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Caspian has been looking forward to the conference for months – ever since the last school year ended. And this year, thanks to his exemplary performance at the last few conferences, he’s going to be getting less obscure countries. At this particular conference, he’s representing Portugal. Sure, maybe Portugal isn’t massively important in a geopolitical context, but people know Portugal.
He doesn’t even mind that the conference is in Staten Island. It’s just great to be going.
He’s ready to crush it.
When he gets to his first committee meeting, he says hello to a few familiar faces, but then he notices him.
Myanmar is – to put it bluntly – really hot, all dark hair and freckles. His suit looks like a hand-me-down, which could mean any number of things (lower income or an older brother were the first two that came to Caspian’s mind), but he’s fucking sharp. He must be a freshman, or maybe just a new recruit, because Caspian would remember seeing him before.
Caspian doesn’t let himself be distracted by Myanmar, though, as gorgeous as the guy is. He’s here to crush the conference.
Any crushes can wait for the delegate dance.
As the conference goes on, though, it becomes more difficult not to be distracted by Myanmar.
After their second committee meeting together, Caspian approaches him.
“You’re really good at this,” he says.
Myanmar smiles. “Thanks.”
“I’m Caspian. Telmar Academy in Queens.”
He nods. “Edmund. Cair Paravel. Upper West Side.”
He’s heard of the charter school, of course. There are only so many academically rigorous private and charter schools in New York City, and most of them end up competing against each other in some context.
“It’s nice to meet you, Edmund,” Caspian says, offering his hand.
“You, too,” Edmund says, shaking it.
He has nothing to lose, so he asks, “Do you want to get lunch with me?”
They find a pizza parlor not far from the conference, and even though it’s already packed with other Model U.N. students, they order there anyway. It’s so full that they have to eat outside on the sidewalk, but Caspian doesn’t mind.
“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Edmund says.
“This your first conference?”
Edmund hesitates for just a second. “What gave it away?”
“Myanmar isn’t usually a country you get if you’re very experienced.”
Edmund shrugs. “I’m a freshman. Have to start somewhere, right?”
“We all do,” Caspian agrees. “I’m only a sophomore, myself.”
“You know what you’re doing, though,” Edmund says. “I’ve been watching you.” He blushes once he realizes what he’s said. “I mean…”
“I’ve been watching you, too,” Caspian says.
Edmund’s blush only deepens, and it’s really cute. Queens and the Upper West Side aren’t so far from each other… couple that with the rainbow button Caspian definitely saw on Edmund’s backpack… maybe he has a chance.
“So what made you pick Model U.N.?”
He shrugs. “It seemed interesting. Besides, my brother does Mock Trial, and while I love him… I don’t want to be compared to him all the time. I want to forge my own path.”
“Makes sense,” Caspian says, and he does not talk about his family. That’s a whole can of worms he doesn’t want to open with someone he’s just met. “That was his suit, then?”
“My parents let me get it tailored, but yeah. They said there was no point in buying me a new suit when Peter had plenty of old ones that he can’t fit into anymore.” He shrugs. “What about you?”
“I’m a scholarship student,” he says instead, because he is willing to talk about this. “Got to keep up my grades, and the more extracurriculars I do, the better chance I have of getting a scholarship to a good college.”
Edmund nods. “Makes sense. My siblings and I – well, my older siblings and I, anyway; I have a younger sister – all got into Cair Paravel. Lucy probably will, too. My parents definitely couldn’t have afforded private school for all four of us.”
It’s nice, Caspian thinks, to be around someone who’s normal. Most of his classmates are disgustingly rich, and just don’t get it. While he gets the feeling that Edmund’s family has more money than his own does, he’s still, well, normal. Or at least not as disgustingly rich as Caspian’s classmates.
“So you’re not filthy rich,” Caspian says instead.
Edmund smiles. “Not as far as I know.”
“That’s a relief. I’m surrounded by rich people all day.”
“It is pretty crazy how they talk about things, isn’t it?”
“Definitely,” Caspian agrees. “My idea of a summer trip is Coney Island, and some of my classmates…”
“The Hamptons aren’t good enough for a lot of them,” Edmund says. “Plenty of rich kids at Cair Paravel, too.”
Caspian doesn’t ask if Edmund goes to the Hamptons. He doesn’t think he wants to know. “It’s just a totally different culture.”
