Work Text:
Wylan was already having an incredibly atrocious morning.
Firstly, he’d spilled scorching hot coffee onto his contrastingly white collared sweater in a rush to first period. On any other day, this would have been a minor setback, and Wylan would have simply peeled off his jumper and contended himself with wearing a white dress shirt alone. Unfortunately, this was not any other day.
Today, Wylan was meant to give a speech detailing Switzerland’s policy on foreign affairs—a speech he’d spent all week memorizing. His points were strong and well-supported, and if the opposing side of this Model UN debate was led by someone less polarizing, Wylan was almost certain he would win. In any case, it was not.
Jesper Fahey was a firecracker whose speeches always went several minutes overtime, and his resting position was not quite resting at all. He was charming and witty and confident, and it was probable that Jesper could win a debate simply by winking at the moderator. Wylan thought it was entirely ridiculous that the boy's speeches included riotous one-liners (they would never fly in an actual meeting between the United Nations), but they almost always secured him a win.
Secondly, Wylan Van Eck was debating Jesper Fahey in just a few hours. And that was almost fine, except Wylan had spilled hot coffee all over his collared sweater.
He was having an incredibly atrocious morning.
─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────
“Mr. Van Eck, I understand your point, but I find it incredibly useless to equate the United Nation's current issue to past political conflicts which—"
“Incredibly useless? Well you know what I find incredibly useless, Jesper? When you include jokes in conversation about wartime affairs—“
“Oh, we’re using first names, now? Is that allowed, Mr. Lantsov?"
“Nikolai is the TA, Jesper, you don’t need to call him—"
“Enough!”
The incessant bickering was brought to a screeching halt by Nikolai Lantsov’s commanding voice. He was quite privy to Wylan and Jesper’s inability to civilly converse, but he’d never seen it get so comically unprofessional. The two boys were known for prioritizing academic success to personal grudges, after all. Nikolai supposed they were both just in the middle of figuring out that they actually wanted to make out with each other rather than argue, but it was none of his business—even if he did bore his girlfriend, Zoya, with all of the drama during their lunch hour.
“The two of you need to pull yourselves together. I literally can’t remember one piece of actual fact either of you offered. If this happened at our regional debate conference, I would be embarrassed. No marks for either of you today. Try again tomorrow, when Jesper’s taken his Adderall and Wylan’s sweater isn’t stained.”
Jesper huffed shortly and waltzed back to his desk, while Wylan muttered out a meek “sorry, Nikolai” before taking his own seat.
As the rest of his classmates presented their speeches, Wylan glanced over at Jesper with rage. The latter was sitting with his long legs crossed in front of him, tapping a pen on the wooden desk while chewing a piece of mint gum. Not that Wylan knew it was mint, per say—he just assumed that Jesper would care about keeping his breath tidy for extra curricular activities. And he noticed the way his silver rings clinked on his backpack’s zipper every time he reached for the pack of Wrigley’s. But never mind all that. Wylan didn’t care.
Apparently Wylan had been staring for longer than he realized, because his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Jesper’s charming snark.
“Staring, Wy?”
Wylan rolled his eyes—obnoxiously enough that he couldn’t have possibly meant it—and clicked his tongue.
“You wish.”
Jesper laughed gloriously, and Wylan hated himself for noticing the way his shoulders rose and fell.
“Next time you’re going to stare at me, let it be because you’re finally admitting that you find me charming and witty and handsome."
“Does your ego ever take a rest?”
Jesper smirked again, raising an eyebrow as Wylan’s lips rested in a firm line.
“Do you ever relax?”
The answer was no, but Wylan had no interest in admitting that. Instead, he let out an aggressive huff of air and shifted back to face the podium. A turn in the opposite direction might indicate the end of a conversation to most people, but Jesper was not one to accept fates he did not construct.
Securing the final word, Jesper leaned over to Wylan—so close that the red-haired boy thought he might faint—and whispered in his ear:
“Oh, and Wylan? Your cheeks are looking a little flushed.”
Jesper was most definitely chewing mint gum.
─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────
By the end of his day, Wylan was exhausted. For the entirety of his academic career, he prided himself on overcoming his literacy challenges and becoming Ketterdam High’s most beloved contender for valedictorian. Still, it was tiring, and Wylan could admit that perhaps having a little more fun might do him some good.
