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“Nina!” Inej shrieks. Wylan doesn’t think he’s ever heard Inej Ghafa shriek.
When he turns around to see what has caught her attention, he blinks. Then, he feels his face flush. Not because he’s particularly interested in the sight of his best friend naked, mind you, but because Wylan has grown up in a household that exalted decency and privacy, for Ghezen’s sake. Those words seem a world away from whatever Nina Zenik is.
“Ghezen’s hand, Nina,” he mutters, before turning away.
“What? " She giggles, still standing behind them with no shame about her nudity whatsoever. “You’re a heterosexual woman and a gay man, I’m hardly being provocative here.”
Wylan catches Inej’s eyes where she’s perched on the sofa’s armrest, knees pulled close to her chest in a way that makes her look smaller than what she actually is — and she’s plenty small already. Soft, too, with her loose hair, and isn’t that a weird thing to say about Inej Ghafa? Wylan and Inej exchange a glance, exasperated, before bursting into loud, careless laughter.
There’s more noise of rustling and shuffling, and Wylan supposes Nina isn’t rushing to get her clothes back on. But then again, why would she? Nina Zenik doesn’t rush doing anything.
With the corner of his eye, he catches sight of Inej running a hand through her face. She sighs. “Are you done getting ready in my saints forsaken living room?”
“It’s ours, Inej dear, we are roommates, might I remind you.”
“There’s no need to, Nina, might I remind you to be quieter next time you take your Fjerdan boyfriend home?”
“You two are just jealous,” she chirps, before sprawling her legs back on the couch, now covered in yellow tulle. “Just because you’re not getting laid and I am.”
Inej doesn’t laugh at that, and neither does Wylan. Maybe because — just partly — she’s right. But Wylan isn’t interested in casual things, he stubbornly reasons, so it’s more than fine with him if he doesn’t get laid, to put it like that. Moreover, the only person he would be interested in is, well —
Jesper isn’t around today. It’s weird, given that it’s the day before his birthday and that he’s always around, when they’re hanging in Nina and Inej’s apartment. Wylan can admit that he misses him. It isn’t hard to miss him, because Jesper Fahey is a delight to have around, even when he says annoying stuff to irritate Wylan, or when he teases him a touch too much, or when he can’t sit still for his life. He’s Wylan’s best friend, through and through, and Nina and Inej’s apartment feels weirdly odd without his cheeky grins and the way he sits close to Wylan, holding his hand and ruffling his hair until he feels annoyment and fondness all over.
It’s fine, because Wylan is going to see him in a couple of hours, and he enjoys Nina and Inej’s company plenty. It’s just that, there’s no one to blast stupidly loud music when getting ready, no one to hug him tight and surely no one that calls him Wy in that weird, almost lazy cadence. It’s not like he has caught feelings for his best friend.
—
They’re at a club — and that is a thing Wylan knows for sure, because it’s frankly unmissable. The neon lights are dancing, ever moving and changing. Wylan huffs. That’s not his ideal place, and he knows that, and his friends know that, but still. They’re here, mostly because it’s Jesper’s birthday party, and Wylan wouldn’t turn him down for any reason at his birthday party. But Ghezen, is this place a shithole. Wylan glances at where Jesper’s standing, or better even dancing, chaotically swaying in bright bursts of laughter as Matthias looks over them like a bodyguard, and with something like jealousy in his body language. Wylan thinks he can relate.
“Wylan,” a quiet voice speaks from beneath him, and it makes Wylan startle a bit. Right where no one was standing a second before, here she is. Inej. Wylan shouldn’t even be surprised at the suddenty of it all. “Why don’t you go talk to him?” comes the question, laced with something like humor and mischief when Wylan doesn’t say anything. She’s nodding, pointing her chin right to the middle of the disco, where Jesper and Nina are still dancing a bit too close for Wylan’s taste.
