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Chapter Text

Wylan made it a habit to be punctual. Perhaps it was the professional and strict nature of his upbringing that had embedded the custom deep within him, but he always felt as though it were most polite to turn up to places at the right time. However, there were other factors to consider when concerning punctuality— faulty alarm clocks, heavy sleeping, and being unable to locate a pair of trousers— all things that would certainly leave their poor victim short on time, and all things that were currently making Wylan late for work.

The dim light on the train flickered, and Wylan gave his face a sharp slap to clear his head of the bleariness from being startled awake. 

“ Mind the gap, ” reminded the voice from the speakers above the platform.

Wylan wasn’t minding the gap; he was booking it out of the platform and forcing himself through gaps in the crowd in a desperate attempt to get to work in time. This would all be so much easier if I had a car, he thought, nearly bowling over about three schoolchildren as he hurried down the street.

“Thank fuck,” he muttered. He’d reached the base of the broadcasting station, and barrelled through the glass doors. The receptionist raised her hand to ask for ID, but upon seeing his rushed demeanour, she changed her mind. The station for Crow Radio was still quite small, though Wylan knew Kaz had plans to expand the place soon, once viewing rates were up. Maybe then Wylan could afford a car and wouldn’t have to try and catch this stupid train.

“Wylan!” Nina called from down the corridor, waving her hand at him, “Where were you?”

Wylan hurriedly approached her and they began to trek up the stairwell. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry— I slept in, then I missed my train, I couldn’t find my trousers…”

“You’re here now, I guess.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow in her direction. “And you sound so pleased about it.”

She opened the door of the first floor for him. “I’d hate for you to not turn up. I don’t trust Jesper to run your segment of the show by himself.”

“I wouldn’t trust him to pour water out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel.”

Nina snorted. “Don’t try and pretend that you don’t think he’s pretty.”

“Who’s pretty?” A new voice came from the break room doorway. Jesper Fahey. Crow Radio’s smooth-talking and lively host– well, one of the hosts. There were six of them in total. Kaz and Inej, who discussed the general news, Nina, who dished out celebrity gossip, along with a reluctant Matthias, as well as Wylan and Jesper, who dealt with everything in between— transitions, signing off, DJ-ing, and the general charm that made Crow Radio so special.

“Nobody,” Wylan replied. Nina opened her mouth, but thought better of it and slid past Jesper into the breakroom. 

“What kept you?” Jesper asked, leaning in the doorframe. Wylan appreciated the concern, certainly, and it did something funny to his heart, but he really needed to get into this breakroom.

Wylan shuffled on his feet. “Oh, you know… things. I slept in.”

“Ooh… Someone keeping you busy ?” Jesper grinned.

Wylan tried to hit back with a witty response, but all he could come up with on short notice was, “N— no. I slept in… couldn’t find my trousers… missed the train…”

“I wouldn’t have minded if you’d come in without trousers, actually.”

“Not very professional,” Wylan muttered.

“Never claimed to be professional, Wylan, dear.” Jesper checked his watch. “And I’m not sure you’re one to talk, seeing as you’re fifteen minutes late, and we’re going live in… three minutes and twenty three seconds.”

“I’m sorry, alright?”

“Don’t apologise to me.” He giggled. “Kaz is gonna be pissed , though!”

“Then maybe,” emerged a drawl from the breakroom, “you should stop flirting and do the job you’re getting fucking paid for.” Kaz appeared behind Jesper, carrying a stack of papers in one hand and his usual cane in the other. “Hello, Wylan. I trust you’re well.”

“I’m fine— I’m sorry I was late, I—”

“Wylan, I don’t care. Get to the broadcast room now.” 

Jesper put his hands on his hips, obscuring Wylan’s view of Kaz. “Yeah, Wylan, get—”

“And take Jesper with you.” Kaz glared and made a shooing motion. “Go on, then.”

“Going, going!” Jesper waved him off and seized Wylan’s wrist, dragging him down the corridor.

“I know where the broadcast room is, Jesper, I don’t need you to hold my hand.” Even if it was quite a nice sensation.

Jesper opened the glass door, and finally released Wylan’s wrist to sit down in his chair. He adjusted his microphone. “Ugh. Matthias always puts this mic up so high…”

Wylan took a seat and placed the headphones over his ears. “Do we do rock-paper-scissors to see who gets to open?”

“ Forty-five seconds ,” said the supervisor in Wylan’s ear.

“Fine,” Jesper said, bringing his hands up towards his chest. Wylan mirrored him. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”

Two rocks.

“Again,” Wylan said, “rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”

Two papers.

“ Twenty seconds, you guys. ”

“One last time. Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.” 

Jesper’s hand was outstretched. Paper. Wylan had curled his hand into a fist. Rock.

“ Ten. Nine. Eight… ”

“Ugh, fuck you, Jesper.”

“ Six, five… ”

Jesper pouted. “And here I was, thinking you were a ‘professional’.”

“ Two, one— and we’re live .”

He leaned into his mic.  “Good morning, listeners! I’m Jesper Fahey.”

“And I’m Wylan Van Eck.”

“And welcome back to Crow Radio. Oh, have I got the story for you guys.” Jesper glanced at him over the mic, that familiar wicked smile making its way onto his face. “Everyone’s second favourite radio host was late for work!”

“Oh, Jes, I didn’t realise you arrived late,” Wylan cut in.

“Hey, watch it, or else I’ll tell them how you forgot to put on trousers.”

“I didn’t forget to put on trousers!”

Jesper tilted his head into the mic again. “Disclaimer to our audience: Wylan is fully clothed.”

“Mhm.”

“Unfortunately.”

Wylan’s face flushed pink, though he stood his ground. “I thought Kaz told you to stop flirting with me.”

“Yeah, and when have I ever listened to Kaz? ”

“Can’t argue with that,” Wylan conceded.

“Though he never said anything about you flirting with me. ”

Wylan shook his head. “Listeners, you’ll be disappointed to know that Jesper and I literally just had a conversation about professionalism.”

Jesper scoffed loudly. “While I’d love to argue with you back and forth in front of about twelve thousand people, we’re running out of time.”

He laughed into the mic. “For now, here are this week’s top artists. We’ll see you after our favourite newlyweds deliver you the news.”

“They’ve been married for two years, Jes!”

“Same difference! Signing off for now, it’s Jesper and Wylan.”

“ And we’re off-air. Wylan, you can breathe now,” said the headphone voice.

——

Wylan had worked for Crow Radio for nearly three years. The station had started with two college dropouts, Kaz Brekker and Jesper Fahey. In Jesper’s father’s house, they’d slowly built up their radio station from nothing, quickly recruiting Kaz’s girlfriend, and eventually, wife, Inej Ghafa, successful college athlete and all-round angel. Jesper had gotten his friends involved, too— the bold and ever-recognisable Nina Zenik starred in Crow Radio’s celebrity gossip segment. Matthias had gotten dragged into it too, in order to impress Nina when they were actually in a committed relationship, and not the on-and-off game they had going on nowadays. Wylan’s entrance onto the scene had been… bumpy, certainly, but he found his way just fine. 

He liked his job. He liked his routine. He liked his coworkers and he liked the friends he’d made. He especially liked Jesper, though. By the time he’d arrived at Crow Radio, everyone else seemed to have paired off; Kaz and Inej into their marriage, Nina and Matthias into… whatever sexually-charged, pent-up tension they shared. 

Wylan had fit in with Jesper quite naturally. They already lived near one another— they got the same train on the way to and from work, that was, if a lack of trousers didn’t keep one of them occupied. Sometimes they’d meet up with the others after work, or on the days when Crow Radio didn’t broadcast. And yet, Wylan couldn’t help but feel more than a friendly affection for Jesper. It was an embarrassing feeling, and most certainly unreciprocated. In order to keep everything smooth and steady, Wylan had made what he thought was the wisest decision, and kept all of his messy feelings tucked somewhere in a cramped gap behind his heart.

The train shot off just as Jesper and Wylan stepped onto the platform. “Shit,” Jesper breathed.

“This is the second time today I’ve missed my fucking train,” groaned Wylan. He threw his head to the left, then the right. Every other train-goer had gotten the other train.

Jesper limply dropped onto the bench lining the station wall. He pressed a hand to his forehead like a feeble maiden consumed with fever. “And I’m hungry. This is awful.”

Wylan peered to his right. A vending machine cast a bluish pallor on the ground of the platform. He pointed at it. “Vending machine.”

Jesper already had his hands in position. “Rock-paper-scissors? Loser buys?”

“Fine.”

He grinned. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”

Wylan’s fingers formed the shape of a pair of scissors. Jesper’s hand was laid out flat. Paper. Jesper swore loudly and rummaged in his jacket for change. He marched over to the vending machine, Wylan walking smugly behind.

“Which one do you want?”

Wylan let his finger hover before tapping the glass, taking a little bit of joy as Jesper tapped his foot on the ground impatiently. “This one.” 

Jesper slotted the coins into the machine, and pressed A4. Then, he repeated the process and chose D2. He picked up the two granola bars and tossed one at Wylan. As he did so, the next train bulleted past them.

“Double shit,” Wylan muttered. Jesper cursed again and maliciously tore into his granola bar. “We’ll get the next one.”

“Someday,” raged Jesper, “someday I’m going to buy a huge fucking car, and I won’t have to worry about catching the train on time.”

“Can I hitch a ride in your huge fucking car?”

Jesper bit off another chunk of his granola bar. “Won’t you have your own car by then?”

“Maybe.” Wylan tucked the bar into his pocket for later. “But I’d miss travelling with you.”

The other man hummed thoughtfully. “I think if you travel with me, I get to pick the music.”

Wylan nudged him. “We can rock-paper-scissors on that.”

——

Although he complained a lot, Wylan didn’t mind the train. On sleepy work nights like this, the air was stuffy; the only noises were the rattling of the train against the rails. The lights were a sterile white, and had a habit of buzzing, flickering for a few seconds. Sometimes, the train jumped on the railway, snapping Wylan awake or making his shoulder bump into Jesper’s, who gave him a routine smile, or a wink, if he was in the notion to do so.

“I think my Da’s calling tonight,” Jesper mumbled, apparently to himself more than anything. Wylan decided to answer anyway.

He hesitated as the train jolted. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Jesper drummed his fingers on his knee.

“You don’t sound so happy about it.”

“I am. I am. I just always think I’m always worrying him, you know? He always asks me if I’m still sober, and I always tell him yes, and… I don’t want him to think of me as his addict son or something.”

Wylan pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I think he only worries because he loves you. Like, a lot.”

“Do you think so?”

“I know so, Fahey.”

That earned a rare, quiet smile from Jesper. The train screeched to a halt. “ Mind the gap… Mind the gap… ”

“Want me to walk you home?” Jesper meant it as a joke, though he almost always walked Wylan to the door of his building.

He sighed, feigning resignation. “How could I refuse?”

Chapter Text

Jesper lounged across the sofa in the breakroom. Lunch was perhaps Jesper’s favourite time of day— it was the only point during his working hours that the six Crows (as they were commonly referred to by their listeners) were together for more than ten minutes. And, of course, there was food involved. What wasn’t to like?

He felt someone move his legs off the sofa and sit down— Wylan, returning from the canteen with a bottle of water. “You always take up this whole sofa,” he admonished, “didn’t your Da teach you to keep your feet off the furniture?”

“Will you two stop bickering and listen ?” Kaz snapped from his chair, beside where Inej was perched on the small table.

“Oh, what are you complaining about now?” Groaned Jesper, “dress code? Because I won’t remove any leather items of clothing from my wardrobe, nor do I think they make me look like a ‘whore’.”

Wylan nodded solemnly and sat next to Jesper. “And I’m really sorry about being late on Tuesday, but—”

“It’s not about leather or lateness,” Inej interrupted, “I think you can guess what Kaz is trying to tell you all about, actually.”

Nina scoffed through a mouthful of food. “Let me guess!” She swallowed. “ Views. ”

Kaz threw a sharp glance her way. “I’ll stop complaining about views when we actually have any.”

“We do have ‘any’ views, Kaz,” Nina replied knowingly, “we have a few hundred thousand monthly listeners on average.”

“Still not as many as City Radio, Ketterdam Broadcast, Kerch Live… must I go on?”

Inej pursed her lips. “Those men were born into dirty money. They’re different from the rest of us.”

A hushed silence fell on the room. “What’s going on now?” Matthias greeted them suddenly, entering the room and taking a seat next to Nina. She gratefully curled her arms around his waist.

“Kaz is complaining about listeners again.”

“Pointless. I don’t see how we can boost views or listeners,” Matthias grumbled, “the only thing these city slickers care about is money, and… celebrities… and cute relationships.”

“ Relationships …” Kaz echoed, “that’s exactly what we need!”

Nina perked up. “Matthias and I—”

“I’m not talking about you and your blonde boy toy, Zenik.” Kaz pointed a gloved finger at where Jesper and Wylan sat. “I’m talking about these two.”

“You want us,” Jesper gestured between himself and Wylan, who had gone a furious shade of pink, “to date ? You’re kidding.”

Kaz did not look like he was kidding.

“There’s— there’s got to be another way,” Wylan reasoned.

“Probably, but this is the easiest one. Think about,” Kaz fixed his tie, “you and Jesper already flirt with one another like that’s what you’re getting paid to do, you already spend a lot of time together…”

“And on all of our social media accounts, people are ranting and raving about how great you’d be as a couple,” added Nina.

“It wouldn’t be a real relationship,” Inej reminded them, “it’d all be make-pretend.” 

Jesper looked at Wylan. Wylan looked at Jesper. 

“Should we rock-paper-scissors on it?” Jesper suggested. “If I win, we date. If I lose, we don’t.”

Kaz rolled his eyes. “Go on, then.”

Wylan nodded. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”

Jesper had drawn paper. Wylan had drawn scissors. 

“Oh,” Wylan said, “sorry.”

——

“How… what’s… the plan, then?” Jesper asked, as the others left to deliver their segment of the show, “like, with the whole boyfriend thing.”

Wylan went a magnificent shade of pink. “I don’t know…” he turned to Jesper on the sofa. “You’ve had plenty of relationships, right? What did you do?”

“Well, I slept with most of them.”

His face burned. “Yeah, good try, but you’re not bedding me.”

“Ah, shame.”

Jesper drummed his fingers on his knees as Wylan thought, leaving the room awkwardly hushed. “What else did you do?”

“Dates.”

Wylan’s voice was high and quavering a little. “Oh. Do you want to… do dates with me? In our fake relationship?”

Jesper placed a hand on the right of his chest. “Did you just ask me out?”

“I fake-asked you out.” Wylan took Jesper’s hand and placed it on the left of his chest. “And your heart’s there, genius.” He sat back. 

“I don’t think I’d mind going on a fake date with you in our fake relationship. But… How are we supposed to tell  the audience? That’s what this is all about, right?”

“We should probably be seen together in public a few times,” Wylan suggested, “and then we could… announce it when we’re on-air.”

Crow Radio was more than just a radio station— its eccentric hosts had earned something of celebrity throughout the city. In particular, Wylan was frequently recognised to be the late Jan Van Eck’s son; the child of the man who owned some of the biggest radio stations in the country. This ‘relationship’ would draw even more attention to both of them— and Crow Radio.

Jesper nodded. “Good…” he nudged Wylan, “and you’re— you’re okay with this? The whole fake relationship thing?”

“Uhm, oh, I—I’m fine with it, yeah— what about you?”

“Hey, I get to fake-date you, why wouldn’t I be pleased?”

There were a few reasons, actually. Number one being: Jesper had a massive fucking crush on Wylan. As in, a stupid grinning, butterflies in your stomach, dizzy kind of crush. Number two: Jesper had not wanted to date Wylan like this . This would ruin everything— all of his plans and promises made to himself to ask Wylan out sometime. All of it, kaput , because of one game of rock-paper-scissors. 

I think I’ve died and gone to hell, Jesper thought to himself.

—

It was Thursday night, and Thursday night, for Jesper, meant groceries. He shopped at the local supermarket, just across from his flat building. It was a different reality in there— a quiet hum of chatter drowned out by fluorescent lights buzzing determinedly, the stale chill in the frozen aisle, and the odd earthiness in the fruit and veg section. Faint music, in a language Jesper didn’t understand, played faintly over the speakers, twisty and slipping just out of the customers’ earshot.

Jesper rocked on the balls of his feet as he stood in queue, thin plastic bags in hand. His back and feet were achy from standing the whole train journey home with Wylan, and his mind was busy, what with the fake-dating thing and how exactly he was going to manage it without having everything blow up in his face.

“Uhm, excuse me?” A lady’s voice came from the second till beside Jesper, “are… are you Jesper Fahey?”

He turned to meet her knowing smile and the squinting eyes of someone who was almost sure they were correct. Jesper grinned. “Caught red-handed.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to bother you, it’s just I wanted to tell you how much I love that radio show you’re on— my son watches it everyday!”

His heart warmed a little at that. “That’s really kind of you, I’ve gotta say…”

“He especially loves you and that other young man you’re always with… William? No, no, Wylan, that’s his name. He worships you two, I swear!” She laughed.

“Ah, it’s understandable, the two of us are pretty great.” He shrugged, his face hot. “Wylan’s the best. Lots of fun to work with.”

The lady smiled at him and waved her hand. “I’ll, uh. Leave you to go shopping. Sorry for disturbing you, I just thought I’d tell you…” she trailed off. “It was nice meeting you.”

“It was nice meeting you too!” He tried to wave, but his bags prevented him from doing so.

“Next, please,” intoned the cashier.

Jesper finished paying and managed to navigate his way out of the supermarket without letting his bags knock over a display. He crossed the road to his building and pushed open the door with his back. He traipsed up the stairs, his shoes the sole noise in the building. Once Jesper reached his door, he dropped the bags in his hands and began fumbling for his keys. Only, there was a note stuck to the door. Or rather, a picture. 

An advertisement for a restaurant, all rich colours and dim lighting. A note, crisp and written in a default Word Document font, read ‘Tomorrow. I’ll (fake) pick you up at 7 . Wear something nice!’

Jesper snatched it off of the door, face hot. “He’s good at this.”

Chapter Text

Wylan welcomed the still warmth of Crow Radio as he entered the building on Friday morning.

Something entered his peripheral vision. “I hear you two are going on your first date tonight.” 

Wylan startled, snapping his head around to see where Inej had sidled up to him. “Inej, I just walked in, how did you—”

Inej smiled. “Where are you going tonight, then? With Jesper?”

He blinked. “Just someplace downtown…”

She gestured for him to walk with her, with a familiar smile. “Kaz and I used to go to this really lovely place— I think it’s near you—”

“Inej?”

Her eyebrows raised just slightly. “Hm?”

Wylan tugged at his shirt self-consciously. “You… you do know we aren’t really dating, Jesper and I?”

Inej hummed thoughtfully, and muttered something like ‘aren’t you?’, before disappearing into the stairwell. 

Puzzled by the exchange, Wylan fixed the collar of his blazer and followed her. He opened the double doors at the top of the stairs, then made his way into the break room.

“I take it you could locate your trousers this morning, Wylan?” Kaz asked, with his usual clipped, manicured and polished tone.

Wylan poured himself a coffee. “That was Tuesday, Kaz. It’s Friday. I’m a changed man.”

“Uh-huh, even heard you got yourself a fake boyfriend,” crooned Jesper from the doorway.

Wylan didn’t even bother turning around. “Oh yeah? And what exactly are you hearing about him?”

“You know, that he’s handsome, and witty… and of course, great in bed—”

“ Right , you two,” Kaz interrupted, checking his watch, “I think it’s about time you get to the broadcast room.”

Wylan glared at Kaz, setting down his mug, and turning to face Jesper, who waited for Wylan until he began ambling down the corridor. They entered the broadcast room and took their seats

“I take it you got my little message yesterday?” Wylan teased.

Jesper nodded. “I must admit Wylan, you know how to fake-woo a guy. Dinner at a fancy restaurant downtown? Low lighting? Candles? I’m practically swooning!”