Slumping the weighty, plaguing backpack off his shoulders, Wylan tip-toed over to his kitchen, a safe space that he knew wouldn’t meet the wrath of his father. The only person he ever found by the fridge was a very pregnant Alys Van Eck, who—by law—was Wylan’s step-mother, but on all other accounts a pleasant older sister figure.
“Hi Wylan!,” she said immediately upon seeing him. “I was just about to make a sandwich, do you want one?”
Wylan nodded gratefully and propped himself up on the counter. He was glad to have Alys around, even if it disgusted him that his father was married to a woman only a few years senior to his own son. She was a ray of sunshine in the dim-lit house, with a bright smile and gentle disposition. Wylan almost felt jealous for enjoying her company so much, because he knew that she deserved better than this dodgy, brooding mansion.
“How was your day?"
“Oh, good! I had a singing lesson in the morning, and then I went over to the farmer’s market with my sister. How about you?"
“It was fine,” Wylan shrugged.
Alys frowned knowingly and shook her head.
“Did you get into another argument with that boy you like?"
“What? I don’t like anyone, what are you talking about?”
Giggling quietly, as if she knew something Wylan didn’t, Alys cleared her throat.
“You know the one. Jasper.”
“Jesper."
“Right! So you do know who I mean! Any two people who take that much time out of their day to fight with each other must really want something else. Everyone knows that.”
Whether or not Alys was right, Wylan had no intention of admitting. But he certainly was not in the mood to entertain any assumptions about his romantic life. Mainly because it didn’t exist, and in tertiary because whenever someone mentioned the word “crush”, a frustrating image of Jesper taking notes with his tongue poked out in concentration plagued Wylan’s thoughts.
“Me and Jesper do not like each other. At all."
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes. I hate him."
Alys sighed softly.
“Well alright. But if you happened to be curious, I think he probably likes you more than you think he does. At least based on the stories you tell me about him."
“How often could I possibly talk about him that would lead you to that conclusion?”
“Every single day.”
Trying his very best to ignore Alys’ inconvenient truths, Wylan went upstairs to complete his assignment on climate change.
I bet Jesper thinks climate change is fake, Wylan thought to himself.
He knew that was clearly untrue, but he couldn’t think of a more efficient way to brush off Jesper’s beautiful face than to conclude that he was a Republican.
Maybe if I completely ignored him for the rest of time, I’ll never have to interact with him.
He can’t get to me if I don’t respond.
That’s it. I’ll completely ignore his republican, infuriating, male comedian existence.
─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────
“Jesper, that doesn’t even make any sense! Your argument is based off of absolutely nothing. Switzerland would hate your assertiveness and the UN would ban you from their meetings if this were real.”
Wylan had tried to ignore him, really. But nobody was perfect, and he was running on a particularly short fuse today.
“No, they wouldn’t kick me out. I am too charming for them to refuse."
“Get over yourself.”
“Usually people prefer it when I’m lying over them, actually. But if it helps you sleep at night."
“Shut up.”
“You shut up. You’re the one who starts these things anyway."
“You shouldn’t provoke me, then.”
“It’s hard not to provoke someone so uptight, though, isn’t it?”
Luckily for Wylan, the 9:00 AM bell rang, and an obligation for their silence formulated. Jesper never shared the feeling aloud, but there was something about bickering with Wylan that formed a knot in his chest. Quite like he enjoyed it. Wylan would blush if he had nothing witty to retort and the ruddy expanse of his curls would rest messily above his eyes. But it was a dangerous game, Jesper realized. Because he always eventually felt the desire to brush the hair out of Wylan’s eyes and touch his cheeks just to see how warm they had gotten.
If only he weren’t so infuriating, Jesper thought.
“Alright, you obnoxious juniors,” Nikolai piped jovially from his spot in the front of the classroom. “We have a debate in two weeks against the private school bitches at Os Alta Academy."
“Didn’t you graduate from there two years ago?"
“I’m so glad you all pay so much attention to me, but now is not the time. We get on the bus in two weeks, and all of your speeches are weak. I’m making the executive decision to partner you up. Give me the best arguments on your assigned country’s foreign affair policy, and I’ll stop telling Zoya how incapable you are. She’s a lot scarier than me, I promise."
Wylan groaned. He hated partner work. Nobody ever benefited from it, and it almost always meant that he would have to uncomfortably explain his learning challenges when he was meant to be reading a passage. But Wylan could be optimistic. Maybe he would get paired with Inej Ghafa. She’d always been sweet to him.
