively having looked down, Evan now directed his eyes to the mirror in front of him and found his chin and the side of his mouth painted exactly as splotchy as expected of somebody like Jared (not that Evan could have done it any better) but Jared had found the balance between barely any blood and overdone orgy of violence in an unexpectedly tasteful way.

“No, I think you did, uh, did a really good job actually.” Evan was still examining his reflection. “Like, better than I thought you would.”

“Wow, thank you for having so much faith in me.” Jared snorted a laugh and pushed up his glasses again.

“No, sorry, it’s good. Really.“

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Like, I know I’m never going to be one of those ga— those guys who do make-up on YouTube that people love right now.”

Evan nodded a bit, mouthing a meaningless, “Cool, good,” and looking back into the mirror, and then at Jared again, whose gaze was firmly trained on the golden pathos hanging from the ceiling above Evan’s head.

“You can use some of Ruth’s hair gel, if you want,” Jared said, still not quite looking at him but lifting his leg and pointing in the general direction of the container with his big toe that was cheekily peeking out through a hole in his sock, “expose that widow’s peak I know you’re hiding behind those bangs.”

All left-over tension dissipated at the goofiness of his gesture and the lopsided half-grin Jared had donned. This was a game Evan knew how to play.

“I don’t have a widow’s peak. I’m seventeen!” Evan said and vehemently pushed his bangs back as if he needed to prove it.

“Hey, some people are less fortunate than you. I’m sure there are people who start naturally losing their hair at seventeen. My uncle told me that one of his friends was already completely bald, when he turned twenty-one.”

Evan rested his cheek on his hand. “Just because you are insecure about not being able to grow facial hair, doesn't mean you have to try to find fault with my hair.”

“Ow, that’s hurtful, ouch! You didn’t have to go there, Evan.” Jared clutched his chest with both hands and let himself fall back against the wardrobe, sliding to the floor. He looked up at Evan accusingly. “You know it’s ‘cause my parents got divorced.”

“So did mine?”

“Yeah, but you were, what, four, five? I was twelve, which is, of course, an especially crucial age, so I will probably need at least seven years to catch up with you,” Jared explained in a very serious manner. “Unless, unless! Ruth’s presence soothes this stunt in my development but that it highly hypothetical as there is not enough research on the influence of a sudden butch presence in the lives of teenage boys, which is a field that is obviously only so painfully under-researched due to raging heteronormativity and covert homophobia.”

Involuntarily, Evan grinned at this display that was so perfectly Jared in every word that he presented as if any of them held even a shred of scientific value and in every sweeping gesture that he used to underline his points.

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings then. That wasn't very nice of me.”

“No, it wasn’t but you’re forgiven, I guess,” Jared said and ran a hand through his hair again. “Now do whatever with your perfectly intact hair.”

“Or maybe you,” Evan’s brain was already screaming at him but it was too late to stop this poorly crafted quip from leaving his mouth now, “could help me again, since you did such a great job with my make-up.”

Something unidentifiable crossed Jared’s face as the air around them started to creep with black beetles again and Evan, starting to regret ever having learnt how to speak, tried to shoo them away with a chuckle that came out all awful and distorted sounding.

“I think you’ve got this.” Jared avoided looking at him again as he got back on his feet. “Put on one of those,” he pointed to the two shirts that hung on the foot of the bed and had miraculously not fallen yet. “They won't fit perfectly but Ruth said they’re too big on her and it’s miles better than you being a vampire in a green polo shirt. The jeans are bad enough but I guess at least you’re not wearing your fucking khakis.”

Evan tried another laugh, which came out marginally better than the one before.

“Right, I’m going to go change, too. Like, this is not an outfit the general public is ready for,” Jared said, pursing his lips and looking directly into Evan’s eyes now as if to challenge him. Although Evan had no idea what he could be being challenged to.

This time Evan just went for a grin, which worked infinitely better. “Definitely not ready.”

He was not even kidding. Evan wholeheartedly believed that the general public was not ready to witness Jared Kleinman in a Star Wars t-shirt under a flannel (this part was harmless and pretty standard for Jared) and a pair of pyjama pants that had only the absolute worst emojis on it. Rosemarie had bought them for him in a misguided attempt to be a Cool Mom and Jared, allegedly, only wore them because the fabric was of an especially soft knit.

Evan’s light tone had at least somewhat succeeded in disinfesting the air and Jared grinned back at him, before he left, letting out a short cackle at Evan’s repeated “See you.”

Jared closed the door to his room, leant against it and tilted his head back until it hit the door with a dumb thud. “I am an idiot,” he huffed to himself with his eyes screwed shut, “an absolute first class imbecile.”

As the evening progressed it became more apparent to him that his avoidance tactic had only served to bring his feelings back tenfold, when shocked with an Evan dose as concentrated as this. And he was not sure how he was going to handle that for the rest of the night. He had already been dangerously incompetent just then. Things had been fine, when they had stuck to their routine thanks to the assuaging familiarity but now… Now he had been stupid enough to offer to get all up in Evan’s space. Not even offered it, really, he had just done it, which had disastrously meant that he had had to look at Evan’s lips for a prolonged period of time. And then Evan had looked at him Like That and Jared did not know what to make of that situation at all.

He put his thumb to his mouth but a hot sting of pain made him switch to the nail of his pointer finger to gnaw on that instead. He tried to compose himself for another minute, before quickly throwing on a pair of black jeans and his white shirt. Jared had to carefully extract the right sleeve from under Macavity’s ass as he was extremely busy licking his front legs and could not be asked to move an inch or two. He let out a disgruntled mewl as Jared freed the shirt sleeve.

“Ugh, so sorry, Duke of Bastardy,” Jared said while buttoning the shirt up.

He grabbed the scarlet-and-gold tie from the bed, stopping to press a flock of tiny kisses on the little head of his cat, who received the affection with the same stoic face as he always did.

For some reason Jared had not yet been able to master the ability of tying a tie without a mirror and at this point he sincerely doubted he ever would, so he exited his own mirrorless room to go to the bathroom. On the landing he caught a short glance at Evan through the door he had left ajar. Apparently Evan had deemed it appropriate to sit at his mom’s vanity table shirtless and with his hands in his hair.

Jared did not really find this acceptable and swiftly entered the bathroom, where he tied his tie significantly less swiftly. He gave up at attempt number three, which he decided was still bad but good enough, then haphazardly ran a brush through his hair in a desperate attempt to sort out whatever was going on there.

It was then that his eyes settled on Bathroom Frog, sparking a new idea in his head that would a) make his costume at least a little bit less boring and b) would save him from having to go back to his mom’s make-up to draw the stupid scar on his forehead, which he was not sure he would be able to do without immediately perishing due to gay embarrassment, or worse have Evan volunteer to draw it, which, again, would likely result in his sudden and gay death.

Bathroom Frog was really a monstrosity. She was a palm-sized, sickly teal crochet frog with awful, bulging, red button eyes and a tiny, mauve bow on her head. His grandma had gifted her to his mother, when she had first moved out and since then she had moved from bathroom to bathroom whenever his mom had moved house. In a way, Bathroom Frog was the closest thing Jared had to an older sister.

He grabbed her and ran back down the stairs, almost breaking his neck as he tripped on the one stair mat that  had recently gotten loose around the edge.

The scene in the living room was basically the same as it had been, when he had been in there earlier. On one end of the couch, Ruth was sitting and knitting a striped sock identical to the two she had on her feet that  were resting on the coffee table and his mom was sprawled across the rest, her poofy skirt making her look like an overflowing trick-or-treat bucket. She had her feet in her girlfriend’s lap, a notebook in her own and a witch’s hat still sitting on her head, although the doorbell had not rung in a while, considering it was close to ten. His mom was already looking at him expectantly, when Jared stepped in.

“Hey, Mom, can I take Bathroom Frog with me?”

“Are you dressing up as Neville?”

Jared knew exactly, where the evil root of him being a fucking nerd sat and it was on their living room couch. He was only grateful that his mom was perfectly content with being enthusiastic about things by herself, so he did not have to worry about her stumbling across fan works of Harry and Draco going at it in the Kinky Sex Dungeon of Requirement or whatever people were into nowadays.

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure you’re the only person who could guess that this quickly,” Jared said in his Teasing Mom Voice.

“It wasn’t that hard,” his mom replied, wiggling her toes as Ruth compared the length of the sock she was knitting to her feet. “I know he’s always been your favourite. You look great, Bear.”

“Whatever. Can I take her or not? It’d be the first real excitement for her, since Macavity locked himself in the bathroom last year.”

“I think that was actually two years ago,” Ruth commented.

His mom wrinkled her brow for a couple of seconds. “Yeah, I think you’re right. It was that February we had that trouble with the heating not—”

Jared cleared his throat and waved with Bathroom Frog to prevent his mom from straying further off-topic.

“Oh, right. Of course, you can take her. Just be careful.” A grin spread across his mom’s round cheeks, “She’s a family heirloom after all.”

“For the last time, she does not count as a family heirloom, until you pass her on to me because you didn’t inherit her from grandma and I’m very sure the term family heirloom implies that a thing has been in the possession of a family for at least two generations.”

“Careful what you wish for, kid,” Ruth said under her breath accompanied by a raise of her brows.

Further debate was luckily interrupted by the sound of the stairs creaking timidly this time, leaving no doubt as to who was coming down, since Macavity, despite running them as recklessly as Jared did, was too light to set off the fun sound effects.

When his mom exclaimed, “Oh, don’t you look precious!” Jared was still standing with his back to the door, trying to stealthily steel himself, but when he caught Ruth looking at him weirdly, he abruptly turned around to avoid whatever that was supposed to mean at the same time as his mom corrected herself, “Or, I mean, you look very handsome, Evan.”

And, oh boy, was she right. Evan did look very handsome.

The black shirt was a little tight but in an acceptable way. It fit better than Jared had honestly expected it to. He was already wearing the cape as well, strings tied and all this time, and Jared wondered how he had bargained with Macavity for it so peacefully that they had not heard a word of it downstairs. It was his hair that really took the cake though. Jared could not remember the last time Evan’s dark hair had looked like he had done something other than brush through it, and Evan had no business looking this cute with his usually pretty floppy bangs pushed up into a little quiff. It was not a perfect job and even Jared, whose hairstyling knowledge was about as distinguished as his knowledge of the Spanish language — no bueno — could tell that Evan had probably only vaguely known what he had been doing. It was just the right shade of imperfect, though. A small smile was squirming around his lips, making the lipstick blood almost seem animated and one of his hands was rubbing at the back of his neck. Evan’s entire posture screamed that he was not quite sure how to react to his friend’s mom, who he had also known for longer than a decade, complimenting his appearance. Which was fair enough.

But the effect all of this had on Jared was his heart hiccuping in his chest even harder than it usually did, when confronted with Evan’s general existence. He tightly balled up his fists in his pockets, strangling Bathroom Frog in the process, to keep himself from inhaling sharply. It took him a few long moments to squeeze out, “Great, we can be on our way then.”

Except of course, they could not be on their way yet because his mom, an avid Photographer of Memories,  demanded the occasion to be commemorated with a photo.

“Please, Bear, I haven’t taken one of you in so long.”

She really had dialled back on the photo front at his request some time ago and there was something woeful hidden in her face now, so he could not refuse her that, only sending a short, apologetic glance at Evan, who shrugged and gave a series of small nods at the same time.

“Wait, we forgot the scar!” Evan said, as they were already standing way too close to one another, gesturing to his own forehead and then to Jared’s. “Your scar, Harry’s scar.”

“Oh, yeah, change of plans,” Jared pulled Bathroom Frog out of his pocket, “I decided to be Neville instead.”

“Longbottom?”

“What other Neville could I possibly be?”

“Okay, boys, ready?” His mom asked with a big smile.

Apparently to Evan this was a signal to step even closer and put his arm around Jared’s shoulder as he mumbled, “Sorry. But that’s, uh, totally cool. I like Neville.”

Jared ignored him. He could tell without looking that Evan was smiling and that, combined with their close proximity, felt like a recipe for disaster, if he took his current heart rate into account.

His mom then had the glorious idea that they should take another photo with her in it, too, since she was still wearing her witch’s hat and a dress that had a ridiculous jack-o-lantern pattern going on. At first, this seemed great because Jared easily was able to strategically place his mom between him and Evan but then Evan took it upon himself to ensure their arms were still touching behind his mom’s back. This unlucky accident should theoretically have been better than the full arm-around-him situation before but was in practice only slightly more bearable, due to the fact that Ruth had taken about three non-blurry photographs in her life and thus, they had to stay in position for twice as long.