Wylan’s face went a fabulous pink. “Thought it might be a good place to be seen together. You know, start up rumours and stuff…”

Because, that was what this was, wasn’t it? It was playing bluff with the public by being seen in nice, romantic places with Jesper, without any actual romance. Sure, it was disappointing; Wylan had hoped that maybe someday Jesper might reciprocate those weird, hopeful feelings curled up somewhere in his stomach, but it was pointless. Jesper Fahey was never satisfied, never settled; and never would be, not with Wylan.

Jesper put on his headphones. “Rock-paper-scissors for who opens?”

Wylan nodded, suddenly subdued from the rush of his inner thoughts. 

Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.

Wylan wielded paper, Jesper wielded rock. “Damn it,” Jesper swore, “you always pick paper…”

“And I still always win?”

“Not always.”

Wylan grinned. “Just most of the time.”

“ Okay, you guys, going live— five… four… three… two… one!”

“Good morning, listeners! It’s nine o’clock, I’m Wylan Van Eck.”

“And I’m Jesper Fahey.”

“Starting off your day with Crow Radio! Today’s chilly—”

“But it’s about to heat up!”

Wylan frowned. “Wait, really? That wasn’t on the forecast…”

“No, I meant with your hot date tonight,” Jesper corrected, an infuriating smile on his face. This was not what they had planned.

“Aha, yeah— my— my hot date. That’s… a good one Jes—”

“Oh, come on, drop the act. Where are you taking the lucky guy?”

Wylan glared at him over the mics, and Jesper batted his eyelashes in reply. “… Just someplace downtown.”

“Aw. Isn’t that cute, listeners?”

“Cute…” Wylan mumbled.

“Guess I blew my shot at a night with Wylan, huh?”

“Hey, you never had a shot!” He replied, in a very desperate attempt to salvage the shredded remains of his dignity.

“You’re right, angel, you’re way out of my league.” 

Wylan suddenly found that the room was far too hot. “That was surprisingly… not-vain of you. Do I need to take your temperature? Get you to a hospital?”

“Only if you’re willing to play doctor with me.”

He choked. “I think we’re running out of time! We’ll see you after Kaz and Inej bring you the latest news— thanks, goodbye, so long— I’ve been Wylan—”

“And I’ve been Jesper.”

“And we’re signing off!”

“ … Okay! We’re off-air. Quick suggestion. Jesper?”

“Yeah?”

“ Keep it in your pants. My mother watches this show.”

——

Wylan did not have much good experience with dates. When he lived in his father’s household— which was up until about four or five years ago— dates were a no-go. Jan Van Eck intended to have Wylan married off to some heiress, preferably of noble blood, when Wylan was twenty one. He did not want to marry an heiress or a duchess or a daughter of a millionaire— he had tried to explain this to his father, once, and he was met with the question of, ‘then, who should you prefer to marry?’ And Wylan did not have the heart to tell his father that he’d settle for a prince.

Of course, whatever marriage his father had planned for him, Wylan did not follow through with it. He was now older than the age his father had scheduled his wedding for, and it was strange to think that such a thing was ever a future for him.

Wylan did sometimes go on dates. None of them had gone well. On one particularly memorable occasion, his date escaped through a bathroom window and left Wylan with a staggering bill to pay.

So, naturally, Wylan was terribly nervous for this date, even if it was fake— because there was so much more on the line than just his dignity. If this went right, Crow Radio could be one of the biggest stations in the city— hell, the country! And that meant he wouldn’t have to live in his shitty apartment and spend his days missing trains and being late to work. If it went wrong… he’d lose Jesper. He’d fuck up their friendship beyond recognition simply because Wylan so achingly wanted something more.

Wylan stared at himself in the mirror. “Stop dwelling,” he told the frowning reflection, “and get your shit together.” 

His reflection only looked terrified. Wylan sighed and fixed his hair, to no avail. Frustrated, he snatched his wallet from his bed and left.

Wylan felt terribly overdressed as he ambled along the street— it was a Friday night, and Friday nights on Wylan’s street always meant sleek dresses and shirts unbuttoned to the navel, and a messy kind of glamour spilling out of bars and clubs. He liked to admire it; the clumsiness and indulgence of it all held a charm he’d like to paint. 

Jesper’s apartment building lay in front of him. Wylan’s finger found the buzzer to his apartment easily.

“Hello?” Came Jesper’s voice, metallic through the speaker.

Wylan smiled, even though Jesper couldn’t see him. “It’s your fake boyfriend.”

Jesper sounded impressed. “And it’s seven on the dot. My, I do love a man who’s punctual.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get your ass down here.”

“Oh, you’ve ruined the mood. It was so romantic until you—”

“ Jesper, ” warned Wylan.

“… Coming.” The speaker clicked, indicating Jesper was making his way to the door of the building. He appeared in the sheltered entrance where Wylan leaned against the wall, arms tucked neatly behind his back.

Wylan nodded, impressed. “You clean up nicely, Jesper.”

“Thought I’d make an effort for you,” Jesper replied, “and you don’t look too shabby yourself.” His face was suddenly overcome by a familiar smug look. “And… I brought you something.”

Wylan raised an eyebrow. “I don’t appreciate you outdoing me when I’m supposed to be taking you on a nice fake date.”

“You haven’t even seen what it is yet!” Jesper removed his hands from behind his back. “Et voilà!” He extended a bouquet into Wylan’s face.

“Roses?” Wylan squeaked.

“Yeah, since they’re romantic and everything—” He was cut off by Wylan sneezing.

“Jesper, that’s— that’s really sweet of you, but I have—I have a pollen allergy.” He sneezed again.

“Oh my god. I’m— I’m so sorry— I didn’t realise that you… here!” He snatched the bouquet from where Wylan was holding it at a distance, and hurled it onto the road, where a car slammed into it, honking angrily, and leaving a scattering of rose petals on the concrete.

The two of them shared a stunned silence. Wylan sniffed. “I suppose that’s one way to handle it.”

“I… panicked,” supplied Jesper weakly, “I can’t believe I didn’t know you had a pollen allergy. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! ”

“I didn’t think it was important!” Wylan exclaimed, “why would you need to know I had a pollen allergy?!”

“Becuase we’re going on a date! And dates generally imply the presence of flowers!”

Wylan opened his mouth to argue, but found no words came. He shook his head. “Right, right. Let’s just… go on our fake date, yeah?”

Jesper smiled. “Yeah. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about the flowers.”

In response, Wylan simply nudged his shoulder. 

——

As per usual, Wylan and Jesper got the train. It seemed that most of what happened in their lives happened on the train. Fridays on the train were particularly eventful— like the streets, they were bursting with life— intoxicated and relieved life. Groups of friends clad in scant clothing and bright colours chatted, their words low and a little slurred. Sometimes, they sang. Not well, but Wylan appreciated the attempt. 

There was a man sitting across from the two of them, that morning’s newspaper opened across his eyes. He peered over the top of it, then quickly obscured his eyes again. Jesper didn’t notice; though, Wylan did. He had a knack for spotting things others didn’t. The man repeated this peering over his paper then hiding again for about two minutes before Wylan intervened.

“Can I help you?” Wylan asked, trying not to sound annoyed.

“Oh, uh, I was just wondering if you were… Wylan Van Eck and… Jesper Fahey? From Crow Radio?”

Jesper snapped to attention. “Oh? Are you a fan?”

The man looked incredibly embarrassed. “Well, yeah, how couldn’t I be? My wife and I love you guys.” He shifted. “Where are you guys headed? Crow Radio stops broadcasting at seven.”

Wylan’s jaw hung slack. “Uhm…” he had not expected to have had to lie about the fake-dating situation this early on.

Jesper leaned in towards the man. “Hey, you were listening to this morning’s show, right? Nine o’clock?”

The man nodded.

“Remember when we talked about Wylan’s hot date?”

“… Yes.”

Jesper’s voice was quiet. “ I’m his hot date.”

Wylan’s heart did a flip. His hot date.

The man’s eyes widened. “I fucking knew it.”

“ Downtown Kerch. Mind the gap, please. Mind the gap… Mind—”

“And, uh, that’s our stop! Have a nice evening!” Wylan grabbed Jesper’s hand and guided him onto the platform. 

“Damn, why’d you have to drag me away? I was going to call you some insufferable pet name or something.”

They trekked up the stairs of the platforms and onto the streets.

“That would have been unnecessary. You call me plenty of pet names anyway,” Wylan pointed out. The restaurant beckoned them, its dim amber lights warming the pavement.

Jesper swung his hand back and forth, taking Wylan’s with it. “And does that annoy you?”

He paused. “Yeah. Don’t stop though. It’s cute.” Wylan let go of Jesper’s hand to open the door of the restaurant, only for Jesper’s hand to find his own again. “Although, we should set a few ground rules…”

“I have a reservation,” he informed the lady behind the desk, “table for two, under ‘Van Eck’.”

“Of course, right this way…”

Jesper whistled as they took their seats in the cushy booth. “Well shit, this is great, Wy.” He rested his chin on the palms of his hands. “So. Ground rules, you mentioned. Shoot.”

“Okay… Number One. No flowers.”

The other man nodded enthusiastically. “No flowers. We can’t fake-date if you have a coughing fit every time we go out.” He thought. “Number two…? I take it we can’t sleep with one another.”

“Yes, and not kissing either. Nothing beyond hand-holding and the like.”

“Gotcha.”

“Number three. We do not tell anyone outside of the Crows that this is fake.”

“Oh, that’s a good one… and, Number four? Try not to fall for me.” Jesper grinned, eyes crinkled lazily.

Too late. “I think I’ll manage,” Wylan replied, “but the same goes for you.”

“And what about names? What do we call each other? What’s out of bounds?”

Wylan drummed his fingers on the table. “I’m good with anything except ‘babe’ or its variants. What about you?”

“Call me whatever you’d like, angel.”

His face flushed hot and he scratched his neck. “Uhm, alright… Jes.”

“We can work on pet names another time,” Jesper assured him. He reached into his pockets and conjured a pen. Wylan passed him a napkin. “Let me write this down so I won’t forget. Number one: No flowers. Number two: Do not sleep with Wylan. Do not kiss Wylan. Number three: Do not tell people our relationship is fake. Number four: Do not fall in love with Wylan. Number Five: Do not call Wylan ‘babe’.”

“So, it’s settled then? This is happening?”

“Fake-happening,” Jesper corrected him.

“Shall we shake on it, then?” Wylan reached his hand across the table.

“We shall.” Jesper met his hand, and enclosed his own around it, fingers slim and firm. Warm hands, slightly calloused hands, comfortable hands.

Wylan laughed. “I’m sure this will be a fantastic fake-partnership.”

“And we’ll both be a whole lot richer if you’re right.”

——

The date was mostly uneventful, and, Wylan found, embarrassingly enjoyable. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to do that with Jesper for real, without a set of rules written on a napkin, and the impending articles that would inevitably be written about them. There was no use wondering, he knew, but it was all he could do.

A group of students, laughing loudly, stumbled through the train doors, sequinned and clumsy. They had their arms flung easily around one another, grinning, eyelids lowered.

Wylan didn’t feel the burning desire to join them like he usually did; didn’t feel the yearning to be a part of something sprawling and alive and vibrant. Jesper shifted from where he was dozing next to Wylan, body leant limply against Wylan’s. He was happier to be a part of this, instead.

——

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and breezy?” Jesper's voice was still thick with sleep.

“Woah, woah, cowboy, don’t think you’re getting away from me so easily. I have to walk you home.”

“Oh, Wylan, come on— ”

He seized Jesper’s arm. “No, no, I insist!” He laughed.

Jesper sighed. “Fine. But when I take you out, you have to submit to my genteel manners.”

A quiet smile. “I can tolerate that, I think.”

Loud, blaring music wound its way out of the doors of pubs and clubs, spilling into one another, creating a song of jargon and mismatched beats. 

“We should do this more often.”

“We’re going to be doing it quite a lot from now on,” replied Wylan. He paused for a minute. “But you’re right. This was nice.” He laughed, “it’s the best date I’ve ever been on.”

Jesper inclined his head towards Wylan’s, eyes still darting between the skyline and the darkening sky. “… You mean that?”

“I haven’t had the best track record with dates. One time, the guy escaped through a bathroom window so he wouldn’t have to deal with me.”

“But you’re so… sweet.”

He felt his face heat. “Don’t lie. I’m a raging bitch and you know it.”

“You’re only a raging bitch when you’re hungry or late to work. Other than that, you’re just adorable.”

Wylan made a scoffing noise. “Oh yeah?”

Jesper nodded. “Yeah! You… talk to yourself, and you fix your hair when you think nobody’s looking, and you blush so easily, and…”

Wylan swallowed, heart thrumming ceaselessly in his chest. “While I’d love to hear you tell me nice things all night, I’m afraid you’re home.”

“Oh? We are? Good. I’m exhausted.” He stepped into the dim overhead light in the doorway, Wylan following. “Well. This was… nice. This was very nice.” He met Wylan’s eyes. Then. they quickly flickered downwards, Jesper’s lashes lowered sleepily.

“I’ll… see you tomorrow then?” Wylan asked softly.

He grinned. “So long as you can find a pair of trousers.”

Wylan found himself grinning back. “Night, idiot.”

“That’s a pet name I’ve never heard before.”

“Get to sleep.”

Jesper tried to move past Wylan at the same time Wylan tried to slip past him. There was a fumbling of limbs for a short second, before Jesper made it to the door. He gave Wylan a thumbs-up, which he returned awkwardly. 

Wylan daydreamed on his walk to the other end of the road. At one point, he nearly wandered into oncoming traffic. That had been the best date he’d ever been on— and it hadn’t even been real. But there was just something so easy about being with Jesper, something so comfortable and casual that Wylan wanted to be enveloped by.

It was then Wylan realised he was truly, intrinsically fucked. 

Chapter Text

It hit the headlines that next morning: ‘ CROW RADIO STARS SPOTTED ON ROMANTIC OUTING’

Kaz set down the paper on the break room table and smoothed out the crumpled page in his smooth manner. “Good job, you two. Looks like your little date really inspired a few tabloids. Those sappy fuckers are having a field day.”

Wylan nudged Jesper. He felt a strange sense of pride at being so good at a fake relationship.

Nina took a serene sip of tea. “Everyone’s raving about it on our socials. They all think you’re so cute. There was a picture of Jesper asleep on Wylan on the train home. The ‘best boyfriend ever’, according to one person. Maybe someone could take a leaf out of his book.” She threw a cutting glare at Matthias, who rolled his eyes.

“Did something happen with you two?” Inej asked. Jesper didn’t know how she had the patience to keep up with them.

Jesper suspected it was the usual, something ridiculous, though gave Nina and Matthias the benefit of the doubt. 

“Matthias missed our anniversary.”

“I didn’t realise we were counting the days we were broken up, too,” Matthias argued.

Kaz groaned loudly. “Listen, you two, as much as I love hearing about your sexually-charged little game you have going on here, I’m more interested in the couple who are making me more money.”

“Making us more money, sweetheart,” Inej reminded him.

“Yes, making us more money.” Nina pursed her lips but fell silent. Matthias just frowned and grumbled something incoherent. “You two,” Kaz said, inclining his head to Wylan and Jesper, “you have to confirm the rumours. You’ve already introduced the show, and Nina and Matthias will be going live in… six minutes. After that, you’re on again.”

“And you want us to just… confirm that it’s all true?” Wylan asked.

“Yes, yes, do it however and whatever way you want, just get it done, and done well, understand?”

“This is going to be so much fun,” Jesper whispered to Wylan.

——

After his and Wylan’s segment of the show, Jesper’s favourite part of Crow Radio had to be Zenik’s Corner— the ten minutes dedicated to whatever red-hot celebrity gossip Nina Zenik had her eye on. Nina was incredibly recognisable— her silky, bold voice was practically made for radio, and her manner, sly and flirtatious was truly intoxicating. Although, that wasn’t the only thing that made listeners tune into Zenik’s Corner. Nina’s relationship with Matthias often made its way onto the show, whether Nina or Matthias liked it or not. Jesper, even though he wasn’t particularly invested in the relationship, always listened in on Zenik’s Corner, for the drama more than anything.

“Afternoon, listeners, it’s Nina Zenik.”

“And Matthias Helvar.”

“Coming to you from Zenik’s Corner! First up, Alina Starkov was spotted on the streets of Ketterdam yesterday morning. What could the shining pop sensation be up to? Some suspect a Kerch dalliance, or even a fling with the visiting Zoya Nazyalensky!”

Matthias sighed. “Speaking of Nazyalensky, the formidable Ravkan actress won this year’s DeKappel’s Award of the Arts for her jaw-dropping performances through the last twelve months.”

“Matthias wouldn’t know anything about performing well. Onstage or… otherwise.”

“Yeah, and I bet you go through flings faster than Starkov and Nazyalensky put together.”

“Moving on,” Nina said, tone picking up, “this next story’s about two of our very own Crows. Wylan Van Eck and Jesper Fahey were reportedly seen in downtown Kerch yesterday evening, looking very cozy indeed. One clever fan’s photo depicts Fahey asleep on Van Eck’s arm.”

“That’s an invasion of privacy.”

There was an awkward silence. Then Nina recovered, “seeing as the two boys are on next, I suppose you’ll all get your answers after this quick advertisement from Ketterdam Distillery. See you tomorrow, and until next time, keep your eyes peeled for any hot gossip.”

Jesper turned to Wylan, who looked paler than usual. “We can do this, Wy.”

“We can do this,” Wylan echoed.

“It’ll be all good. And… and if something goes wrong, I’ll be right there.”

Nina and Matthias exited the broadcast room, and Nina gave the two of them a wink and an encouraging double thumbs-up.

Wylan and Jesper took their seats, and Jesper fixed the mic from where Matthias had placed it absurdly high.

“Rock-paper-scissors?” Jesper offered.

Wylan nodded queasily. 

Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.

Jesper had played paper, and Wylan chose scissors. The latter gave a sigh of relief.

“Good luck guys. We’re on-air in… five…”

“We can do this,” Jesper reminded Wylan.

“ Four… three… two… one… we’re on-air.”

“Well… afternoon listeners, it’s Jesper Fahey again.”

“And Wylan Van Eck.”

“And… I guess we’ve got to talk about these… rumours, huh, Wylan?”

“Guess so, Jes.”

There was silence. Wylan smiled weakly at Jesper, indicating for him to go on. “The truth is… we’re dating!” You just lied to hundreds of thousands of people .

“Yeah. It’s… it’s a new development. It’s only been a couple of weeks.” Wylan looked over the mics at Jesper for approval. He nodded encouragingly.

“We’ve been trying to keep it on the down-low, but…”

“Jesper’s not the subtlest guy in the world.”

“What can I say? I fell head over heels when I first—”

Wylan drowned him out with a laugh. “I’ve got to say, the feeling was mutual.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, indeed.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I won’t do your ego the favour.”

“You’re no fun!”

“And you like me anyway. You like me very, very, much,” Wylan added.

You don’t even know how much, Jesper thought. “I know this is kind of a big deal, but we’ve got to hand the mic off to Kaz, for this week’s news in economics.”

Wylan nodded. “I’ve been Wylan!”

“And I’ve been Jesper. We’ll see you in a bit.”

“ And we’re off-air… Congratulations, you two!”

——

Seven arrived quickly that evening, though not quickly enough for Jesper. There was an air of shocked confusion in the building. Employees outside of the tight-knit group of Crows passed him or Wylan by with squints and the occasional ‘congratulations’. It seemed that they too were unsure of the repercussions of this; maybe they were suspicious about the true foundations of the relationship.

But, that, for better or worse, wasn’t Jesper’s main concern. His main concern was Nina’s current, viciously contorted expression.

Jesper let his frame fall limply onto the break room sofa. “Is something wrong?”

Inej winced. Nina took a sharp inhale of breath. This drew Wylan’s attention from where he was daydreaming next to Jesper.

“What’s going on, Nina? Inej?” He asked, light brows drawn together.