Wylan rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you go talk to him?” They both know who he’s talking about, and the name hangs in the air like a silent question. It’s Inej’s turn to roll her eyes, now, and Wylan nudges her in the ribs. “I’ve already done that. He doesn’t seem to be in a good mood today.” She murmurs, eyes lost in the lights and distant. “Always happens with so many bodies pressed close to each other. I’m not a fan either.” Inej sighs. Wylan doesn’t ask further, doesn’t prod, too afraid to nudge her too far off a cliff of something she’s not entirely comfortable with. He just gnaws at his lip, anxiousness starting to rise with the too loud thrum of the music all over them and the too bright dance of lights all over the place. They just stare at each other with crafted silence, something like a challenge on the tip of her tongue, and annoyedness on Wylan’s.
“Can I get a vodka?” He asks the barman, before he eyes him up and down and asks are you even old enough to drink?
Wylan hates that kind of questions, and the way people always assume when seeing freckled cheeks and big, baby blue eyes. Assume he’s younger than what he actually is, assume that he’s soft-spoken and shy.
Wylan is twenty-two years old, has been called blunt and bossy in different contexts, and he likes to get wasted on rare occasions. This isn’t one of them, because he wants to stay sober for Jesper’s birthday, but his alcohol tolerance is pretty high, and he wants a goddamn vodka, so what? The barman blinks and bristles when he says as much, but he immediately gets to work.
He’s a young dude, and he works for Kaz, he thinks, even if this club doesn’t belong to Kaz, but who doesn’t work for Kaz, nowadays? Wylan doesn’t let his head get crowded by thoughts or questions, he just downs all his vodka in a go when the guy slams it on the counter and allows himself to feel good about it.
With the corner of his eye, he sees Inej wave at someone Wylan hasn’t seen yet and just like that, she disappears. Again.
Wylan has just about the time to turn properly before the sight of Jesper Fahey in all his glory greets him. “Hey,” comes the voice, laced with thrumming legs and fidgeting fingers and the warmest smile Wylan has ever seen. He never seems to get tired of it — but then again, he wouldn’t get tired of Jesper even if he tried.
Jesper’s head cocks to the side, a stupid grin on his face. Wylan knows that that kind of smile usually means trouble, and he rolls his eyes at him for good measure. “Wanna come dance?” he asks, gray eyes fixated on his and gleaming with something, maybe mirth. He thinks he’s already tipsy. Jesper’s alcohol tolerance is far worse than his own, after all. He just keeps moving his legs, keeps fidgeting, but his gaze doesn’t waver from Wylan’s eyes, taking in his face and curls and irritatingly tucking him into a blush, grin growing wider and wider as the seconds passes and he is still left without a reply.
“Uh,” manages Wylan, briefly looking back to the center of the room where Nina is now slowly dancing flush to a very flustered Matthias, standing still as an ice block. Wylan — admittedly — wants to be as close as possible to Jesper, to spend time with him, but not like that. Call him snob all you like, but he knows what he wants, and it’s not dancing in a room full of people with his best friend trying to pull anyone pretty in the room.
“I’d rather not,” he mutters, hoping that doesn’t come off as too unkind. He isn’t one for lying, though, especially about how he feels.
“Thought you were a music kid,” Jesper smiles, but doesn’t seem offended by Wylan’s refusal. He just keeps smiling like a fool and looking at him with big, delighted eyes.
Wylan frowns, because he’s always got the feeling someone is making fun of him, even if actually, they’re not. “I am. Just…something about the too loud music is a bit too overwhelming for me. I'd rather just stay out of it.” Jesper nods, uncharacteristically silent, then murmurs: “What a waste for the people on the dancefloor. You’d be a heartthrob.” Wylan doesn’t know what to do with this information, so he tries to avoid Jesper’s gaze as much as he can, feeling his skin flush with something like mortification and flatterdness. Ghezen, they’re not usually this embarrassing, what has gotten into them?