“Oh,” said Jared’s mom, while they waited awkwardly for Ruth to fix whatever issue she was having, “what’s a vampire’s favourite fruit?”

Jared immediately rolled his eyes. He had Heard this one. “I don’t know, Mom. Could it be a fricking blood orange?”

To his utter surprise, his Mom said, “Wrong!” in triumph, and, after a suspenseful pause, “A neck-tarine!”

He really didn’t want to laugh but between his mom finally having a new punchline after a decade of telling the same stupid joke and Evan’s dutiful laughter, Jared could not repress a cackle forcing its way out of him. He half-noticed Ruth rapidly stop pinching the bridge of her nose and trying to capture some candids.

The picture taking was followed by an obligatory lecture by his mom, given to them while they put on their shoes, on how they should not drink, or at least drink responsibly, Evan, but you drive home sober and safe, Jared, and call me, if you do have even a drop of an alcoholic beverage because I would rather be woken up by that and come pick you up than be woken up by the police and come visit you in the hospital and most importantly, have fun, boys!

“Okay, bye now,” Jared shouted as he shut the front door. “Sorry, she, like, had an accident in college or whatever, so —”

“No, that’s fine,” Evan interrupted as he sat down in the passenger seat, wedging a half empty bottle of vodka between his knees, which Jared had discreetly grabbed from the liquor cabinet, Ruth suddenly concentrating extremely hard on counting the stitches of the half-sock and his mom smoothing down her already impeccable skirt. “She’s right, I mean, that was really nice of her.”

“Sure.”

Jared was already contemplating breaking the No Alcohol Rule and have his mom come later because the way Evan was looking at him now was not only unreadable but completely unbearable too. He was flicking his finger against the bottle, a tiny tinkling sound escaping each time the nail hit the glass.

“Ready to go then?” Jared waited for Evan’s face to break into a bright smile and for him to nod enthusiastically, like one of those bobblehead dogs old people had in the back of their cars, before starting the engine. “Then let’s rock ’n’ roll, buckaroo.”

The ride over to Sabrina’s house had been fairly quick and quiet, until, out of the blue, Jared had interrupted one of the One Direction guys proclaiming that he would never turn the hearer’s heart into broken parts, and had asked Evan what a vampire’s favourite holiday was.

“Uh, Halloween?” Evan had said, well-knowing that it was definitely not the correct answer.

Jared had directed a long, judgmental look at him. Just when Evan had been about to tell him to keep his eyes on the road, please, Jared had looked away and said, with tons of emphasis to stress how little Evan’s answer impressed him: “Fangsgiving.”

“Oh no,” Evan had muttered and sighed exhaustedly.

“Hey! Where’s that polite laugh my mom got?” A grin spreading across his face had betrayed Jared’s mock offendedness. “Jesus, it’s like you don't even try to be friendly with me.”

Evan had rolled his eyes, which Jared had probably seen, considering how lax he had been about looking where he was driving a few moments before, but hadn't commented on it. Neither of them had broken the silence between them again, the only sounds in the car a shuffled playlist of a miscellaneous array of songs, Jared humming along, and, on occasion, the blinker’s soft ticking.

Sabrina Patel’s house, on the other hand, was anything but quiet. The driveway was technically full and a number of people had decided to just park on the street. Jared, though, managed to squeeze his car into an impossibly narrow gap between the neighbour’s fence and another car purely because he believed it was possible. He looked like the cat that got the cream as he killed the engine. Maybe it was because Evan didn't drive himself but he could not help but be genuinely impressed by Jared’s skills that he knew came from the firm belief Jared’s dad held that parking a car was the number one most important lifeskill. And although Jared had complained to Evan about the relentless practice sessions without end, Evan guessed that it had been worth it, judging by the triumphant “Ha!” Jared let out once they had struggled out of the car.

The music was at a level that probably wouldn't upset any neighbours but got louder as they approached the front door. Just as they took the first steps up the porch, the front door opened and the music increased exponentially in volume.

“I said absolutely no smoking inside! Can’t you read?! My parents will kill me!” An angered Sabrina shoved a guy, who Evan thought was called Mike, outside.

Possibly-Mike stumbled and grumbled something incomprehensible, before joining a small group standing at the corner of the house.

It looked like Sabrina was about to shut the door again, when she hesitated, spotting Jared and Evan still standing on the steps. “Oh my God?!” Her eyebrows flew high on her forehead, her bright red lips forming a comically round O.

Evan almost wanted to turn around and leave. Of course Sabrina would be surprised to see him; he wasn't actually invited after all. Before he could make any move at all, Sabrina bounded over to them, her white-and-red polka dotted skirt merrily bouncing up and down with her movement. She wrapped both of them into a baffling hug, one arm each around him and Jared.

“Oh my God, hi! I didn't expect to see you here! Happy Halloween!” she squealed uncomfortably close to Evan’s ear drum.

Evan had automatically returned the hug with one arm but quickly retreated as Sabrina put some distance between them.

“Happy Halloween,” he echoed, while Jared threw a quick “hey Sabrina” in her direction.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Sabrina appeared to be vibrating on the spot. “I didn't really think you'd come but I knew that if you did, you’d come together and I’m so happy that you’re here!” Sabrina repeated, wiggling her head in a way that should have dislocated the large bow on top of her head. “The more the merrier, you know? You know, I always thought both your lockers were in the same hallway as mine but the other day, I went by Paul Simon’s locker because I had to give him some physics notes because he’d been ill the two days before that, and I saw you at your locker, and I said to Bee, because Bee was with me,” Evan was unsure who Bee was but nodded along with the rapidly told story anyways, “I said to her, ‘what is Jared Kleinman doing at that locker?’ and Bee was like, ‘probably putting his stuff away, duh’ because Bee’s locker is in that hallway, too, and first I thought, huh, weird, but then I thought, wow, you’re just such good friends, and it’s like your Evan’s service dog or something.”

Evan winced at that. He saw Jared grimace, too, pulling his head back, so that multiple chins cascaded down his neck.

“Uh, we brought—” Evan feebly held up the half full vodka bottle in a desperate attempt to change the topic.

“We brought an offering,” Jared grinned, making Sabrina giggle.

“Oh, cool! You’re cool.” Sabrina shivered either due to the fact that her black tank top didn't do anything to keep her warm, or because of the egregious lie she had just told. “Let’s go inside! I’ll show you where we have put all the alcohol. You haven't been here before, right?” Without waiting for a response, Sabrina turned and opened the front door again.

Evan cast a brief look at Jared, who just grinned and shrugged. They trailed her inside.

The inside of the house was crawling like an anthill. In the hallway hung a large “No Smoking!!!”-poster, which looked like Sabrina had crafted it herself with the help of copious amounts of red glitter and that seemed predestined to fall soon, if the couple making out next to it didn't take care. Most of the ground floor seemed to usually be a large dining/living room area but all the furniture had been pushed against the walls, creating a crowded dance floor. Some popular song was playing from speakers hooked to a laptop that did not stand very safe on top of a coffee table next to the stumbling dancers. There were more couples engaging in activities more or less decent to display in public scattered across the room. One girl seemed to have lost her shirt, only wearing a black bra, which Evan wasn't sure was part of her costume. A row of windows with a view of the back garden revealed more people sitting on the patio. Everything swam with the rainbow lights projected by at least two disco balls.

Sabrina led them over to an alcove. A severely stained table cloth covered the table, which was heavy with drinks. Square in the middle stood a large glass bowl filled with a crimson liquid; the ladle leaning against it looked sticky, like it had fallen in at least once. A wonkily scribbled sign, bedazzled with more red glitter labelled it as Blood Punch.

“This is our drinks table,” Sabrina explained needlessly, taking the bottle from Evan and playing it among the others. “But we also have non-alo—, non-alcolo— They’re sober drinks! To, like, mix and stuff and there’s more in the kitchen. And there’s beer in the fridge. If you want.”

Evan shook his head. “No, thanks.”

At the same time, Jared said, “Yeah, sure.”

Sabrina disappeared around a corner, presumably to get a beer for Jared, who ignored Evan’s irritated look in favour of craning his neck to inspect the table next the drinks one.

“Oh, hell yeah.” Jared strayed over, grabbed something from a quaint-looking basket and bit into it. Gleefully he said, “Sabrina’s mom’s pakoras!”

One of Jared’s hands held a second pakora out to Evan. When he didn't immediately accept, Jared wiggled it, like he was ringing a bell, until Evan took the fried snack from him.

“You know,” Sabrina returned and handed Jared a can, “I love Harry Potter. Such a fun costume!” She turned around to nonchalantly fill a solo cup with Blood Punch.

“Oh yeah? I’m not Harry, though, guess again,” Jared replied.

Evan accepted the cup Sabrina thrust into his hand but tuned out of the conversation; his interest in Harry Potter had mostly been fuelled by Jared, who had lent him the books one after the other as soon as he had finished them himself, when they were children. (He didn't care much for it now.)

He recognised most of the people in the crowd; he’d been going to school with them for years after all. Some looked a little older, like they were friends of Sabrina’s brother, but Evan distantly remembered some being at their school a few years back. Even though he could put names to most of the faces, he doubted they knew who he was at all. Or if they did, then only because of some presentation turned disaster, or from that one time he had had a very public panic attack in the middle of the hallway the second week of his freshman year, when Jared had been the only one trying to help instead of stare, and that was probably why Sabrina thought he was his service dog. He nibbled on his pakora. As Jared had promised, it was incredibly tasty.

“I’m actually a Ravenclaw and — Oh my God! Sandy!” Sabrina’s screech alerted Evan out of his thoughts. “Our song!”

She walked off dancing, rising her arms and swaying her hips as the Spice Girls commanded everybody to tell them what they wanted. A flock of girls swarmed to the dance floor now, the girl in the bra — Sandy — very dramatically pointing to and dancing in the direction of the guy she had been making out with.

“Sabrina just called me adorable.”

“What?” It took Evan a second to comprehend what Jared was saying.

“Okay, I know you just zoned out but Sabrina said it was adorable,” he put air-quotes around the words, “that I dressed up as Neville. Nobody has ever called me adorable, other than like my mom. Maybe your mom, actually. I mean I don't care too much because of, you know, the whole gay thing and she definitely meant it in, like, a buddy way but still. Who’d have thunk?”

“I mean, she’s right, I guess.”

“Uhm,” Jared mouth stood just agape enough to show that he was biting his tongue.

Evan was grateful to have couple of moments to process that he had just said that. (Not that it wasn't true. But he hadn't expected to tell Jared that tonight. Or ever, perhaps.)

Finally, Jared said, gesturing to the dance floor with his can of beer, “Do you think there’s some kind of universal girl initiation ritual, where they all learn the lyrics, or are they just born like that?”

“The first one probably. And that’s also when they learn how to do the Macarena.”

“Are you telling me you don't know how to dance the Macarena?!”

“Yeah?”

“How,” Jared pulled out all the dramatics to deliver this sentence, ”how have I known you all my life without knowing that you don't know how to dance the Macarena?”

Evan half-smiled, shrugging one shoulder with the jerky movement of a malfunctioning animatronic.

“Wow, what a tragedy,” Jared said dryly. “I’ll have to teach you someday.” He took a swig from his can. His nose scrunched up as his mouth twisted into an unappreciative frown.

“Why do you drink it?” He must have spoken particularly quietly because Jared usually heard him, even in a bustling school hallway on a Friday afternoon.

But now he looked back at Evan, mouthing, “Huh?”

“The beer. Why do you drink it? You don't like beer.”

“I don’t know, Evan, I suppose, we can't all get hammered on freaking Blood Punch or whatever because some of us have to drive others home later.”

Evan was absolutely not planning on getting drunk tonight. He wasn't necessarily opposed to the idea of drinking alcohol on principle (the vodka bottle they had brought, for example, had been full, when they had first snuck it out of the cabinet, in actual secrecy) but doing so in a strange house and surrounded by virtual strangers was entirely different, he felt, from getting tipsy in Jared’s room, while playing a shitty first-person shooter or watching ridiculous products being promoted on QVC.

“But that doesn't really make any sense. Why don't you just drink something without alcohol that also tastes nice?”

“Maybe I still want to stretch the rules a little bit. Not everything has to make sense, Count Quackula,” Jared snapped. He looked around the room as if searching for something, or someone, but then just went to get another pakora and bit into it harshly.

“Okay, sorry,” Evan mumbled, which Jared acknowledged with a twitch of his full mouth.

