Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The beginning of the end starts, as it does, with a question. The text to speech tool of his phone reads in the same cold, mechanical voice as always, but Wylan's heartbeat starts racing as if it was Jesper's voice talking to him. "From: Jes. Sent at 03:47 AM: Wy, can I call you tomorrow afternoon? I have stuff to tell you." Before the message is finished, the rhythm of his heart has dropped to a dangerously slow rate. Or so he feels like. The world around him seems to stop as well, empathetically allowing him to freak out and try to calm down, all in the span of one second.

It only takes a single second to lay out the scene with the information he's got. In one second, a couple of lists. Things he knows for sure right now, undeniable truths: one, Jesper is on a trip with Kaz and Inej, visiting Inej's family; a trip Wylan had been invited to, but politely got out of, making up some fake excuse about having to deal with "Van Eck stuff", just to spare himself of the misery of having to see Jesper around Kaz for five full days. Because, two: Jesper is in love with Kaz, has been, for years. Jesper had told him as much. And, obviously, three: Wylan is irrevocably and stupidly in love with Jesper. Another list, this one of things he suspects, things he somehow knows even without proof: one, Kaz has feelings for Jesper as well. He's been suspecting as much for a while now, but it is Kaz after all, so who really knows what actually goes on in his mind. Wylan, though, is pretty sure he's recognized the signs in him; some familiarity in the way Kaz treats Jesper, like a mirror in which he sees himself. Two: something, he's sure, has happened between them. 

A rational voice in his brain tries to take control, tells him that he's reading too much into it, that he's gambling with the truth, guessing on unproved information. It could be anything else. It could be nothing. Jesper is known for not having the best sleeping schedule. And he's on a trip, with friends, on vacation. Surely it's nothing. But as much as he wishes to believe that, he can already feel those thoughts evaporate to the back of his mind, weightless like shouts in the distance. As quick as they've arrived, they've left. 

One second. A much clearer picture now paints in his mind. Jesper. Kaz. 2 AM. A shared hotel room. A confession. Maybe a touch of Kaz's gloved hand to Jesper's cheek. Maybe, even, a kiss. Jesper's beautiful (soft? sweet? gentle? rough?) lips brushing against Kaz's. Four eyes alight, wide open, staring into each other and hungrily consuming everything that is newly allowed. Two trembling voices whispering in the middle of the night: "can I...?", "when did you realize...?", "are you sure…?".

Wylan feels like he's got his head underwater. He can hear a ringing in his ears, a roaring, ceaseless buzz, the sound of his blood rushing through his veins suddenly too loud. He listens to the text again, and then once more, twice, seven more times. Replays it until the words sound strange, distant, foreign, until they are sliding off his brain like all meaning has been detached from them. When he finally sets the phone down, any doubt that could’ve inhabited his mind is gone, his intuition no longer at game here, only the absolute certainty that he’s lost this race, lost his chance, lost Jesper.

He swallows the lump in his throat before taking the phone in his hands again. Exhales, inhales, and somewhere in the anxious, regrettable mess of his mind, he finds it in himself to thank all Saints that this was a conversation over text, and that he has at least some time to prepare himself for when Jesper inevitably breaks his heart later. Wylan presses the button for speech to text on his screen, curses himself when his voice comes out shaky. “Sure, I’m free today. Whenever you want.”

The story is simple. Boy meets boy, through some mutual friends. At first they don't hit it off, then quickly become friends, best friends, inseparable. One of them falls in love with the other. But it’s helpless, he quickly learns, because the other one has been in love with his childhood best friend for years. So Wylan never acts on it. Never says anything. He just watches from afar as Jes longs for someone who, quite frankly, seems to feel something closer to hate and annoyance than love or even friendship for Jesper.

That’s to the unknowing eye, of course. Wylan learnt to see through Kaz’s facade faster than anyone in their friend group. He was just a natural when it came to reading people, that’s what he told himself, and others, when questioned. And it was true, but, in this case, there was a different possible answer, one that he kept silenced, barely admitted to himself. That maybe he tried harder with Kaz than with anyone else because he was looking for reasons, searching for whatever Jesper could see in Kaz to be so enamored of him. Maybe he was just trying to soothe the piercing feeling in his chest that screamed that it was his fault, he wasn’t enough, he would never be enough for Jesper. That he was so insignificant, so insufficient, so wrong, that Jesper would rather stay in love with someone who treated him this poorly, than look to his side and see someone who looked at him like he put the stars beside the moon.