He clears his throat, but Jesper beats him to it, propping up a gentle question: “What’d you say about going out for some fresh air? Feels quite claustrophobic here.” Wylan frowns. “Weren’t you having the time of your life dancing with Nina just five minutes ago?” He asks, and hopes the Saints it doesn’t sound too vitriolic, too jealous. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself in that case.
Jesper justs shrugs, not seeming to get whatever had been ramping up under Wylan’s words, and just says, “I just want to get some fresh air with my best friend, is that a crime?” He looks small, and that’s weird because he’s anything but, with his tall, lanky frame towering on everyone (well, expect for Matthias.) But right now, standing in front of Wylan in this too small club, purple lights illuminating his features in something that feels like a parallel universe, he looks unsure of himself, like he’s just a kid. Wylan smiles up at him, hoping that’ll ease whatever tension he is feeling between the two of them right now.
“Of course. But…it’s your birthday, Jes. Sure you don’t want to stay here? Or the people invited won’t complain?” Jesper scoffs. “Course not. Everyone is too busy trying to get their tongues into someone else’s throat,” he shrugs, then comes closer to Wylan, with something like a conspiratory look in his eyes. “I’ll tell you something, most of them don’t even care about me that much. Besides from the five of you, that is. They’re just here for the free drinks and the possibility to get wasted.” It’s certainly not the first time Jesper has come that close to him, but Wylan still feels his body go tense as a board. His stupid, stupid crush. Against himself, he grins wider, and feeling bolder and uncaring, he takes Jesper’s wrist in his own hands and guides him outside, through the pressed sweaty bodies and music and through the big, green door.
—
“When you said you wanted to take me somewhere outside, i didn’t imagine it would be a cemetery.”
“It’s a good-looking one, though, isn't it?”
Wylan rolls his eyes. “Not exactly my idea of the best way to spend time together”
“And what would that be, mh? A date?” Jesper bumps his shoulder against Wylan’s, and when he looks up he’s presented with a big, stupid, grin. Wylan thinks he kinda hates how stupidly attractive he is, and how much he wants to kiss him, even in this dim, borderline creepy light of the cemetery, with no noise but some rustling sound in the woods just next to the stone wall. Instead, Wylan doesn’t say anything, stubbornly still locking eyes with Jesper and frowning, like that’ll stop him from smiling so wide and idiotic.
In fact, it does quite the opposite. Jesper doesn’t break eye contact either, all but smiling wider and wider at Wylan, like it’s all a joke, or something.
“What are you staring at, hm? My pretty face?” Wylan says, eyebrows raised, far too stubborn to glance away. He’s not self-absorbed, thank you very much, but he knows he looks good and he knows he looks really good in his mesh shirt tonight. Why be a hypocrite, then?
Eventually, the one who breaks eye contact is Jesper, with a light laugh and an eye roll. Wylan feels pretty smug about that, to be honest. He feels good about being able to shut Jesper Fahey up, and he feels good about being able to make him look almost flustered, even. Not that Wylan is so stupid to believe it means anything, but still.
The air is fresh, last dregs of brisky spring lingering before the arrival of summer. Right now, Wylan is standing in an empty cemetery in the knitted sweater Jesper gave him, quickly scrambling to pick it up from his car as soon as he noticed Wylan was shivering in the night air. Frankly, it was an impulsive decision, because Wylan always wore sweater vests and button-ups even at parties, but Nina had told him to wear that mesh shirt, he’ll like it, all paired up with a wink, and Jesper told him he looked good with it before — scraping his head and smiling a bit sheepishly. So it’s a win-win situation. But right now, in a knitted sweater made with love by Jesper’s Da, standing in a fucking cemetery of all places, he feels fucking out of place. Mostly, because he doesn't know why they’re here, and there’s an uncomfortable feeling sitting in his chest, even if Jesper taking some time from his birthday party to be with Wylan — of all people — makes his heart beat a touch too fast.