“There’s a problem with the press outside,” Nina told them, “they’ve covered the main entrance.”

Jesper shifted uncomfortably. “Why’re they here? Wylan and I ‘dating’ isn’t that big of a deal, is it?”

“Of course it is,” Wylan mumbled almost mournfully.

“Wylan’s right,” said Inej, “he’s the disowned son of a late millionaire. Kept out of the public eye for years, now a radio star.”

Nina nodded. “And now he’s dating you.”

“You say that like it’s… bad.” Jesper was joking, mostly, though a part of him stung with knowing what they were talking about.

“It’s not bad,” Wylan piped up, sharply, “and anyone who thinks otherwise can go fu—”

Inej cut him off. “Jesper, it’s surprising for the public, is all. Crow Radio was Jan Van Eck’s biggest pain in the neck until he died, and now it's all of his stations’ biggest rival.”

“And you’re not exactly the type of guy my dad would have liked me to date,” Wylan added. He shrugged and threw a wry smile Jesper’s way. “Then again, he wouldn’t have wanted me to date a guy at all.” 

Jesper snorted. “Definitely not an ex-addict, either.” He swung his legs up, so as they were stretched across Wylan’s lap.

“He’d probably have me marry a politician’s daughter or something.”

Nina made a face. Jesper grinned. “I think I’m much more… more entertaining than any politician’s kid.”

Inej checked her watch. “I should probably get going. Kaz is meeting me downstairs.” She waved goodbye to the other three and disappeared into the corridor.

Wylan startled. “Oh, shit, Jes, we’re late for our train.”

“It’s not likely we’re getting out of here any time soon, anyways,” he replied despondently.

Nina shot up from her seat like she’d been struck with lightning. “The back entrance! Nobody knows about the back entrance!”

“What back entrance?” Wylan asked.

Nina pointed at him. “Exactly. I use it to avoid Matthias whenever we’re on a break. It leads into the alley between here and next door. With any luck, you can get out of her without being spotted.”

The back entrance took a path that went through the canteen and into the storage room, where there was a small door beside the sink that led out into the alleyway.

“I’ve never been back here before,” Wylan murmured.

“Really? I used to go this way all the time when the press was last on my case.”

“… I’m really sorry about all of this. I didn’t think our fake-dating would cause us both so much trouble.”

“Oh, angel, don’t worry your head about it. I’m made of touch stuff; it’ll take more than a few pissy journalists to take me down.”

He watched as Wylan put on display that lovely, quiet smile he had, the one that made whoever was on its receiving end believe that it was for them alone.

Jesper opened the door. A rush of cool air made its way through the gap like a relieved sigh. He poked his head into the alleyway. Looked left, looked right. “Coast is clear.” He slipped out into the slender alley, and felt Wylan move behind him.

The two of them crept out onto the pavement. Not a journalist in sight. Wylan gave a thankful sigh, and seemed to drop the tension in his shoulders. “Thank god. If we hurry, we can make the next train.”

“That was a close call,” Jesper declared, “I know I have a face made for front covers, but journalists are so fucking annoying sometimes.”

“Tabloid journalists are, anyway,” Wylan agreed.

They turned a corner. Swarms of journalists surrounded the building, checking papers, flicking through cameras, and having heated phone conversations.

“Shit,” Jesper whispered.

“It’s them!” Yelled a voice from the crowd of busybodies.

“Run?” Wylan suggested.

Jesper nodded. “Run.”

The two of them took off down the street, pursued by clicking cameras and persistent shouts.

“How are we going to fix this?!” Wylan exclaimed.

“We could always dive into an alleyway and… watch them run by… like they do in the movies?” He grinned.

“Now is not the time for ridiculous suggestions, Jesper!”

“Shit, you’re right.” He chanced a glance over his shoulder. “We could fake our deaths?”

“Jesper, I swear to fuck, I’m going to feed you to the rabid journalists chasing us!”

They turned a corner, and stopped behind a bus shelter. Jesper could feel himself beginning to wear out. Wylan swore. “We’ve got a few seconds until they come around that corner.” The two of them backed up against the wall opposite the shelter.

“And then we’re really screwed… What do we do? They’re gonna see us any second now!”

The thundering of footsteps approached. Those waiting at the bus stop barely paid it a thought.

Wylan approached him like he was a wary cat. “Jesper, I’m going to do something that might make you panic. But please, please trust me.”

And then Wylan kissed him. It was terrifying, and sudden, and certainly not something that the two of them should be doing. And yet… It was good. Great, even; Wylan’s hands placed on the sides of Jesper’s face, like it was something worth worshipping, and his lips on Jesper’s— oh, his lips. Gentle and soft, even in Wylan’s desperation.

Wylan backed away, eyes wide and mouth parted ever so slightly. “I’m so sorry.” 

Jesper blinked.

Wylan looked over his shoulder, where a crowd of suited individuals rounded a sharp right corner. “Th—they’re gone, though.”

“What… who… who’s gone?”

“The— the journalists?”

“Oh, those guys.”

There was an awkward silence. “I’m— I’m really sorry. I just thought—”

“It’s alright, it really is,” Jesper interrupted, a distracted smile wandering across his face, “and, in our rules, it explicitly says ‘do not kiss Wylan’ , and technically, you kissed me .”

Wylan’s face was wonderfully flushed. “I promise you, now, that I’ll never do it again.” Jesper felt his heart stretch at the genuineness of Wylan’s words.

“Aw. Not even if I ask nicely?”

The other laughed, although Jesper wasn’t ready to admit that he wasn’t joking for once.

——

They utilised the bus station next to them, and got the bus home. Jesper hadn’t used the bus since his school days— which seemed so far away, so long ago; tucked in some field in the middle of nowhere, or in a pot in his Da’s kitchen. In reality, Jesper had been a wide-eyed country boy just five years ago. It was strange to think of that boy. He looked the same as Jesper— clashing fashion sense, dark skin and flashing eyes. But he felt different. Younger Jesper, he remembered, was so sickeningly hopeful. He came to the city to be a student; become a great engineer or architect or… anything that would make his father proud of him. 

Of course, that had not been the path fate intended for him. A few months into his time at university, Jesper dropped out. Kaz, another student, who had never exercised much of his energy at school, joined him. It was with that Crow Radio began, in Colm Fahey’s garage. 

But there was a lot of pressure in the radio business. Always performing, always on-air, always paranoid that someone was listening. That was when the drinking began. The drinking and the gambling. It very nearly ruined him, nearly ruined Crow Radio, and everything he and Kaz had worked towards.

During Jesper’s recovery, he ached for the casinos and gambling halls of Ketterdam. Wylan, still a new presenter at the time, recognised this. One day, Jesper was grumbling about missing one certain casino in upper Ketterdam. Wylan had jokingly suggested that he swap the gambling for rock-paper-scissors.

It was there that his and Wylan’s tradition began. Naturally, it didn’t cure his addiction, or stop him from falling off the bandwagon in the early days, but that little habit let Jesper know that someone did care about him, about his recovery. It was a strange thing, but a comforting one in spite of that.

“Hey, we should probably get off now,” Wylan reminded him quietly. 

“Oh, yeah, we should. I didn’t even realise we’d gone this far…” 

“I noticed. When you start daydreaming, you tap your thighs with your thumbs, over and over again.”

Jesper’s face went hot, but he was determined to stand his ground. “Admire my legs that much, do you?”

“Ha, you wi—”

The bus halted abruptly with a deafening screech, sending Wylan flying into Jesper.

“Wow, I suppose you just can’t help falling for me, babe .” He grinned down at Wylan.

“You’re terrible.”

“You adore me.”

——

Jesper’s phone rang. He already knew who it’d be. He picked up, and smiled, although the person on the other end of the line couldn’t see him.

“Evening, Da.”

“Hi, son.”

“I didn’t know you were calling tonight. Usually you warn me,” he laughed.

Colm gave a quiet laugh. “I know, it’s just… well. I saw something in the paper this morning. And I wanted to ask you if it’s true? If that’s alright.”

Jesper winced. “Sure, Da. Shoot.”

“That Van Eck boy.”

“What about him?”

“The press say you two are courting.”

He smiled at his Da’s language. “First of all, courting is so outdated, Da.”

“And secondly?”

“And secondly…” He glanced over at the napkin on the fridge. Number three: Do not tell people our relationship is fake. “We’re… an item, yeah!”

“Really?” His Da sounded delighted. “Oh, Jes, I’m so happy for you!”

“Thanks, Da.”

“Oh, I’ll have to meet the lad…”

Jesper choked on his cereal. “Y—you’ll have to do what?”

“Meet him! I have to get a sense of what kind of guy he is.”

“I could just tell you…”

“Mm, but you’re a bit biased, wouldn’t you say?”

There was a familiar silence in which Jesper had to admit his father was right. “I’ll ask Wylan.”

“Great! I’ll see you… next Saturday?”

“Da, I don’t think—”

“Ah! I’m so excited, I haven’t had visitors in ages. Now, hurry on to bed, Jes. Get some sleep.”

“Yes, Da,” Jesper intoned through a mouthful of cereal.

“And don’t talk with your mouth full, dear.”

“Alright. I’m going to bed. Love you, Da.”

“Love you too, Jes. I’m looking forward to meeting this lad of yours!”

“ Goodnight, Da!”

——

Jesper sat in bed, silently eating heaped spoonfuls of cereal. He was thinking about the kiss— well, of course he was, how couldn’t he? It was a kiss of the strangest circumstance and yet Jesper couldn’t stop playing it through his mind, again, and again, and again. Wylan’s burning face, his lowered lashes and face so close to Jesper’s he could count the freckles on his face. There was something so wonderful in his bashful smile and flushed complexion in the aftermath of the kiss, something that made Jesper want to do it again and again, draw the smile from his lips over and over, make him fumble and blush and argue sheepishly ceaselessly.

He was forced, then, to confront the fact that it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. And it never had been. There was no attraction behind what Wylan had done, no romantic intent. This relationship, in a way, was professional; for nothing but advertisement and monetary gain. He couldn’t back out— how would he explain himself; to the public, to Kaz, to Wylan?

Rule Number Four of fake-dating was seriously endangered.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you know how to drive this thing?” Jesper asked, shutting the door of the rental car.

“Like, seventy percent sure? I have a license, if that’s what you’re worried about,” replied Wylan, adjusting the driver’s seat.

“Seventy percent…”

“If you let me pick the music, it’ll be ninety percent.”

“I’m not that desperate.” Jesper shifted in the passenger seat. “Right. Uhm… let’s go!”

Wylan looked at him like he was being ridiculous. “Woah. Slow down, cowboy. We’re not going anywhere.” He pointed at Jesper.

“That’s… my lap.”

“Put your seatbelt on, genius.”

“Oh. Oh, right.” He pulled the belt into its plug. Wylan nodded, satisfied, and lifted his foot off of the clutch. The car shot backwards.

Jesper cursed loudly. “Sorry,” Wylan apologised, “it was in reverse.”

“You shitbag. I bet you did that on purpose.”

Wylan grinned. “Not my fault you’re nervous driving anything that won’t pull a plough.”

“You’re getting far too cocky. Next thing you know, you’ll be flir—”

He was cut off as Wylan changed gears and pulled out into the road, making the transition as uncomfortable as possible for Jesper. “I take it, you know how to get to your dad’s place?”

“I’m not completely useless,” he grumbled.

“Not at all,” Wylan agreed, “you’re a pretty good fake-boyfriend, as well.”

“Turn left. And, ‘pretty good’? ‘Pretty good’?”

Wylan took the left. “I’m only kidding. You’re a very good fake-boyfriend.”

“You don’t mind meeting my Da, right?”

“I’m a little surprised. I guess we’re moving fast.”

“But you’re not… bothered?”

Wylan kept his eyes on the road, though he could feel Jesper’s flitting eyes on him. “Nope. It was going to have to happen at some point.” He smiled. “Besides, you could show me around. It’d be like a date.”

“You mean it?” Jesper scrambled in his seat. “Oh, Wy, I’m so excited! I’m gonna show you the market square, and— oh my god, we can get ice-cream— and the observatory! Wylan, I’m not kidding, it’s—”

Wylan had successfully pulled the trigger. Jesper always had so much to say, and Wylan knew he had little time to say it; especially when it concerned his home and his family. If the world were not so cruel, Wylan could sit or drive or draw or do nothing at all but listen to Jesper talk. There was a frantic charm in his voice and his mannerisms, an honest candour in his words that intoxicated Wylan. It was a few hours before he stopped, to remark, “looks like it’s raining pretty heavily.”

Wylan glanced out of the window. Countryside surrounded him, neat little houses and stone paths, a cluster of a town not far away, obscured by a thin veil of rain. “Oh. Guess we can’t do a tour of your place this afternoon, then.”

“If we’re here for the weekend, we could always do it tomorrow mor—” Jesper paused. “…What’s that noise?”

“What n—” Jesper pressed a finger to Wylan’s lips, panicking him greatly.

“Listen,” he whispered.

Jesper was right. There was a horrible sound coming from the engine, like the thing was battling an army of broken glass and was certainly not winning.

Wylan’s eyes widened. He did not know much about cars, but he knew they weren’t supposed to sound like that. Jesper bit his lip and winced as the car slowed, and smoke spewed from the bonnet with a decisive clunk.

“Oh, shit, shit, shit…” Wylan hissed. The two of them leapt out of the car, and onto the road, which was slick with rain and worn from years of weathering. Jesper lifted the lid of the bonnet, and a cascade of smoke emerged from it, and a coughing fit ensued as the car spat and choked.

“I have no idea how to fix this,” Jesper mumbled.

“I thought you were an engineering student?” Wylan asked, too distraught to be frantic.

“I dropped out, like, six months in, Wylan.”

“… Things just can’t get any worse, can they?”

There was a rumble from above them, and the heavens opened, letting thick droplets of rain fall upon them.

“Oh, fuck this.”

——

As it turned out, it was very difficult to push a small car through the muddy countryside while rain lashed down on your back.

“Next time,” Wylan grumbled, “next time, we’re getting the bus.”

Jesper simply groaned loudly in response. “This is not the fun trip away I had in mind.”

“It’s been such a week…” he heaved to push the car forward more.

“I know, right? Between Nina and Matthias falling out, and with us dating, and…”

“And?”

“And with you kissing me.”

Wylan swallowed, and continued pushing the car. “I don’t know what to say other than I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again. I’ll… make it up to you.”

“I wasn’t complaining!”

His heart stuttered. “W—what?”

“Wait— wait no, not in a flirtatious way, or—or a romantic way, no. Just… you don’t have to keep apologising for it. I understand. Is… all.”

“Oh. Oh, thanks.”

He grinned. “On a side note, I should call you sugar lips. You’re a very good kisser.”

Wylan’s face flushed an embarrassing shade of pink. Suddenly, Jesper’s endless chatter was much less endearing. “Do not. ”

“You’re blushing, ooh…”

“Shut up…”

“No, no, it’s cute, really!”

Wylan threw him a cutting glare, which Jesper was undoubtedly able to take seriously. “Have I ever told you what a pain in the ass you are?”

“Frequently, angel.” 

“Can we just agree to stop talking about… the kiss?”

Jesper gave an obliging smile. “If that’ll make you happy.” He suddenly gasped. “We’re here! Turn right, that’s the house right there— we’re home!”

——

Colm Fahey answered the door with a very concerned expression. “Oh, dear, I was about to send out a search party for you two! Jes, what happened?”

A very damp Jesper answered, “The car we rented broke down.”

Colm shook his head. He turned to Wylan. “Not a great start to your visit, hm?”

Wylan smiled, if a little feebly. “I’m sure the rest will be great?”

“Come in, come in… I’m Colm, by the way, though I’m sure Jesper’s told you… none of this ‘Mr Fahey’ business… makes me feel old.” 

“Alright… Colm.”

The older man waved his hands with a pleased smile. “Jes’ll show you the bathroom, you two can get dried up, and I’ll put up some tea…”

Jesper gestured for Wylan to follow him. He opened the door to a small bathroom, with neat checkered tiles on the floor, and smart blue walls. “Let’s see if I can find some towels…” Jesper muttered, rummaging through a stack of drawers next to the sink. He tossed one at Wylan, and busied himself with using another to dry his face off.

Wylan scrubbed his hair, which had begun to stick to his forehead. “My hair’s going to end up a mess,” Wylan complained, more to himself than anyone, “I should shave it all off.” He was joking, sort of, not thinking the other person in the room would pay him much mind.

“What?” Jesper breathed. “Wylan, if you cut your hair, I’d die .”

He laughed. “Don’t be so dramatic, Jesper. And, besides, it’s a nuisance in the summer. And,” he added, pointing at his head, “in the rain.”

“But it’s so pretty?” He inched closer to Wylan and took a copper strand between his thumb and index finger.

“Do you think so?”

“I know so, Van Eck.”

He grinned down at Wylan, hair still pinched between his fingers, and his eyes met Wylan’s. He stared at Jesper, eyebrow raised snugly, frozen in his complacency. Wylan acknowledged in a very short time span that if this were real, if this relationship were not some sort of fabrication, Wylan could lean in and tilt his head just so that his lips met Jesper’s— of course, he’d done that already, and look how awkward that had made things— it was a terrible thought, a very foolish thought, but an oh so tempting one at that, as Wylan watched Jesper’s lashes lower as his eyes travelled just under his eyes. Wylan did the same, and found himself staring directly at Jesper’s lips. 

He practiced some self control and let his eyes wander back to Jesper’s— how striking they were, that grey that made his heart freeze and breath hitch— and took a shallow breath.

“Are you two done yet? I want to—” Colm opened the door to the bathroom, and Wylan and Jesper sprung apart like repelling magnets.

“Hi, Da,” Jesper murmured.

“Hi, Colm.” Wylan followed.

Colm just blinked. “There’s… tea. In the kitchen.”

There was a general mumbling and muttering of ‘yes, we’re coming’, and ‘oh, sure’ and the like. Jesper moved for the doorway at the same time Wylan did, wedging them both in there. Flustered, Wylan moved out of the way, just at the same time as Jesper did. 

“You first.” Jesper indicated for Wylan to walk out, with an oddly sheepish laugh. It wasn’t like Jesper to be sheepish. Wylan nodded gratefully and stepped into the hallway, following Colm to the kitchen.

——

“So, Wylan,” Colm began, “I… I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Da—”

“Really?” Wylan asked. His heartstrings pulled a little bit.

Colm nodded. “So, what do you like to do? Any hobbies?”

“Not many, I’m afraid. I’m rather boring.” Wylan thought. “I like… drawing sometimes, I write music if I’m not busy…”

“That’s nice— what do you play?”

“The flute, mostly, more so when I wasn’t so busy. I played a lot more a few years ago.”

Colm smiled quietly, a very neat and thoughtful smile. “You’re very eloquent.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Wylan’s just polite. Eager to please.” Wylan had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

Colm’s eyebrows shot up. “Have you made me out to be some sort of overprotective, awful father, Jes?”

Jesper, bolder than Wylan, didn’t repress his eye roll. “I’m going to fetch the stuff from the car. Wy, you can stay here.”

And he was gone. Colm poured himself another cup of tea. He sniffed. “Seems you and Jes aren’t getting along too badly.”

Wylan smiled into his tea, painfully conscious of how far this lie had travelled. “Not too badly at all, actually.”

“I think you’re good for him.”

Wylan gambled a quick look at Colm. “You… do?”

The older man shrugged. “Even before you two started courting, he always talked about you like you’d given him the bloody moon.”

The words hit Wylan like being submerged in ice water unexpectedly. “Oh.” Wylan quickly recovered, with a quiet laugh. “Courting is such…”

Colm scoffed. “An outdated term, I know… I just can’t shake my ways. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, you know?”

——

The three of them— that is, Wylan, Jesper and Colm, spent a good portion of the evening chatting in the living room, their conversation supplemented by tea and biscuits.

Wylan found Colm somewhat comforting to talk to— he was rather like the house he lived in; well-kept and oddly charming. The man was delightfully Kaelish in everything from his accent and his mannerisms, to his superstitions and only slightly old-fashioned attitude. Wylan was completely enamoured by Colm’s ability to make everything seem so alright, so simple. 