Wylan knew that wasn’t fair of him, that you couldn’t choose who you fell in love with, that he could not demand Jesper loved him; but still it stung and hurt like hell whenever Jesper talked to him about Kaz. Even more so when he saw, clear as day to him but almost always hidden to the rest of the world, that Kaz loved him back just as much. Wylan used to get so mad at Kaz for treating Jesper like he did, how he always seemed to get the angriest at Jesper, show him his worst side. Until he realized that that was Kaz’s way of caring too much, of feeling too much. Granted it wasn’t the healthiest way to cope with it, but, honestly, who was Wylan to judge, or even talk about healthy ways to deal with one’s feelings. And, again, it was Kaz after all.

It was in the details, sometimes so small Wylan thought he was making it up at first. But there definitely was something. Kaz’s eyes always looking for Jesper first when something happened. It didn’t even have to be something bad, or dangerous, he was just always the first person Kaz turned to. Jesper’s hand lingering a little too long on Kaz’s shoulder, without him giving Jesper a glare or just pulling back. Jesper staying over at Kaz’s apartment to spend the night, not sleeping in the same bed, sometimes not even sleeping at all, but still sharing all those hours. The way Kaz’s voice would sometimes drop a few tones when he called Jesper’s name, rough turning velvet smooth, the softest caress he could afford to give Jesper. The way Kaz’s personal space seemed to contract when it came to Jesper, always closer than anyone else, always making Kaz’s breath catch.

When he told Nina about all of this, she said he definitely was reading too much into it, or that it simply was a product of years of friendship. That Jesper had been Kaz’s friend for so long that it was just natural for them to be that close, that they were brothers. But Wylan knew better. Wylan knew what it was like to be in love with Jesper, to have your whole world turned upside down by this colorful, beautiful boy. And as different as he was to Kaz, as different as their lives had been, how they carried themselves and expressed their feelings, Wylan recognized that same feeling in Kaz. The seemingly universal notion of falling in love with Jesper Fahey. 

Wylan knows it must've existed, a version of himself that didn't live pathetically pining over the other man, that wasn't as much Jesper's, more even, as it was his own's. He just doesn’t know where, or when, that version of him ceased to exist. He does remember looking at Jesper's hand, and imagining his own neck, thigh, hip, his own hand, beneath it. He remembers thinking then, Jesper's hands must have been sculpted specifically to hold him. He remembers how his whole body lit up when Jesper did brush his finger along his cheek, jokingly flirting as he usually did, how it felt right and wrong at the same time, to let himself believe for a second Jesper could actually mean what he was saying. He probably remembers every interaction they’d had, but it would be impossible for him to pinpoint exactly when he started feeling differently towards Jes.

Still, he treasures those moments like little gemstones. Getting coffee together at the crack of dawn to get to the library as soon as it opened, threatened by Kaz who said he couldn’t properly concentrate if they didn’t have “their spot”. Jesper showing up at his dorm room on a random school night, allegedly sick (“Sick of being left alone by all of my friends who apparently just don’t love me anymore!”), to watch trash TV shows and fall asleep on his shoulder (Wylan spent days daydreaming about the way Jesper’s hair felt against his cheek). Jesper winking at him, smiling proudly when he made Wylan blush. Jesper telling him all about his Da back at home, working up the courage to also tell him all about his Ma. The way he had sobbed in Wylan’s arms one day when his grief felt particularly overwhelming. The way he tried to joke about it when he’d calmed down a bit, how his eyes flashed a lighter, wet, shiny shade of gray when Wylan said he “didn’t have to do that around him”, and how he told Wylan he understood him better than most. Jesper’s thumb tracing circles on Wylan’s hand, matching his breath to it. Jesper smiling because of something Wylan said. Jesper throwing his head back laughing because of something Wylan said (those were some of Wylan’s favorites). Jesper. Just Jesper.

Jesper and him sharing knowing looks in a room full of people. Sharing secret smiles, badly concealed, when they knew they would be gossiping later about the way Matthias had reacted to what Nina was wearing that New Year’s Eve when they finally made out. Sharing someone else’s couch, bed, car to sleep in during their group’s nights out or trips, because —in Jesper’s words— Wylan was the most comfortable to sleep next to (“You just like to exploit me for my hair caressing abilities.” “False. You also are incredibly nice to cuddle. And, you don’t move nor snore, and you don’t complain about me moving in my sleep—actually, are you single?” “Saints, shut up.”).