“Go find your partner after I call out the pairs. Don’t disappoint me, you’re too smart to act stupid this week.”
...Inej and Kaz, oil trade in France, Nina and Matthias, the war on drugs in South America, Wylan and Jesper—"
“Nikolai, do you really think that—"
“Don’t question my decision making, Fahey. You two need to learn to stop being children and get along.”
Wylan didn’t think that was exclusively true, especially considering that Jesper was the real child between the two of them. But Nikolai could not be persuaded, so Wylan didn’t think to cause a ruckus.
Jesper approached Wylan’s desk obnoxiously, sitting beside him with crossed arms and an unconvincingly vexed glare. That was one thing that made Jesper insecure—how awful he was at pretending that Wylan meant absolutely nothing to him.
“So, lucky you. You can finally take credit for my fantastic ideas.”
“Let’s just get this over with. When are we going to write the speech? We won’t have time during class.”
“Eager to see me outside of school hours, are you?”
“I’m eager to get this done so I can never speak to you again.”
Jesper put a hand over his chest in mocked offense.
“You wound me, Wylan. I thought you dreamt about me every night.”
It was true that Jesper was, in fact, a recurring figure in Wylan’s dreams. But dreams were subconscious. They meant absolutely nothing.
“We can’t do it at my house,” Wylan said, dodging Jesper’s comment.
“Oh, come on. Are you scared of me finding the secret shrine you have for me in your room?"
No, I’m scared of anyone on planet Earth meeting my father and seeing that I’m an absolute failure to everyone outside of this classroom.
”We just can’t, okay? Drop it.”
Jesper was many things—loud and cheeky and passionate—but he was not unskilled in reading people. And it was clear he’d crossed a line.
“I’m sorry, I—okay. Not your house. We could do it at mine, as long as you’re not scared of cows."
“Cows?”
“I live adjacent to a farm. My Da and I run it.”
Wylan was almost tempted to laugh, but then he pictured Jesper chasing a sheep down an open, green field, before walking over to a stable and petting a horse with the beaming sun hitting his skin like an angel.
Or something like that.
“There is no way you run a farm."
Jesper laughed. He never took anything personally, anyhow.
“I know it’s hard to believe, because I look like I should be a rich and famous celebrity. But it’s not so bad. The animals are sweet.”
And Wylan was almost going to say something about how Jesper would look horrible in overalls, but then he noticed how soft the boy’s gray eyes had gone. Like he’d meant what he said. For some reason, Wylan hadn’t wanted Jesper to let go of that look.
“Your house it is, then. Don’t be late.”
“It’s my house."
“You always find a way to be late to things, Fahey. It’s annoying.”
“It’s part of my charm.”
And it really was, but Wylan would never let him know it.
─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────
Wylan arrived at Jesper’s house at 3:30 on the dot. He was nothing if not prompt, and it didn’t hurt that he was eager to be away from any potential for a fight with his father.
When he rang the door bell, Wylan was not greeted by Jesper, but a tall, slender man with red hair and a fatherly mustache. He had Jesper’s gray eyes.
“Hi, son! You must be Jesper’s friend that he always talks about. He’s just up in his room."
“I’m Wylan. Thank you so much for having me.”
“Oh, anytime. I’ve been dying to meet you, really."
Wylan furrowed his eyebrow.
“You know who I am?”
Just like he’d accidentally spilled a secret, Mr. Fahey’s eyes widened.
“Oh, um—just because I knew you’d be over. Which is what I meant by Jesper always talking about you. He was talking about your project. Anywho, he’s right upstairs in the room to your left."
That was clearly untrue, and Wylan could detect bad lying anywhere—especially from an otherwise honest man. But he respected Mr. Fahey’s loyalty to his son. It almost shot a pang through Wylan’s chest to see remnants of anyone sharing benign, childish secrets with their parents at all.
“Thanks, Mr. Fahey.”
“Oh, call me Colm. Mr. Fahey is my father.”
Wylan made his way upstairs, and willed himself not to stop in the hallway and look at the photos hung up on the gray wall. It was filled to the very last inch with pictures of Jesper out by the farm, and few others of a woman Wylan could only assume to be Jesper’s mother. She was beautiful, sharing Jesper’s dark skin and kind smile. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her at school events, but thought maybe it would be better not to ask.
“She was pretty, wasn’t she?”
Wylan jolted, not realizing that Jesper had been standing behind him.