The three of them were tired as it went dark outside.

“Well,” Colm said, “I think I’ll hit the hay.”

“Night, Da.”

“Night, Colm.”

“And, oh, I forgot to say. I couldn’t find a spare mattress anywhere, and I’m not giving up my bed, so I’m letting you share a bed.”

The two of them regarded Colm carefully.

“Just no hanky panky, understand?”

Jesper groaned, “Da—”

“Goodnight!” And with that, he left.

“I guess we better get going,” Wylan decided, “you don’t mind, do you? Sharing the bed? I’m sure your Da wouldn’t mind if I slept on the sofa or—”

“Like hell he wouldn’t! No, that won’t do, you’re sleeping with me.”

“Very forward,” Wylan replied, keeping his voice low, “didn’t even buy me dinner first.”

Jesper nudged him gently as they made their way down the hallway. “Flirting is my job, angel.”

“Who’s to say? Maybe I’ve taken a liking to flustering y—”

“Oh, cut it out,” Jesper laughed softly. He opened the door of the bedroom. “Now, no sneaking peeks at me while I’m getting changed.”

“I could say the same for you,” retorted Wylan, though his cheeks burned a little as Jesper turned from him to unbutton his shirt.

——

“You know, your dad’s really nice,” Wylan said, sitting up as Jesper dropped limply onto the bed.

“I love him to bits, yeah. Don’t tell me he threatened you or something when I went to get the bags?”

“Oh no, no, nothing like that at all. He said he thought I was good for you.”

“Huh.”

“He says you talk about me all the time.“

“Well, I do. You’re my coworker and my friend. Of… course I’d talk about you.” Jesper sighed. “And you are good for me— my Da’s right.”

“Some would call me a good influence.”

“Oh, now, that’s something entirely different.”

“What, you’re saying I’m not?”

Jesper slipped under the sheets and nudged Wylan with a bare shoulder. “You’re not as innocent as you look, angel.”

Wylan clutched at his chest in mock offence. “Immoral? Me?”

“You’re pretending to date me as advertisement and for money, Wy, that’s not exactly virtuous of you.”

“Well,” Wylan mumbled, setting his head on the pillow, “you’re doing the same.”

“Yes, but I never claimed to be a ‘good influence’. Actually, I think that my delinquent nature’s actually quite charming.”

Wylan reached for the lamp beside the bed. “I think you’re sleep-deprived.” He pulled the beaded cord, and the light went out. “Night.”

“… Sweet dreams, sugar lips.”

“I told you not to call me that!”

——

Wylan couldn’t sleep for two reasons. Number One: although the house was very pretty, and just as comfortable, it was really fucking hot. Colm should invest in a fan or something. The more pressing reason at hand was Number Two: Wylan was sharing a bed with a very shirtless, very restless Jesper. The same Jesper Wylan had spent all this time concealing his feelings about. 

Jesper was not an easy sleeper— that is, if he were asleep at all. He tossed and turned, his bare shoulders brushing against Wylan’s, or the elegant curve of his spine making an appearance. With every movement, Wylan wasn’t sure if he should vomit or take a very cold shower.

At one point, sick of all of it, Wylan gave a deep sigh.

“Wylan?” Jesper's voice came from the darkness.

“Jes?”

“Why’re you still awake?”

Wylan shuffled. “I’d ask you the same thing.”

“Couldn’t sleep. It’s… hot.”

“I know, right? Do you think we could crack a window?”

“I have a different idea.”

“What? Is it illegal?”

“Can I show you something?” Jesper whispered.

Wylan was suspicious. There was an uncharacteristic tenderness in his voice, a veiled fear. “Alright.”

Jesper got out of the bed, and the frame creaked in response. His feet padded along the wooden floor, and he came around to Wylan’s side of the bed. Jesper took his hand, and Wylan, understanding, got out of bed. The other man silently opened a drawer and tossed a shirt at Wylan, and shrugged another over his own shoulders. Jesper opened the door and silently continued down the hall, the only noises their feet against the floor and the solemn ticking of the grandfather clock by the kitchen door. 

“You won’t get this in the city,” Jesper remarked, opening the front door quietly, slipping out onto the front porch. Wylan followed. The wood was still damp from the afternoon’s rain, the air thick with humidity.

He was confused. “I won’t get…” Wylan glanced at Jesper. His head was tilted upwards, the fine columns of his throat extended towards the heavens.

“Look up,” Jesper told him.

And Wylan did. He might have cursed under his breath at the sight— stars. Stars weren’t new to Wylan; sometimes, on a very clear night, he could spot the Big Dipper in the city. But here, the sky had seemed to unfold and unravel, and reveal the millions of lights on its midnight canvas. He saw how they curved around one another like timid dancers, how they haloed the moon as though it were a martyr, how one could draw lines between them, map out the sky as though the world laid out above them were as simple and as linear as that, as plain as a path of stark white.

“Beautiful,” whispered Wylan, “why…”

“Am I showing you this? I just thought it’d make you smile.”

It was real; this was real. Jesper bringing him here, sitting next to him on the damp porch as they gaped at the stars like fresh-eyed children— it wasn’t fabricated. There were no microphones, no cameras, no chance this would be splashed across the headlines tomorrow morning. Maybe Jesper didn’t realise, but there was something so vulnerable and soft and loving in the act. 

“Do you miss the countryside?” Wylan found himself asking.

Jesper thought, and tilted his head. The dim light beaming from the sky cast an angelic hue on his face. “Sometimes. I miss stuff like this. But the city’s good. I like the buzz. I like the… constant movement… but…”

“It’s nice to sit quietly and admire the world, too, sometimes.”

Jesper smiled, barely, and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s it exactly.”

“I like this. I like this a lot. This is one of those times when I wish I still painted.”

“What would you paint?” Jesper asked. He wasn’t looking at Wylan; his eyes still darted across the sky, though his voice sidled up to Wylan’s ears fuelled with hopefully curiosity.

“I would… I would paint this. The sky, and the sun, and the moon, all of it. I’d paint… Friday nights on our street, how messy it is. I think I’d paint the train. Our train.” He swallowed. “And you— Us. The Crows.”

“Would you really? I think I’d like that.”

The two of them sat there, silent, for a few minutes. Then, Jesper quietly got up, and walked back inside, the bare light from the house spilling onto the porch.

“Coming?” He whispered.

“Coming,” Wylan agreed. He took in one last survey of the scenery spread before him, like taking the last draft of a heady wine, before following Jesper back into their room.

Chapter Text

Jesper loved being awake when it was early. Admittedly, he didn’t like being woken up before the sun dared to reach its gleeful hands through the window pane, but once the initial shock of consciousness wore off, he liked the sense of solitude that came with being awake in the morning.

This was one such morning. Strings of sunlight caressed his face, coaxing him awake. He smiled as he awoke, and shrugged his shoulders, soaking up the carelessness of it all. He was about to let out a deep and grateful sigh, but stopped himself upon noticing the slight figure in the bed next to him, and feeling the legs accidentally tangled with his.

Jesper smiled at the sight. Wylan’s curls haloed his head, the bare light from the window weaving through them like fine threads of gold. His lashes were fanned across his pale skin, his slim shoulders still covered by the shirt Jesper had lent him last night. Jesper watched Wylan’s chest rise and fall with each content breath he took, and noted he had a sparse smattering of freckles along his chest and neck. He’d spent plenty of his free-time wondering what Wylan looked like shirtless, but he still found this discovery savagely pleasing.

He quietly slid off of the bed, and tiptoed in a way that Wylan probably would have fallen over laughing at if he saw him. Jesper slipped out of the door and continued down the hall. This was just like the old days. Before the city, before university, before Crow Radio. Wallowing in the changeable spring weather, walking through threadbare sunlight like an airy curtain.

Jesper ambled into the kitchen, and placed the kettle on the stove. Still the same as before he left, that chipped and brash orange colour. It seemed Colm hadn’t changed much since Jesper’s last visit— or ever, for that matter.

He placed three mugs on the kitchen counter, and removed the glass sugar bowl from the cabinet. 

“Someone’s up early.”

Jesper jumped out of his skin, startled from the calm rhythm he’d gotten into. “Holy shit, Da, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Watch your language, kid. And I didn’t ‘sneak up’ on you.” He peered into the kitchen. “Wylan not up yet?”

Jesper thought back to the fateful Tuesday Wylan was late to work. “No, uh. I’m afraid he’s not much of an early riser.”

“He really seems to like you, you know.”

Jesper's heart stopped beating for a split-second. “W-well, I’d hope so. He’s dating me, Da.”

“I know, all I’m saying is that you two seem happy.”

It hurt him to lie to his Da like this, even if it made Colm so pleased. “We’re really happy, Da. Happiest I’ve been in a while.”

Colm took the kettle off the stove and as it whistled, and poured the water into the three mugs. “You deserve that, you know? You deserve to have someone who makes you happy.”

But Jesper didn’t have him. At least, not in the way everyone thought he did.

The words still struck a chord. Jesper smiled. “Thanks, Da, I mean it.”

Wylan entered the kitchen some five minutes later, bleary-eyed and politely smiling. 

“You’re up earlier than usual,” Jesper chided. 

“Oh, I woke up and noticed you were gone, so I just decided to follow.”

Colm frowned. “You’re drowning in that shirt, boy, do you need it hemmed?”

“Da—”

“Oh, no thank you, Jes lent it to me.”

Colm’s eyebrows shot up, and Jesper could tell he was already imagining the worst. “Did he, now?”

Wylan smiled, blissful. “Yeah, it’s a little big, but it does the job.”

Avoiding his father’s eyes, Jesper handed the mug of coffee to Wylan. “Coffee.”

“Oh, thanks, that’s kind. I wasn’t sure you knew how I took—”

“You take your coffee with lots of milk and no sugar. You’re sweet enough already.”

Wylan smiled and sat down at the table. Jesper was going to die off. Wylan Van Eck was chatting pleasantly with his Da, wearing Jesper’s shirt, after being in Jesper’s bed, hair a little bit mussed. This was simultaneously his greatest wish and his deepest fear. He needed to get the fuck out of here.

——

At the earliest possible convenience, Jesper dragged Wylan away to get changed so they could make a trip into town, and explore the place Jesper grew up in. He was relieved to see Wylan in actual, normal clothes that belonged to him, and not Jesper. The latter did something funny to his heart. Well, something comparatively funnier than the former. Wylan did something to his heart with so much as a smile; clothes hardly had a part in it.

“So, where are you taking me? Or is it a surprise?” Wylan asked. He was walking a little oddly, due to the uneven nature of country roads.

“Oh, I could never surprise you. You’re too clever.” Jesper grinned.

“Stop avoiding my question!” Exclaimed Wylan, “where are we going?”

“We could go… to the market? Or… the… there’s not much else to see, come to think of it.”

“Don’t be that way.” Wylan nudged him. “We can think of something. You mentioned ice cream on the way here? Ooh, we could go for a walk— you mentioned an observatory?”

“What’s gotten into you, Wy? Didn’t think you were such a keen tourist,” teased Jesper.

“I’m not,” he protested, “it’s just been so long since I’ve left the city, and there’s been no press, or cameras— I want to make the most of it.”

“Huh, I forgot that you don’t really go out of the city.”

Wylan shrugged. “Not much reason to. I don’t have any family to visit, and Kaz doesn’t pay me enough to go somewhere abroad.”

Jesper grinned at him. “Guess I’ll have to show you a good time, then, won’t I?”

“Guess you will.”

The start of their day went like this: Jesper devised a list of places he’d like to take Wylan before they caught a bus back home in the late afternoon. They played a game of rock-paper-scissors to choose which they should go to first (the market)— most of their journey passed without much trouble, at least Jesper thought so, save from the few odd looks people gave him, like they weren’t quite sure they recognised him, and they certainly didn’t recognise the young man on his arm with a city accent that reeked of old money. Jesper supposed he’d grown used to Wylan’s mannerisms that betrayed his glamorous background— his accent, of course, his table manners, his dress, his affectations nobody really seemed to notice. But Jesper noticed. He hadn’t much of an eye for detail when it came to people, and the world around him, but he’d spent enough time with Wylan, and cared about him enough to notice everything.

“So,” Jesper asked, “what’s next?”

Wylan made a strange shape with his mouth, thinking. “How many have we left on the list? What, it must be…”

“Three,” Jesper concluded, “get ice cream, walk through the park, go to the observatory.”

“You don’t suppose we could do it in that order, then? And eliminate the need for rock-paper-scissors.”

“Wow, very efficient,” Jesper said, “you’re going to love this place.”

“I’ll decide that, thank you,” Wylan replied.

——

“So,” the lady at the counter said, as Jesper handed her a few coins to pay for their snack, “it’s been a while, Jesper.”

“It has indeed,” Jesper agreed.

“I hear you’re some big-time radio star now.”

“‘Big-time’ is an exaggeration.”

She peered out the window, outside, where Jesper had told Wylan to wait. “That’s the Van Eck boy. The millionaire.”

“Oh, god no, Wylan’s not a millionaire. He and his father…”

“Don’t get along. I know, I’ve read the papers,” the lady at the counter finished, “is he your boyfriend?”

Ah, the burning question. Jesper swallowed the hot lump of guilt in his throat. “Yeah.”

“He’s cute. Very much your type, if I remember correctly.”

Jesper blinked.

“You know, sweet. Pretty looking. I mean, look at him,” she gestured to Wylan outside, “he might as well have a halo around those curls of his.”

“Hey, looks can be deceiving,” Jesper argued, although he begrudgingly had to admit she was right. Wylan was his type; that’s what made this fake-dating business so awfully excruciating. 

“Oh, not just a pretty face, is he? I should have known. You’re not as shallow as that.”

“I’ll be going now, thank you,” he sniffed, feigning indignance as he was handed his change, “it was horrible catching up with you.”

“Likewise. Have fun with your boyfriend!” She called as Jesper ambled out of the shop.

The door swung shut behind him, and the afternoon sun immediately bathed Jesper’s vision in a mellow marigold. 

“Hey,” Wylan greeted him, “what kept you?”

“Just catching up with an old friend,” answered Jesper. He handed Wylan a cone of ice cream. “Here.”

Successfully distracting Wylan with the dessert, Jesper took it upon himself to explain the exact route they’d walk to reach the observatory. They quickly fell into am amicable silence, as they reached the entrance of the park. Jesper watched as Wylan admired the scenery. Although the city had its fair share of parks, small towns always held them dearer, and allowed them to thrive, instead of trimming and shaping every green thing in sight within an inch of its life. 

“We should come back sometime,” Wylan said, suddenly.

“What?”

“Doesn’t have to be just us two,” he quickly added, “we could bring the others. I’d just like to come back sometime. It’s nice. Quiet, you know? Nice change from the city.”

“And you’d… like that?” Jesper asked, borderline incredulous.

“I’d love that! And think, it’d be a fantastic chance for you to see your dad more often.”

“Maybe, then. But on one condition.”

Wylan’s face darkened. “Which would be?”

“We don’t rent a car.”

A smile broke across his face. “I think I can work with that.”

The observatory loomed ahead. It stood at what could be considered the end of the park. It was a neat stone building, with few adornments and frills, and a simple dome atop it; a countryside building to its core. The place was no longer in use, not since some fifty years ago. Now, it was mostly a monument, visited occasionally by curious visitors, maintained by a group of dedicated volunteers.

“There she is,” Jesper declared.

“It’s beautiful,” Wylan breathed, “but you said they don’t use it anymore?”

“It’s not very high-tech. People just go here for fun nowadays.”

Jesper heaved the door open, and gestured that Wylan go in first. “After you, angel.”

Wylan rolled his eyes, despite the blush that painted his face, and stepped into the building. The two of them started up the stairs, earning many complaints with Wylan. 

“I don’t have the legs for this,” he groaned.

“Don’t say that,” drawled Jesper, “I think you have fantastic legs.”

Wylan looked over his shoulder, to where Jesper stood a few stairs behind him. “Bet you’re enjoying the view back there, Jesper.”

His face flushed a little, but Jesper kept a straight face. “Dutifully.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you planned this.”

“This isn’t where I have my way with you, Wylan, dear.”

“Oh? And where do you have your way with me, in your master plan?”

“It involves rose petals, a nice hotel, and not very much clothing.”

“Rose petals?” Wylan asked. “ Rose petals? I can’t imagine that causing me to have an allergic reaction would be very attractive.”

Jesper had forgotten about that. He recovered quickly with a grin. “Oh, I don’t know, there’s something to be said about the lecherous sight of a snivelling, red-eyed man.”

Wylan let out an unexpected hoot of laughter, and they both emerged onto the top floor of the observatory. The window, which had been put in a few years after the observatory was rendered useless, curved around the whole wall, like a glass wedding band.

Wylan’s eyes widened as he inched closer to the window. “Holy shit.”

“I know, right?”

The view was sprawled out underneath them; the treetops didn’t even come close to them. The dome protruded over the canopy and peered into the town, watching over the thin roads and dainty shops.

“It looks nicer at night. When it’s all lit up outside,” Jesper explained, feeling the need to compensate for the obvious plainness of the scenery.

“Terrible shame we couldn’t have come here last night, then,” Wylan murmured. His eyes, preoccupied, still scanned the quaint map laid before him. “But your dad’s porch was as nice a place as any, I’ll say.”

“I aim to please, angel.”

“And pleased me you have, Jes.”

There was a quiet moment, before Jesper said, “you can come up with a better name than that.”

Wylan looked surprised. “I can?” He finally tore his eyes from the window.

“Yeah, use that genius brain of yours.”

“It’s not as simple as that. There are categories of nicknames.”

Jesper rolled his eyes. “This is getting technical.”

“Of course, there are the usual… wholesome nicknames. Sweetie, honey… anything sweet enough to make you book a dentist appointment.” He continued, “then there are pretentious nicknames— darling, dearest, sweetheart.”

“What about—”

“There are nicknames that are just shortened versions of one’s name; Jes, Wy. Nicknames that are just adjectives or nouns; sugar, sweet.”

Jesper grinned. “What category does ‘angel’ fall into?”

“Flirty nicknames,” Wylan answered, terribly proper, “similar to babe…”

“Or sugar lips?”

Wylan winced. “Or… that, yes.”

“So, what’ll you call me?” He added swiftly, “for— for interviews and stuff. Not in private, obviously.”

“Huh,” Wylan said, “I don’t know, actually. There’s a lot of options. Let me try a few out.”

Jesper sat on the floor, and crossed his legs. “Shoot.”

Wylan leaned against the window. “Okay… ba— I can’t. I can’t say that.”

“So, no to babe?”

“Definite no to babe.” He thought, and tried again. “Hi… sweetie.”

Jesper made a face. “Makes me feel like my grandma’s visiting me. Next.”

Wylan clutched at his heart like a lovesick actor, and croaked, “my love.”

“Too dramatic.”

His face was delightfully flushed. “Uhm… hey, sugar? My rose?”

Jesper shifted, smiling at his endearing attempt. “Two things. First of all, you’re not a very convincing actor. Anyone would think you didn’t want to be my fake boyfriend. Secondly, those are both awful.”

Wylan sighed. “I thought so.”

“And you’re allergic to flowers. Why would you call me your rose?”

Wylan shrugged, desperate. “You make me breathless?”

Jesper cackled, loud and bold, and got up. He clapped Wylan on the back. “You’ll think of something, angel. It’s not all that important.”

——

They’d decided to catch a bus home. The rental company had picked up the car in the early morning, and Colm offered to give them a lift back into the city, which Jesper had furtively refused.

“What time do you think we’ll be back?” Jesper asked, shifting in his window seat.

“Probably like, seven or eight. Might be a bit of a walk from the bus station, though,” Wylan replied.

The evening was dyed a soft gold hue. Screens of gold light beamed through the bus window, and Jesper closed his eyes, feeling the bare warmth envelop his face. He was captured by a sudden tiredness. Jesper thought about shaking himself awake, but his seat was so warm, and he could feel Wylan’s slight figure pressed against his side. 