Little oases of them. Those small moments when Wylan allows himself to pretend, brief flashes of what it could be, a stolen reality away from the actual world. There, Jesper belongs to Wylan as much as Wylan belongs to Jesper. There, only them. Wylan could live forever in those little oases.

But then of course, for every one of those fleeting visions of heaven, the breathtaking, heart wrenching punches of truth. Jesper confessing to Wylan he had been in love with Kaz for almost his whole life. Watching him flirt with Kaz, with Inej, with Nina, Matthias, Kuwei…, and somehow still feeling the already familiar sting of knowing he’s not special, that that’s just the way Jesper is, the contradiction and the bittersweetness of that being one of the many things Wylan loves about him, even when it hurts. Watching the way Jesper’s shoulders dropped and his restless fidgeting grew slower whenever Kaz said something mean to him, only for an instant, then collecting himself. Watching Jesper building himself up and falling apart, wishing he could be there to hold him then watch him shine again. The lump on Wylan’s throat when Jesper would later joke about it, the burning words on his tongue, everything he would say if only he dared to be that bold. “Let me make it better,” everytime, a voice in his mind, and everytime, he has to keep himself from whispering the words like a plea.

Jesper always choosing Kaz over Wylan. Wylan always choosing Jesper over everybody anyways.

So, of course, Wylan chooses Jesper over himself when he asks him if he can talk. He spends all morning trying to do anything to keep his mind off it. But the mere reality that he’s now rearranging his clothes in his closet for the third time that day because Jesper’s asleep after staying awake until four in the morning is nothing but a reminder of everything that’s racing through his mind. He records a voice message to Matthias about it about three times, and three times he deletes it because, he knows, he sounds kind of insane.

When he finally sets the phone down and sits on the stool to play his keyboard, it’s about noon. And before he realizes, Jesper’s personalized ringtone rips him out of the music trance, his fingers freezing over the piano tiles, a sad minor chord lingering below the bright melody coming from the cell. “How fitting,” he thinks. Pressing his lips together, Wylan shakes his hands away from the instrument, brings them to his chest, and inhales deeply, filling his chest with air and hopefully something else. Maybe courage. Maybe strength. Maybe just patience.

“Hello?”

“What the hell took you so long?”

“I was playing, I didn’t hear the phone at first, it was in another room” Wylan lies, readjusting himself on the stool. Even he can hear how awkward and tense he sounds. Saints. This is going to be a long call.

“Well, you should’ve had it on you, since you were expecting my call and I have something very important to tell you,” Wylan can practically hear Jesper’s smile in his voice. He bites his bottom lip, hums in response. “And since we’re talking about it, do you by any chance know how to play the Wedding March?”

The words hit Wylan like a cannonball through his chest. It sinks to his feet. Sits there, on top of his heart, his lungs, all of his organs. Leave it to Jesper to launch news as major as this with a joke. To mercilessly, unknowingly tear Wylan apart with a grin plastered across his face. 

“What?”

“You know, the Wedding March. Duuum, duuum, du-dum-dum…”, Jesper starts humming the better known part of the music piece, getting a quick, breathless laugh from Wylan.

“I know what the Wedding March is, Jesper. Why do you want to know if I know how to play it?” he asks, playing dumb because he honestly can’t bring himself to even pretend to guess. He hears Jesper giggle. Braces himself for the next few words.

“I would like for you to have the honor of playing it in Kaz and I’s wedding.” And there it is.

“What?” It comes out kind of breathy. Wylan clears his throat, gulps, tries again, with more enthusiasm this time. “What?!”

“Uh-huh, you heard that right,” Jesper simply replies. Wylan’s head falls to his palm. Fine. He’ll bite.

“Jesper, explain yourself right now.”

“Well…, I might or might not have confessed and he might or might not have kissed me and we might or might not have spent the whole night talking about how we have liked each other since always and never said anything.”

“What?! ”, and this time the surprise is almost genuine. One thing is to “know” know, something very different to know , to have it confirmed. But, Saints, he wants to punch himself for being right.

“Yeah! Can you fucking believe it? Because I can’t, I have tried, I thought it was a dream when I woke up next to him. Because, oh yes, he let me sleep next to him. Wylan, it was all so beautiful, you wouldn’t belie—,” Jesper’s incessant rambling is cut shut by some distant voice, to whom he answers a likewise distant “ coming !”. “Fuck, I have to go, Inej’s family is taking all of us out for lunch, and we’re still in our hotel room in our PJ’s,” he adds. Wylan shivers. We? Is Kaz lying in bed right next to him? Is he okay with Jesper telling him all of this? Are they properly dating then? Why is everything going by so fast? “Anyway, I’ll talk to you later. I’ll text you aaaaall the details. Be excited for me. Love you, bye!”