“I’m—I didn’t realize you were standing here, Jesus Christ."
“I’ve never been called Jesus before. Do it again.”
Wylan scoffed slightly before turning his attention back to the wall.
"Is this your mom?”
“Yeah. She died a few years ago saving someone from a car accident."
Wylan looked over at Jesper, and it was like he saw something he’d always noticed but tried to ignore.
“I’m sorry,” he said solemnly.
“Oh, none of that. It was a long time ago,” Jesper replied, and his tone felt like he’d just confessed something about himself. “I have the video sources set up on my computer, so we should probably work in my room.”
Wylan followed Jesper down the hall, and entered his bedroom—which was brightly lit by a large, inviting window. It reminded Wylan quite a bit of Jesper, but he couldn’t pinpoint why.
“Video sources?"
“Yeah, I—it’s better than looking through pages of documents, right? And I know reading is a bit...tedious for you, right? It’ll be easier for both of us this way.”
Jesper hadn’t said it explicitly, but Wylan knew what he was getting at, and he was incredibly thankful for it.
“Thank you.”
And Jesper simply smiled like it was nothing.
There was something so unfamiliar about this territory. Certainly because he was in Jesper Fahey’s bedroom—because although Wylan had thought about it many times in the privacy of his own thoughts, it was completely new. But also because there was nothing to hide. Jesper had let Wylan into his home, and the latter was beginning to realize that the place was so homey and kind and inviting, he must have also been letting Wylan into his heart, if only a little bit.
They didn’t argue with each other for an hour.
“I could make a joke in between these two points, but I think you’d kill me.”
Wylan laughed.
“How funny is the joke?”
“You hardly laugh, so your standards of funny are not the same as mine.”
Wylan shook his head. “I laugh all the time!”
“Well, it’s definitely never at something I said. Maybe I’m just not witty enough for you.”
And Jesper was entirely joking, but Wylan bit down on his bottom lip nonetheless.
“I think you’re plenty witty,” he said, more seriously than he would have liked.
“Well, thanks Wylan. I can die a happy man, now.”
“I didn’t know you regarded my opinion so highly.”
Jesper paused for a minute, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t decide if it was worth the consequence.
“You know I do.”
Wylan’s breath caught.
“What?”
“You know I care about what you think. It’s why I argue with you so much.”
“Jesper..."
“I’m serious! I feel like I’m waiting for the day that you finally just give up and tell me I’m a genius or something.”
Wylan smiled bashfully.
“You are a genius. There. But I still hate you.”
“Oh? And why is that?"
Wylan didn’t know what came over him, then. It was infuriating that Jesper could provoke him even by being kind and friendly and funny and entirely what Wylan loved him for. Liked him for. Tolerated him for. Whatever.
“Because! You’re so smart that it’s annoying. And you’re beautiful and you absolutely know it, and every time you argue with me I wish you wouldn’t stop because I like the sound of your voice and you are so infuriating it makes me want to kiss you and then yell at you!”
Jesper, for once in his life, was completely speechless. What had he wanted out of this situation, anyway? It was like he’d been waiting for this to happen—begging for it—but never thought he’d see the day that Wylan Van Eck called him beautiful in that argumentative voice that he loved so much.
“I’m—I should—I’m sorry, I should go. We’re done with the outline, right? I can just finish the rest at—"
“No, don’t go."
Wylan stared down at his shoes.
“Why?,” he said. And it was hardly a whisper.
Jesper approached the boy—who was now standing by his desk—and fiddled with his rings out of nervous habit. It was not lost on him that Wylan had noticed.
“Because,” he started, ever-so-quietly.
He looked at Wylan, and it seemed like he was waiting for Jesper to do something. And because he couldn’t think of anything else, he did what he’d thought about doing everyday since his sophomore year of high school.
Jesper lifted one hand with sweet hesitation, and brushed a red curl that had fallen over Wylan’s forehead out of his eyes.
“Because I don’t like it when I can’t hear your voice.”
Wylan’s breath hitched, and his lips parted slightly. His cheeks had gone pink.
Jesper noticed this, and to close off his wishes, placed the backs of his hands on either side of Wylan’s pale cheeks. They were warm, just like Jesper had always dreamed about.
“Stay, please? Da’s making pasta for dinner.”
Wylan laughed softly.
“Okay.”
Smiling like he’d finally found peace with something, Jesper replied.
“Okay.”