Jesper didn’t realise he was sleeping until he felt something gently nudge him.

“Jes.” A pause. “Jes, sweetheart, wake up.”

“Are we here?” Jesper blinked, bleary. He realised he’d been slumped against Wylan’s shoulder. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Wylan smiled, also visibly weary from the bus journey. He picked up his bag and gestured for Jesper to follow.

“Sweetheart,” Jesper murmured as they stepped off the bus.

“Sorry?” 

“You called me sweetheart.”

“I did? Oh.”

“That can be your nickname for me.”

Wylan smiled, and Jesper could see the cold turning in his head. “Jesper, sweetheart. Jes, sweetheart.” He smiled. “I like it.”

As they approached the corner of their street, Jesper was made aware of a terrible clamour. “Damn,” he said, “I wonder what all the fuss is about.”

“I guess we’re about to find out.”

They rounded the corner, squinting in preparation for whatever they were about to see. A crowd of reporters had swarmed the doors of the two apartment buildings Wylan and Jesper lived in. They had split themselves between the two places. 

“Shit,” Wylan whispered, “how did they find out we were away?”

“I don’t know,” Jesper fretted, “fuck. I hate this. I hate the press.” He frowned. “Just when I thought I’d shook them after the last major event of my life the public thought made for a good article.”

“You don’t have to face them alone, you know,” Wylan said, “you can stay at mine. There’s a smaller crowd by the doors, as well.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yeah! You’ve got some clothes with you, and I’ve got plenty of food. It’ll be fun.”

“Thank you,” Jesper muttered.

Wylan snuck a glance at him. “… I understand, you know. What it’s like to be hunted by the press. When it got out that… that I’d been disowned, I couldn’t walk in the street without having some prick thrust a microphone in my face.”

“We’ll do this together, angel,” Jesper said, “ready?”

“Ready. Let’s go.”

They approached the building, and were instantly swarmed by suit-clad figures holding cameras and microphones. It felt like being enveloped by a swarm of large flies. Jesper could hear their shouts from the rows and rows of journalists.

“On your romantic getaway—”

“What do you have to say about—”

“Following your rehabilitation—”

His hand fumbled wildly through the gap between him and Wylan. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, only that he needed something to stop him from drifting away. Wylan’s hand found his. Jesper nearly imploded with relief. Wylan’s hand was warm and comforting on his, fingers wrapped firmly around Jesper’s. In the wild frenzy of it all, Jesper noticed he had calluses on his fingertips— musician’s callouses, artist’s calluses. He squeezed Wylan’s hand all the tighter as they flung the door open, slipped in and slammed it shut in the faces of the crowd.

“Oh god, that was terrible.”

Wylan took a few deep breaths. Jesper watched his chest rise and fall rapidly. “I… I fucking hate the paparazzi.”

“You’ve never said anything truer.”

Still out of breath, Wylan gestured for Jesper to follow him up the stairs. “They’ll probably stop bothering us now that we’re inside. In the morning, they’ll have gone. They’ve got their pictures.”

“I still don’t understand how they found out we were coming back today. The Crows won’t have mentioned it, and…”

“Someone probably took a picture of us on the way home or something.” Wylan shakily inserted the key into the door lock. “Are you okay, though?”

“Oh, me, I’m fine, just a little… shaken.

Wylan made a ‘shoo’ motion, herding Jesper into the kitchen. “Take a seat. I’ll make some tea… and see what I can do in terms of food.”

Jesper shuffled into one of the two chairs at Wylan’s kitchen table. They were mismatched, he realised, one very obviously pulled from a set of furniture made from much darker wood. There was a cactus right in the middle of the table. As Wylan searched for mugs, Jesper admired the kitchen around him. It wasn’t much, he knew, but Wylan had really tried to settle into his new home. He’d put up curtains which were only slightly wonky, and otherwise very neat. His fridge had little magnets and pictures dotted across it, and on every ledge and perch sat another cactus or succulent or plant. 

“Here…” Wylan set down a large teapot in front of him, as well as a mug that read ‘#1 Grandma’, which Jesper certainly wasn’t going to question. “I know you take sugar in your tea, so here.” he pushed a chipped glass bowl of sugar towards Jesper.

“Oh. This is really sweet of you, Wy,” Jesper told him.

“It’s the least I can do.”

“I like your flat,” He mentioned, as his way of compensating for the tea.

“You do?” Wylan’s voice was proud, earnest, “I really tried my best with it when I first moved in. My landlord won’t let me repaint the walls, though.” He opened the fridge. “In terms of food… it’s not looking great. I have pizza in the freezer?”

Jesper smiled into his mug. “Pizza’s good.”

Jesper had missed evenings at Wylan’s— they used to be a lot more common. The six of them would curl up on the armchair or the stool or the floor, and they would watch whatever shitty sitcom was playing on the little crackly TV Wylan owned. Of course, that didn’t happen much anymore. Kaz and Inej much preferred nights to themselves since they’d married, and to get Nina and Matthias in the same room together was a feat— a night with them usually ended with one of them in the other’s lap, or glaring daggers at each other across the room. So, it was nice being at Wylan’s again. Even if it was just the two of them. Especially if it was just the two of them.

As it darkened outside, Jesper gave a yawn. Wylan noticed, and unfurled himself from the ball shape he’d been in. “If you’re off to sleep, you can take my bed.”

“What? I can’t do that!”

Wylan shrugged. “You’re my guest. And it’s small, so we are not sharing. I’ll sleep in here.”

Jesper frowned. “Rock-paper-scissors, right this instant.”

“Alright.” Wylan held his hands out.

Rock, paper, scissors, shoot,

Wylan’s hand had curled into a rock, and Jesper had wielded scissors. The former smiled. 

“Then it’s settled,” Wylan declared smugly, “you’ll take my room, I’ll sleep here.” He shooed Jesper. “Now, off with you. You need your beauty sleep.”

Jesper rolled his eyes and slipped behind the door that led to Wylan’s bedroom. He’d been right, it was small. His flute sat on the corner, next to a desk covered with papers and thick sketchbooks. Pictures upon pictures were taped and tacked to the wall. It felt terribly strange, sleeping in Wylan’s bed. It smelled like him, and Jesper could see his jacket hung over the back of a chair. Wylan might as well be sitting on Jesper— he couldn’t escape him. Actually, the thought of being straddled by Wylan was most certainly not helping his current predicament. Jesper got out of the bed, and sat on the edge of it instead, still wrapped in the rug he’d borrowed from Wylan.

He sat like that for what seemed like an age. Then, he heard a noise emerge from the kitchen. A soft clunk. Then, a sigh. Wylan must still be awake, he thought. He crept softly towards the door, and pushed it open with his foot.

“You’re still awake,” Jesper said, assessing the scene. Wylan was curled into a ball, rug snug around his frame, cradling a mug.

“Yes. And so are you,” Wylan countered.

Jesper flopped down next to him, greatly invading Wylan’s space, although he didn’t seem to mind. “We had a day, didn’t we?” Jesper sighed.

“We did. Never thought I’d live to see the day where the press swarmed my place of living again.”

“Pfft. Neither.” Jesper paused. “Don’t you ever feel like… a product? Like, expendable? Or… or like you’re constantly performing for… them?”

“All the time,” Wylan answered, “sometimes… I wonder if we even exist when they’re not there to view us. That we aren’t just voices over the radio.”

“It’s like, are we even real outside of Crow Radio?”

The question hung in the air like a miserable, ugly stage prop. 

“We’re real,” Wylan smiled down at Jesper, “ this is real. What we have with the Crows is real. We have to remember that we are people.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“I’m serious, sweetheart, we aren’t just… recovering alcoholic and gambling addict Jesper Fahey and disgraced, illiterate heir Wylan Van Eck. We’re— we’re not just catchy newspaper headlines. You’re more than that, Jesper, don’t you dare forget it.”

Jesper gazed up at him. He had never thought the human heart could beat this fast. “Th… thank you…” was all he could come up with on the spot. He shuffled where he was stretched along the sofa. His head grazed Wylan’s thigh. Absent-mindedly, almost sleepily, Wylan guided it over so Jesper’s head rested on his lap.

Jesper went to thank him for letting him stay. “By the—”

Wylan was already asleep, lashes lowered, lips parted slightly. Jesper smiled to himself, and shut his eyes, infinitely grateful for the merciful oblivion of sleep.

Chapter Text

It was too early in the morning for this.

“I… don’t understand,” Wylan said finally, “an interview? With… a tabloid?”

“Yes,” Kaz repeated. It seemed to be the only word he could utter.

“ Why?” asked Jesper, incredulous.

Nina snapped her hand mirror shut, and made a popping noise with her lips, freshly reapplied with scarlet lipstick. “Because the people love you,” she said simply, “they’re starving for content, and the tabloids want to give that to them.”

Wylan felt his face drain of blood. “But… Do we have to actually be there? Like, can’t they just send us an email?”

Inej looked sympathetic. “I’m afraid the people want more than that.”

“The people, the people,” Matthias muttered, “what about these people, hm? Aren’t Wylan and Jesper as… human as their audience?”

“I never thought I’d ever actually agree with Matthias,” Jesper muttered.

“It’s nice to see that you actually have a heart, Helvar, but you’re wrong. For now, for the time being, Wylan and Jesper aren’t people, they’re the ideal couple we need them to be.”

“No fucking pressure, then,” mumbled Wylan.

Kaz turned on him, neck inclined a frighteningly stern angle. “Listen, little prince , I know you have a bad track record with interviews and the press, but that doesn’t mean you can fuck up our chances at expansion.”

Wylan glared at Kaz. He’d seen tougher than the likes of him. He had learnt that being scared of Kaz Brekker was pointless; he had as much power over Wylan as anyone else in the room, and as much as Brekker would hate to admit it, Wylan was indispensable to Crow Radio. Without Wylan, Jesper was just a loose cannon with no complementary pair— and the show was missing something terribly obvious.

“It’s not just him,” Jesper argued, “remember what happened when I had an interview with Ketterdam Today?”

Inej winced. “On Live TV, too… I don’t think I’ve ever seen a reporter look so terrified. And I’ve watched a journalist get chased by sweaty college sports fans.”

“This interview isn’t live,” Kaz amended, “it’s not even with an actual tabloid.”

“It’s that magazine I used to run. Just Desserts,” Nina explained. Jesper frequently forgot that Nina had worked in different jobs in reporting and journalism before— Just Desserts had been, and still was, the most popular celebrity gossip magazine in Ketterdam. So, no big deal. Not at all.

“Right… right…” Jesper repeated. Wylan watched him. He could see the tension in his frame growing, like a rubber band stretched to its most precarious limit. Soon, this would be released in a fit of pacing and tapping.

“Have… have they sent any questions in advance?” Wylan asked.

Kaz shook his head. “No. They want,” he air-quoted, “‘ genuine reactions’ . Like that even fucking exists…”

“Language…” Inej reminded him; a knee-jerk habit of hers.

“Okay…” Wylan let out a long, weary exhale, “how long will it take? When is it?”

“No more than a few hours. And it’ll be around 8pm on Thursday, at the magazine’s headquarters. They forwarded the address.”

Jesper swallowed and glanced at Wylan. “Rock-pa—”

“You don’t really get to decide,” Kaz cut in, “I hate to burst your bubble, but you’re going to this interview. It’s important, you two.” He closed his eyes, pursing his lips as though he’d just stubbed his toe and was holding in a yelp. “Please. ”

Inej and Matthias quietly nodded, approving.

“Okay,” Jesper conceded, “I’ll go, I’ll go. Since it’s so important to you all.”

“Yeah, I’ll go too,” agreed Wylan, “I just have a question. Is the interview televised? Posted online?”

“The interviewer mentioned that they’ll make it available on their social media sites, and discuss it on their news outlets, via radio. They’re in a partnership with some shitty talk show right now, too, so they’ll probably broadcast it there as well,” Kaz listed off.

Wylan just nodded, head clouding over with rapid, consuming thoughts.

“We should probably get going,” Jesper said suddenly, snapping him out of his daze, “we’ve got to start off the show.”

The two of them gratefully exited the room.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” Jesper reasoned, though Wylan suspected he was trying to reason with both of their clouded consciences.

“Maybe. At least it’s not a newspaper. It’s a gossip magazine. Nobody will take it too seriously, right?”

“Right!” Jesper’s hand hovered above the door to the broadcast room. “Before we start, I just wanted to say thanks—”

“Again? For letting you stay at mine?” Wylan asked. Jesper looked at his feet, embarrassed from repeating himself. “It’s alright! It was nice having you over. You can come anytime you want.”

“Anytime? Any time at all?”

“Anytime at all, and I’ll trust you to not abuse that promise.”

“And I’ll trust you to keep to your word.”

——

Thursday came far too fast for Wylan’s liking. He had never had much of a personal vendetta against this particular day of the week before, but the interview certainly added to the spite in his heart directed to this terrible, terrible twenty-four hours. He and Jesper had to catch a different train, one that took them further up town, where many newspaper and magazine headquarters stood, proud, unflinching and as intrusive as those who worked under their roofs.

“I hate this part of town,” Jesper mumbled, the two of them slipping through the crowd. They’d both tried to remain indistinct, by wearing nondescript black coats. Jesper had suggested sunglasses, but Wylan had argued that that was a step too far.

“It’s like walking down a street lined by serial killers,” agreed Wylan. He glanced up at the building they were approaching. “Wait, wait, I think this is it—” as he turned his eyes upwards, his vision was immediately assaulted by a bold, red neon light that read ‘JUST DESSERTS’.

“You’re sure this is it?” Jesper asked dryly.

Making a face, Wylan stepped into the double doors, and Jesper hastily followed. The air around them was cool, and perfumed with something sweet. The walls were painted white, a stark contrast to the glossy black titles and seats. Red accents made an appearance on stiff cushions and roses on the reception desk. Wylan could tell Nina used to run this place.

A lady in a blazer stepped in front of them, all neatly tailored angles, holding a sharp clipboard. The gesture felt somewhat threatening, like she was blocking an escape route. “Good evening,” she greeted them. The welcome seemed entirely impersonal to Wylan.

Wylan nodded. “Hi.”

Jesper scratched his neck. “Hello.”

“Names, please?” She asked, flipping through her clipboard.

“Can’t you tell…?” Jesper asked. 

The lady smiled. “I’m afraid I need names.”

“Wylan… Van Eck. And Jesper Fahey. Crow Radio organised—”

“Come with me, please, Mr Van Eck, Mr Fahey.” She turned on her pointed heel, and made her way out of the lobby, and down another polish hallway. Behind her back Jesper looked at Wylan, utterly bewildered. Wylan, equally confused, held up his hands to demonstrate this. Jesper placed his hands over his head.

Suddenly, the lady opened a door at the end of the hallway. She peeked her head in. “They’re here.” 

Another voice answered something muffled from the room. 

“I know, I know it’s kind of early, but I can’t send them back to the lobby.”

More mumbling.

“I’ll send them in.” She turned around, as though Wylan and Jesper hadn’t heard her. “Alys is ready for you.”

——

“So, you two, before we get started, I just wanted to have a little chat with you both, you know, set some ground rules for this interview, mkay?” Alys had one of those honeyed voices that seemed almost musical, Wylan noticed, until you realised how pitchy it was.

“Sounds fair,” Jesper replied.

“Great! As you know, this is just, you know, some time to catch up on you guys’ relationship, let the fans get some answers, yeah?” She didn’t wait for a reply, “so we’ve prepared some questions from our social media for you both! Exciting, right?!”

“So exciting!” Wylan laughed nervously.

Alys waved her hands and giggled. “Oh my god, I’m so excited too. You guys are like, number one on my ‘want to interview’ list, and I’ve interviewed Alina Starkov!”

“It’s always nice to meet a fan,” Jesper commented. 

She waved her hand. “Okay, okay, we really have to get started. Don’t worry about looking at all the different cameras, just keep your eyes on me, okay?” Alys turned to the camera behind the two others. “Ready?” She gestured to the cameras around the room. “Right, we’re rolling in three, two, one. Action!”

Alys flashed a dazzling smile, like she hadn’t seen Wylan or Jesper; she was staring directly into the camera. “Hey! It’s Alys from Just Desserts here! Today, I’m interviewing Ketterdam’s newest and coziest couple: Wylan Van Eck and Jesper Fahey, from Crow Radio!” Alys gestured for them to wave at the camera behind her. They obliged. Wylan watched Jesper mould into his celebrity persona, breaking into a heartstopping grin.

“Aw, aren’t they cute? Today, we’ll be asking everyone’s favourite pair the questions you’ve been dying to know the answers to! Twenty lucky fans’ questions were selected from our social media, and today they’ll get their answers! How’re you feeling, boys?”

Wylan realised with a jolt that Alys was referring to him and Jesper. Struck with an unlikely bolt of honesty, he replied, “pretty nervous, actually. I haven’t done an interview with Jes before.”

“Oh, we’ve done plenty of things together, angel, you’ll do fine.” Jesper turned his head to face Wylan, and gave him a smile, a little, private one, that wasn’t meant for the camera.

Alys let out a girlish hoot of laughter. “Adorable! Would you guys mind if I asked you both the first question?”

“Go ahead, yeah,” one of them said. Wylan wasn’t sure who. It was so bright here. And so warm. He wanted out.

“A lot of your viewers want to know exactly when you both fell for one another— I mean, like, come on, you’re flirting all the time, and the press have been cooing over you since Wylan here arrived at Crow Radio!”

Jesper looked like a deer caught in headlights. He tried at a nervous smile, and Wylan could hear his breaths coming and going shallowly. He wasn’t responding to Alys. This was hell, this was actually hell, this entire idea was stupid and wrong and it had messed everything up, and now Jesper had frozen up in the middle of a Very Important Interivew. As covertly as possible, Wylan reached for Jesper’s hand and squeezed it gently. As if snapping out of a trance, Jesper took a sharp inhale.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he breathed, “that’s a tough question. I—I mean I always knew Wylan was cute— like, look at him, he’s so cute, right?” Wylan felt his face flush, which wasn’t helping his currently overwhelmed state, “but it’s only been, what? A month or so. Since we…”

“Started dating,” Wylan supplied helpfully.

“Yeah, but I think I always had a thing for him.” He laughed, slipping back into calmness, “I used to have a crush on him when we were kids. He was always in the newspapers when I was like, twelve or thirteen, and I thought he was so good-looking.”

“Imagine getting to date your celebrity crush,” Wylan teased, hoping that engaging in the interview would soothe his nerves.

“Why, who was your celebrity crush?” Jesper asked, head cocked in lively curiosity.

“… Nikolai Lantsov.”

“The politician?” Alys asked, incredulous. 

Jesper shrugged. “Well, guess we know he has a type.”

“And what’s that?” She probed.

“Flirts who are terrible are their jobs.”

Wylan smiled at that. If he didn’t look at Alys, if he didn’t look at the cameras, if he just looked at Jesper, maybe everything would be okay.

“Our next question is for Wylan, actually,” Alys declared.

“Oh no.”

“Ha, it’s not that bad! It’s only that a lot of your fans have been making theories and stuff about your relationship, since it’s all been very… ha, private . And loads of people want to know if you’ve ever borrowed Jesper’s clothes.”

Wylan laughed and scratched his neck. His awkwardness was not feigned. He had worn Jesper’s clothes before, literally yesterday, but he wasn’t sure now was exactly the best time to be honest about it. “A-all the time, yeah. It’s easy, since we’re over at one another’s places all the time!”

Alys actually clapped her hands. “Aw, that’s so cute! You two are, like, the ideal couple!”

Because that’s what we’re getting paid to do.

Jesper nudged Wylan at that. He could feel Jesper’s hand tightly gripping his, like if he let go he’d disappear.

She leaned on her elbow. “I can imagine you guys are all over each other.” Jesper stifled a snort. “All the pictures we’re getting of you guys is just, Wylan asleep on Jesper, Jesper with his arm around Wylan. Is there a clingy one in the relationship? Because you both seem kinda… touchy-feely, you know?” Her eyes grazed their intertwined hands. Wylan prayed to any god that would listen that the cameras had cut off the view of their entangled fingers.