It was not that Evan needed a logical explanation for everything but so many confusing things around Jared had already happened this night that having one thing make a little bit of sense would have been nice. But instead there was now the added mystery of just how Jared had managed to infuse the words Count Quackula with as much venom as he had. Evan eyed Jared out of the corner of his eye and sucked in his bottom lip. A stale, somewhat bitter taste reminded him of the lipstick blood there, so he took another sip of the punch instead. It was super sweet, tasted of strawberry. And he knew he should probably be careful with it.

Jared’s shoulders were slightly drawn up and he was chewing on the inside of one of his cheeks. He brought a finger to his mouth first, before quickly pushing up his glasses with a slightly greasy thumb. He pulled his shoulders all the way up to his ears.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said, dropping his shoulders and letting out the rest of a breath he’d apparently held.

If Evan stumbled home dizzy tonight, it would have little to do with alcohol and lot to do with Jared Kleinman. He was giving Evan whiplash with the way he was ping-ponging between… Evan didn't even know between what. He could not really recall the last time Jared had sincerely apologised to him. Perhaps when they had been thirteen and Jared had laughed so hard at some stupid, now long-forgotten joke Evan had made that he’d kicked Evan’s X-Men mug off the coffee table. He looked at Jared’s left hand. Picking up the shards had left Jared with a cut near his thumb, which Evan had patched up and he wondered, if the scar was still visible now.

“What?” Jared sounded mildly aggravated.

Evan felt like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His head jolted up to meet Jared’s eyes that looked slightly distorted behind his glasses with the kaleidoscope lights passing over them.”Hm?”

“You were just… Whatever. It’s nothing.”

The unfinished sentence sent Evan’s brain reeling with possible endings. You were just inspecting my hand, like, who does that. You were just totally platonically wondering why the backs of my hands look so smooth, when your knuckles get rough and the skin cracks in the cold, whether you use lotion or not. You were just being weird as usual, even weirder than usual, actually.

“Drink up,” Jared knocked on the cup in Evan’s hands. “And, or fill up. We can’t stand about here all night. We gotta mingle with people.”

“Right, yeah, of course,” Evan didn’t really know how to do that, mingle with people, but he knocked back the rest of his drink and refilled half of his cup. A little more punch wouldn’t hurt and it did really taste nice, if slightly artificial. Still better than any mixing of drinks he and Jared had attempted in the past.

When Evan turned around, Jared had already stridden over to a small group of people near the entrance to the kitchen and joined them. The punch must have hit him a bit already, Evan thought , when he caught himself staring at Jared with his lips stretched in a small smile. Jared was laughing at something with the rest of the group, before looking around until he stopped at Evan. His brows danced high up on his forehead, then dropped down into a small, puzzled frown, accompanied by slight shake of his head. Jared jerked his head in a come-hither motion. Because, right, Evan was supposed to mingle with people, not just stand here, sticking out like a lone star among constellations, and if anybody noticed him, they would probably think he was a loner and didn’t have any friends, or anybody to talk to, which… He walked over, only feeling slightly shaky and stood next to Jared, adding to the half-moon of people already gathered.

“Were you just going to stand there all whimsical? Because you looked like you were trying to decide, who here would make the tastiest snack tonight,” Jared grinned. “You know, since you’re all —“ He clarified by baring his teeth and hissing; his empty hand turned into a claw.

Evan laughed. “I think I was right earlier. You’re not intimidating.”

“Wasn’t trying!” Jared protested, exasperated. “And it’s not like you’re the scariest person in the world.”

“You just said I looked like I was going to eat somebody.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t so much intimidating as it was —“ He abruptly stopped. Jared’s ears changed colour as he struggled for words. “Irritating.”

Jared turned back to the conversation, before Evan could respond in any way. Which was for the best, since he had not yet worked out what an appropriate reaction would be to… that, whatever that had been. The words had had no bite or joking twinkle, which was irritating.

Maybe Jared was tired of him, or didn’t want him here, or Jared would have rather gone to the party on his own. Evan had been at his house for a long time today. And perhaps that was why Jared had wanted to talk to other people but, no. No, Evan said to himself, Jared wouldn’t have even come here, if Evan hadn’t suggested it and the whole point of that had been to be normal and to not worry, so he was not going to worry because then they might as well have stayed at Jared’s house, or he might as well have stayed at home even and worried about the trick-or-treaters throwing the candy he gave them back into his face. So he was not going to worry.

He took a drink. Concentrated on the sickly sweet strawberry flavour bursting across his tongue. How the tiny carbonation pearls tickled the inside of his cheeks. And tried to finally, actually join the conversation that had been going on around him. And if not join, then listen to it at least.

“Yeah, my aunt went swimming with sharks in the summer. It was fucking sick. I have a picture on my phone, wait a second. I’ll show you,” said a guy called Steve, who either had not come in costume or was dressed as somebody Evan didn’t recognise, already scrolling through his phone.

He showed the picture around. It really did look fucking sick. The conversation jumped from sharks to other animals to cryptids to fellow students, who may or may not be kleptomaniacs, to teachers, who were having an affair with one another. A core of few remained steady, while the rest of the cast of people in their circle changed around merrily. The music traversing genres in the background made it hard for Evan to really focus and he was acutely aware of the fact that he had been silent, except for a few expressive ohs, the entire time he had been there. He was also aware of Jared beside him, standing so close that Evan could feel every movement of his, especially when he raised his arm to drink from the beer still in his hand, which Evan thought should really have been empty by now.

“Cute cape, Evan,” said a raspy, accented voice next to him.

Evan startled a little, surprised that not only was somebody actively talking to him but that they knew his name, too.

The somebody was Steph Anderson, a redhead, who had made a comment about how the fastest shark ever recorded had been a female great white earlier. She’d wandered off shortly after but had rejoined them a few minutes prior. Evan frankly didn't think he had exchanged a single word with her his entire life. But he faintly remembered Jared telling him, when she had moved here from Scotland during their sophomore year.

“Cute, uh, nice… I like your hair.”

“Thanks,” Steph chortled. “Pippi Longstocking is my hero.”

“How many people have asked you, if you’re Wendy tonight?” Jared said suddenly.

Evan hadn't known that he had been listening to them.

“Oh, way too many, Kleinman,” Steph said dryly.

“You’re not even wearing any blue bows or whatever.”

“Right?” Steph nudged the two thin rings in her right nostril with her finger.

“You should wear exactly the same costume next year and just add some blue bows. And then when people ask, if you’re Pippi Longstocking again, you can go, ‘Obviously, I’m Wendy,’” Evan tried his best to sell the joke, inflecting his voice the way Jared did sometimes, when he was overdramatising something , even throwing his empty hand up for effect in a slightly angular arch. And it worked, if the way Steph’s nose scrunched up like an accordion to accompany her goofy laugh was anything to go by.

“Funny,” she said. “If I planned on still being here next year, I’d definitely do that.”

“How’d you, uh, do that with your hair,” Evan asked, gesturing to the plaits sticking out sideways from Steph’s head with his cup, since his other hand was busy fiddling with the strings of his cute cape.

“Oh, there’s some wire in there. My little sister helped me do the plaits around it.”

“Oh, so,” Evan lowered his voice and leant in closer to Steph, “who’s listening in on this right now?”

“Huh?” Steph looked bewildered.

Perhaps Evan should not try to make any more jokes. He pulled back quickly enough to need a second to stabilise himself, the blur of the world unsettling him.

“Because, uh,” he let out a shaky literal heh-laugh, “you know, wire and bugs, like wiretaps—“ He was not selling this at all.

“Oh, got it!” Steph’s nose concertinaed again. “Funny.”

She bumped the bottom of her cup against the side of his a bit too enthusiastically. The egg yolk yellow liquid sloshed over the rim of her cup, spilling on the back of Evan’s hand.

“Oh, fuck, sorry,” Steph said, licking the back of her own hand, “sorry.”

Evan grinned back at her. “No, that’s okay.” He went to wipe his hand on his shirt, before remembering that it was a loan. He just mimicked Steph and licked the liquid off instead, too. It tasted strongly of vodka and Evan wondered, if it was the vodka that he and Jared had brought.

Steph opened her mouth like she was going to say something but got interrupted by Jared bumping against Evan as he headed for the exit, mumbling, “I’m going outside for a sec. There’s like, no oxygen at all in here.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Evan asked, making Jared pause. 

“Thanks, Evan, but I don’t need a babysitter.” The light shone on his teeth but his eyes did not look quite right and Evan did not think it was because of the lights bouncing off his glasses. Jared went.

When Evan and Steph looked at each other, she gave a jerky, little shake of the head, her brows knitted together and lips in a tight, close-lipped smile, an unspoken “what’s his fucking deal?”

Evan shrugged exaggeratedly and pulled at the collar of his shirt. His throat felt tight, even though he had left the first few buttons undone. He had vowed not to worry, which was really getting easier as he got to the bottom of his cup again. He took a last swig as Steph told him about how she hoped to go back to Scotland to study biology, so she could could get a degree without being indebted for life. This newly found mutual interest in nature allowed thoughts of Jared to drift to the back of Evan’s mind like a balloon to a high ceiling.

The cool air spread into every square inch of Jared’s lungs. Right of the door leading outside, a couple of people were grouped around a bench and were smoking, so Jared turned left, not really wanting all of his clothes to smell of tobacco. The patio floor was constructed of wood that felt cold and damp, when Jared sat down cross-legged around the corner with his back against the rough facade of the house. He took another deep breath and puffed it back out. He hadn't even realised how stuffy it had been inside, until now. He pushed up his glasses, brushed a hand through his hair and then went to play with the tab of the long-empty beer can he still cradled in his lap. Pushed it up, down, up, down, up, down. Left, right.

Jared felt like puking his guts out. He felt like lobotomising himself. Then his idiot brain might stop sending stupid signals to his dumbass heart and he could stop letting arbitrary events, like a lost looking Evan visually anchoring himself to him, the one familiar person in the room, get his hopes up. Until Steph Anderson had stepped in with her dimples and her Funny, and he wasn’t jealous. Even when Evan had told him that he thought he was bi, oddly enough as the end credits to Little Shop of Horrors had rolled, Jared hadn't let his hopes get high enough for jealousy to play any role. He was just… disheartened.

The tab broke off his can. He regarded the tiny piece of metal for a moment. Flipping it around between his fingers. The hollow sound of metal on metal, when he tapped it against the top of the can, was not quite satisfying. He let go of it and instead began to fidget with the bow on Bathroom Frog’s head, which stuck out over the seam of his jeans pocket.

And he knew, he knew, that it was a dick move to leave Evan alone in a social situation because Jared knew that, generally speaking, those made Evan uncomfortable. Then again, he was also familiar with Tipsy Evan and Tipsy Evan was quite a chipper creature, so maybe he wasn’t being such a bad friend after all. Evan had brought this one upon himself, really. Jared could only hope Evan was not about to develop a crush on Steph now. He liked Steph, but if Evan began to torture him with thoughts on her piercings or how smart she was or whatever, Jared was going to rip out this abysmal, clenching, cramping heart of his.

He had been alone with his thoughts for maybe five minutes, when a distinct, precisely enunciating voice addressed him. “Sitting on the cold ground can be really damaging for your kidneys, did you know that?”

“What the crap—“

Alana Beck stood before him with what looked like a bed sheet slung around her like a toga. In what little light there was Jared could barely make out that, of course, Alana  Beck had been sensible enough to wear a long-sleeved shirt underneath that almost completely blended in with the dark brown colour of her skin.

“If your kidneys get too cold, you’re at risk for several kidney-related illnesses and having functioning kidneys is crucial. When I was nine, my dad had a really bad kidney infection and the doctors thought he might need a transplant.”

“Uh-huh.” As riveting as Illness Talk was, Jared was not in the mood to hear about Alana Beck’s dad’s medical history. He wasn't even sure, if he would recognise him in the street.

“Luckily, he didn’t need one in the end, but he has to be especially careful in cold weather now.” Alana nodded in that sage way she always did, slowly, subtly, three careful bobs of the head.

“And your kidneys are sufficiently warmed in that Aphrodite costume then?” He didn't know why he said that. Why he prolonged this conversation with Alana, who he didn't dislike but who had a tendency to start talking about whatever achievements she had recently received within the next minute. Because that was great for Jared’s sense of self-worth.

“I’m flattered, Jared, but in most depictions of Aphrodite her breasts are exposed and I don’t think I would be completely comfortable with that.”

Neither would he. He wasn't sure, if she had meant it as a joke but he grinned up at Alana from where he was still endangering his kidneys by sitting on the ground anyway. “Maybe you’d literally freeze your tits off but at least your kidneys wouldn’t get cold.”

