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“You finished?” Fitz looked over to where Keefe was idly filling in a notebook, pen scratch after another.
Keefe closed it once he noticed Fitz trying to glimpse at it. “Mhm.”
“Whatcha drawing?” Fitz asked with such a genuine curiosity Keefe almost felt bad brushing him off.
“Nothin’, really.”
“Is it a part of your AP Art thingy? Portfolio, I think?”
“Yeah, maybe. I’ll decide a bit more when I finish the sketch.”
Fitz leaned over to Keefe’s desk and put his head on Keefe’s shoulders. “Cool.”
Keefe pulled away from Fitz a bit too suddenly.
“Keefe-”
Fitz grabbed Keefe’s arm, trying to connect. Keefe knew it, god he wanted to, and he did. He held Fitz’s hand.
As if feeling his hesitancy, a student cleared their throat beside the pair. So Keefe purposefully grabbed the edge of Fitz’s hand and placed it on the desk. He put his hand on top.
“Not now, F-“ He cut himself off and started another word. “Fitz.”
A million emotions flashed through Fitz’s eyes. Something was clearly wrong between them. It had been for a while.
He caused it.
Keefe knew he had.
He couldn’t fix it, though. Not now.
Getting the message, Fitz took his hand off the desk.
“Are we still on for after school?” The distance now between them stung, but his gentle voice ached.
Keefe couldn’t bring himself to answer the question, though, he just threw his bag over his shoulder and tried to ignore Fitz’s eyes on him. The bell dismissing them was about to ring.
Keefe’s phone wouldn’t stop buzzing all day. Mostly Fitz, some Sophie and Tam. There was one text from Linh. ‘you okay? I’m in the art room if you need to talk <3 ’
The one source of quite in the swarm of noise from this stupid device.
He powered the phone off and shoved it in his bag.
What was supposed to be a free period for Keefe-and a time to work on the project for Linh- ended up being a time for Keefe sitting in the most awkward poses imaginable for hours, while trying to avoid thinking about that thing.
“I just, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” he sighed into the table.
Linh grabbed his chin and moved his face back towards the light. “You’re supposed to stop moving so much. This sketch is due in, like, 20 minutes.”
“But one of us is going through a crisis here!”
Linh tapped him in with her eraser in support. “You’re always going through a crisis. Why should I fail a class because of my poor time management skills and need to do things last minute?”
“Not helppingggg,” Keefe groaned.
Linh matched his tone, “Head uppppp.” The scratching sounds of pencils made Keefe relax into the pose, finally. Linh smiled proudly.
“But, you not knowing what to do, is it inherently bad? Fitz doesn’t have guidelines, either. Maybe you two can talk it out. Figure out your own. Together.” Keefe grabbed a pencil Linh hadn’t used in a while and twisted his fingers. “But how do I know it will go well?”
“You don’t.” Linh gave him a sympathetic hair ruffle, “But maybe you shouldn’t be in a relationship with someone you’re scared to talk with.”
The teacher came over, then, and they each flipped through their notebooks, each vaguely explaining their muse.
“That’s not what I’m scared of, though,” Keefe hid behind his curls once the teacher left. A page full of figures resembling Fitz open on the table. He smiled down at them. “I’ve talked to him about feelings since, I dunno, forever? now. Talking isn’t what I’m scared of.”
Linh pushed them out of his face. “Then what are you scared of?”
“Him caring. And things changing.”
Linh slightly shifted, then brought her voice to a whisper. “Does he know that?”
She gestured to the door where Fitz played with his bag’s strings, shifting nervously between each foot. Fitz nodded towards Linh.
She beckoned him over and left before the final bell even rang.
Leaving just Keefe and Fitz. Alone.
In a tiny art room with the smell of days old paint rotting on the tables.
Fitz sat across from Keefe at a table in the back. The light barely showed their faces.
“Hi.” Fitz’s voice was soft.
Keefe couldn’t focus on him, but scanned every inch of the room instead. “Hey.”
“You, um.” Keefe finally held his gaze, which in turn caused Fitz to sink into himself further. “You didn’t answer my question. Earlier. And I didn’t ,, I didn’t want to walk home without you if I wasn’t supposed to. If you didn’t want me to.”
Keefe did. He wanted to grab his hand, say everything would be okay, or do anything all the couples around him could. But the classroom had a few stragglers.
So he didn’t.
“Thanks.”
Fitz shifted so he could take off his blazer and loosened his tie a little. “So, are you gonna answer it?”
“Answer what?” Keefe opened to a new page in his sketchbook.
“That’s a cop out and you know it.” Fitz glared. “If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine, but stop avoiding it. Stop avoiding me.”