Wylan is always asking questions, always pushing, always curious, but right now, he’s dead silent. Jesper is too — so contrasting with his usual jibes and teasing — and maybe that’s a weirder thing altogether. Wylan doesn’t know what to do with the fact they’re doing none of those things now, none of their usual bickering, their giggles. Wylan is no stranger to silence, and it doesn’t make him uncomfortable in the way it makes Jesper uncomfortable. But right now, the silence feels different, more charged. It doesn’t help that he can feel Jesper's eyes on him, dancing and ever-moving, but never straying from his face.
But then, Jesper’s linking his own, slender fingers with Wylan’s and leaning in to say something. He has to lower his head to do so, and Wylan can just feel the warm puff of air against his neck when Jesper smiles, just before speaking.
“Look, do you believe in haunted stories?”
Wylan scoffs. He’s unsure why this conversation needs to be happening with their hands intertwined or Jesper whispering in his ear, but he isn’t about to complain. “Of course I don’t. Do you?”
Jesper nods, now standing back next to Wylan, and says, “How can you be so sure of everything? Not everything has a rational explanation, ya know that? Some things just go beyond human understanding.”
Wylan frowns. “I’m hardly sure of anything, actually. I always feel like I don’t know enough,” he whispers the last part quietly, like it’s an admission of some sorts. “But I like things I can understand, things I can control and discover.”
Jesper says nothing for a long second, appraising him with a look Wylan can’t quite place, and, if he’s being honest with himself, is making his heart thrum with anticipation. Not anxiety, not fear, just gentle, quiet curiosity.
Jesper leans in again, like it’s not making Wylan endlessly embarrassed to have his lips so close to his ear. “If you’re not afraid of anything, then, why not go deeper in the cemetery? You know there’s a legend that right on that aisle there’s a haunted—”
A branch cracks. An owl hisses. Jesper shuts his mouth almost instantly, and Wylan never sees anything or anyone make Jesper Fahey shut up like that. Wylan goes still, too, and now that he’s pressed right next to him, he can most certainly feel the way his hand unintentionally tightens around Wylan's.
He raises an eyebrow. “You scared, Jes?” he whispers into the night.
“Course not, sweetheart,” he says, still unmoving, still looking the tiniest bit paralyzed, and if Wylan didn’t really know him like the back of his hands, he would actually be fooled by his words. “Then you won’t mind us going deeper, where the lamps don’t light up the tombs, hm?” Wylan isn’t sure about what he’s doing, but it feels a bit like a challenge. It feels a bit like there’s something bigger at stake here.
Jesper is quick to shake his head and murmur no, no, of course, and Wylan smiles.
So, that’s what they do: stubbornly still holding hands, silently going deeper into this cemetery. Jesper is dead silent, and that’s such a rare sight that Wylan almost has to laugh. Jesper’s hand is ever twitching, fingers fidgeting on Wylan’s, but Wylan holds his hand tighter and that seems to make it fall still pretty easily.
He soon finds out that Jesper was right — the lamps really do not shine on the backside garden of the church. It’s all pitch black darkness, and sticks breaking when Jesper or Wylan step on them, and Wylan’s breath hitching or Jesper gasping and them unconsciously tightening the grip on the other’s hand. He honestly has no clue why they’re doing this, if not that Jesper is a big fan of risk and Wylan is an almost bigger fan of wanting to prove himself and here he is, by sheer stubbornness. He doesn’t think that there’s somebody — something — hidden behind cold tombs and ready to lurk them in the darkness, but in a silence like this, all he can hear is the slow moving of their feet against the concrete and the quick, galloping thrum of Jesper’s heart that tells him he is alive, alive. He doesn’t see much in a darkness like this, admittedly, but he can feel Jesper’s clothes’ fabric brush against his sides, and the warm feel of his hands holding Wylan’s, and that’s something reassuring of its own.
The silence lingers.
