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Andros was a lot of things. Particularly attentive to other people's fashion choices wasn't one of them. That was all part of the fun.
He'd started with just a shirt. It was one of Andros's shirts, the gray one with the red stripes down the sleeves. He'd found Andros eating lunch alone and stolen a handful of grapes off of his plate. Zhane had flicked them back towards Andros one by one until Andros had rolled his eyes and begun pelting him back, but Andros never noticed the shirt.
Next had been the sweatshirt. That one had been spur of the moment—Andros had taken it off before sparring, and Zhane had slipped into it afterwards, grinning up at Andros from his place on the ground.
"That was fun," he'd said, and just watched as Andros stretched out. He'd tried not to think too much about rubbing his hands down Andros's arms or kissing across his neck or—he'd actually had to force himself to look away then.
When he'd looked back, Andros had been smiling. Even back on KO-35, he hadn't done so much of that and, well, Andros could smile at him forever and he'd be happy.
But Andros never did ask for his sweatshirt back.
He'd decided afterwards that he'd been entirely too subtle, and that it would require something more... grandiose to catch Andros's attention. And if there was one thing Zhane excelled at, it was dressing well for dates. Or things that were not dates but he hoped would become dates.
It was only after he strolled casually onto the bridge that he realized maybe he should have thought less about dressing obnoxiously to catch Andros's attention and more about what he was actually going to say once Andros noticed.
Andros caught sight of him, so it was too late to turn back. Zhane gave what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug and leaned against the back of the nearest seat. "Hey," he said.
"I..." Andros stared at him for a very long time and then raised his eyebrows in a look that very clearly said "do I want to know?" He asked anyway. "What are you wearing?"
"I went shopping," Zhane said proudly. "Did you know there's a store where everything is a dollar? Ashley said that was a good deal, and I'm not sure what this thing--" He tugged at the long string of red feathers around his neck. "--is really for, but it's supposed to be good for something called Halloween."
"That's something you'll enjoy more than I did." Andros made a face that told Zhane that whatever Halloween was, he would love it. "You're wearing red."
"Yeah." Was he really not getting it? Maybe he should've gone with his idea of singing "I Wanna Sex You Up" at Adelle's last open mic night. Andros would probably (definitely) kill him for it, but it was about as unsubtle as it was possible for him to actually get.
Andros's expression faded into something more uncertain. "You don't usually wear red."
"Not usually."
When Andros looked away, Zhane realized he'd been wrong—Andros had noticed. His throat felt unusually dry. What was wrong with him? He was always the confident one.
"You never said anything," Andros muttered. "I thought—I wasn't sure you remembered."
"Remembered?" Zhane stared at him.
"You know," Andros said. He stared down at the console in front of him. "On KO-35. The way we used to be before you—before."
"I'd never forget that." Zhane watched Andros slide his locket slowly back and forth across its chain. It was oddly comforting in its familiarity. "But two years is a long time, and you're... different."
"And you're not," Andros said flatly. "You're exactly the same as I remember you."
Zhane stared at the back of Andros's head and took a deep breath before asking, "What does that mean?"
Andros shrugged uncomfortably. "I'm not the person you remember."
"But I still..." There was really nothing left but to say it. Zhane swallowed. "I still want you."
Andros's head twitched, but he never quite turned around. "It wouldn't be the same," he said. "We wouldn't be like we were."
"Does that mean you don't want to?"
"No," Andros said. He was almost whispering now. "But if you want—if you want us to be like we used to, I'm not like that anymore."
"You're not so different." He lied, sort of. "If you don't want to—"
"I thought about you." Andros finally looked at him, sadder than Zhane had ever seen him. His jaw was clenched tight. "I would come and sit with you, and I thought about everything I never..." He lowered his eyes. "Everything I would do when you woke up."
Zhane didn't know how to answer that. "I'm sorry," he said finally. He tried not to feel too guilty about that. "I never wanted you to be alone."
"I thought I did. Until I was, and then all I wanted was—" Andros stopped, grinding his teeth together as he lowered his eyes. He let out a long, slow breath, and shook his head. "Are you sure?"
"What?"
"Are you sure?" Andros asked. "About what you want."
"Yeah." Zhane nodded slowly. He felt like he should add something to that, but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say.
It turned out not to matter, because the next thing he knew, Andros was kissing him. Zhane had hardly seen him move, but then there he was, his mouth pressed against Zhane's and his fingers curled into the fabric of Zhane's shirt, and Zhane was too surprised to do anything but kiss him back.
They'd never actually done this before. He wasn't sure why; it certainly hadn't been for a lack of wanting. But he'd hardly missed anything, and Andros had had two years to think about what they hadn't done. Zhane could tell he was thinking about it again when they finally stopped kissing, but then he started to smile.
"I..." Andros couldn't seem to think of anything to say.
"Not bad." Zhane just said the first thing that came to mind, and smirked when Andros's smile widened. "So," he said. "Let's talk."