“Oh, definitely,” replied Jesper, knotting his eyebrows together in mock sincerity, “we’re just… you know, like you said, all over each other.”

Wylan tried to flatten a smile off his face, and extinguish the gush of laughter rising in his throat. 

Alys looked like she was hanging off of his every word. She gave a coy smile. “Oh, I see.”

Wylan’s expression quickly dropped. Jesper had given her the entirely wrong impression. Or, maybe it was the right impression. Depending on who you asked, Wylan reckoned, and if you were asking him, it was certainly the wrong impression, the wrong est impression.

Damn Jesper Fahey and his insatiable need to make everything suggestive .

“So, uhm, what’s the next question?” Wylan asked.

The interview passed without so much as a hitch. The uneasy feeling in Wylan’s stomach had faded, and Jesper had loosened his grip on Wylan’s hand. Maybe his rough press days were over, maybe the tabloids and journalists and nosy busybodies would extend a hand of kindness to him and Jesper. Maybe they were safe.

“Okay, and I just have one last question, then we’ll sign off!” Alys picked up a tablet from below her seat and scrolled through it. “This is, like, the most anticipated question in this whole thing,” she laughed.

Wylan smiled. “Go on.”

“There’s a picture floating around, you know, on forums and social media and stuff. It’s not official, but a girl can dream, right?”

Jesper frowned. “Right…”

Alys turned the tablet around. Wylan’s heart dropped. He froze, his smile carved into his face like the cut of a knife. The kiss. They’d gotten a picture of the kiss, the one next to the bus stop, the one that hid them from the press, the one they weren’t supposed to talk about. “H-how’d you get…” his voice came out as a murmur. He found his throat closing up. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t look at anything other than that damn screen, that blurry picture. Pixels upon pixels painted the picture that Wylan had tried so hard to forget, his hands on Jesper’s face, his body pressed up against Jesper’s, his lips on Jesper’s. Why did his stupid fucking decisions always come back to bite him in the ass like this?

He felt something press onto his thigh. Wylan blinked. Jesper had placed a slender, firm hand on Wylan’s leg. Jesper looked at him, earnest, trying to bring him back into the moment.

“It’s real.”

——

The night air was a welcome coolness that washed over Wylan’s face.

“I don’t understand,” Jesper said calmly, “how they got that picture.”

Wylan nodded, not really hearing him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not like you took the picture.”

A bitter guilt rose like bile into Wylan’s mouth. “No, I’m so sorry for kissing you. And for— for saying we should go to the interview, and—”

Jesper whirled around and seized him by the shoulders. “Wylan.”

“Hi,” he breathed.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Apologising for things that aren’t your fault. The kiss doesn’t matter, angel, it was in the heat of the moment, and it got us out of trouble with the press. Do you understand?”

Somehow that broke Wylan’s heart more than the guilt of the picture. Didn’t it matter? Didn’t Jesper want to kiss him again? Didn’t he want to kiss him behind every bus stop, kiss him everywhere? Didn’t it matter at all?

“I understand.”

“Now, stop frowning. It’ll give you wrinkles. Where’s that smile, huh?”

Wylan tilted his head. “What smile?”

“That killer smile! Your sweetheart smile!”

A curious joy crept across Wylan lips, leaving a grin in its wake.

“There it is! Cheer up, and we’ll see if we can get a decent pastry anywhere here, then we’ll go home.” Jesper flung his arm around Wylan’s shoulders, the gesture easy and languid.

“I think I’d like that very much.”

——

Wylan was a very light sleeper. When he’d been younger, his near insomnia had been yet another deformity to add to his father’s list. Quite troublesome, he’d said, quite the burden. If Wylan tried hard enough, he could conjure a list of all the things the doctors had diagnosed him with. A pollen allergy, a tree nut allergy, insomnia. As he got older, they had more to say. His illiteracy was blamed on many things; shortsightedness, insanity, mental illness. In the end, dyslexia was seen as the fit term. They’d said he was of an anxious disposition, a neurotic nature. Wylan didn’t go to doctors anymore. They spent too much time throwing around words he didn’t understand and dancing around real problems. 

He sighed and flung the sheets off of himself. Wylan traipsed into the living room, and switched on the wonky lamp next to the sofa. He picked up his phone, to see a furious message from Kaz, easily identifiable by the blurry photo of him next to the text. Wylan couldn’t be bothered to enable text-to-speech, so he walked by the sofa and into the kitchen area. He lit the stove, and set the kettle on it. He flopped onto the sofa, and picked up his phone again. In his endless scrolling, he wandered across the Just Desserts account. They’d posted the interview. Feeling a little sick, Wylan’s finger hovered over it. Suddenly, he was interrupted by a weary knocking from the other side of his door.

“What the fuck…” Wylan mumbled. He approached the door, and looked through the peephole. Jesper leaned against the wall opposite Wylan’s apartment. He flung the door open.

“Jesper?” He hissed, “what’s wrong? What are you doing? Are you alright?”

“Woah, slow down,” Jesper whispered, his tone light, though his face expressed a certain tiredness.

“Is everything… okay?”

“I don’t think so, no. I got a few phone calls. Uhm, they were from the press. Some tabloid, I don’t know, and I told them that they couldn’t contact me from my home, so I hung up, and— and they just kept calling, they wouldn’t stop. The phone just kept ringing and ringing…”

“Go on,” murmured Wylan.

“And I thought, if they know my personal phone number, what if they know my apartment number? Or what train— I— I don’t know. I just felt uneasy, so I thought it’d be safe here, with you.” He didn’t meet Wylan’s eyes.

There was a silence between them. Wylan stepped aside and guided Jesper in by the wrist. “I was just putting on some tea.”

“Thank you.”

“Sit, sit,” Wylan gestured to the sofa, “have you eaten?”

“Yeah.”

“What a shame… I’m going to give you some cheesecake anyway…” Wylan stuck his head in the fridge for a split-second, before removing it again, holding a styrofoam container of cheesecake. “Hey, we can fix this.”

He winced. “Can we?” Jesper asked. “Everytime I think I can have some peace, something comes along and shakes me up so badly I can’t sleep in my own home. Last time, cameras were set up outside my place, letters were shoved under my door. I had to move . And now it’s happening again.”

Wylan poured a cup of tea for them both, and handed Jesper the container and a fork. “You can change your phone provider, your number. You can get rid of your phone if you need to. We can catch a different train on the way home. We can nip it in the bud.”

“Yeah, yeah I guess so.”

“And you can stay here for as long as you like, if it makes you feel any safer.”

“It does, actually.”

“Oh. Well, I’m glad.”

Jesper ate a mouthful of cheesecake. “I don’t know how I’m going to pay you back for all this.”

“It’s not much. Your company is all the payment I need.”

“I’m serious. You’re good to me, Wylan, too good to me. I think if you knew me before you came to Crow Radio, you wouldn’t like me as much.”

“I wouldn’t say that. You weren’t a terrible person, were you?”

“No, but I was destructive and— and reckless. I nearly got myself killed, I nearly ruined every friendship I had. And I think if you knew what I was like back then, you’d know better than to treat me like this now.”

“I think you’d be worthy of every kindness no matter what you’d been or done before.”

Jesper set down his fork. “Do you really mean that? Do you?”

“I mean everything I say and do. You’ll find this ironic, but I’m not a liar.”

Jesper laughed. “I’m very grateful to you.”

“And I to you.”

“Whatever for?”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that.”

Jesper gave a familiar, quiet smile. “‘Needn’t’,” he echoed.

“‘Needn’t’ is a valid English word,” Wylan argued.

“I know! It’s just not used by people under the age of sixty.”

Wylan nudged him. “Shush, and eat your cheesecake.”

Chapter Text

“I think you know why I’ve brought you here today,” Kaz announced, reclining in his faux leather chair.

“I can’t believe you got a fucking office,” Wylan said, in lieu of reply, “where’s my office?”

Kaz looked almost prim. “I got the office because I boosted our viewing rates. You know, we have nearly one million listeners on average.”

“That’s great and all, but don’t I get anything for all my hard work?”

“What hard work?”

“The… the fake-dating thing.”

“Firstly, I orchestrated that. And secondly, you are getting compensation for dealing with Jesper these past few weeks. It comes in the form of a six figure salary, Wylan.” Kaz sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now, back to what I was saying.”

“Oh! No, I don’t know why you’ve brought me here.”

Kaz pursed his lips. “Didn’t you get my text?”

“Uhm…”

“You ignored a text from your boss ?”

“You’re not my boss!”

“Yet.”

“So no, I didn’t bother enabling text-to-speech for some measly little message.” He paused. “Why… was it important?”

“Terribly so.” Kaz tilted his head back to fix his tie. God, he had a flair for the dramatic. Wylan often wondered why he didn’t pursue a career in theatre.

“Four things.” He held up three gloved fingers. “Number one. I watched your interview.”

Wylan paled. “Oh?”

“Which segues into number two: you kissed Jesper?!”

He stared Kaz dead in the eye, and felt as though he were facing a tetchy dog, frothing at the mouth.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice squeaking.

“I would call you a fucking idiot, or, you know, an insane bastard, but I’m sure you’ve beaten yourself up about the incident plenty.” Kaz sighed. “And… I guess it helps with getting more listeners.”

“I sense a ‘but’.”

“But… this is going to sound…” he swallowed, “ sentimental, for me, but I wanted to warn you. Number three: don’t go and make a mess of him and his feelings, Wylan.”

“What—”

“I think that’s your intention. I’m sure you’d never mean Jesper any harm. Quite the opposite, in fact. But I’m warning you, if you fill his head with false ideas and hurt him— I will hurt you. Jesper likes to pretend he's invincible, but he’s not immune to a pretty face and a kind hand. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Wylan whispered. 

“I’m picking on you because I know how you feel about him,” Kaz informed him casually.

The air in his lungs promptly evaporated. “Pardon me?”

“Oh, don’t pretend, Wylan, it makes things so much more difficult. I know how you feel about Jesper. Or at least, I have observed as such. But, I trust you to be professional enough to conceal your… emotions. For his sake, for my sake, and for Crow Radio’s sake. Once this is all over, maybe you can act on whatever it is you feel about him.”

“I don’t think—”

“We’ll say no more about it.” Kaz cleared his throat. “Now, for number four.”

“Oh, god.”

“Inej wanted me to ask you something. You may discuss it with Jesper later on. She wants us to… go on a,” he air-quoted, “ ‘double date ’. She assures me that we’ll all enjoy it, and that she’s been wanting to do this for a while. It’d make her very happy.”

“So, naturally, you think the idea is brilliant,” finished Wylan.

“Of course. All of Inej’s ideas are brilliant.”

“What time should we be there for?”

“Inej said we’ll pick you both up at yours. At eight. Why we can’t just pick you up at your respective places, I don’t know, but—”

“Oh, about that.”

Kaz’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Jesper’s been getting a lot of phone calls… uhm… from the press…”

“On his home phone?”

“Yes, and it’s gotten worse recently. You know, knocks on the door, letters shoved underneath the door… so he’s moved in with me. Temporarily. I thought I should let you know now.”

Kaz blinked at him. “God, Wylan, you’ll have the press’ faces pushed up against your window by Monday with a story like that.”

“I’d do it even if I wasn’t fake-dating him, by the way.”

“I know. That’s the problem.” Kaz waved him off. “You may go. Jesper’s waiting outside so you can catch the train home.” Wylan got up and opened the door.

“I… bye, Kaz. I’ll see you at eight.”

He left the office and shut the door behind him. Jesper immediately pounced on him.

“Why are you seeing Kaz at eight? Is he plotting something? Or, oh my god, are you fake-cheating on me? Is that what—”

“Kaz and Inej want a double date.”

“That’ll be so fun!” Jesper lit up. “Where are they taking us?”

Wylan shrugged, and didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm.“Kaz didn’t say. He and Inej are picking us both up at eight, at mine.”

Jesper frowned. “Is something wrong?”

He thought about telling Jesper what Kaz had warned him of in the office, but thought better of it. Telling him would only complicate things, make things messier. Maybe it was better to appear a little more distant. Jesper wouldn’t mind— after all, it wasn’t as though he shared the same feelings as Wylan.

He gave a small smile. “I’m just tired, that's all.”

—

Jesper had very much been enjoying staying at Wylan’s. The flat was much cleaner than his own, and Wylan seemed to have put a lot of effort into the place. It was no palace, but it was so home-y. And, of course, Jesper rather liked the company.

“Wylan,” Jesper asked, peeking his head around the bedroom door, “can I borrow a tie?”

Wylan didn’t look up from whatever he was doodling. “It’s in the drawer.”

“Which drawer?”

“Um…”

“Oh, just come here and help.”

Wylan got up and turned to meet his eyes. “You’re dressed very formally tonight.”

“I thought I’d make an effort for a change,” Jesper replied. 

Wylan pushed past him, into the bedroom, and began rooting through the drawers. “Okay, two options.” He held them up to Jesper’s collar. “There’s red. You know, classy red. Or grey. Matches your eyes,” he noted.

“But the grey’s so boring!”

“Red it is, then.” Jesper was surprised he didn’t argue simply for the sake of a fight. He wondered if he should take Wylan’s temperature. “And button your shirt up, I can see your collarbone.”

“Bet you enjoyed that.”

Wylan just gave a mildly amused hum. That wasn’t like him at all.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright? We don’t have to go out if you don’t feel like it.”

Wylan gave a smile, which comforted Jesper a little. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. Like I said, just tired. And I feel a headache coming on.”

“But you’re okay to leave the house?”

“I’m made of stern stuff, Jesper.”

There was a honking outside the flats. Jesper groaned. “He couldn’t just call, could he?”

“Wouldn’t make enough of a scene.”

—

“Took your time,” Kaz grumbled.

Inej turned around to face them from the driver’s seat. “I was going to call you, but Kaz just pressed the horn instead.”

“So childish,” Jesper remarked, “I don’t know how you put up with him.”

“It’s my saintly patience,” replied Inej.

Wylan shut the car door. “Kaz hasn’t worn that through yet?”

Inej snorted. “Shall we get going?”

Kaz sniffed as he angled his head to look at Jesper, who was behind him. “I see Wylan got you to make an effort.”

“Actually, I dressed nicely of my own accord.”

“Good. We can’t have the press getting a picture of you dressed like a slob.”

Jesper’s heart dropped for some inexplicable reason. “Would that be so bad?”

“To me? Yes. Very bad. Painfully embarrassing, too.”

“For goodness’ sake, can’t we have one night when you two aren’t at each other's throats?”

“Sorry, Inej, darling.”

“Yeah, sorry Inej.”

An awkward silence fell on the car as Inej turned a corner. Wylan cleared his throat. “So, how’s married life treating you?”

“We’ve been married for two years,” countered Inej evenly.

“Oh. Is it still… good?”

Inej smiled, eyes still on the road. “I think it’s pretty neat, yeah.”

Kaz seemed to be stifling a smirk. “I’m glad to hear you think our union is ‘neat’. It was certainly worth spending all that money on the house, then.”

“It certainly was.”

Jesper turned to Wylan and mimed throwing up. 

“Jesper,” Kaz snapped, “I can see you in the mirror. Quit it.”

“I feel like I’m getting scolded by my father, Kaz, lay off…”

“Remember that I’m treating you and your fake-boyfriend to dinner before you answer back to me.”

“I hate you.”

Wylan pinched the bridge of his nose. Jesper noticed and sank into his seat, extinguishing the argument.

“You two are going to love the place we’re going,” Inej said excitedly, “it’s downtown, and it’s near the Beurscanal. It’s gorgeous, and the food’s amazing.”

“Oh, I see, this double date idea of yours was just a ploy to go to a nice restaurant,” Wylan teased.

Inej nearly crashed the car trying to deny such a thing.

—

Jesper would not be surprised if he discovered Kaz Brekker owned this restaurant. Maybe it was simply due to the quality of the place, but the four of them had been waited on, hand and foot since they’d stepped through the door; their coats were whisked away, wine was brought for the table, a cushy, private booth. He was grateful neither him nor Wylan was expected to pay for this dinner.

“Bit different to what we’re used to, huh, angel?” Jesper muttered. He had promptly taken a seat next to Wylan, not wanting to be next to anybody else in this foreign environment.

“I was half-expecting to spot the King of Ravka in here,” Wylan whispered back.

Jesper scoffed quietly as the waiter placed their food in front of them. 

“I saw a couple of cameras on our way in,” Kaz remarked through his wine glass, “looks like this was a successful night.”

“Does every night always have to be about the press?” Inej asked, “can’t we just have a nice night with our friends?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“We can never seem to get the six of us together anymore,” she continued, “what with Nina and Matthias… and of course, the train only runs until a certain time, so Wylan and Jesper…”

“We’ll get all of us together, then,” Wylan said, “next week. And I’ll force Nina to go, whether she likes it or not.”

“I’ve missed her terribly,” Inej mumbled, “she’s always so busy with Matthias… or… or other things. I wonder if she ever has time for me anymore.”

“She can make time,” Kaz intoned.

“And as much as Matthias will grumble about being in the same room as Nina right now, he’d follow her to the ends of the earth and back,” added Jesper.

“You promise, now, Wylan? I’ll trust you to organise it.”

Wylan nodded. “Saturday, and you’ll all come to mine, spend the night if you really want.”

Jesper felt a warmth spread through him at Wylan’s kindness. When Wylan had arrived at Crow Radio, Inej was among the first of them to bring him to the host’s get-togethers, including him in jokes. Sometimes, he supposed, kindness paid one back in time. Jesper could remember Wylan’s first weeks at Crow Radio. Kaz had practically snapped him up, once he discovered the heir of Jan Van Eck, Crow Radio’s greatest rival, had stumbled into an interview looking for a job. He’d probably been expecting to find a few shifts as a janitor or receptionist, rather than being at the forefront of an entire radio station. Jesper was sceptical at first, as to whether or not Wylan could handle it; after all, he’d never worked a day in his life. But he’d taken a shine to it, as the nation had taken a shine to him, as Jesper had taken a shine to him. The papers had been raving for weeks; apparently, Jan Van Eck was furious his disgraced son had become the city’s sweetheart and the newest addition to a rival station. Jesper admired Wylan for his quiet bravery in those few weeks. It wasn’t easy, leaving behind the world you knew and getting thrown into an infinitely bigger, scarier, and lonelier one. He knew. 

Jesper remembered his and Wylan’s first conversation as though it had happened only a minute before.

“You must be the Van Eck,” Jesper had greeted him.

“Oh, could you tell?” Wylan asked, clearly disappointed.

“Your face has been splashed on the front of newspapers for over ten years. Of course I could tell.” Jesper grinned in an attempt to break the ice. Instead of smiling back, Wylan offered his hand, blue eyes wide and curious.

“Wylan Van Eck. And you are?”

Jesper took it. “Jesper Fahey.”

“It’s nice to— Oh.” Jesper had planted a small kiss on the back of Wylan’s hand. Wylan had gone a delightful hue of rosy pink. “You kissed my hand.” He blinked. “Nobody’s ever done that before. I’m afraid I don’t know how to respond.”

“You can try ‘thanks’,” suggested Jesper.

“Yes! Thank you, Jesper Fahey. I’m sure our… co-worker… ship… will be a fruitful one.”

Jesper had smiled at the earnest formality of it all. “I certainly hope so.”

—

Kaz and Inej had driven them home, and dropped them off at Wylan’s. The two of them had traipsed up the stairs, and once Wylan had unlocked the door, he’d groaned loudly and wrestled his blazer off. “So tired!” He exclaimed.

“Change,” Jesper told him, “I’ll make us tea and you can get an early night.”

The domesticity of it all was something dear to Jesper’s heart, though something he knew wouldn’t last for long. He had changed his home phone number, and was halfway through persuading his landlord to update security measures at the block of flats. Still, he’d miss their little routine, the comforting knowledge Wylan was always nearby. They took turns with taking the bed, doing chores, and getting groceries. It was almost blissful.