Jesper cracks up a laugh, something a bit hysterical and laced with nervousness. Wylan looks up at him, even if he can’t see much besides confusing lines of his profile. “Wy, can I tell you something?” Wylan instantly nods, then reasons that maybe Jesper can’t see him from where he is and says, yes, of course. “I used to be scared as shit of haunted stories as a kid. Cried myself to sleep and all that. But I wanted to hear them anyways, even if I ended up having the worst nightmares about them.” Wylan doesn’t dare brush his thumb over Jesper’s skin soothingly, even though that’s all he wants to do right now. Instead, he just says, “Keep going.”
“This cemetery…we lived near here when I was a kid. Used to have the worst kind of nightmares about it, my Ma used to tell me scary stories and I even…”
“You what?” Wylan pushes.
“I even pissed myself in bed once, when I had a nightmare.” Wylan breaks out in a laugh, possibly too loud, unable and unwilling to help himself.
“Hey…”
“Sorry, sorry, it’s just that the sight of you peeing yourself in the bed is delightful.”
Jesper groans. “I know I shouldn’t have told you…”
Wylan stills.”No, but for real, Jes, I don’t care if you’re dead scared of this, I just—”
A mouse breaks out from the bushes, quick and sudden, and then a loud, prolonged noise comes from somewhere near the stone wall framing the cemetery. They can’t see anything and, Ghezen, Wylan isn’t one for superstitions but he’ll admit it being frankly not his ideal situation—
The noise doesn't stop, and he thinks it must be a rabbit, or a stray cat, in a haze of quick, panicked thoughts, but it doesn’t stop, it actually gets louder and closer and closer and—
Jesper screams, a real, proper scream, and Wylan can’t help but suck in air like he’s drowning. Before he realizes, he finds himself pulled by this man next to him, who is starting to run as fast as he can and Wylan is left unable to do anything but follow him out of the darkness. Jesper doesn’t let go of his hand, and Wylan is plenty grateful for that, and he’s grateful still when he doesn't let go once Wylan stumbles upon something cold and hard, and is even more glad when their feet take them somewhere illuminated by streetlamps again, and eventually out of that godforsaken cemetery. They go past the entrance, but they keep running like fools, like they just want to put as much distance from the cemetery as humanly possible.
When they do stop, though, they’re both bent in half, with labored and heavy breaths, and he can hear Jesper say Saints, Saints , Shit in a still too high-pitched volume. Then, Wylan breaks out in an uncontrollable burst of laughter – almost hysterical, given the situation, but he doesn’t have it in him to feel sorry or embarrassed about any of it. He just keeps laughing, hands still resting on his knees and breath still coming short, feeling all the adrenaline wash over him.
“Wy…?” Jesper’s voice is laced with doubt and hesitation. Wylan looks up at him, still panting, and can’t help but smile wide, and then, then — Jesper is breaking out into loud, reckless laughter as well, filling up the empty alleys with the warm sound of his voice.
They stay like that for a while: still laughing idiotically, still catching their breaths, staring at each other like they’re in a bubble of their own making. When they do stop, adrenaline finally coming off of them, Jesper asks: “Do you think it was an actual ghost?”
“I don’t know. It might have been just a stray animal, but we’re not gonna find out, yeah?”
Jesper smiles at him, big and radiant. “So you’ll admit you were scared, hm?”
“I was not.” Wylan stubbornly retorts, crossing his arms against his chest as if to make a point. Jesper snorts.
The alley they’re standing now in is still a few blocks away from the party’s club, and Wylan takes off his sweatshirt because it’s suddenly gotten too warm, uncaring if the sweat on his skin won’t do him good with the still fresh air.
When he turns, Jesper is staring at him, and he clears his throat before speaking again. “I think I deserve a dance with my best friend after this,” he winks.
“Why would you want that? As if you don’t have enough people to dance with already,” Wylan mutters, rolling his eyes. Maybe it comes off a bit too strong, but he does think that, and he doesn’t like the feeling rolling in his stomach when he feels like everything Jesper tells him is just a joke to him. It isn’t to Wylan, it isn’t, and he just wishes his heart would stop thudding like that each time Jesper Fahey jokingly flirts with him.