That got him an actual laugh. From Alana. Alana, who was all polite flight attendant smiles. Alana laughed. It sounded almost artificial, clipped and short, like she had forgotten what her genuine laugh sounded like. She pulled the end of her always neat, always tight ponytail forward.

In the half-light from the window next to them, he could make out tiny shapes at the end of it but he had to get up to actually see them. So he did. His kidneys probably thanked him. Upon closer inspection the shapes turned out to be maybe a dozen triangular snake heads with thin wool string tongues flickering out of their mouths, each holding a bunch of Alana’s braids together.

“Wow, those look really cool. Did you make them yourself?”

“Thank you,” Alana’s smile slid neatly into place. “I actually do volunteer work with a group of less fortunate children sometimes and this month we did some Halloween and costume crafts during our meetings. They are made from paper-mache. Some of the kids were very enthusiastic about helping me, actually. I think it is so important to support them because they are good kids, even if some of them can be a challenge to deal with from time to time.”

There it was. Achievement Talk. Jared for one was glad that Alana usually punctuated her sentences with a short silence, so he could cut in, before she continued without seeming excessively rude. He was totally not in the mood to hear about all the reasons why Alana Beck was a freaking saint or whatever.

“Well, I guess I’m lucky I’m not all—“ Jared froze for a few seconds, grimacing in terror for effect. “—now. Medusa, right? Scary stuff.”

Something about her eyes changed, making Alana’s flight attendant smile seem more real. “It is a pretty sad story, actually. Some scholars argue that Medusa is not a monster but an inherently tragic figure.”

Jared didn't really care much for Greek mythology, apart from the Hercules Disney movie, but Alana talking about a sad snake woman from ancient Greece was at least better than the previous topic. He walked a few paces over to another big window looking into the living area, while still listening to Alana’s chatter, albeit with only an ear and a half. The loose tab jingled to the ground, when he put his can down next to a flower pot on the outside window sill. The plant in it looked like it had seen better days. A few cigarette buds had been stubbed out in the dirt. Jared didn’t bother picking the tab up.

If he had wanted to know what was going on inside, he would have stayed there but as he stood in front of the window, it was impossible not to look in and… he couldn’t really believe his own eyes. The dining table was set up for beer pong, which was, in itself, not surprising. What was surprising were the apparent teams playing, which looked to be Sabrina and Steph against fucking insufferable Matt Holtzer and — and Evan. Evan, who Jared doubted even knew the rules to beer pong. But there he was, bobbing along to the early 2010s song currently reverberating from the speakers, making the window vibrate. Jared watched Insufferable Matt hand the ball to Evan, who proceeded to eye the cups on the other end of the table for a moment and then threw it with all the confidence of a sword-swinging mouse being devoured by a python. The ball teetered around the edge of one of the cups in the middle, before it fell in. Insufferable Matt threw his arms up in the air way more violently than any person ever needed to and demanded a high-five and a fist-bump from Evan, while Steph and Sabrina screamed and emptied the cup. As if he had felt Jared creepily watching, Evan suddenly looked at him. Jared hoped that it was only because the window was in his natural line of sight. The odds of Evan even being able to see him with the dark outside and the colourful lights inside were hopefully as small as Jared thought them to be. They were not. Evan’s face broke out into a wide, open-mouthed smile and he brought one of his hands up directly next to his face and waved, which made him half-look like the Dilophosaurus from Jurassic Park.

Jared sent a lopsided smile back, barely parted lips stretched tightly and flicked his wrist a singular time in response to the wave. He let his open palm sink down as Evan brought his attention back to the game. Steph took a truly awful shot that propelled the ball to the other side of the room. At least she wasn’t athletically talented either.

“Do you like him?”

Right. Alana had been talking to him. She had stepped closer, looking over his shoulder into the room. He turned away from the window as Sabrina joyfully scrambled back to the table, having retrieved the ball from under an armchair. Jared briefly wondered, if Alana hadn't realised that he had completely zoned out of her lecture on the intricacies of ancient Greek mythology, or if she just was not offended by it, before experiencing a less brief panic at her question.

“Of course, I like him,” Jared said as casually as he could. Alana's usually so calmly placed eyebrows shot up, so he added, “He’s my best friend.”

Alana looked puzzled for a moment, which sent Jared into spirals immediately. He had definitely added that last part way to hastily, like he was trying to cover something up. Which he was, to be fair. He didn't think Alana was particularly perceptive when it came to other people but then again, he didn't know her that well.

“No, not Evan. I meant Matt Holtzer,” Alana said cautiously, once her face had cleared up, like this tiny misunderstanding had thrown her out of whack completely. 

Jared snort-laughed, relieved that his awful attempt at deflection had not been further questioned, and at the ludicrous idea that he held any sort of positive feelings towards Fucking Insufferable Matt. “Of course not, then. Can’t stand the guy. Terribly annoying. Awful sense of humour.”

Alana smiled another smile, even less polite, even more genuine. “Me neither.”

“Don’t you, like, talk to everybody at the school, though?”

“I don’t talk to everybody. Most of my acquaintances are other seniors.”

Jared hummed. “I’m in the same world history class as him. As Matt. It’s so fricking annoying. He always starts really stupid discussions or, like, asks questions that are completely unnecessary and it’s kind of uncomfortable for everybody but him?”

Alana nodded knowingly.

“So like, a couple of weeks ago, he absolute obliterated the uncomfortable scale, completely shattered the bell on the high striker of uncomfortableness. It was the middle of class and we were talking about this text about, I don't know, it was something something Winston Churchill, and out of fucking nowhere Matthew over here starts asking Mrs Foxe about this documentary he watched, where they said Benjamin Franklin might have been a part of some freaky secret club of kinksters in Paris and wanted to know, if she thought that was true.”

Alana’s neat smile flickered into an equally neat, disgusted frown.

“And he got like increasingly specific. You could tell Mrs Foxe tried so hard not to seem uncomfortable and just swiftly move on but fucking Matt was so insistent. I mean, we weren’t even talking about France and I don’t think anybody wants to think about Benji F in any type of sexual context.”

“Well, was he?”

“Was who what?”

“Was Benjamin Franklin in a freaky secret club of kinksters in Paris?” Alana echoing his words back in her inherently professional voice sounded absurd, even if it was laced with something like amusement.

“Oh my God, I don’t know! But if he was, I don’t want to know,” Jared laughed. “The point is that I think Matt should go to jail for harassment or whatever it’s called when you make like thirty people want to erase their short-term memory for half an hour.”

Alana actually laughed at that again, just once, but less unsure than earlier. She kept grinning. “Yes, I heard from one of my acquaintances that when they read The Great Gatsby last year and Mr Fratalli suggested that Nick might be in love with Gatsby, Matt said that wasn't possible because there were no gay people until the 1950s.”

“Holy shit,” Jared cackled. “Everybody knows our genesis goes back to ancient Greece,” he nodded to Alana, “when Achilles and Patroclus gave us our rights. Straight people are wild sometimes.”

His smile and stomach dropped as Jared registered his own words. He looked at his shoes, forcefully shoved his glasses up on his nose and his hands into his pockets. He was stupid today. Why would he let his guard down around Alana? Just because they shared a hatred for fucking Matt Holtzer? This whole everything made him so stupid.

“Yes,” Alana said after a moment of quiet, “they are.”

He looked back up at her. One of her hands was outstretched halfway in his direction, like she had wanted to touch him but changed her mind and then quite forgotten about it. As he searched her face, he found her doing the same to his. Looking for something he sort of hoped she would find now. When their eyes properly connected, Alana’s seemed different, warmer than they had been, softer. Like the smooth inside of an onion, once the harder outer layers have been peeled off. Shy smiles stretched simultaneously across their faces. 

“That’s cool,” Jared said, which didn't really mean anything. He elbowed Alana playfully.

“It’s nice,” she replied, elbowing him back in what seemed to Jared a completely not-Alana-like fashion.

They were silent again.

“You don’t, uhm… You don’t have to spread the word too much among your acquaintances,” Jared finally said, rolling the end of the tie around his right pointer finger. “About me.”

“Oh, okay. Of course.”

“It’s not that I’m… ashamed or anything.” Jared wasn't sure why he felt that he had to defend himself. “It’s just— It’s just, like, nobody’s business, you know?”

“Perhaps, yes.” Alana looked off. “It’s mostly outside of school but I usually tell people that I’m gay, actually.”

“No shit?” Jared felt something akin to envy at how easily the words seemed to flow from Alana’s lips. “It’s not like you have to. Like, you’re probably way too busy to date anyone anyway.”

Alana’s lips pressed together in a tight line and a muscle in one of her cheeks twitched, before returning to a pleasant smile. “But visibility is so important, don’t you think? Especially for other gay people but for everyone really. Take the children I work with, for example. Don’t you think it’s beneficial for all of them to see me just living my life? I mean, being gay is not just about dating, right?”

Jared couldn't really believe he was having a conversation with Alana Beck, past eleven pm, at a Halloween party he hadn't necessarily wanted to go to, about the importance of gay people's visibility. He definitely didn’t have any intellectual insights to reply with. 

“I guess not,” he mumbled and turned his head to look inside again. He inhaled sharply and bit his lip that he felt begin to tremble. Evan seemed to be having the time of his life. Evidently, the teams had changed and Evan had partnered up with Steph, who actually managed to get the ball into one of the other team’s cups now. A noose wrapped around Jared’s heart as he watched Evan awkwardly pick up a cheering Steph and twirl her around. He quickly looked away, back to Alana, whose brows had drawn together, like she was regarding the unexpected outcome of an experiment.

“So you and Evan…“ She trailed off. So much for her not being perceptive.

Jared deliberately waited more than a heartbeat before answering. “We’re friends.” Alana’s inquisitive gaze was still upon him. He forced himself to look back at her, to not give in. While this had been a neat, little heart-to-heart, that was a step too far. He didn’t need Alana to know about that. She could tilt her head all she wanted, if she wanted to look like a freaking cartoon character. “Okay,” she said.

“We’re friends,” he emphasised. “Really. Bros. Pals. Chums.”

“Okay,” Alana repeated, “I understand.”

Jared thought she probably didn’t but it wasn’t like he was in any place to point out that somebody else didn’t have any friends, or like he could correct her any more without stripping his lie of all the painted on credibility and revealing the bare truth.

Alana shivered a little next to him, despite her efforts to make the costume outside-proof, and she wrapped her arms around herself, almost protectively.

The cold was creeping up on Jared, too, now but he didn’t really want to return into the overheated house. “I want to let it be known that, if I had a jacket right now, I would give it to you. I don’t though. Didn’t even bring one.”

“Thank you,” Alana said, teasing almost. “I appreciate the sentiment.”

“What can I say, I’m a true gentleman.” 

That got him another giggle. “I left my coat inside, so if anything I could lend my coat to you.”

“Solidarity.” He grinned at her. “Don’t feel obligated to stay out here, though. If you’re cold. Who would do arts and crafts with the kids, if you got ill? We wouldn't want that.”

He didn't want her to go, honestly. Alana was surprisingly good company, and he definitely didn't want to be left alone with his thoughts right now. The image of Steph and Evan flashed through his mind like a hot needle.

“I know I don’t have to,” Alana said, “but I’ll stay out a little longer.”

“Nice,” Jared said.

“It’s not that cold. These are thermal tights.”

“Yeah, why are you dressed so warm anyway? It’s not exactly typical party attire.”

“Oh, I went trick-or-treating with my neighbour’s children earlier. She didn't have time because she works a lot but they are just six and eight. I thought they should get to go.”

“Oh. Did you tell them about Medusa’s tragedy, too?”

“I did. They actually listened as well,” Alana looked at him as if for permission to give back what she got from him.

Jared cackled.

They were silent for a bit then but Jared didn't feel the need to fill it like he did with the majority of people. It was… fine. Nice.

“You know, my grandma,” Alana’s voice didn’t exactly wobble but it did stray from its usual pattern like a heart beat monitor reporting a minor anomaly. “She always used to say, ‘Like a garden, matters of love are matters of time.’”

“What.” Jared as suddenly extremely relieved that it was Alana and not anybody else with him because although Alana was very talkative, she wasn't one to gossip.

“What is your question?” Alana asked like she hadn’t just spouted Grandma’s Incomprehensible Wisdom.

“Just, what does that even mean?”

“I asked her once, when I was nine. And, well, essentially, love needs time to grow and to flourish, and it is also about the right timing. Like certain flowers have to be planted at a certain time of the year and have specific needs, two people meeting and connecting and falling in love is also a matter of the right circumstances.”