Before Wylan can even open his mouth, Jesper hangs up. Wylan lets all the air he’d been holding in his lungs go. Tries to inhale, nearly chokes. Closes his eyes shut, feels a few mordant tears on the outer corners, a harsh bite on the bridge of his nose. The cannonball still sits at his feet, no exit wound in his entire body.

Well. That’s it. The end. Intuitions confirmed. At least that’s something. The list of things he suspects is now empty. Weirdly enough, that calms his mind. Better to have it confirmed than to wonder. Better to know for sure than to have it linger. 

Chapter Text

Jesper and Wylan don’t really talk about it much in the next few weeks. No one really talks about it. Matthias, who had since regained his title as Wylan’s flatmate after spending the whole week basically living in the flat Nina and Inej share while Inej was away, tried to ask him after he found out as well. Wylan prefers to just ignore the subject. He pretends it’s out of respect for them trying to “figure stuff out”, as Jesper had put it. He knows perfectly well he’ll have to get used to it at some point, but as long as he has that excuse, he’s going to use it.

As soon as they’d arrived back home from visiting Inej’s family, Jesper had called Wylan and told him to get ready, that he’d be coming by with a bottle of wine to tell him everything.

“Oh! Yeah, um… Okay, perfect,” Wylan muttered, very obviously taken by surprise.

“Are you gonna tell me you’re busy? Are you really gonna tell your best friend you’re busy when they’re about to tell you about one of the best nights of their life?” Jesper teases, causing Wylan to take a deep breath to try and soothe the pinching in his heart.

“No, no, it’s just…”

“What? If you’re gonna say Matthias is home that’s not a problem, I can tell him too.”

“No, no, he’s still at Nina’s, it’s…”

“Beautiful, then Inej can tell them both. I hope they’re fully dressed, though, Kaz is dropping Inej off right now. What is it then?”

“It’s, um… Like… Don’t you want to be… with Kaz?” Wylan tries, hoping it comes out as playful, rather than sad or jealous.

“No. Well, yes, obviously , but he said he needed to have some alone time to process all of this,” Jesper explains, the cheerfulness in his voice never once dropping. “I also need to process all of it, but I’d rather do it with my favorite person and a big ass glass of wine. So whatever the fuck it is you have going on: now you don’t. I’ll be at yours in like half an hour. Love you, bye!” and he hangs up the phone before Wylan can say it, say anything, back.

Well, fuck. Half an hour to get ready to put on the best performance of his life. Wonderful, he thinks. At least there will be wine. 

And, oh, there is wine. There is wine, and there is Jesper, a radiant, gorgeous and oh, so smitten Jesper, and there is a smiling, excited Wylan that asks all the pertinent questions and takes them in with longer and deeper sips everytime, like he’s trying to wash down the lump in his throat.

“So… are you together now?” Wylan finally asks, after he’s listened to a detailed explanation of the night for about an hour. How Kaz asked a very stunned Jesper to sit next to him on the couch at Inej’s for the film the three of them were going to watch, how they drove back to the hotel in complete silence. How once they were there, Kaz took his hand, shaking, and asked Jesper if it was okay for him to try to kiss him. How they’d been talking all night after that one single kiss. How Kaz asked (“Well, almost demanded, you know him, but I wasn’t gonna fucking say no, you know?”) him to be patient with him.

“Uh… well, not together together, not exactly,” Jesper’s excitement doesn’t die, but it definitely weakens after that question. Wylan furrows his eyebrows.

“What does “not exactly” mean?”

“Well…,” Jesper starts, lets out a groan, gets up from the couch, and starts walking around Wylan’s room. Every alarm in Wylan’s head goes off. He has to almost physically stop himself from jumping to conclusions and anxiously asking again. Jesper looks back at him, like he’s trying to choose the best words to explain himself. Wylan softens his gaze, hoping his eyes convey encouragement rather than the pure, greedy need to know of someone who’s heart is pending on the edge of a knife. Jesper lets out a sigh. “Well, you know Kaz, he’s… got his stuff—I mean, I do too, but—you know what I mean.”

Wylan lets a moment pass before answering, cautiously. “Yeah.”