Keefe did a double take, again, needing to check if the room had gotten empty, yet. “Fitz-”
“What?” Fitz pulled away to grab his bag from the floor just as he mustered up the courage to reach out.
Keefe managed to keep his voice steady. “Can you let me explain? Please?”
The teacher then walked back into the room and both boys awkwardly waved at her.
Keefe went back to his sketchbook and Fitz picked up the jacket he dropped in his frenzy.
Going to the mirror to fix his tie, Fitz held Keefe’s gaze in the reflection. Noticing his struggle, Keefe gestured vaguely to ask if he could help.
Fitz hesitantly nodded.
“You know you need to learn how to do this…” Keefe started to undo whatever mess Fitz created on his chest, “Love.”
Fitz playfully rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah. You always say that, but I’ve been fine so far.”
Keefe purposefully made the longer strand flick Fitz’s face. “Yet it always seems like you need my help.”
Keefe folded Fitz’s collar normal and let his fingers hover over the wisps of Fitz’s neck.
“Thank you.” Fitz said, taking a subtle step away.
Keefe gave a slight bow. “Anytime.”
And it felt normal between them again as they shared a laugh.
Keefe took a step closer.
Fitz didn’t meet him halfway.
“I need a minute to process today, this week, all of this,” He put his hands on Keefe’s chest. “Alone.”
They both stayed in the almost hug for a second, then Fitz fully brought his arms around Keefe.
“I don’t think I’m upset with you anymore, and I definitely was earlier. That feeling didn’t just go away, and I need to process that.”
Turning away and forcing himself to wipe his eyes, Fitz continued. “Sophie just got hired at that new café down the road. She says the croissants are supposed to be good, and I’m a bit snacky. I’ll be at the table outside near the window, if you happen to stop by, and you happen to need a table. For now, though, I’ll tell my mom you had rehearsal or something and you might not make it, but it’s still up in the air, okay?”
Keefe nodded, bringing Fitz into another hug. “Okay.”
“Okay.” Fitz squeezed back a little tighter.
Keefe could smell the pomegranate shampoo Fitz recently saved for.
Then Fitz was gone, leaving Keefe to sit with his thoughts.
Trying to draw any source of inspiration, his sketchbook pages remained blank for the 43 minutes he sat in the art room.
A different student Keefe didn’t recognize went over to the teacher’s desk, and it was then Keefe noticed the pen Fitz refused to leave the house without near the door.
Keefe took the bait, packed up his bag, and headed to the shop on the corner.
“This seat taken?” Keefe gestured to the chair across from where Fitz had a book propped open and legs crossed on the table. A highlight rested in his mouth.
Fitz closed the book and started shifting to take up only the space on his chair. “Looks like it.”
“Thanks for leaving this,” Keefe handed him the pen. Fitz grabbed it, carefully brushing against Keefe’s fingers. “Thanks for finding it.”
“Not good, huh?”
Fitz paused. “What?”
“Your croissant.”
Fitz still looked confused.
Keefe gestured to the full plate. “You didn’t finish it. Or even your drink, for that matter.”
“Oh, yea. It was fine.” Keefe loved Fitz’s blush at that moment. “I liked it. You know I can’t drink fast. Or even finish a snack. I’m a slow eater”
Keefe reached for the plate questioningly.
Fitz hesitantly pushed the croissant towards him. “I’m not sharing my tea, though.”
“I’m ok with that,” Keefe said through a chuckle.
The sound of coffee cups clattered around them. With the sun nearly setting, and the shop starting to close, Idle chatter died down. The restaurant, which fully engrossed both their worlds, went nearly silent in a moment.
Fitz fully closed his book and lightly put it on the table. “So, are you going to start this or am I?”
Keefe nervously picked at his nail polish. “Fitz-”
“No, Keefe! You cannot keep avoiding this-”
“I know!”
The small coffee table suddenly felt too large for them.
Neither of them knew how to approach the conversation, so Fitz tried just grabbing Keefe’s hands.
And this time Keefe held them.
Fitz half-smiled, trying to be subtle. “You’re not avoiding me now. That’s a step.”
“I’d agree.” Keefe tapped his foot under the table.
“You’re still not saying why you did, though. Or anything, really.”
Keefe nodded. “I’d agree to that, too.”
They both nodded at each other.
Keefe knew Fitz would press if he didn’t say something. “Can we walk somewhere? I just,” Keefe looked around, “It’s crowded out here.”
“Okay,” Fitz grabbed his bag. “My house is just around the block.”
“I know.” Keefe winked. “But I’m invited over?”