Jesper looks genuinely confused, puzzled by Wylan’s words, and it would be cute if Wylan wasn’t suddenly flooded by a sting of something he knows too well – something that feels like jealousy.
“What do you mean?” he asks, coming closer to Wylan.
Wylan huffs. “You can’t possibly be that stupid, have you seen how Gretha and Kuwei have been looking at you all night? Not to mention the way you were dancing and kissing Kuwei last night, surely that can’t have gotten past your mind.” That comes out a bit too acidic and Wylan almost feels sorry for that. Jesper doesn’t deserve his rough words, he doesn’t, but Wylan is far too stubborn for his own good and can’t do anything but let truth spill unbidden from his lips.
Jesper still looks confused, and now maybe a bit irritated. “Why do you care, Wy? I just fool around, you ’re my best friend.”
Wylan just scoffs again. Great, great, just what I want to be hearing. “I don’t care, Jesper, you can kiss and dance with whoever you please:”
“You don’t look like someone who doesn’t care!” Now Jesper’s voice is rising, and Wylan feels the tiniest bit guilty for making him mad over something so stupid and futile as his crush for his goddamn best friend, that he should have learned to keep in check ages ago. But Wylan has never really been one who is too wise to shut up when he is that irritated about something.
“Maybe that’s because I do n’t want to see you with them!,” he says, almost yells, with the sheer force of everything he’s feeling right now, holding his fists tight next to his sides. Jesper just stills, looking like an animal that’s been caught by a trap.
When he speaks, it comes out like a whisper, way too quiet compared to everything that’s ever come out of Jesper’s mouth. “Who do you want to see me with, then?” He murmurs, eyes drinking in all of Wylan and searching for something like an answer in his eyes.
Me. Me. Only me, He thinks.
He doesn’t say it — because that would be far too eager, but what he does, though, is something different altogether.
Getting on his tiptoes has never been as enchanting as it is right now, doing it to press a gentle, testing kiss on Jesper’s mouth. He hopes he’s not reading too much into this, hopes he’s being soft enough that Jesper would be able to pull away — as embarrassing as that’d be — but he feels nothing but brave, bold, sure in this moment. So what he does is close his eyes and step close to this man he has wanted to kiss for fucking ages, and tug him down to meet his own lips with a hand around his nape. There’s a moment of stillness, of terrifying doubt, but then Jesper is pulling him closer with a hand through his curls and one on his waist, and is kissing him enthusiastically, like he’s just unwrapped a present. Wylan feels like a present, in a way.
He feels Jesper smile into the kiss, and Wylan can’t help but giggle too, at the sheer absurdity of this night, and then they’re laughing into each other’s mouth and Jesper is peppering small kisses into his mouth to shut him up. He’s not keen on ever being made to shut up, really, but this is as good as it gets, and he drinks in every small kiss, every smile, every breath. When they do break the kiss, Jesper rubs his nose against Wylan’s.
“So…” Jesper is fidgeting with the hem of Wylan’s stupid see-through shirt, bouncing legs and darting eyes everywhere.
“So?”
“I guess you don’t want to stay friends, then?” Jesper says, hesitantly.
Wylan smiles, a bit askew. “I see you’re good at taking hints,” he pokes Jesper in the ribs, then looks up at him in the most eager of ways. “But yeah, I really, really like you, Jes.” He forces himself not to break eye contact, not to waver his voice, not not move as he says it, even if his cheeks are surely flooded red. Jesper blinks, looking a bit startled, then opens his mouth and closes it back again, like he’s just stunned. Wylan has a feeling he would be blushing, if his skin was any lighter.
He stays like that, startled, rendered speechless, looking so fucking stupid Wylan wants to kiss him all over. Then, just slowly, he nods, and his lips start stretching into a smile that feels and looks surprised, stupidly fond and just idiotic , as he keeps nodding fast, almost frantic, with the dumbest smile on his face.