“It’s just… There’s… there’s just something… kind of missing, you know? For both of us.” Wylan shifts on his bed, arms crossed, eyes glued to Jesper, who’s still walking from side to side of the room. “We just need time to figure out how we’re gonna do all of this. I know it’s not gonna be easy and it’s gonna take… as long as it takes, and I am so so afraid I’ll fuck it up, ‘cause I can’t fucking afford to lose him, but… But we are happy. We will be happy. Saints, Wy, I am so fucking happy,” he says, and Wylan smiles back as soon as Jesper’s energy shifts, going back to glowing like the sun.

“You won’t fuck anything up. It’s okay. And I am so fucking happy for you two,” he adds, lifting his wine glass as if to cheer to it. When he forcefully swallows the last sip, it tastes like guilt, and blood, and grief.

So, yes, they don’t really talk about it. But, obviously, they still hang out, the seven of them. Wylan witnesses as Kaz and Jesper evolve, how they “figure stuff out”. Jesper freely looking at Kaz with the most unimaginable tenderness in his eyes. Kaz getting closer and closer, physically, to Jesper, more and more every time they hang out. Jesper shamelessly flirting with Kaz, something that’s not new, but is now allowed, is now wanted, is now sometimes even returned, in Kaz’s own way. Kaz showing up to their group meetings more. A golden new ring with a garnet stone on Jesper’s finger. A brand new pair of gloves with a tiny, almost imperceptible, “J” embossed on them, on Kaz’s hands. Jesper smiling more. Kaz smiling more.

Wylan can only bear so much. So he does all he’s ever learnt how to do when threatened: he runs. He stops hanging out as much when they’re in a group, or only with Jesper. He makes up the most stupid excuses. Thankfully, he thinks, his friends understand boundaries better than most, so no one protests. They tell him they’ll miss him. He says he’ll miss them too. He stays at home most times and tries to do something to get it all off his mind. He knows it’s unsustainable, but maybe distancing himself from Jesper for some time is just what he needs. Maybe time is all he needs.

The thing with time, obviously, is that it runs out. And suddenly it’s been two months and it’s March and it’s about to be Kuwei’s birthday. So, obviously, they’re going to do what they do each year for it: get drunk, raid Kuwei’s closet, get dressed exclusively with what they find there, then go out to the same bar they go to every year, conveniently managed by Kuwei’s very hot, very generous long term boyfriend, Chloe, who gives them free drinks and plays “Happy Birthday” about twenty times on the speakers for the whole bar to sing along. Right after, the eight of them go back to Kuwei’s apartment, get changed into pajamas and watch a film of his choosing until they all fall asleep on couches, old mattresses and sleeping bags set all over the living room.

“Kuwei Night” usually results in some kind of disaster, with two or more pieces of clothing either lost, stained, or ripped. Last year, it also ended with Matthias going back to Kuwei’s in a black crop top definitely way too small for him because Nina got cold wearing only a sheer blouse and one of Kuwei’s fancy corsets and he gave her his oversized long-sleeved shirt and said crop top was the only thing that any of them had taken as a back-up. By far one of the funniest nights of the year.

So, obviously, when Kuwei Night comes by, Wylan’s plans to let time apart from Jesper heal him get wrecked. He spends the whole week trying to get mentally ready for it, even considers asking Matthias to trace out an “emergency plan” in case it gets too much. He decides against it, but before they leave for Kuwei’s house that afternoon, Matthias hugs him tight and tells him to let him know if he needs anything at any point during the night. Wylan feels both raw gratefulness and shameful guilt fill him inside. He gulps and whispers a shaky “thank you, Matt”.

By the time they arrive at the bar, Wylan is already a few drinks in―he chugged one down when Jesper came out of Kuwei’s room wearing a white shirt, a baby blue tie loosely tied around his neck and some leather very short shorts (complaining, like every year, about Kuwei’s closet’s lack of color), and had to go out to the balcony to get some fresh air. He has been able to normally interact with Jesper and has made eye contact with Kaz without feeling like throwing up at least three or four times. Still, just to be safe, he avoids sitting next to Jesper, as he typically does, when they arrive at their usual big round table, and squeezes between Nina and Inej, mumbling something about how he would actually like to take up Inej’s offer from a few hours ago and have her do his eyeliner. She complains about how he should’ve told her that when she wasn’t drunk, but gets to the job either way.

When she’s done, and Wylan turns to face the table to get his drink, he notices Kaz staring at him, something intimate in his eyes, something that disappears the second Wylan’s brain begins to recognize it. Must be the alcohol.