Jared was not sure, if he liked that answer.

“And then it takes to time to heal from it too, like it takes time to restore dead soil; for example, after a break-up, or if love is unrequited.”

Very subtle. If Alana was going to keep prodding, maybe Jared had to resign himself to give up this other secret, too. Since apparently Alana had figured it out anyway. He couldn't stop bitterness from streaming into his voice. “Yeah. It’s been a time.”

Hopefully this would suffice for her to drop it.

“But I think she meant it in a positive way! That it needs some time but that’s all and when that time is up, it will be okay.”

Or not.

“No offence, Alana, but I don’t think I want to hear more about your grandma’s philosophy on love,” he said, harsher than he had intended to.

Alana did her best to quickly paint on her flight attendant smile but Jared had seen her face fall. He felt only a bit bad. She was the one who had brought it up after all. Like he needed a reminder of his own patheticness.

“I’m sorry,” Alana’s voice was thinner, another heart monitor anomaly. “It’s just that my grandma died over the summer and—“

Jared watched helplessly as a tear escaped Alana’s shining eyes. He lifted his hand to reach out but then wasn't sure what to do with it. “She, uh… She meant a lot to you?”

Alana nodded and used the edge of her sleeve to wipe at her eye. “She lived with us and she was always there to listen to me like nobody else was.”

Awkwardly, Jared patted her shoulder. He had never been very good at dealing with other people’s emotions and comforting somebody crying was so far out of his comfort zone. The only person he had some experience with in that field was Evan, of course, but he was usually content with getting handed some tissues now. He couldn’t have been more clumsy, if he had tried. Unless he said something like there, there next.

“So it’s a matter of love and time, then?”

A watery smile appeared on Alana’s face. “Yes, I guess, it is.”

Jared looked down, patting Bathroom Frog’s head to give Alana some time to properly compose herself. He heard her take a deep breath. “I didn't mean to sound so aggressive before,” he said.

“It’s okay. You couldn't have known.”

Now that she had said it, Jared actually faintly recalled hearing about the death of Alana’s grandma from somebody, somewhere. Although he didn't feel great about it, he still kind of thought that when you picked at another person's wound, you had to expect them to yelp in pain. He decided not to mention that.

Alana shivered again, harder than before. “But I think I would like to go inside now, if you don't mind.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he said. Then hesitantly, “I’ll come with you?”

Alana smiled again. Genuinely. Accepting the olive branch. “Yes, I would like that.”

He didn’t really want to go back to Evan and actually find him like, smooch Steph Anderson’s face but he would have to go in and face him eventually, and Jared knew himself well enough to know that he would never feel ready, if he kept putting it off. Plus, his feet were starting to feel like ice. The group of smokers had grown and mitotically split in two. The standard tobacco smell was interlaced with something sweeter, heavier, less biting in the nose. The group didn't seem to take notice of Jared and Alana slipping by at all.

Stepping inside was like walking through a wall. The warmth immediately enveloping them was nice but the air was thick with the smell of people, as his dad would say.

“Oooh, let’s check the snack table.” Emotions always made Jared hungry. “Have you tried one of Mrs Patel’s pakoras yet?”

“I have not had the chance.“ Alana shook her head.

Jared started crossing the room, determinedly not looking in the direction of the beer pong table. “Let’s hope there are some left because they’re hot shit.”

Alana’s forehead creased. “It’s weird how that is meant to express something positive.”

“Whatever. They’re awesome, if you prefer that.”

The snack table looked like a battleground by now. More chips were scattered about the table than were left in their bowls. A couple of dodgy-looking cupcakes sulked in a lime green Tupperware container, the black icing slowly melting off. The remaining small glasses of jello looked surprisingly intact and tempting but Jared didn’t really fancy hunting down Sabrina or whoever had made them to find out whether or not there was gelatine in them, and if they were made with regular water. He grabbed the small basket that had been full of pakoras earlier. A single one still lounged at the bottom. Jared gently shook the basket in front of Alana, the pakora skidding from side to side.

“Here, you have this.”

“Oh no, you can have it. You said you liked them a lot, right?”

“Uh, yeah but you haven’t ever had one and I had like ten earlier, so it’s fine. I don’t have time for false humility, Alana.”

“Okay,” Alana said. She took the offered treat, tore it with minor difficulties and held one half out to Jared.

“Ugh,” Jared rolled his eyes. “Alright. But don’t complain afterwards about being stupid enough to give this up. Cheers.” He raised his half and touched it against Alana’s.

“Solidarity.” Alana smiled. “Cheers.” She gingerly bit into it, holding one hand under her chin to catch any stray crumbs, a thoughtfully polite gesture that Jared deemed pointless. Judging by the way his shoes stuck to the floor, the room would be in dire need of a thorough scrub the next day.

Jared watched her eyebrows shoot up. He grinned as she finished chewing. “Good, huh?”

“Oh my, these are so delicious!”

“Told you,” Jared said. “I think I might have to get back to Evan soon. Not that he seems to be lacking company but you know.” Jared didn't really know himself. But he would have to go back eventually, since he was supposed to be taking Evan home.

“Yes, of course,” Alana said in a voice Jared found hard to place. “I thought I might head home soon anyway, so that is fine.”

“I mean, you can come with me. You don't have to leave.” He turned away from the snacks with one last longing glance at the dubious jello.

“Oh, okay, great! I might stay a bit longer then.” Upbeat again.

Just as Jared and Alana approached the table across the room, where the same quartet was still playing beer pong, they fell quiet. Jared saw Evan’s figure move around the table with the tiny ball in his hand. His eyes were scrunched up and lips pursed in concentration.

“You’re never going to hit it from that angle, E!” Matt’s insufferable voice taunted.

Jared flinched a bit at the dumb nickname.

“He knows what he’s doing, Matt,” Sabrina said cheerfully.

“He’s landed more shots than you have, idiot,” Steph added. Jared’s respect for her grew again.

With the jerkiest motion imaginable, Evan brought his arm forward, propelling the ball towards the single cup at the other end of the table. Despite the blaring music and the liquid crowd around them, the four seemed to have exclusively zeroed in on the ball, like time had slowed down for them. Their eyes followed its low arch with the kind of concentration most sober people could never achieve, until it found its target, hitting the inside of the cup with a timid splashing sound.

Activity exploded. Sabrina jumped up and down, took the cup and started to down it. Matt, on the other hand, was apparently very agitated by the loss.

“Fuck!” he shouted, so that even people not at all involved in the game turned to look as he hit the table top with his fists. This time Evan flinched.

Alana sighed deeply next to him, which Jared suspected was as close as she would come to saying what a dick out loud. He took it upon himself to voice exactly that to reaffirm her wordless statement, when one of those electric fly swatters hit his heart.

Steph stood on her tippy toes, one hand patting Evan’s cheek, then she pulled his head down to her to kiss his other cheek. His eyes widened and a blush blossomed across his face but a wide smile spread there, too. Steph was at least a whole foot shorter than Evan, and Jared could not help but think that Evan wouldn’t need to bend down so much for Jared to kiss his cheek. Out of the corner of his eye, Jared noticed Alana looking at him. He’d made it clear, he thought, that she should keep her nose out of this. He looked back as Evan looked into their direction, locking gazes and, surely this was his imagination playing tricks, Evan’s smile widened.

“Jerry fucking Kleinman!” he chirped like it had been weeks since they had last seen each other, not less than an hour. He strode over like somebody had tied bouncy balls to his feet. “We won at beer pong! Twice! Hey Alana!”

“I saw.” Jared was perplexed to say the least.

“Or I won twice because first, me and Matt won, and then we changed teams, and Steph and I won, so I won two times.” A lone strand of hair had detached itself from Evan’s quiff and fell into the middle of his forehead. The strand’s end slightly stuck to it with sweat.

“Congrats, sporty boy.”

“Thanks,” Evan said earnestly.

“Since when are you good at throwing things?”

“I’m not.”

“Okay,” Jared paused. “How many beers did you have?”

“None,” Evan said with the same gentle enthusiasm he was saying everything with laced in his voice.

“C’mon, the others must have got the ball in a couple of times as well.”

“Oh, they did, of course. Steph got one shot in even! She didn't think she’d get any!” He motioned to where Steph was standing, chatting with Matt. To her credit, she looked annoyed. “Hey Steph!” He waved, and she immediately came over.

“Cool, cool,” Jared said.

“Thanks for saving me there.”Steph grinned, swaying from side to side a bit. “Nice snakes! Can I touch one?” Her eyes glinted unnaturally bright. 

Alana nodded, seemingly lost for words for a second. “Of course, of course. I made them myself, you know.”

Jared looked up at Evan, suspicious. He had a broad close-mouthed smile etched on his face and calmly looked at the others for a moment as Alana started talking to Steph about the children looked after with an air of well-rehearsed calm.

“Sabrina doesn't like beer,” Evan said unprompted. 

“Okay?”

“So we did not play with beer because Steph also said she doesn't like it, so they decided that we would play with Blood Punch instead.”

“Makes sense.”

Evan played with the strings on his cape. He looked weirdly content and Jared didn't quite know what to do with that, other than acknowledge that this tugged at his heart strings.

“Try to sober up a little, before we leave. I don’t want to have to clean up your puke from my car’s floor carpet.” He immediately knew he had sounded too fond, way too fond, and scolded himself for having let his guard down. Again. 

Evan tilted his head, like he was about to present the solution to a particularly tricky riddle. Which simply could not happen.

Alana and Steph were still chatting away. Steph held one of the hair snakes and playfully attacked Alana’s nose.

“I don’t think I’ll be sick.”

“Evan, buddy, not that I don't trust you but nobody thinks they’re going to drunk-vomit until they are already at it.”

“Well, I won’t. I hate it.” Evan cradled the cup between his hands like he was warming his fingers on a hot drink.

“I know, dude.” Jared distinctly remembered an especially undignified time, when Evan had brought him homework over, which had remained neglected, because he had had the stomach flu, and he had suddenly, violently had to puke. Evan had followed him and very helpfully pointed out how much it sucked have your body reject all food and its own stomach acid as if Jared wasn't living it right then, until Jared had asked him to go make a tea.

He watched Evan bring the cup to his mouth again. “Okay, first step: Stop fucking drinking.”

“Oh, right, okay,” Evan grinned sheepishly.

“Actually, you should only stop drinking alcohol,” Alana’s clear voice chipped in. “You should, however, drink water or other rehydrating fluids because the alcohol, or Ethanol, molecules bind water and—“

“When I was like seven, we had this tiny little pond in our garden with a frog in it, that I called Molecule because I had heard the word somewhere and liked it.” Steph thoughtfully contributed.

“Right, chemistry is cool or whatever, but this is not the time.” Jared dreaded a look of hurt on Alana’s face but instead she just nodded solemnly.

“My mum swears on drinking milk and she was like a wild child of the 80s.” Steph wiggled her head from side to side for no discernible reason, her hair brushing against her shoulders.

Sometimes it seemed to Jared that all advice about drinking was just made up from nothing and in the end, everybody just talked right out of their ass, pretending to know the Ultimate Hangover Cure or whatever. Jared thought, nobody actually knew anything — except maybe Alana with her chemistry knowledge.

“Yeah, and my bubbe swore on eating a pickle before bed to get a good night’s sleep,” Jared grabbed Evan’s wrist, immediately wishing he’d gone for his elbow instead. “Let’s go get you some water.”

“The best way to rebound from being drunk is to just. Keep. Drinking!” Insufferable Matt walked past.

Jared regarded his left shoulder, which had just been patted by him, with disgust.

“I don’t think we should trust Insufferable Matt on that.”

Okay, Evan needed some word control.

Steph’s laugh sounded like a chicken gurgling, Alana’s incredulous.

“Who?!” Steph got out among chuckles.

“Oh,” Evan at least had the decency to blush a little now. “You know, Matthew Holtzer. That’s what Jared calls him.”

A short silence, during which Jared kept himself from revenge-stepping on Evan’s foot.

“I mean, you’re not wrong,” Steph sing-song-stretched the last word.

Jared shrugged. 

“You’re not,” Alana supplied.

“I know but don’t spread the word or anything.” He shared a look with Alana. “I mean, don’t make it his new public nickname.”

“Of course not,” Alana nodded.

Steph winked at them and pulled out some finger guns to confirm her own silence. There was the distinct possibility that she would not even remember this tomorrow, Jared thought.

In the meantime, his palm had started to tingle, to singe, and he feared his whole hand would soon burn away. 