“Totally different,” Edmund agrees. “Maybe I can’t talk so much, but my family’s definitely upper middle class, and not, like, rich.”
And they live in New York. Caspian has classmates with private jets. “I’m just regular middle class.”
“Regular middle class is okay, though,” Edmund says, finishing his pizza. “I mean, we can talk to each other like equals without wondering if the other is secretly judging everything we say.”
“Very true,” Caspian says.
“Besides, getting into politics with them…”
“Oh, god,” Caspian says.
And this provides an excellent topic of discussion all the way back to the conference.
The next day is Sunday, which is the last day of the conference. He sees Edmund in committee meetings, and they sit next to each other at lunch. It’s easy. Comfortable.
Caspian still can’t bring himself to shoot his shot, even though Edmund is absolutely fucking gorgeous, and he really wants to. Anyway, Edmund definitely has a rainbow pin on his backpack. That means there’s a possibility that it could work out.
It’s Edmund who broaches the topic of dating, though he does it in a roundabout way. “And my sister’s girlfriend,” he says. “Susan, that is. Older sister. Her girlfriend wants to become a nuclear physicist, which is just like… really impressive.”
Caspian recognises the guarded expression Edmund is wearing. “I don’t know if I could date a guy who wants to be a nuclear physicist – though I did consider joining Science Olympiad, just to round out my résumé.”
“A guy?” Edmund repeats.
“Well, I definitely couldn’t picture dating a girl,” he says.
And he waits for Edmund to digest this information. “Me, either,” he finally says, and his voice is quiet.
Caspian stupidly offers his hand for a high five, but Edmund, to his surprise, actually high fives him.
Edmund is a little more open after that, talking about celebrity crushes (Caspian teases him a little for his taste, but he’s sure to keep it gentle, because he knows what revealing something like this feels like).
At dinner, before the delegate dance, Edmund tells him, “I only came out to my family a few months ago. They were all really supportive, and that’s great, but it’s still kind of weird.”
“I get it,” Caspian says.
Edmund swallows hard. “Like, I knew about Susan. We all knew about Susan. I think they all knew about me. But it’s just like… I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”
“It’s like something has changed, even though it’s a good change, because you don’t have to hide anymore, but it’s still a change, and it’s difficult to get used to,” Caspian says, like this hasn’t been weighing on him especially hard for the past few weeks.
“Yeah,” Edmund says slowly. “That’s exactly it.”
“Occasionally, I know what I’m talking about,” Caspian says with a wink.
Edmund blushes again.
On the way to the delegate dance, Caspian finds a used condom in the elevator. Writing that off as gross, but not the first time, he tries to focus on the night ahead of him.
Oh, he’s sure he’ll see Edmund around. Edmund’s a freshman, but he’s ambitious and smart, so besides Model U.N. (where they’ll definitely see each other again, anyway), there are plenty of other academic competitions where they’ll likely run into each other.
But maybe he wants more than that.
Because Edmund is gorgeous, and Caspian wants to bury his hands in Edmund’s dark hair, count every freckle on his face, go out on dates with him, hold his hand, make out with him. He doesn’t think he’s ready for sex just yet, and Edmund is a year younger than him, besides that, but making out… making out is definitely something that he thinks might be on the table.
Unsurprisingly, Edmund finds him at the dance.
Neither of them do much dancing; Edmund is probably as nervous as he is. They stick by the refreshments table until they find a couple of chairs to sit down on.
One of Edmund’s classmates comes up to him to heckle him about dancing. Edmund politely but firmly refuses.
Once she’s gone, Caspian turns to ask Edmund a question – he doesn’t even fully know what – but then Edmund pulls him in for a kiss.
And oh, this is better than Caspian had let himself think it might be. Edmund’s lips are soft and warm, and he’s so close, and anyone can look over and see them, and Caspian doesn’t care, as long as he gets to keep kissing Edmund.
And he does keep kissing Edmund. He tries to get tongue involved, and he’s not sure it’s totally successful until his tongue brushes Edmund’s, and then it’s the best thing in the world. He cradles Edmund’s face and keeps kissing him until he needs to come up for air.
“Um,” Edmund says when he pulls away.
“That was – that was nice,” Caspian says.
And he very intentionally does not think about the fact that he may have just outed himself to his entire school. It's worth it.