He feels someone softly kick his feet under the table. When he furrows his eyebrows in confusion, he hears Jesper yell out a “hey”.

“Hey,” Wylan mouths as their eyes lock, because there’s no way Jesper can hear him talk normally above all the noise and the music.

“Hey,” Jesper repeats, in silence this time. “Eyeliner looks good on you,” he adds, and, of course, Wylan blushes. So much for not wanting to throw up.

“Thank you,” he mouths, and watches almost breathlessly as Jesper winks at him. Saints, he hates him.

Jesper looks like he’s about to say something else when Chloe appears with a tray full of very colorful shots. Wylan appreciates the distraction, and watches amusedly as Chloe kisses Kuwei about fifteen times and sets the tiny glasses down for everyone to grab. They spend the night on the dance floor, at the bar getting free drinks from Chloe, watching Kuwei as he gets on the little stage with the DJ for the seventh time to have the whole bar sing “Happy Birthday” to him. He doesn’t seem to get tired of the attention. 

At one point, Wylan, very drunk, and feeling his cheeks so heated up he swears he’s about to faint, goes back to their stool, just to regain his breath. He sits down facing the dance floor. Above the mess of bodies intertwined, he can still see Jesper’s hands in the air, swaying to the rhythm of the song. He makes the rest of the dancers seem off-beat, Wylan thinks. He makes the rest of the humanity seem off-beat. Like it was only him who understood the way music worked, the way the world moved.

“If you don’t tell him, I will,” a raspy voice startles him, making him jump and turn around. 

“What?”, he manages to mumble, still trying to wonder if he’s really as drunk as to not have noticed Kaz sitting opposite where he had sat down. Wylan now watches as he rolls his eyes.

“You know what,” Kaz states, matter-of-factly. “It’s okay. But you need to tell him.” Wylan feels his anxiousness (Why do you know? Is it really that obvious? You could destroy my relationship with Jesper in a second if you wanted to) turn into anger (Who the fuck are you to talk on my behalf about this subject? You could destroy my relationship with Jesper in a second if you wanted to) in a matter of seconds. 

“Why?”

“He deserves to know.”

“Why?” Wylan asks again, a little more strength and valor in his voice. “Why would he care?” Why would you care?

“That’s not my place to tell.” It’s honestly a little infuriating how calm and collected Kaz still is, while Wylan feels like he’s either about to scream or throw up for real this time. “And I know I must not be your favorite person in the world right now,” he stops and breathes in, “but you know I don’t do stuff just because.”

Wylan just stares at him and scoffs. Why would you fucking care?

“And what exactly does that mean?”, he asks, but he doesn’t get an answer. Kaz has turned his gaze to the dance floor, no longer listening. Wylan feels rage building up inside of him. That, and the alcohol running through his veins, must be what gives him the courage to keep going. “You have no right to do anything about that and you know that, Kaz. Jesper and I are friends, and won’t stop being friends just because his boyfriend,” he nearly spits out that word, “got a jealous fit, or whatever this is.”

If he thought that would get Kaz to look back to him, he’s wrong. All he gets as a response is silence. Kaz breathes in, and breathes out, and doesn’t even seem to acknowledge the other man is still there with him.

Wylan gets up as he mutters something that sounds a lot like Fuck you, Kaz, but it gets lost in the tune of Happy Birthday playing through the speakers again. He quickly gets to the bar and orders another drink. It’s probably not the best idea, but his mouth feels dry, and his arms stiff, and he needs something that grounds him before he starts freaking out in the middle of the bar. Alcohol sounds like the safest, quickest option to his already drunk brain, so when the bartender gets him his glass, he throws his head back and gulps down the drink. Wylan closes his eyes and tries to concentrate on the feeling of the cold yet burning liquid, but the music is suddenly getting too loud, the people around him too close, and the air too thick to properly breathe.

He stumbles as he gets away from the bar, towards the door of the club. As soon as the cold breeze of the end of March hits his face, he can already feel himself getting better. He lets his back hit the wall, and lets himself fall to the ground, to sit against the vertical surface. With his eyes closed, he begins breathing deeply, holding his hands together on top of his belly, noticing the air going in and out of him. A few moments later, he feels back in control again. He’s okay. Really, really drunk, but okay. He still doesn’t feel like coming back in again, though. Fucking Kaz Brekker.

Wylan doesn’t know how much time he spends outside, but suddenly, a slurred “Heyyyy!” wakes him from his trance. He opens his eyes to see Jesper coming out of the bar, a cigarette between his lips, and, by the looks of him, as drunk as he is. Wylan’s mood instantly lights up.