They sat on the sofa with their tea. The skinny armchair in the corner lay unoccupied; for some reason, the two of them always chose to share the large sofas, even if it meant their legs ended up tangled and their shoulders slumped together.

“Are you going to tell me what’s up or do I have to work to get it out of you?” Jesper asked suddenly.

Wylan finished taking an elongated sip of tea. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Don’t lie. Was there something in the papers? Is it the interview? Because, I’ll tell you again—”

“It’s not that, Jesper.”

The worst dawned on Jesper. “Oh, I’ve done something, haven’t I? I knew that staying with you was a bad idea, but I didn’t think you’d hate me—”

“Jesper, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Wylan smiled. “You could never make me hate you.”

“Then… what?”

“It’s nothing, really, just something Kaz said today. No big deal.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” Wylan got up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get an early night. See you in the morning.”

“Bye, angel.”

Jesper didn’t have the heart to tell him it wasn’t his night to have the bed.

Chapter Text

It had taken Wylan three phone calls, a letter, and seven unanswered text messages and even an appointment in order to persuade Nina to come to his place with the others. 

Nina sighed and fixed the cactus on her desk. “I don’t know, Wylan, I’m just so busy now. Kaz wanted me to work in partnership with Just Desserts, and then I’m launching another magazine, and obviously Matthias—”

“Look, Nina, I wasn’t going to guilt you into doing this, but you leave me no choice; this is for Inej.”

Nina paused as she reached for her coffee mug. “Oh, Wylan, don’t do this to me. Listen—”

He took a deep breath for courage, as opposed to a strong drink. “No, Nina, you listen.”

She was listening.

Wylan kept going. “Inej thinks you’re too busy for her. And that you don’t want to hang out with her anymore.” He paused. “And… the rest of us feel the same.”

Nina sighed and made a confused gesture. “I am busy, Wylan! I’ve got a lot on my plate.”

“Then take some stuff off,” replied Wylan simply.

“For Inej?”

“For Inej.”

“When?”

“Saturday, at mine.”

“Time?”

“Eight. Stay for an hour, stay for two, stay the night, I don’t care, just come and see us all. Please, pretty please.” He put his hands together and appealed to her with a very forlorn expression on his face.

“Don’t go puppy eyes on me, alright? I’ll go. For Inej.” She hesitated. “Will… he be there…?”

“Wh— Oh. Oh, you mean Matthias.” Now well-accustomed to lying, Wylan’s instincts kicked in. “No, he won’t. He didn’t want to come.”

An assistant poked her head through the door. “Mr Van Eck, your ten minute appointment window is finished.”

“Polly, leave us, please, I’m doing business, sweetheart.”

Polly hurried out, shutting the door behind her.

Nina fixed the collar of her red blazer. “Will there be food?”

“Takeout, yes.”

“Good. I’ll get Polly to grab some snacks…”

“So you’ll be there? Saturday, eight, at mine? You remember my apartment number? My address?”

“Yes, yes I remember,” she said, waving him off, “now go home to your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. It’s for the press, and you know that.”

She popped her lips boredly. “Yeah, but you don’t want it to be for the press.”

“What I want doesn’t matter.”

Nina sniffed. “You’ve been talking to Kaz too much.”

“I’m serious! Whatever I am feeling is just that; feelings. They are temporary and easily quashed.”

“You’re insane.”

“I am pragmatic.”

“You’re a self-hating, anxious bastard, who’s afraid he’ll never be worthy of love.” Nina pouted.

Wylan inhaled. “Maybe so! But I wouldn’t want to make Jesper uncomfortable because I… feel… things… about him.”

“Just say you want to fuck him, Wylan, it makes this so much easier.”

He was quickly losing his patience with Nina. “I don’t just want to fuck him.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So you admit it? You do want to sleep with Jesper Fahey?”

He pointed at her, accusing. “You are distracting me from the point. Will I see you on Saturday or not?”

“Yeah, of course, but I have more questions about you and Jesper—”

“Had enough of those with that awful magazine you used to run,” Wylan muttered, snatching his coat off of the back of his chair and putting it on as angrily as one could put on a coat.”

“ Just Desserts ? I watched the interview,” Nina told him. She blinked wearily and shook her head. “I won’t even ask what was going on with that whole… thing.”

“I’m going to leave in case you keep talking,” said Wylan, “see you on Saturday.”

“See you and your boyfriend on Saturday, Wylan, darling. And try not to kiss him again between now and then!” She blew him a kiss of her own.

He scowled. “Bring snacks.” Then, he slammed the door shut and left headquarters.

—

“Nina is late,” Kaz remarked, snapping his pocket watch shut.

“It is one minute past eight,” replied Inej, from her spot on the arm of the sofa, “she is not late by any great amount.

“Still late,” he primly muttered

Matthias came into the living room, shutting the bathroom door behind him. “What did I miss?”

“Oh, nothing,” Jesper told him, “the food’s late.”

He sat down in the armchair. Wylan peered out of the window, and saw a figure clad in red approaching the building. Nina .

“Uhm, hey, Matthias?” Wylan asked.

“Yes?”

“There’s a cupboard in the bathroom, and there’s a big, red box in it. Could you get it while I grab the food from the door? I see the delivery guy.”

“Certainly,” he said. He disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

A knock came at the door. Jesper leapt up and answered it. “Nina!” He greeted her excitedly.

“Jesper, darling!” She gave him an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek.

“Come in, come in, the gang’s all here,” he ushered her in. Then, Wylan rushed behind her and locked the door.

She took a seat next to where Inej was perched, on the arm of the sofa. “Oh this is so nice! I—”

“There was no red box in there,” Matthias interrupted, emerging from the bathroom, “I think you misplaced— what is she doing here?!”

“What is Matthias doing here?!” Nina exclaimed. She attempted to leave by marching towards the door. Wylan flung himself in front of it. 

“Everybody, sit down!” He yelled. “Sit down, for one fucking hour, and get along!”

“I’d listen to him, Zenik, Helvar. He might pop a blood vessel if you don’t,” Kaz, who had been watching this scuffle with an air of amusement, informed them.

Inej piped up. “I would like it if you two could only wait until we have food, and then you can leave.”

Matthias grumbled as he sat back down in the armchair. Nina returned to her seat, too. Wylan took a spot beside her.

Kaz regarded them all. “I must say, congratulations for successfully getting these two in a room. Good job.”

Wylan scowled. “Thanks, Kaz.”

Jesper pouted at him. “Don’t frown, you’ll get wrinkles.”

With Nina in his seat, Jesper landed on her and Wylan, stretching his feet up to where Inej was perched, his head in Wylan’s lap.

“Someone needs to shrink you,” Inej said, “your feet are in my face.”

Jesper moved his feet off of the arm of the chair, and grinned up at Wylan. Wylan smiled politely back. He’d been trying to distance himself from Jesper, but it was proving very difficult. He was so easy to talk to, and Wylan found himself turning to him without hesitation every so often. It was a lamentable curse, to always be searching for someone who would never seek him out. He knew that, when this was all over, Jesper could drop his routine with Wylan like a hot dish; he could never be satisfied with someone like Wylan. In the end, he supposed they’d be better off as friends. He could feel his feelings growing every day for Jesper, and every minute that went by without telling him hurt a little more. But he couldn’t go on with this relationship just to fulfill his own selfish agenda; that was wrong, so wrong, for him, for Jesper, for everyone. It felt like cheating Jesper, in truth.

“Are you okay?” Jesper asked.

“I’m fine, sweetheart.”

“What the fuck did you just call him?” Kaz asked.

“Oh, it’s the name he uses for me in public. It’s like my ‘angel’, you know?” Jesper said.

He looked at the two of them, partly confused, partly apprehensive, and mostly exasperated. “Whatever.”

“Hey, I think it’s cute,” Nina said, starting to emerge from her initial rageful shock. “I call people ‘darling.’”

Kaz sighed. “That’s different—”

“You never called me ‘darling,’” Matthias grumbled.

“Not everyone calls their significant other ‘darling’, Matthias.”

“You don’t even call me ‘darling’, like you do the others.”

Something in Nina seemed to snap. “Because I don’t like you, Matthias. We don’t get along .”

Inej waved her hands. “Can we please—”

“We do get along, Nina! You know we do, and we’d get along for good if you’d just tell me what I did wrong!”

Silence fell on the room. Kaz took a generous sip of coffee. Inej’s mouth was agape. Jesper and Wylan had turned their heads from one another to stare at the other two. 

A knock on the door. “Delivery.”

Everyone in the room, besides Nina and Matthias, rushed to get the door.

—

“I’m sorry, Inej,” Wylan muttered, as they organised drinks in the kitchen area, “I didn’t think Nina and Matthias would get so… explosive.”

“It’s not your fault, Wylan,” she told him, “maybe it’d be best if they don’t both come next time.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you and Nina can come to dinner with me sometime. Just the three of us.”

Wylan smiled into his cupboard. “You’re always too nice to me, Inej.”

She scoffed. “Not true. You’re a sweet boy, that’s all.”

“I’m not a sweet boy, I am twenty-two.”

“Oh, but to Kaz and I, you’ll always be the earnest little heir in the reception.”

“Well, I’ve changed since then.”

“We all have. I’m married now, and Nina’s running a Crow Radio magazine, I think. Jesper’s finally clean, you’ve got no father to fear, Kaz managed to get a ring on the finger of the only woman who can tolerate him, and Matthias… Well, Matthias hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Ah, it’s part of his Fjerdan charm.”

“The Fjerdans have that?” Inej laughed.

“What are you two giggling about?” Matthias asked accusingly.

Through a large mouthful of pizza, Nina replied, “relax, Matthias, they’re friends. Friends laugh with one another.”

The six of them spent the night catching up, stretched on the floor or on the chairs. Kaz remained in the wooden chair he’d taken from the kitchen area, Nina and Wylan on the sofa, Jesper lounging across them both. Inej moved from spot to spot, sometimes near Kaz, sometimes on the arm of a chair; but Matthias stayed in his armchair for the duration of the night. Eventually, the large blond man fell asleep, his head lolling to the side, making him a very appealing target for Kaz’s antics. The five remaining crows successfully stacked three empty pizza boxes, a lamp, two clocks, a photo from Wylan’s wall, and a throw pillow on him and around him.

Nina watched him. She leaned to her left, where Wylan reclined, and whispered, “I really do love him, you know.”

Jesper’s eyes widened from where his head lay in Wylan’s lap, though it was only the latter that spoke. “Then why don’t you act on it?” He hissed.

“I’m worried he thinks I’m lying. That I’m toying with him.”

“Then tell him you’re not…?”

“It’s not that simple.”

Wylan scratched his face nervously. “Nina, do you want me to be sympathetic, understanding Wylan, or do you want me to be, realistic, practical Wylan?”

She frowned. “Can’t I have both?”

“Not now, no. Pick one.”

“Realistic and practical Wylan, I suppose?”

He took a breath. “You both need to grow the fuck up. You always fall out over little things. Instead of the two of you throwing a hissy fit any time there’s a bump in the road, talk it through— you know, like adults . You’re worried he thinks you’re toying with him? Show him you’re serious. It won’t be easy, but he’ll come around eventually.”

Nina blinked. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.” She glanced at Jesper, a bare second he didn’t register. “In return, would you like some free advice from realistic, practical Nina?”

He tilted his head. “I didn’t know she existed, but certainly,” Wylan replied.

She grabbed his collar in a fist and pulled his head beside hers. Then, she whispered, “get your shit together with Jesper. Grow a pair. Tell him.”

He paled. “I don’t like realistic, practical Nina.”

“Then you don’t want to meet mean Nina,” she replied, with a dazzling grin.

—

None of the Crows deigned to stay the night, aside from Jesper, who was only at Wylan’s because he had nowhere else to go. It was his night to have the bed, so Wylan curled up on the sofa. He was thinking about what Nina had said, about Jesper. Wylan found a lot of his thoughts related to him nowadays. Should he tell Jesper? Didn’t that risk too much, regarding the press? What if Jesper didn’t feel the same? What if they were trapped in a fake relationship with very real, very awkward, glaringly different feelings? The thought struck Wylan like a brick. He had to start anew .

On Sunday morning, Wylan knocked on the door of Kaz Brekker’s office. 

“What is it?” His voice came.

Wylan opened the door. “I have an idea. I don’t know if you’re going to like it.”

Kaz Brekker sighed. “I think I know. Shut the door, Wylan, and take a seat.”

Chapter Text

“I still don’t understand,” Jesper sighed, “why do we need to break up?”

Wylan didn’t meet his eyes. “It had to end at some point, right? We couldn’t go on fake-dating forever. I mean, what would come next? Fake marriage? Fake children?”

Jesper blinked. “You know, funny. I hadn’t thought about that.” He turned his mug a little to the left. “But, uh. Explain the rest of your plan, please.”

“So, we stage a dramatic break-up.”

“Got that, yes,” Jesper replied.

“Then, I,” he air-quoted, “‘leave’ Crow Radio.”

“What? Forever?”

“No, no, only for a week. Then I return! And views will skyrocket.”

Jesper looked at him. Wylan seemed to be genuinely sure this would work. “But you’ll come back?” He asked. He hated how pathetic he sounded.

“Of course I’ll come back! We’re still friends, after all. I mean sure, the relationship was fake, but we aren’t, right?”

“Right,” Jesper breathed, “we aren’t.”

Wylan paused. “Obviously, I won’t go through with all of this if you’re not okay with it.”

Jesper took a sip from his mug, and nearly choked in his hurry to answer. “Oh—” he spluttered. “No, no, I’m— I am totally okay with it. It’s a good plan, great plan.”

He smiled. “Great! And once it’s all blown over, we can go back to… normal.”

“Normal…”

“You keep doing that,” Wylan said.

“Doing what?”

“Repeating the last few words of my sentence,” he replied. He cocked his head. “Are you sick?” Wylan reached across the table and pressed his hand to Jesper’s forehead. 

He very nearly evaporated at the touch. “No, no, I’m fine… just taking it all in.” Jesper gently peeled Wylan’s hand from his forehead. “Is this what you’ve been worrying over? And why you’ve been so distracted?”

Wylan eyed the kitchen table shyly. “Well, yeah. I didn’t realise you’d noticed.”

Jesper gave a weak smile. “Of course I noticed.”

“You don’t hate me, do you? For this?”

“I could never hate you, Wylan,” Jesper replied. He felt heat rush to his face at the sudden sincerity in his voice. “Uh—I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s… it’s alright. As long as you still like me after we fake-break-up.”

“I’ll still like you, just you see.” In fact, I like you a lot more than I think I should, Wylan Van Eck.

“Great.” Wylan smiled. “Thank you. So, so much.”

Was fake-dating Jesper so bad he had to thank him for ending the relationship? Jesper knew he wasn’t the most romantic man on earth, but surely he wasn’t that terrible?

“So, then. We have officially broken up,” Jesper said conclusively.

Wylan nodded, faking solemnity. “I hope you don’t mind if I don’t see you for a week or two, before everything cools down with the press. I just don’t want the two of us to get caught up with the paparazzi too soon.”

“Naturally.” He gave a tight little smile. “For what it’s worth, I had fun with this.”

Wylan went a simply delicious shade of pink. “Yeah, well… Well, I had fun too. You’re not half bad, Jesper Fahey.”

“You’re not too shabby yourself, Wylan Van Eck.”

—

Jesper had settled into his new place. It was the same building as before, just a floor down. He’d managed to change his phone number, and things were beginning to settle. A few boxes of things he’d brought to Wylan’s lay askew on the floor, and he’d certainly forgotten something, but that was Future Jesper’s problem. He was sprawled out on the floor currently, doing fuck all apart from being bored senseless.

Why, he thought, he hadn’t been this bored since… since before Wylan . Was he really that dependent on him for entertainment?

He let out an infamous sigh. He had many skills, though most of them were more suited to when other people were around, rather than when it was just himself.

“I could lift these boxes,” he thought aloud.

He willed himself to get up off the floor.

He didn’t get up off the floor.

This time, he groaned. “Bored, bored, bored!” He muttered nonsensically. His frustration drove him to get up. Maybe he could go for a walk— yes, a walk! He’d get changed first, though, his shirt was stained and his trousers had a few holes in them; he couldn’t go out looking like this, he did have standards, contrary to popular belief.

Jesper rummaged through the scarce pile of clothes made available to him on the floor, where he’d dumped them. He unearthed a pair of trousers that wouldn’t blind an unsuspected onlooker, much to his dismay, and a respectable shirt. 

Oh god, he thought with disdain that psychically projected three streets over, I look like someone’s Da. I look like my Da.

It would have to do, he supposed. Besides, he was only going out for a walk. 

Jesper adored Ketterdam at night. Wylan sometimes said it was an artist’s greatest dream; thrumming with life and inspiration. Jesper knew they differed in that. Wylan, bless his heart, was an observer. He didn’t mean that in an unkind way— it was the truth. Wylan liked to see, watch, and then be inspired. It was the way of creatives like him. Jesper, however, was a more hands-on learner, and no, that was not a euphemism. He was active, a doer. On the humid Ketterdam weekends, with slick bodies pressed up against one another, the air stiff with drink and sweat and pure ecstasy, something in Jesper itched to follow; begged him for something to drink, someone to talk to, something to do. It was an itch he had long denied. And Jesper was a man of his word.

Instead, he leaned outside a rowdy bar, back against the wall, watching the light sprawl onto the street in teasing flashes of colour. This was much more cruel than denying himself the pleasure of a party, and he was beginning to realise that.

Somehow, though, he didn’t feel the usual insatiable thirst to be enveloped by the joyous rot of the club. He thought that maybe it had a lot to do with Wylan.

Wylan. Fuck, Wylan. Jesper very nearly groaned aloud. What an enigma that man was. Jesper couldn’t get a read on him. He blushed like a schoolboy one minute, then went and staged an elaborate fake break-up the next. Jesper wondered, with only a little bitterness, did he feel nothing real about Jesper? Maybe after so many years in the spotlight, Van Eck had forgotten who he was underneath the bold title of a magazine headline. 

Maybe, Jesper thought, they really were just voices over radios. 

Jesper felt the strangest, deepest sadness at not being with Wylan anymore— like they really were ever together— and he couldn’t fathom why. He’d been dumped before; it was a common occurrence, but never by someone like Wylan. Someone like Wylan… was Wylan someone special? Well, to Jesper he was, but he was biased, what with his little crush and all. 

He had to slap his face to knock some sense into himself. He was beating himself up over Wylan Van Eck— a man; a very beautiful man, who was sweet and kind, with not a bad bone in his body, eyes like a morning in July, and the temper of a chihuahua— but a man all the same, one who Jesper had normal, crush-like feelings about. It wasn’t as though he would spend his life with Wylan— although, he supposed he liked the domesticity they shared when they’d lived together. And, far be it from him to be sappy, but Jesper was certainly not opposed to waking up next to him every morning, nor was he against sharing meals with him; sharing clothes, chores, a bed, a home, a hearth, a fami—

“Holy shit,” he whispered. For clarity, he said it again, louder: “holy shit. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Oh…. I’ve fucked up…”

“What’ve you fucked up?” A voice came from beside him.

Jesper yelped and turned around. A slight figure was angled lazily against the wall of the bar. In the pink light streaming from the door, Jesper picked out two curious golden eyes, and black hair pushed back over fine, sharp features. A rather startling appearance, certainly, but an interesting one.

“Oh. I’ve just… realised something.”

Two black brows furrowed together, expressive lips twisted into a sour line. “Be specific, please. You could have ‘realised’ who your father was murdered by in the summer of ‘93, or you could have ‘realised’ that you left the oven on. Which?”

“I’m not sure it’s either, really.”

“In the middle, then? So more of an ‘I just remembered it’s my friend’s birthday tomorrow and I haven’t gotten them anything; we don’t talk anymore but I feel terrible’, kind of realisation?”