In the one corner of the Patel’s now near-abandoned kitchen, between a wall and the fridge, was a little nook with a door that led to somewhere or nowhere, a perfect little hiding space. Jared had parked Evan, who was now leaning against the fridge, there, after shooing a group of giggling, gossiping girls away like one would shoo a band of stray cats. (Except that Jared would never shoo a cat.)

Suddenly, a cold glass was shoved into Evan’s hand, some water leaping over the edge and spilling onto his fingers. Evan briefly wondered how this could happen to him twice in one night but was grateful that at least it was just water this time. He half-expected it to evaporate from his hot hands.

“For me? To drink?” His lips strained with the kind of sloping smile he had seen on Steph’s and Sabrina’s faces.

Jared raised an eyebrow, sneering. “No, I just gave you a glass of of water to hold because I thought you needed some occupational therapy, while I cut this apple.” He wagged a short-bladed knife like a disapproving finger.

“Thanks,” Evan dumbly bobbed his head, doubting Jared knew anything about occupational therapy, and drank. The cool water sharply contrasted with the soft blur around the edges of his vision.

Across from him, Jared slid down the wall. Evan mirrored him. Jared had stretched his legs out as much as was possible in the cramped space they occupied, which wasn't very much. His feet were idly tapping against the fridge without any discernible rhythm. Evan settled for sitting cross-legged in the hopes that this would at least be almost comfortable. Jared’s shin got in his way, though, so he just let his left leg rest on it.

“You alive over there?” Jared’s foot poked Evan’s side.

“Ya, pretty sure, I am, yeah,” Evan said and tried to return the gesture. It didn't really work due to the way he was sitting but he did succeed in digging his toe into the back of Jared’s thigh.

“Oh-kay, pretty sure is good enough, I guess,” Jared murmured as he brushed an imaginary strand of hair out of his face.

Evan push-and-pulled some more water through his teeth like a baleen whale. The insides of his cheeks were numb but the little sensitive spot on his right canine still screamed as the cold liquid passed over it.

Jared had turned his attention to the apple he had briefly deposited in his lap. He threw it into the air, catching it almost casually with both hands. “Look at this thing of beauty. There’s like a perfect Snow white-esque line between the red and the green.” He let Evan have a closer look at the apple that on one side indeed looked like somebody had divided it into halves with a ruler, one cheek rosy and the other a deathly pale green. A slight turn revealed the common spotted and streaked skin on the rest of the apple.

“You messed up a bit with your poison there,” Evan said.

“Are you implying that I’m some old hag, who tries to murder people with fresh produce?”

“Yer a wizard, Neville.” Evan’s tongue stumbled through a horrible impression of Hagrid, earning a snorty laugh from Jared. “The witch isn't only a witch, though. She’s also a queen. In Snow White ”

“Wow, Evan, keep your homophobia in check, please.” Jared’s sarcasm-spilling words were accompanied by the crisp sound of a somewhat dull blade cutting through a perfectly ripe apple.

The light was too low and the music was too awful for Evan to get a good read on Jared’s mood, and since he had vowed not to worry, he pressed on, “Are you going to give me the poisoned half or the safe half?”

“Who said you’re getting any half?” Jared didn’t look up from cutting the apple. A seed ricocheted off Bathroom Frog’s wooly head and fell to the floor but went unnoticed by him.

“Oh.” Evan paused. “But family friends share food.”

“I think all friends share food,” said Jared cheerfully, “but especially friends who don’t want their drunk friends to vom onto their car’s precious interior.”

“I’m not really drunk.”

Jared’s brows rose up, his eyes rolling from the left corner to the right, then examined Evan’s face. “You literally just told me about your glorious beer pong, or blood punch pong, victories.”

“The others were super stoked, so I— left the drinking to them?” Evan shrugged. “ Evan shrugged. “Nobody said anything. I think they might not have noticed? But yeah, didn't drink. Other than the punch earlier.”

“So,” Jared prolonged the vowel, “we just fled the scene for nothing?”

Evan hummed, abashed. “Was— I was getting kind of tired. Of people being around me. I mean, obviously you’re a people but I mean, lots of people. That I don't know. And I know you. Obviously.”

“I am a people.” Jared made a face and motion that essentially conveyed ‘fair enough’ and returned to his apple. After a silent intermission, he held a clumsily carved apple slice in front of Evan’s nose. “I didn’t cut it along the line, by the way, so we’re both getting poisoned.”

Staring at the slice, Evan tried and failed to wrap his head around… that. “Thanks?” He opened his mouth.

Jared seemed to blue screen for about three seconds. “I’m not feeding you.”

“You kind of are.”

“Yeah, but not that literally. If you don't take the damn slice now, I’ll eat it instead.” Jared's eyes twinkled.

Evan hesitated, before, trying to suppress a smile, he leant forward and took the piece of fruit between his teeth, watching Jared’s face go slack.

“I… literally hate you.” He brushed on a disbelieving grin. “What do you think your mother gave you hands for?”

As Jared went back to removing the core from another slice, Evan used his mother-given hands to nibble on his apple slice. This was… nice. Just them in the deserted kitchen, tucked away in this tiny space; the only sounds disturbing the quiet were the low hum of the fridge, occasional laughter from outside, and the thumping bass of the music that had taken another one-eighty genre turn to what Evan wasn’t quite sure was dubstep. He was a little bit enamoured with the way the half-light fell on Jared’s face. His tongue was poking out again, and from this angle, Evan saw a clean, visual break in his cheek, caused by the thick lenses of his glasses. Warmth bubbled up in his chest, when Jared bit into a second slice with an audible crunch and continued to cut at the apple, the remainder of the slice balanced precariously on top of his knees. Whatever adrenaline rush had sustained Evan had washed away, now that he had stopped moving around.  Lead seeped into his muscle fibres. (He sort of wished that he had sat down next to Jared, rather than across from him, so he could perhaps rest his head on the other’s shoulder.)

“Contrary to popular, and by that I mean exclusively your, belief, I can actually tell that you’re watching me, you creep.” Again it was Jared disturbing the silence and shoving another apple slice at Evan, who, for a split second, saw him return the loose smile he only just realised he had been wearing himself. “Eat.” 

Evan did as he was told and picked up his glass of water again as well. A thought occurred to him. “Are you going to call your mom to pick us up?”

“Uh, hadn’t planned on it? You might remember that I drove us here.”

“No, yeah, of course, but just— She said to call, if you drank any alcohol at all and you had that beer earlier—“

“Exactly. One beer. And it’s been a while. I mean, look at you, Super Sober Guy, and you had that punch, which probably had much more alcohol on it.” Jared shrugged one shoulder. “Plus, if I know them at all, my mom and Ruth are probably, like, taking advantage of having the house to themselves by the waltzing around the living room to Took The Words Right Out Of My Mouth or something else by Mr Loaf. And if you think, I’m willing to disturb that, you are much mistaken, my good sir. Hey, why did the vampire go to see a doctor?”

Performatively pensive, Evan tapped his chin. “I don’t know, Jared, why?”

“Because of his big coffin.”

Giggles bubbled out of Evan’s mouth like spring water, baffling Jared judging by the look on his face. “Are you making these up on the spot? They’re awful.”

“I’m flattered that you think I am that much of a comedic genius, but truthfully, I might have had some help from a little assistant, whose name rhymes with bugle.” He paused. “Here, that’s your last one. Savour it.”

Evan’s hand spider-walked up Jared’s calf, where his hand was resting with the proffered apple slice, and took it. His eyes closed, Evan focused on the sweetly sour current on his tongue. His cheeks had ceased to feel so numb. When Evan opened his eyes again, Jared’s face seemed… different. Softer. Even more so than it had been at Rose’s vanity table. It felt a little, like he was looking at Evan for the first time. The corners of Jared’s mouth were quirked and his eyes crinkled with a relaxed warmth Evan could almost feel wash over him.

When he caught him looking, Jared wrenched a nonchalant expression back on his face. “We should probably leave soon, huh?”

Considering he had craved some calm badly enough to trick Jared into thinking he was drunk, Evan thought, he should be ready to agree in a heartbeat. Yet somehow, he didn’t want to leave now. Not when Jared seemed like he might voluntarily show Evan his hand, so he could figure out what sort of game they were playing at; not when he had only just realised how intensely his back burner crush on Jared had reheated; not when Evan so badly wanted to grasp Jared’s actual hand and see, if that intensified the pressing warmth or tamed it to something more bearable.

Jared diverted this train of thought, pointing at Evan with the last remaining apple slice. “What’s a vampire’s favourite ice cream flavour?” He put the entire piece of fruit in his mouth.

Before Evan could start searching his brain for an answer, the spell hanging over their comfortable cave broke with the click of a light switch. Suddenly the kitchen, and with it their little hide-out, was flooded with light, stripping it of magic, mercilessly falling on the floor, dirty with the muck of dozens of shoes, on the messy pile of apple innards Jared had accumulated a couple of inches from where that first seed had fallen, on Jared, who, Evan realised, looked more than a little dishevelled with his creased shirt half-untucked, on Evan himself, who suspected that he didn’t exactly look his best anymore either. Somebody walked across the room. Evan hoped it wasn’t one of the girls Jared had shooed away like a pack of feral pigeons earlier, coming to reclaim their humble abode. He shared a look with Jared, who, unlike Evan, might be able to sneak a glance at the unwelcome visitor from where he sat, but made no move to do so. They could hear the hollow, splashing sound of a plastic cup being filled with water. Evan felt a row of giggles coming on, brought on by their absurd and unnecessary secrecy.

“Oh, there you are!” A sensible voice said. “I had thought you had gone home already.”

“Alana, hey,” Jared stretched the word to absurdity as the girl stepped in front of the fridge nook, inevitably towering over them.

“You have found a cozy little spot for yourselves, haven't you?”

“We had,” Jared’s voice was biteless, “until you so rudely switched on the light and literally burnt off our retinas.”

“I apologise,” Alana said, “I didn't mean to disturb you two—”

“It’s fine. We were just hanging out for a while,” Jared said hastily. “And we were going to head out in like a minute anyway.”

“There’s something on your cheek,” Evan provided, tapping his own cheek in about the same place he had spotted a light pink spot on Alana’s.

Alana padded her fingers over her skin, until she must have felt whatever substance it was and looked at her finger tips. “Oh. This, uh…” Until then, Evan had never heard Alana sound anything but confident and prepared. “I went to the bathroom with Steph—“

Jared whistled a single, high note, earning what was as dirty a look as Evan thought you could get from Alana.

“She didn’t trust herself to get up the stairs, and she was very happy that I waited for her outside to then help her down as well.”

“That’s, that’s so nice of you. To take care of her like that,” Evan said, stumbling over his words.

“Yeah, and Steph was really grateful, huh?” Jared teased. 

Alana mirrored his tone, when she responded, “Yes, because it is so nice to take care of somebody, whose mind isn’t quite clear, because they are under the influence.”

Evan knew that he must have been missing some context to understand this exchange. Honestly, he was generally confused by the interactions he had witnessed between Jared and Alana tonight. He remembered a couple of weeks ago, when Jared had told some story from his AP Physics class, in which he’d referred to Alana as “an overly eager overachiever” and now they seemed weirdly friendly with one another. (But then again, knowing Jared, this should not be confusing at all.)

A brief silence ensued. Jared had narrowed his eyes at Alana the tiniest bit.

“Alana, what is a vampire’s favourite flavour of ice cream?” Evan asked to fill the uncomfortable, despite not knowing the answer himself.

“I really can’t say that I know. What is it?”

Evan looked at Jared in search of help but he was fixedly staring at the place their legs were touching, so Evan moved his a bit to nudge him. 

“Yeah, let’s, like, actually head out now.” Jared got to his feet. “These guys are only getting louder as it’s getting later and I really don’t want to be here, if one of the neighbours decides to call the cops.” He disappeared from Evan’s field of vision for a short moment and returned empty-handed, from the metallic clatter seconds earlier he had presumably discarded the knife in the sink. “C’mon, Evan.”

Evan didn’t mind leaving anymore, now that their comfort had been blown away, and admittedly, Jared was right. Over the past half hour the music had increased in volume with every song and he could feel the bass vibrating more and moe violently in the fridge against his back. Evan looked at the hands held out to him, thinking of how he had really wanted to take one mere minutes ago, hold it. This was not the same, of course, but he quickly accepted the inviting opportunity and let Jared pull him to his feet. He bounced up a little too rushedly, so he did a little jump afterwards to get rid of the extra momentum. One of Jared’s wonky grins had appeared again.

“But what’s the punch line? I need to know, even if I’m not going to be vampire much longer.”