“Heyyyy.”

“I didn’t know you were here!” Jesper walks around him to sit by his side. His hair is a bit ruffled, Kuwei's shirt on him kind of wrinkled, the tie around his neck even looser than when he put it on. Wylan wants to reach out and fix it for him. Or take it off altogether. Or pull him closer by it. Or...

Jesper offers him a cigarette that he denies, and lights his own. Wylan’s hazy eyes fix on the flame immediately, and when it dies out, they move to the immediately close moving object. Jesper’s lips around the little white tube of tobacco. Fuck.

“I just needed some fresh air,” he explains. Jesper hums in response, and they fall into a comfortable, tipsy silence.

“Are you sure you don’t want one?” Jesper asks after a few minutes.

“Hm?”

“A cig.”

“You know I don’t smoke.”

“Yeah. Then why are you staring?”, and Wylan doesn’t even find it in himself to pretend he wasn’t. He just blushes, softly giggles and moves his eyes up to meet Jesper’s.

“Because I’m drunk as fuck right now? And almost asleep? And I can barely move?” he offers, causing Jesper to let out a mix between a cough and a laugh. His gaze and whole expression softens, suddenly filled with affection.

“Do you want to go home already?”

“No, no, I’m good.”

“Don’t you want to go inside?”

“It’s fine here.”

“It is. Do you want me to stay?”

“Sure.”

“C’mere,” Jesper whispers, as he throws away the already consumed cigarette, throws his arm over Wylan’s shoulders, and pulls him to his side. Wylan’s mind vaguely remembers there’s something he’s anxious about, something he’s mad about, but right now, drunk, heavy-eyed, and intoxicated by Jesper’s scent so close to him, he can’t really remember what it was. He puts his hand on Jesper’s naked knee, begins drawing light patterns with his fingertips. He feels the other man hum happily in response. They stay that way for a while. Jesper, finally, is the one to break the silence.

“Wylan?”

“Hm?”

“This is… a less than ideal moment but… can I talk to you about something?” Wylan’s eyes crack open wide. His conversation with Kaz instantly replays in his mind. He feels his mouth drying up again, his whole body going rigid as he sits up and pulls away from Jesper, far enough to be able to look at him in the eyes. He inspections them before answering, trying to find something there. Some clue as to what’s about to come. He curses himself for drinking as much as he had, because now his view is shaky, his mind dizzy, his thoughts cluttered. Still, he gives him a little nod. Jesper licks his lips before opening his mouth again. Wylan can tell he’s nervous, which makes him even more so than he was already. “So. Um. I have actually wanted to talk to you about this for a while now, I just never know how to bring it up. Probably shouldn’t do it while drunk either but here we are, I’m not gonna just leave you hanging now without knowing, that’s cruel. Anyway.”

Wylan’s mind starts racing. Running in every direction, collecting all of his fears and screaming them into his ears. He knows. He’s about to tell you he knows. He’s gonna ask you to stop being friends because he doesn’t want you being a stupid boy in love around him. Especially when he’s finally got the love of his life. He’s gonna ask you to never talk to him again. You’ve broken the group apart. You’ve broken this friendship apart. You’ve lost one of the most beautiful things that have ever happened to you because you―

“Kaz and I have been talking about this and I think―we think― I could be right about this and―”

Wylan breaks away from his touch before Jesper finishes the sentence. Without saying a word, he stands up, turns around and gets back into the club, leaving Jesper alone, with whatever he had to say still in his mouth. Heavy, hot air from inside gets inside Wylan’s lungs and weighs him down like someone was pulling him down from the floor. It must be his instincts, or maybe muscle memory, what guides him away from the door and running into the restrooms. He barely gets to close the stall door beside him when the tears begin to fall from his eyes, burning when the make-up Inej had put on him gets into them.

What a fucking mess, says one of the voices in his head. Another one, a snarky, mature, sarcastic one, responds. How fitting.

Chapter Text

He somehow manages to escape the bar without being seen by anyone. He texts the group when he gets to his apartment, a bad excuse about how he’s very sorry, but he suddenly got very sick, and thought it was best to go home alone. He immediately receives a text from Matthias, asking if he’s okay, if he wants him and Nina to go back to the flat and take care of him. He replies it wouldn’t be necessary, that he’ll talk to him in the morning. Matthias texts back to drink water and a blue heart emoji. Wylan’s eyes burn again, momentarily. This is exhausting .