Jesper considered. “No, actually, it’s a bit closer to the murder scenario.”

The other person made a face. “Then, what?”

“I just realised I’m in love with this guy.”

“And that’s so bad?” 

“Yeah! Mostly for reasons I can’t explain, but especially because I have never been in love. Like, ever. I mean, sure, I’ve had flings, boyfriends, girlfriends, whatever. But I’ve never wanted to spend my life with someone! It’s like… it’s like I just learned how to swim, and now I’ve been dumped into an ocean all by myself. With—with sharks!” Jesper knew he wasn’t making sense anymore, but most of this affair did not.

“With sharks, hm?” A toned hand extended across the doorway. “Kuwei,” he introduced himself as.

“Jesper.”

“So, Jesper, tell me. What’s this guy like?”

“Well… well the first thing that struck me was how gorgeous he was. He’s not handsome , you know? Like, when someone says ‘handsome’ I think of a lumberjack type of guy, but that’s not Wylan at all. He’s— he’s like one of those studies that artists do, yeah? You see him and you think, ‘woah. You should be in a museum.’ Because he’s just that beautiful! Sometimes I worry that if I touch him my fingerprint will leave a mark, or that if I brush his hair away from his face, I’ll scratch a bit of paint away.”

Kuwei raised his eyebrows. “Quite a piece of work, then.”

“Exactly!” Jesper pointed at him. “And it’s not like he’s fragile, though. He’s brave. He’s so brave, and I don’t think he knows that. And kind. He’s brave and kind and he’s such a bitch.”

“And you love him,” Kuwei supplied, with an eyeroll. He had placed a cigarette between his lips. He turned the wheel of his lighter and lit it. 

“And I love him,” Jesper agreed.

He shrugged. “So then, what’s the problem?”

“I’m scared.”

Kuwei scoffed and exhaled a stream of smoke. “Fear is for people who’ve got something to lose. And no offence, Jesper, but you’ve got very little going for you, save from your good looks and strange personality.”

“There’s a compliment in there somewhere,” Jesper muttered.

“Other than fear, what reason have you got to pretend you don’t love him?”

“Well, we’ve been friends for a while. And if I mess it up, it’ll be different between us.”

Kuwei waved his hands, imitating a ghost. “Ooh, change! New feelings and experiences! Woo, so spooky!” His expression dropped. “I hope you don’t think I’m rude for this, but grow a pair! God…”

“Is it as simple as that?” Jesper asked.

“Love is a tricky business, but it’s not so difficult to figure out when you’re an onlooker.”

“So I should tell him, then?”

“Go for it.” Kuwei took the cigarette from between his lips and surveyed Jesper. “And, hey, if he doesn’t want you, I’ll have you.”

“Is that a promise?” Jesper laughed weakly.

Kuwei’s mouth twitched. “It’s a warning. See you, Jesper. Good luck with… what was his name again?” 

“Wylan.”

“Good luck with Wylan. Send him around my way if there’s any trouble. I’ll knock some sense into him.” Kuwei dropped his cigarette on the pavement and ground it with his heel. Jesper didn’t appreciate the litter, but he certainly appreciated the aesthetic.

“Sure, Kuwei, have a nice night.”

He tipped his head at Jesper and disappeared back into the bar, engulfed by the assaulting lights, pulsing like something from a sci-fi movie. Had Jesper just been visited by an alien? Or an angel? Or some kind of ghost? What had just happened?

Whatever it was, it worked.

—

Jesper was once more alone in his apartment. There were still boxes on the floor, and the place still smelled like absence and new beginnings— and come to think of it, there wasn’t much different about this from when it last happened an hour ago, aside from a change in outfit and attitude.

Three things Jesper had learned in the past three hours:

1. Moving into a new apartment required a lot more effort than he originally thought.
2. He was in love with Wylan Van Eck.
3. He was going to voice his aforementioned love (for Wylan Van Eck)

Tomorrow, though. Tomorrow, when he wasn’t dressed like he really was going through a break-up. A knock at the door.

Jesper grumbled and peered through the peephole. It was Wylan, holding something just out of his view.

Jesper put his hands on his head in panic. He dove into another box of clothes, and hauled on the most blinding jacket he could. The trousers could wait. He smoothed his hair, and internally attempted to push himself to answer the door.

“Jesper?” Wylan asked. “You in there? I have some… stuff.”

Jesper flung open the door. “Wylan! Hi! I was just unpacking.”

The smaller man smiled. “You’ve cheered up.”

“I have.”

“I won’t bother you,” he said, “I just wanted to drop off a few things you left at mine.” He offered a shopping bag that presumably contained clothes and other effects that Jesper had stowed away in Wylan’s apartment.

“Oh, uh, you won’t come in?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to… disturb.”

“Since when have you ever cared about not disturbing me?” Jesper asked, incredulous.

Wylan smiled. “Alright.”

—

Wylan dumped the bag of clothes onto the floor. “I could tell they were yours because they looked like something a circus ringleader would wear,” he informed Jesper with a shit-eating grin. He pointed at a battered t-shirt. “That one’s mine, actually.”

“I didn’t even realise. Take it.”

Wylan shrugged. “You wore it a few times and I think it looked nice on you.” He looked like he was holding in a scream. “Besides, I still have some of your clothes that I borrowed,” he let out, like it was a dying breath.

Jesper’s heart stopped. “You do…?”

He looked entirely too frustrated for someone so pretty. “Of course I do. They’re comfortable and smell like you. And—” he took a deep breath, “I think I am in love with you.”

Jesper blinked. “When did you decide that?”

“Oh, about thirty hours ago,” the other wheezed.

“Well, you’ve done one better than me; I figured it out outside a bar about two hours ago.”

Wylan opened his mouth, presumably to make fun of him, as was his natural reflex, but then paused. Jesper practically saw cogs turning in his head.

“Wait,” he said, “wait, no.”

Jesper paused. “‘Wait, no?’”

“I had this planned out and I forgot what I was going to say,” he fretted.

“I think you should kiss me,” Jesper suggested.

“I think that’s a fabulous idea,” Wylan agreed from across the room, “If you’d just let me…” 

“Oh, go ahead.”

Wylan closed the distance between them and seized Jesper’s face. He smiled at him for a moment. Jesper wallowed in the feeling of slender fingers touching his cheeks like they were something to be handled with care— like he was something that deserved to be handled with care.

A fourth thing Jesper learned:

Wylan Van Eck was a very, very good kisser.

Sure, he’d kissed him once before, but this was a kiss— a real one, not one conceived of lies and dishonesty— this was the kiss he’d spent so long wanting. This was electric, this was warm, this was a night in Ketterdam, this was an evening in an apartment; it was a lot of things, but most of all, it was with Wylan. And Jesper liked that part the best.

Wylan’s legs were on either side of his hips, Jesper’s back pressed to the armchair as he leant into it to coax the other further and further. Suddenly, Wylan stopped, sitting up straight instead. He had a remarkable posture, even in a situation where he was straddling someone at a very awkward angle.

“Oh no,” Jesper said, “oh no. I don’t like that face. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Wylan said, cheerily, “this is fantastic! No, seriously, I forgot how desirable you are, thank you for reminding me.“

“Thank you…?”

“But,” Wylan continued. Jesper groaned. “But,” he tried again, “we need to have a conversation.”

“Oh, angel, do we have to? Can’t we—”

“No, Jesper, I’m afraid I’m insisting.”

“What, are we gonna have our discussion like this?” Jesper asked, gesturing to their current positions.

“Eh. Whatever makes you comfortable,” Wylan replied with a grin. 

Jesper could very much get used to this.

Chapter Text

Jesper snatched something off his fridge. Wylan vaguely recognised his handwriting, and the looping number down the side.

“Is that the list we made on our date?” Wylan asked, his voice unusually small.

Jesper sat at the kitchen table, before flipping the list over and getting out a pen. “Course it is. I had to keep it in case I forgot.”

“I never forgot,” Wylan told him. “And by the way? We both broke number four.”

“Yes, well,” Jesper said, his tone indicating he was leading up to something brilliant as he scribbled something, “rule number one is now: feel free to fall in love with one another.”

“You should add that it’s actually encouraged,” Wylan suggested.

He nodded and jotted it down. “It… is… actually… encouraged.”

“Number two,” added Wylan, “still no flowers. Love conquers all but pollen allergies.”

“Love… does not… conquer… pollen,” Jesper repeated, “great. What about physical affection? I can kiss you, can’t I?”

Wylan stared at him in disbelief. “Jesper, I just… armchair…” he shook his head, dismissing the thought. “I am not at all opposed to kissing. Or anything else. And you?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” Jesper scribbled it down, “I am also down for, as you put it, anything else.” He waggled his eyebrows. Wylan let out a breath of laughter.

“Wait. Number Four. Number Four is an important rule.”

Jesper’s eyes widened. “What is it?”

“You still can’t call me babe.” Wylan folded his arms after setting this offer on the table.

“I can accept that,” the other one said, “on one condition.”

“Which is?”

“You must call me sweetheart.”

“Oh, I must,” Wylan repeated.

“It’s a condition like any other!” 

“I accept your condition, then, Mr Fahey.”

“What’s our fifth rule? We need five. It’s such a nice number.” Jesper thought. “Number Five. No more pretending. No more lying about feelings and concealing stuff. That goes for both of us.”

“That’s a good rule,” Wylan agreed.

Jesper turned the list around. He’d doodled hearts and bendy lines around it idly. “You can’t read the title, but it says ‘Dating for Dummies.’”

Wylan let out a hoot of laughter, and Jesper got up to pin the list on the fridge once more. “As someone who comes from the world of business,” Wylan declared, also leaving his seat, “I say we shake on it.”

“Right you are.” Jesper offered a large, sprawling hand. Wylan took it, but instead of performing a handshake, he turned Jesper’s hand so the back of it faced upwards, and pressed a kiss to it.

“Oh,” Jesper said.

Wylan kissed him again, a little further up his arm. Again, further up still, and Jesper’s huffs of laughter followed him. He repeated this until he reached Jesper’s shoulder. He hesitated slightly, then, carefully, quietly, he pressed a kiss to his neck, coaxing a shaky breath from Jesper, and he suddenly became aware of how close they were. Jesper so fit perfectly with him that Wylan was reminded of broken pottery pieces, slotted together to make something whole.

Wylan leaned back a little, and their hips angled together. He looked at Jesper.

“… What is it?” Jesper asked.

“Just admiring you.”

Jesper looked downwards. Wylan took an indecent amount of pleasure being the one to cause him to be flustered or indignant. It felt like a very sweet kind of revenge.

“How long have you been in love with me, then? Thirty hours, like you said?” Jesper asked, bouncing back from his stay.

‘Always’ wouldn’t have been an entirely correct answer, so Wylan rephrased his haphazardly arranged answer. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a while. I think I loved you at least a little when we first met.” He thought back to the day in the break room when Jesper had kissed his hand, like they were fairytale princes. Perhaps it was a mocking action, but it marked the start of something— of a lot of things. “And you? How long…?”

“Has it been you?” Jesper thought. “Funny, I don’t think I could tell you. I think it wasn’t so much an act of falling in love… but… like, an act of choosing to do something about… love.” He let out a self-aware laugh. “I sound like such a sap.”

Wylan let his head rest in the crook of Jesper’s neck. “You’re my sap, though.”

Jesper’s arms slipped under Wylan’s arms, his folded hands resting on the small of his back. He started rocking on his feet, swaying into a rhythm that Wylan followed dutifully, drawing a circle with his fingers between Jesper’s shoulder blades.

“I think the whole affair was worth it,” Jesper said. His voice was soft, warm against Wylan’s ear, as his head tilted to sit atop of the other’s. “For this.”

“You reckon we’ll be happy?”

“I reckon we’ll be very happy, yes. And this time, it’s real.”

Wylan smiled into Jesper’s neck. It was real. They were real.

Chapter Text

Jesper found summers in Ketterdam as lamentable as the winters. The summer heat was damp, and humid, and generally horrible. Sometimes, it wasn’t sunny at all. Sometimes, summers in the city were as dreary as an October afternoon. But, today was the former. The heat greeted Jesper as sunlight stretched its weary arms across his face. He reached for Wylan, extending his arm across the bed. Empty. He turned his head, blinking. 

He became aware of noises from the kitchen area, through the door. Quiet, nonsensical singing. Jesper smiled at the ceiling. Someone was in a good mood today. 

Rubbing his eyes, Jesper got out of bed. He shrugged on a shirt of his that was discarded on the floor the night before, not bothering to button it, and approached the door. The bedroom brightened as he opened it and entered the main part of the apartment. Wylan had left the windows open, and the curtains fluttered nervously in the breeze. 

“Good morning,” Wylan murmured, not looking up from whatever task it was he was performing at the kitchen counter.

“Hello, sunshine,” Jesper replied. “What’s going on?”

Wylan turned around, holding two mugs. “Tea,” he replied.

“I thought mornings required coffee,” Jesper commented, though he accepted the tea regardless.

“That was when we worked on Sundays,” Wylan replied, with an air of wisdom. “Now drink. I put honey in yours.”

Jesper ruffled his hair, earning a scowl and a contradictory smile, before sitting down at the kitchen table. “You’re up early,” he said.

“It’s ten o’clock!”

“Like I said, early.”

“Always so slothful,” reprimanded Wylan.

“Slothful…”

“It’s a word,” Wylan retorted.

Jesper took a sip of tea. “Nobody who isn’t a religious leader or under the age of fifty uses the word ‘slothful.’”

His boyfriend did not deign to reply. Instead, he sat down on the other chair at the kitchen table with his own tea. “It’s still weird having Sundays off. Crow Radio never let us have Sundays off.”

“It’s so weird, isn’t it? Leaves us with so much free time.”

Wylan smiled into his mug. “Do you miss it? Miss them?”

“Eh. A little. I mean, the Crows are still our friends, right? Our friendship doesn’t rely on the fact we all work at the same radio station.”

“I suppose. I mean, look at Nina. Off running her magazine. It’s really just Inej, Kaz and Matthias nowadays, isn’t it?”

Jesper snorted. “And the way it’s looking, what with a baby Brekker on the way, it’ll just be Kaz and his best friend Helvar.”

“Reckon that they’ll pass it on to some others?”

“Yeah. It’s for the best.”

Wylan nodded. Jesper liked Wylan a lot, but he liked him the most in the mornings, he discovered. Especially on lazy mornings like this. With his hair mussed— it was getting longer, he realised, fighting the urge to find a curl and tug— and his shirt loose. It was quite a blessing. 

“What is it?” Wylan asked, his eyes lifting from the mug. Jesper propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand. He grinned like a complete fool.

“You’re my boyfriend,” He said. He let out a sound that could be considered a giggle, if not for Jesper’s pride.

That made Wylan smile, which made Jesper smile more. It was a vicious cycle, he concluded.

“I am your boyfriend, sweetheart.”

Jesper took another sip of tea. “You make very good tea,” he added.

“One of my many skills.”

“My, my, is that an innuendo?”

Wylan shrugged, nonchalant. “It’s whatever you want it to be, sweetheart.”

“You’re terribly unprofessional.”

“Oh, I never claimed to be such a thing.” He finished his tea with finality. He got up, set it in the sink, and opened the fridge. “Do you want something to eat? I got fruit a few days ago. The strawberries are…” he gave a little sigh of bliss. “You know what? I don’t care if you say no, I’m gonna make you eat them.”

“That good, huh?”

“Mhm.” 

Wylan prepared a small bowl of strawberries, singing under his breath as he went. He methodically removed the stalk and its leaves, popping them into the bowl once it was done. “Et voila,” he announced, brandishing the dish and setting them in front of Jesper, who was sitting oddly, so that his legs weren’t under the table, but facing Wylan. 

Jesper snaked his arms under Wylan’s shirt, pulling him between his legs. “I’ve trapped you.”

Wylan looked down at him and rolled his eyes. “Oh no, whatever will I do?”

“Guess you have to stay here forever,” Jesper said, feigning an apology.

He gave a dramatic sigh. “Guess I do… what a shame…” Wylan threw a glance at the strawberries. “Aren’t you going to eat the strawberries? After all that preparation?”

“Can’t,” Jesper replied, “otherwise you might escape.”

Wylan picked up a strawberry, inspected it for a second before holding it to Jesper’s lips. Jesper gladly ate it. 

“Huh,” he said, “you were right. They are that good.”

“What did I tell you?” Wylan picked up another strawberry, but saved this one for himself. “Are you going to let me go now?” He said through a mouthful, “I have to get dressed.”

“You are dressed,” Jesper argued.

“Jesper, if I went out in public like this, I’d be on the front page of Ketterdam Today within the hour.”

Jesper heaved a sigh, and his arms slackened, his hands resting on his knees. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Wylan planted a generous kiss on his forehead before disappearing into their bedroom.

Jesper popped another strawberry in his mouth. He went to rest his head on the table, but was interrupted by the phone mounted on the wall ringing. Rolling his eyes, he reluctantly rose and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Jesper? Hi,” came a familiar voice.

“Nina!” He exclaimed, “hello! You’ve just missed Wylan.”

“Oh, that’s fine, you’ll do,” teased Nina, “I was just calling to ask if you guys are free for lunch Wednesday? Kaz and Inej have already agreed to come.”

“Sure, we’d love that. How’s Matthias these days?” He asked.

She laughed. “Oh, you know him. Big, blonde, and gruff.”

“But you still like him.”

“I like him very much. And how’s Wylan?”

“He’s great,” Jesper said with a smile, “he’s just great.”

“Not as great as my boyfriend.”

Two could play that game.

“Oh? Do you think so? Well, we’ll see about that on Wednesday, won’t we, Zenik?”

“Suppose we will, Fahey. Wednesday. Two. Mine. Be there or be square.”

“Deal.” Still grinning, Jesper hung up.

Wylan emerged from the bedroom. “Who was that?”

“Nina. We’re having lunch on Wednesday.”

“With the Crows? Aw, that’s nice of her.” Wylan fixed the collar of his shirt, fussing with the uneven angle of its fold. Once it satisfied him he approached the door. “I need to go get some bread. Do you need anything while I’m out?”

Jesper thought for a second, popping another strawberry in his mouth while he deliberated. He swallowed, then announced, “no, thanks. Just a kiss before you bid me farewell.”

“You’re so dramatic. Anyone would think I was going off to war, not across the street.” He indulged Jesper regardless. 

“Goodbye, my angel! I miss you already!” He called after Wylan as he left. Wylan very generously offered two middle fingers before quietly closing the door behind him.

Jesper laughed, although there was nobody to hear it anymore. He didn’t think he’d been this happy since… well, maybe, ever. Happiness was a tricky thing to measure. It came in all sorts of different forms, Jesper had found; an arm slung easily over someone’s shoulder, and encouraging voice wandering along the shell of one’s ear, a kiss, lingering hands, a smile, breakfast in bed, cold mornings, breezy afternoons, trips to the grocery store, insisting it was not one’s turn to do the laundry. Happiness, at least, Jesper’s happiness, had become inseparable from the feeling of being loved. Maybe that was it, he concluded, maybe Wylan was his source of joy. Maybe it was his family, his friends. Whatever the source was, Jesper could say with confidence that he had felt it in this kitchen, in their bedroom, in their apartment. He felt it wherever Wylan went.

It had taken them both a while to forget that they did not have to pretend anymore; that there were no cameras or microphones to hide from. Within these four walls, they were perhaps the most unconstrained versions of themselves. For all of a split-second, Jesper thought he’d forgotten who that version was, thought that he’d forgotten how to be real. But it was easy, with Wylan. He didn’t think he had the words to explain. But, every so often, he had to remind himself this was real.

Jesper regarded their kitchen, their living room; this is real.

The bowl of strawberries on the table, the mug of tea beside it; this is real.

Two chairs at the kitchen table. Two coats hanging on their pegs; this is real.

Lunch on Wednesday afternoon, sleepy Sunday mornings, nipping out to get some bread. It is real.

In the silence, Jesper laughed again, quietly, so as not to disturb the peace too greatly. Real, real, real.