Jared snort-laughed. “I’ll tell you on the way out, don't worry. I mean— Whatever.” Then he addressed Alana, “Are you coming? Or going rather?”

Alana and her hair snakes nodded their many collective heads. “Yes. I don’t need any police involvement either, for obvious reasons. And I have to get up early tomorrow, so I can get a head start on the new Physics chapter, before I’m scheduled to help out at the Pals With Paws animal shelter. You could come. There is going to be an art auction to benefit the shelter because it is struggling financially.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m not really an art kind of guy but maybe,” Jared said as they made their way through the living room, the soles of their shoes sticking to the floor, where they didn't have to steer clear of outright puddles of spilled drinks. “It’s vein-nilla, by the way, a vampire’s favourite ice cream flavour.”

Alana’s smile that had slipped a little reappeared as she scoffed a laugh. “I hate that I find that funny.”

“I’m not sorry,” Jared said to Alana, or should have said to Alana but it seemed more like he was addressing Evan, who had laughed incredulously, despite the prevailing instinct to pinch his brow.

“That's awful,” Evan grinned. “Uh, should we say good-bye? Like, to Steph and the others?”

“Steph actually went home just before I found you two again. A pity because she did want to say good-bye to you but she wasn't feeling too well, so there was no time to search for you,” Alana chirped.

“I mean, if you want to bid Insufferable Matt good-night, I won’t stop you but, like,” Jared did a hand motion that didn’t really mean anything as far as Evan could decipher.

He shook his head and they went out. Only as left the house did Evan realise just how badly under-oxygenated the air had been inside. Even in the kitchen, which had felt like the glow-up of the century compared to the living area, it had been stuffy. Evan’s lungs were flooded with cold and crisp autumn air, considerably assuaging the feeling that his brain was in need of lint rolling. 

Whoever owned the car that had stood next to Jared’s had decided to leave already. Although he trusted Jared’s skills, Evan still felt relieved that the chances of Jared bumping his old Toyota against it were completely eliminated.

Alana, it turned out, had parked her car on the street, news that Jared took by pretending to faint at the scandal of it. 

“Oh, uh, how did the vampire fall in love with her wife?” Alana asked suddenly, just as Evan thought they were about to part.

“How?” asked Jared, his tone making it obvious that he knew the answer but was going to humour Alana, while Evan’s brain echoed her wife twice or thrice. 

“It was love at first bite,” Alana’s matter of fact voice had lessened but still stood in contrast with the goofy content of her sentence.

“Wow, I can’t believe you’re coming for my thing, Beck,” Jared cackled, “how cruel.”

“I’m not. To be honest, I only know that one because one of my neighbour’s children told it this evening.” Alana half raised her arms, paused and waved them in a jazz-hand-like way. “Good night then.”

“Good night,” Evan imitated her wave with one hand.

“Bye, Alana,” Jared said. “And good luck with physics tomorrow. That chapter looks like it’s going to be an absolute pain in the ass.”

Alana’s smile grew at that. “Thanks. Get home safe.”

“You too,” Evan quickly responded as they separated. He had always liked the sentiment, found it so kind and thoughtful, even though he regrettably tended to forget saying it to people himself.

The car doors shut with finality. Jared’s face was illuminated as he glanced at his phone. A frown settled on his face but he shook it off, shivering in the cold air. He stuffed the phone back into his pocket, before starting the engine.

“So my mom texted me saying that she’s tidied the guest room, in case you want to stay over tonight,” Jared said as he pulled onto the street. “Don’t feel obligated to, though. Her ‘tidying’ probably only means that she’s moved all her shit off the bed, which has been so long overdue. Like, I can just take you home and tell her I didn't see the text, until it was too late.”

“I mean, I,” Evan sprinted across the words, “I could sleep over, I think. That would be nice, perhaps.”

The side of Jared’s mouth twitched up. His voice was full of almost convincing nonchalance. “Well, if you really want to.”

Because Jared was actually looking at the road this time, instead of rolling his eyes, Evan made noise conveying the same sentiment.

Unlike Jared had predicted, there was no music playing, when they arrived at the Kleinman-Otterbein residence. The house lay quiet, when they entered. Somebody had left the light in the hallway on.

“Oh, good evening, my dear dumbass,” Jared said to a long, orange shadow that emerged from the direction of the dark living room, before scurrying up the stairs on velvet paws.

Evan smiled to himself. He watched Jared study a blue post-it that was written on in a loopy scrawl as he toed off his shoes. 

“Mom says good-night and just repeats that she has set the guest room up for you. Can’t trust phones apparently. Also your shirt is in the wash?” The corners of his mouth pointed down in gentle disbelief.

Evan thought of the soft green cotton of his shirt and the vaguely floral scent he knew it would emit after a Kleinman wash, a smell so intrinsically linked to his childhood. To blankets at past sleepovers, and to clothes laundered because him and Jared had gotten muddy, and to that one afternoon, when, aged nine, they had poured a hefty amount of laundry liquid into the washing machine just to see what would happen, much to Rose’s dismay. 

“Uhm. Thanks.”

“No need to thank me. I didn't do anything. Do you,” Jared hesitated as he ushered him into the direction of the guest room, “do you need pyjamas?”

“I mean, I don't have any with me,” Evan said apologetically.

“Right, I guess, we’re just, like, a fricking goodwill tonight,” Jared said, tugging on the elbow of Evan’s borrowed shirt.

“Sorry.”

Jared’s eyes rolled but his mouth grinned. He opened it to say something, before being prematurely interrupted by a creak and a tentative “Jared?” The stairs sighed again. “Is that you, Bear?”

“Yup, it’s me,” Jared walked the few steps to the bottom of the stairs, curling his body around the end of the bannister to look up. “But I would say the same, if I was a burglar. You should come up with a better security question. One with an answer that only I would know, like ‘Do I keep my secret chocolate stash in that one offensively hideous vase, or, for some gross reason, in my tights drawer?’ Trick question, both are correct.”

If Evan hadn’t spent a considerable amount of his childhood hunting for sweet treasure, he might have been weirded out by this. But his head was filled with memories of donning floppy straw hats that constantly slid down and over their eyes that Jared had nevertheless insisted on wearing because they had to be like Indiana Jones. (To this day, Evan had never seen a single Indiana Jones movie but he had taken Jared’s word for it back then.) As it was, another smile he couldn't bite back crept onto Evan’s face at the gleeful enthusiasm in Jared’s voice.

Rose was apparently not in the right mood to indulge Jared, though, and Evan could not blame her, in light of the late hour. She simply said, “And what about Evan?” which he took as his cue to scramble over to Jared's side.

“Yeah, I’m, I’m here, hi Rose! Thanks for letting me stay over,” he said in one big breath. The sight of the rollers in her hair reminded him how long it had been since he had last stayed over. He had almost forgotten her hair did not naturally curl.

“Of course, honey. There’s always a plate and a pillow with your name on it in this house.” Rose now pushed a pair of glasses she had not been wearing earlier up her nose with a motion that made Evan glance at Jared. “I’m very glad that both of you are home safe now.”

Evan found himself very glad that he only had to smile as Jared answered, “You didn’t have to stay up, Mom. You know, we’re not babies anymore.”

Evan thought that it was sort of nice of Rose to show her concern but even the marrow in his bones signalled to him that he had done too much socialising tonight already, so he stayed quiet. (Not that he would otherwise have intervened in this family-internal debate.)

“Oh, I was up anyway. Reading. I’m so close to finding out who buried all those acid-battered skeletons in the forest,” Rose said too deliberately casual. “I made up the bed in the guest room for you, Evan. I don’t think you two fit into Bear’s together anymore. Remember when—“

“Mom.”

“Right.” She messed with her glasses again. “Ruth is already asleep, so please don’t make too much noise. But other than that— Good night, boys. Love you.”

“Well, duh, we’ll be quiet. Night, Mom.” Jared hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Love you, too.”

Evan’s echoed good night might have went unheard as Rosemarie’s aquamarine form vanished from the top of the stairs.

Jared followed quickly after, on a mission to get some of his pyjamas for Evan. Not without offering him one of Rose’s delightful nighties, though.

In the meantime, Evan went ahead into the guest bedroom, sitting down at the foot of the bed and ran a finger along a sage green stripe on the bedding. He sent his own mom a quick text to let her know about his whereabouts. She must have been on a break, considering the alacrity of her answer. (“A sleepover? How fun!!!!! Don’t stay up too late. Haha. Good night!!! xx,” followed by a ragtag string of emojis, the intended meaning of which Evan did not bother even try to decipher.) Then he decided to start undressing, for the sake of speed. He untied his cape, neatly folded it, and put it down on a chair that was already laden with other clothes. When he got to the second to last button on his shirt, though, he stopped abruptly as he realised that Jared might come in to give him the pjs, and then he would see Evan shirtless, which, obviously wouldn't be the very first time that happened, but it was not something that had happened in years, probably, and what if Jared thought there was too much hair on his chest, or that he was not skinny enough, or that he was too skinny, or that there wasn't enough hair, and as Evan told himself that he really shouldn't care because why would it matter at all, actually, his fingers flew up on their own accord to fit the buttons into their holes again. They were almost finished, when Jared stepped through the left-open door, and Evan quickly tried to conceal what he had been doing by scratching at his collarbone and humming the first tune that came into his head. (He had never been a very good actor.)

“What’s that you’re humming, oh my God?”

“Oh,” Evan considered this for a few seconds, trying to identify the melody himself. “It’s the, the song. Cats song. The Jellycats… Song” 

Jared fought a battle with his lips that was settled somewhere betweens mocking smirk and shit-eating grin. “The what song?”

“Uh, the Jellycats song, you know, I guess, I was thinking about it because we joked about it earlier and—“ Evan’s speech fizzled out. “What?”

“Are you telling me you seriously believe that the cats from Andrew Lloyd Webber’s iconic Broadway musical Cats are called Jellycats?” A shift closer towards shit-eating grin happened.

“Yeah? Is that not—? What is it then?”

“You idiot,” (This time Evan marvelled at how much fondness Jared put in the delivery of the insult.) “It’s Jellicle,” Jared said, proceeding to spell it.

Frowning, Evan answered, “That’s not a real word.” 

“Well, neither is Jellycat. Because Jellycats are and Jellycats do,” he sang the last few words. “Jellycat songs for Jellycat cats, no wonder you could never appreciate it as the masterpiece it is. Jesus Christ, Evan, that’s ador— Anyway, here. You can  just go into the bathroom down here, if you don’t dare to face the Creaky Steps from Hell.”

Evan accepted the bundle Jared held out to him, which consisted of soft flannel pants, a black folded T-shirt, toothpaste, and a toothbrush still in its packaging. As he looked down, Evan noticed that Jared’s bare feet stuck out from the legs of his pyjama bottoms, which he found stupidly endearing. The fabric pooled around Jared’s ankles and on top of his foot rested a heart-eyed emoji, which had been split in half, where Jared had folded the hem over. Evan couldn't help but wonder why the nail of Jared’s left big toe was painted an orange-y red that matched the heart-eyes.

“Are you going to, like, go get ready?”

“Oh,” Evan quickly looked up, directly meeting Jared’s gaze, and he scrunched his eyes together for a second. “Yeah, shit, of course, yeah.”

“Do you need me to come with you, so I can also remind you how to brush your teeth and piss?” Jared’s eyes had the same tender look in them as earlier in the Patel’s fridge nook.

Evan let out a single, awkward breathy laugh. “Thanks for—,” he fumbled with the bundle in his hands. As a result, the toothpaste slid down the stiff print on the T-shirt, its fall only prevented by Jared quickly making a grab at it.

“Wow, so that's how you treat what I so lovingly put together for you. You should be more careful, dude.” Jared’s thumb was hovering over Evan’s hand, where his hand had fallen during his toothpaste rescue attempt.

Something in Evan’s brain tingled like a handful of ants were crawling along its curlicue crevices towards the point of contact. Fumbling a little less this time, he pulled the bundle close to his chest and made his way to the downstairs bathroom. It wasn't really possible to stand at the sink there without bumping against the garishly orange toilet seat or, alternatively, stepping into Macavity’s litter box but he decided to forgo the more comfortable size of the bathroom upstairs anyway. He did not dare to face the Creaky Hell Stairs and risk disturbing Rose and Ruth any more than his presence already did.