Fitz nodded. “That’s the plan.”
A few silent minutes into the walk, Fitz nudged Keefe’s shoulder. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“Hmm?”
Fitz scrunched his face. “It’s an expression, I think. It means I want to hear your thoughts.”
“Oh, that.”
“Yea. That.”
Keefe took a deep breath, resting under the shade of a large oak tree near the edge of some house that was alway for sale’s yard.
Keefe let a caterpillar that landed on his hand from the trunk crawl between each hand while he spoke. “These weeks have just gotten heavy, for lack of a better word. My parents have been fighting more. And I’m part of the conversation, now that I’m legally an adult and all that. So, they’re sticking their teeth in more with colleges and extracurriculars and-”
The caterpillar went onto the ground and Keefe wanted to pull it back, but Fitz motioned him to keep going. He couldn’t find that stupid, furry critter anyway.
“And I don’t want any of their shit. Or college. I’ve been here long enough to know school is not for me, yet they’re insistent that it is. So if I don’t do something for an application to x school or attend y college fair, they’ll do it for me.
“And I pulled away from you, thinking the one thing I could actually breathe around would eventually cut off its air supply, and I would be numb to it all. But you didn’t. You stayed. This whole week you just stayed beside me. And that scared me.” He sighed, digging into the dirt. “Scares me, I guess. So I did what I do best.” Fitz was quiet, and Keefe let him have a moment to think.
They fell back into a mismatched pace. “I can respect that,” He bumped his shoulder into Keefe’s. “But this isn’t the first time I’ve done that. Remember third, and, hell, even 11th grade? What’s so different now?”
“This.” He brought their now laced fingers to his mouth and kissed the back of Fitz’s hand.
“I mean- yeah. That’s different.” Fitz started to blush. “Do you like that change?”
“Depends,” Keefe looked around, then grabbed Fitz’s cheeks and kissed him in front of a moss-covered brick wall.
“I like doing that.”
Fitz forced himself to keep walking while flattening his hair. “The catch being…”
“There doesn’t have to be one.” Keefe caught up to him.
“But there is.” Fitz laced their hands together. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have avoided me like you did all week. It felt different this time. More sharp.”
“I guess.” Keefe swung their arms back and forth, “I guess this just new for me. And I don’t have just my name and my reputation to worry about anymore. And that’s... different.”
“But you’ve never cared about names before. Why does the legacy around mine affect you?”
Keefe gripped his hand a little tighter. “Because you care about yours. And I’m not about to ruin this for you.”
Fitz found himself smiling. “Oh.”
The rest of the walk was quiet.
Comfortable.
Normal.
When they got into Fitz’s room,Fitz hesitantly started to clean his desk. “So, I’m okay with dropping this,”
“But,” Keefe laughed, sitting on his bed. He grabbed Fitz’s plush dragon and folded the wings.
“But I guess I’m confused. If I’m the reason you avoided being with me, partly, but I wanted your affection, how does that make sense?”
Keefe hid behind the dragon. “I just don’t want you to have the wrong person see you with me and you can’t take it back. I don’t want you to regret it.”
“But it’s my mistake to make.” Fitz, smiling, nudged the dragon to reveal Keefe’s face.
“I guess.” Keefe sunk into the abundance of pillows on Fitz's bed.
Fitz sat next to him and played with a strand of hair.
“I like you, Keefe,” Fitz’s voice broke from how soft he was speaking, “And if people who want me don’t support me liking you, I don’t give a shit. I care about us. What this means.”
Keefe brought his arms around Fitz’s waist. Fitz sat in front of Keefe.
“I didn’t know you could cuss, Fitzy.” Keefe wiped the tears forming in Fitz’s eyes.
Fitz pressed their foreheads together. “You know I hate that nickname.”
“Your blush says otherwise, Fitzroy.” Keefe pushed a loose strand of hair behind Fitz’s ear.
Fitz pulled away and wiped his eyes. “You dork. Only you can make that name worse.”
Keefe sat up. “What can I say? It’s a skill.”
“Mmmmm,” Fitz smiled, “That’s one word for it.”
“English is my best subject, love. I can determinatively say skill is the preeminent word.”
“Ok, nerd, we’re gonna stop talking about that now.”
Keefe leaned into Fitz’s space. “And do what?”
“We don’t have to talk.” Fitz was blushing, now.
“Oh?” Keefe whispered on Fitz’s lips.
Fitz lightly grabbed Keefe’s checks and forced him to hold his gaze. “Please don’t pull away from me again.”
“I won’t.” Keefe leaned and kissed Fitz.
And for the rest of the night, Keefe never found himself letting go of Fitz.