“What’s that face for?” Wylan pushes, nudging him into the ribs, still on his tiptoes.
Jesper grins impossibly wider. “Uh, I wouldn’t know, maybe it’s just that I’ve just been kissed by my stupidly pretty best friend, whom I’ve been crushing for ages.”
“For ages?” Wylan teases, like he’s feeling easy about this. Truth is, he isn’t feeling easy and casual about any of this.
Jesper just clears his throat, and scrapes the nape of his hair like he’s embarrassed. It’s cute, Wylan thinks, he is cute. “I thought you knew.”
Wylan just huffles out an incredulous laugh, at the implication of it being obvious enough that he should have noticed. He shakes his head, slowly.
“You’re so smart about plenty of things, Wylan, but you’re so stupid when it comes to this. I was literally pining after you like some desperate fool, hell, everyone noticed but you. Even Matthias. Gave me the whole sex safety talk and all”
“He did what ?” Wylan sounds as incredulous as he feels. No matter how old-fashioned Matthias is, this is deeply mortifying.
Jesper just snorts. He gets serious now, and Wylan pays attention, because Jesper Fahey is so rarely serious and earnest that this — right now — feels like a gift.
Jesper breathes out air, like he had been holding it all in. “Look, Wy, I didn’t want to ruin our friendship by putting my heart on the line but I like you so much,” he whispers, quietly. Wylan feels the hard thudding of his heart like a symphony gone wild. Jesper swallows, and looks like he’s trying so hard not to fidget now. “I’d like…really like to be with you, Wy. If you want.”
Wylan smiles, feeling all too stupid himself and gets closer to Jesper, looking up at him with as much intent and honesty he can muster. “There’s nothing else I want more.”
The smile Jesper gives him for his trouble is the most beautiful reward. Better even when they lazily get back, properly and intently holding hands this time. It’s soft and it’s its own kind of intimate. It’s Jesper making Wylan pirouette to gain a burst of laughter off him and Wylan stopping to pet a stray cat. Wylan feels a bit too proud with himself, even, as they make their entrance through that same deep green door and better even when Kuwei glances their way. He doesn’t say no to dancing this time, even if it’s messy and uncoordinated and after a while he gets tired and Jesper accompanies him to the garden to kiss him and lace their fingers together and put a flower behind his ear, where his hair curls. He doesn’t mind it when Jesper whispers, pretty, in the most adoring tone, and stares in all eagerness at him with a flower on. He doesn’t mind it either when Jesper laughs and ruffles his hair and says, I want to count your freckles and Wylan rolls his eyes and tells him that there’s not enough light here outside. At that, Jesper just bursts into laughter like he can’t help it, and Wylan is reminded of the fact he’s still actually a bit tipsy. He doesn’t mind it either when Jesper whispers you look unfairly hot tonight, I’m a very lucky guy and Wylan rolls his eyes even if, admittedly, he’s quite flattered. They kiss, and they kiss, and there’s nothing else in the world he’d rather be doing right now.
When they’re back inside again, where Nina and Matthias are still eating each other with hungry eyes, Jesper rests his hands on Wylan’s waist and Wylan is far, far too happy that he can do that now. He’s also disgustingly happy when the clock strikes midnight and, amidst the noise of congratulations and yelling, he sees Jesper stare intently at him, like there’s nothing he would like to do more on the first few minutes of his birthday with Wylan.
Wylan is happy about plenty of things, mostly because he’s kissed Jesper as many times as he wanted tonight, and more than a little bit because Jesper likes him back, and certainly for the way he keeps staring, keeps holding him softly by the waist like he’s precious. But what makes him happiest is when the clock strikes midnight and the people start yelling, he just tugs Jesper down with a hand on his shirt and whispers “Happy birthday, Jes” and then shuts him up with a kiss. Wylan is very, very pleased with the result of the night.