The mattress he had just flopped down on muffled Jared’s scream but the action didn't quite bring the relief that Jared had hoped for. If there was a God, Jared would have to have some strong words with him about allowing to let Evan Hansen just exist Like That. His glasses dug into his face uncomfortably, so Jared turned onto his back, tapping his way across the periodic table on his shirt. Potassium. Calcium. Scandium. Evan sitting on the bed. Titanium. The one element he could never remember. Chromium. The suddenly misbuttoned shirt. Manganese. Jellycats. Iron. Cobalt. Nickel. Evan. Copper. He was ready to scream again, when a sudden dip on the bed made him tear his gaze away from the ceiling and the puffy cloud of a lamp hanging from it.

“What do you want?”

As a response Jared got a raspy meow and Macavity jumping quite rudely onto his stomach. He fixed Jared with an unblinking stare. Coupled with a second, louder meow it was probably less of a declaration of love and more a way to communicate a demand for food. Jared had noticed that his dry food bowl had been almost empty earlier but he had ignored it out of laziness.

“You’re a menace, you know that?” He scratched the cat between his ears.

Macavity narrowed his green eyes appreciatively, pulled his head away, only to bump it against Jared’s palm. The image of Maccy allowing Evan to pet him flashed into Jared’s mind. Zinc.

“Alright, my darling, let’s get you some food. If you were so inclined as to step off of me.” Jared wiggled his body in a way that would have been undignified, had anybody other than his cat been around to see it.

In the kitchen, Macavity’s pupils rapidly reduced to the size of a pinhead, when Jared flicked on the light.

“Why don’t you just go meet your lover and make him catch a mouse for you or something?” He asked, the dry food merrily clinking into the bowl. “Don’t look at me like that. Look, I know I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. And yet, and yet you haven't run away for good, so forgive me for trying to bond further.”

The cat’s scrutinising gaze still on him, Jared turned to lock the food away into their cat-proof cupboard again. Macavity, apparently having decided it was love hours after all, came to stream around Jared’s calves, the end of his tail curling just below his knee. Evan’s leg against his. Galium. Germanium. Arsenic. He bent down to pet Maccy, when a succession of three almost inaudible knocks alerted him to Evan’s presence. His knuckles rested against the wood of the doorless frame and a tiny smile played around his lips. Bromine.

“I’m, uhm, going to bed then. I just saw that the light was on in here and thought I should say good night, so yeah.” He gave an awkward little thumbs up. “Good night.”

“Night, Evan,” Jared responded from his crouched position on the floor. “Or, actually, wait a second.”

Evan had turned to go but hesitated now, looking back at him.

“There’s still,” Jared vaguely gestured around his face, “the blood on your face.”

“Oh, shit, I’d forgotten. I’ll go wash it off first then. Obviously.”

Jared quickly got up. “Just come here, you big disgrace,” he said, patting the countertop and grabbing a paper towel as Evan skulked over. “I can get it,” he added as Evan went to grab the paper towel from him.

Evan’s fringe hung wetly over his forehead. It was just like him to remember to wash the gel out of his hair but not to wash the stark red stain off his face. Krypton. Next row. Rubidium. Jared rubbed the paper towel across Evan’s chin. Incredible how he had managed to give himself a task that involved him focusing on Evan’s chin and the corner of his mouth and his lips twice in one night. Even the sound of Maccy crunching down on his food did not significantly diminish the temptation to do something totally inadvisable with those lips. Strontium. Yttrium. Hansenium. Jared thought that by the end of this, he deserved a Special Award for Self-Restraint. He wet the towel in hopes that it would help his endeavour.

“I think I have to. Scrub. A little. Harder. Uh, tell me, if it’s too… rough,” Jared tried not to cringe at his own words.

He continued, until he was pretty sure that, what redness was left over, was just the skin being irritated. Which he was painfully aware was because of him. Zirconium. He ran his finger over the reddened spot. Better than the alternative voice in his brain telling him to kiss it but only marginally so. “Hey, Evan, what’s it like to kiss a vampire?” Niobium.

Over the next approximately thirty seconds, Evan’s face went on several journeys without writing a postcard to Jared from any of them. 

Just when he thought, Evan might actually be leaning in closer without any wishful thinking being involved, Evan jerked his head down, looking at the floor. “Why’s your toe nail red?” Evan folded the hem of his shirt over enough times to hide Wolverine’s feet in a crease.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s— Why did you just paint the one toe?”

Jared’s heart gave up on racing and crawled into his throat, where it stayed wedged, immovable, no matter how hard he swallowed. Molybdenum. Technetium. 

“Oh,” he said, looking down at his toe like he had never seen it before. He welcomed the distraction to get his shit together. “That was my mom. I was, like, just minding my own business, when she barged into my room because she desperately needed to know, if the colour looked good on feet?” He purposely left out the part, where his mom had reasoned that he would be a good model for her because, allegedly, he had inherited her feet. Jared had yet to figure out, if there was such a thing as masculine and feminine feet, and if he had to be embarrassed, should it turn out that his were indeed feminine. “I don't understand either, but she was super enthusiastic about it — you know her. And I didn't think anybody would see, so,” Jared shrugged, “I never bothered taking it off, I guess.”

“Oh,” Evan regarded the toe in question with even more faux fascination than Jared had pretended to feel. He shuffled his own socked foot forward, lightly tapping Jared’s toe. “That’s cute.”

Inexplicably, Jared felt his ears get warmer. Before they got a chance to leak colour onto his cheeks, which would be that much more noticeable to Evan, he pointed out the time on the teapot-shaped clock and said goodnight to Maccy, whose ear barely twitched into their direction.

Back in the guest room, Jared plopped down on the bed again, while Evan lingered around the door.

“You’re welcome to, like, come in. My mom did make the bed specifically for you to sleep in here.”

“Yeah, no, I know. I was just, uh, wondering, I guess, if you were going to sleep here, too?”

“Sure.” What. Jared shrugged casually, in stark contrast to the sirens going off in his head. “I mean, it’s a big bed. Two bros can easily share it. Plus, I won't have to brave the Hell Stairs and wake a devil with the creaking.”

“Okay. Cool. Because then I’ll close the door. Not like that! But I just— prefer the door closed, when I sleep, so I hope thats okay?” Evan babbled away as he shut the door and turned off the main light, before making his way over. “Do you want this side of the bed then? I don’t mind; you can totally pick whichever side you want.”

Evan already climbed into the bed and began tucking himself under the blanket. For all his pining, Jared noticed that he had never paid enough attention to Evan’s cheekbones that looked downright dramatic in the lone light of the bedside lamp. Only slowly did Jared catch up to the fact that there was only one duvet. He tugged on it as he clambered towards his designated pillow.

“What about this?” He asked.

“It’s a big blanket, Jared. Two bros can easily share it,” Evan parroted, pulling the duvet up close around his neck.

Jared supposed that it was designed to fit two people. He resigned himself to his fate, although half of him screamed at the unbearable intimacy of lying under the same blanket as Evan. He was too tired to think of a different solution, and ducking out now would be far more conspicuous than going along with it, he reasoned.

“Good night,” Jared said, placing his glasses on the night stand and turning off the light, once they’d settled down.

He could hear Evan’s smile, when he said, “Sleep tight.”

“Don’t let the bug beds bite,” Jared finished their inside joke with almost the same amount of glee as they had felt at age seven, when it had been established. His heart warmed at hearing a soft peal of laughter from Evan, too.

The silence fell upon them like a second duvet. One that was too heavy, too warm for the weather. Jared felt stifled. Both of them lay completely still for a while but it dawned on Jared that he would not fall asleep anytime soon. The nearly full moon shone way too brightly onto his face and he would never admit it but his arms were weirdly empty without Spoon the Dinosaur in them. He felt like a ghost that had some unfinished business as he tried to squirm into a comfortable position. Whenever he thought he had found it at last, some memory from tonight flashed — Alana on the patio reading him like an open book, Evan gnawing on an apple slice like an oversized guinea pig, Steph winking at them, Evan with his shirt buttons done up wrong, Evan and him all cuddled up when they were nine, Jared almost spilling his guts on the kitchen floor, Evan, Ruthenium, Evan. He turned over, now facing the middle of the bed, and, by extension, Evan.

“Are you done moving around yet?” Evan’s eyes were shut but a small frown had appeared on his face, creasing his glabella.

“Yep, all good,” Jared replied, quickly shutting his eyes again as well. Evan’s hair looked so dark against the green and white stripes but still this Evan looked so soft around the edges and so comfortable in this vulnerability that Jared feared, if he looked for too long, he would let himself soften, too. And if he started softening, who knew, if he’d be able to stop, before melting. “It’s a pain in the neck, by the way.”

“What is?” 

“Kissing a vampire,” Jared’s heart was still firmly lodged in his throat and he kept his eyes closed.

“Oh,” Evan half-laughed. “Funny.”

The quiet that followed seemed more peaceful, wrapping them up more gently, and Jared felt himself begin to drift towards that great land of dreams now. He didn't think much of the miniature moments on the mattress, until he felt something warm wrap itself around one of his hands. When he moved his fingers slightly, the other hand took the chance to intertwine them with its own. Jared felt his breathing hitch and chanced at opening his eyes. Evan’s eyes looked back at him, large and dark in the moonlight. He blinked slowly. Occasionally breaking their eye contact, Evan began inching their joint hands closer towards him. Jared’s heart had to have grown right where it sat and was pounding like mad, his mouth too dry to even attempt swallowing it back down now. Evan held his gaze steadily as he brought their hands to is lips and pressed a featherlight kiss to the fleshy bit between the knuckles of Jared’s thumb and forefinger. The quiet sound of lips meeting skin seemed to echo in the dead quiet of the room and through Jared’s skull. He realised he was smiling, when he saw the expression mirrored on Evan’s face.

“There. Was that so bad?” Evan whispered, still smiling conspiratorially.

The disbelieving part of Jared’s brain wanted to violently protest but the heart in his throat said, “Try again, maybe. Just to check.”

“Can’t come to a conclusion based on what could be a one-off result. Very science-y of you.” This kiss landed a little closer to the middle of the back of Jared’s hand.

“We should probably expand the sample size. Maybe try different external circumstances.We can’t be hasty when conducting an experiment as important as this one.” 

The softness of Evan’s lips against his knuckles made Jared wonder how they would feel on other parts of his body, his own lips, his neck.

“So you think we should give it some more tries, maybe tomorrow?”

“Lots of factors to consider, really,” Jared shifted closer to Evan, until the distance between them didn’t come to more than the length of a forearm. “We should probably brainstorm first.”

There was already a storm going on in his brain but the steady warmth of Evan’s skin and radiating from his eyes had pulled him into the calm eye of the storm. Because bringing them closer together had only spread the smile further on Evan’s face, Jared dared take another step closer into the storm’s centre and tugged their hands towards his own lips. He could feel how roughened the skin on Evan’s knuckles was, when he kissed it.

“Are you blushing?” Evan’s voice had gone even softer.

“No. Of course not,” Jared lied. “It’s too dark for you to be able to see that anyway.”

Evan grinned. “How do you know what I can see? You're not even wearing your glasses.”

“I’m near-sighted, dumbass. That has nothing to do with darkness.” Jared risked another kiss to Evan’s fingers without avoiding looking at him this time. “I can see you fine.”

“So you know that I can see you blush then.”

“Fuck off.”

“It’s cute, by the way. You’re cute,” Evan said, which did nothing to lessen Jared’s blush.

Maybe the storm was more like a wildfire, actually. But one that seemed under control for now. A yawn gave him the perfect opportunity not to have to react to that. Jared concealed it with their connected hands. Everything that had prevented him from falling asleep earlier, seemed to have caught up to him and have the exact opposite effect now.

The yawn caught onto Evan almost immediately. “We can talk tomorrow?” Nervousness sparked in his eyes. “See if we can figure anything out? Experiment.” Evan’s nose scrunched up as he said the last word.

“Yeah.” Jared nodded as well as he could with his head lying on his pillow. The nervousness was wiped off Evan. “Yes. Just maybe call it something else.”

“Like what? Any suggestions?”

“Don’t use words with more than three syllables at this hour.”

“Suggestions only has three.”

Jared’s eyelids drooped and he compromised by closing just one eye for now. “No three-syllable-words then.”

A sleepy smile crossed Evan’s lips. “Syllable is a three-syllable-word.”

Jared hummed grumpily.

“Good night, Jared,” Evan said, amused but his eyes getting smaller by the second.

“Sleep tight.”

Evan reclaimed their hands, kissing their joint fingers. When he spoke, Jared could feel his lips moving against his skin. “Don’t let the bug beds bite.”

The last thing Jared saw, before he was taken by sleep, was Evan placing their hands perfectly in the middle between their bodies and then shutting his eyes.