He goes to bed, all lights off, and falls asleep to the sound of a white noise like buzz coming from the radiator, and the reliable, mellow tick of his wall clock carrying him to sleep. The morning after, alcohol has rewarded him with a pounding headache, a dizzy stomach, and itchy eyes (although he has the tears he shed in the bar’s bathroom to thank for that as well), but it seems to laugh at him when it hasn’t made him forget a single second of the night. It spits back every moment like they’re present memories being re-lived. Kaz failing to hide a smile when Jesper made a very unfunny joke about Nina. Jesper blowing a kiss at Wylan across the room when he and Matthias got to Kuwei’s house. Wylan’s lungs feeling like they were about to collapse. Kaz confronting him. Jesper almost confronting him. Wylan running away from both of them.

He practically forces himself to roll out of bed to get coffee and some toast, then goes back to bed to eat it. Prays it stays in his resented, hangover stomach. He realizes he’s fallen back asleep when a key opening the apartment’s door wakes him. He hears two voices whispering, decides to pretend to still be sleeping. Matthias and Nina walk past his bedroom towards Matt’s, Wylan picks up a few words of what they’re not so subtly “whispering”. He hears his roommate wonder out loud if he should check if Wylan was okay, and Nina replies he’d most probably be sleeping.

Wylan can hear Jesper’s name being thrown in the conversation right after, and guesses he might’ve told Nina about their “almost talk” last night. Wonderful . Wylan picks up the noise-canceling headphones from the nightstand, buries himself underneath the comfortable weight of his thick blankets, and wishes to sleep through the next two months, or until he’s done and through with Jesper Fahey and Kaz Brekker.

Wylan doesn’t see Jesper, or Kaz, or anyone from their group other than Matthias for the next two weeks. There are some unread texts from Jesper on his phone, Wylan hasn’t bothered listening to them. When Nina or Inej come around to hang with Matthias, Wylan stays in his room, pretends to be playing piano, or strategically leaves right before they arrive, just in case. When Matthias tries to bring it up, the few times Wylan sees him, he closes off and says he’ll deal with it later. He just doesn’t feel like discussing the matter with anyone right now. He tells Matthias to let the others know he’s going through a rough time, and that he wishes to be alone, and continues to, admittedly very stupidly, avoid it all.

The days go by gray, long, slow, and distant, like they’re being played before his motionless, dull eyes in a broken, ancient video machine. He does everything he does normally, everything he has to do, but avoids all of his friends, avoids Kaz, avoids Jesper, and meanwhile tries to avoid the voice in his head that says that, without them, life is colorless. He is colorless, blank. He guesses that’s what he gets for letting himself get used to good things. He wonders if he’ll ever learn not to be as naïve as not to do so. He knows the answer. He quiets the answer, represses it like a scream in the middle of his chest aching to be let out.

Wylan dreams. Dreams of Jesper, of his hands on him, in his hair, on his knees, on his back, on his mouth. Dreams of Jesper, and of the way his laughter sounds like he’s calling his name. He also dreams of Kaz, sometimes, of his gloved hand reaching for Jesper. Of the way he’s the purest shade of black, the kind that doesn’t reflect any light, the kind that eats up everything that dares stand close, and still allows for the wonderful rainbow that’s Jesper to shine in front of him. And he dreams of his friends, forgetting about him, leaving him behind, but when the morning comes and he gets up, he can’t bring himself to craft an apology to send over text.

He finds himself existing in a confined space where Jesper hasn’t told him he knows how he feels and that it isn’t requited, where he hasn’t been kicked out of Jesper’s life. And as much as he wants to reach out, he realizes, he’s been trapped there by his own actions. In the unlikely case that Jesper didn’t know before, now he must know for sure. Kaz must’ve told him. The others either knew as well or must’ve guessed. They all now hold the truth that, he is certain, Jesper is no longer going to entertain his little fantasy. And Wylan couldn’t bear to look in their eyes and see pity and shame and compassion for him. He just couldn’t. So he stays adrift, lost in imaginary loss. Away from his friends, trying to ignore it all, making it all more dramatic than it needs to, dragging along what he knows to be the only possible outcome. Letting it linger.

The beginning of the end starts, once more, with a question. This time, it comes in the shape of the door bell ringing. Insistently. Wylan lets it ring, hopes for Matthias to open the door when he doesn’t come out of his room. The ringing stops abruptly, and he sighs in satisfaction, melting back to the pillows on his bed. Then, when the silence is restored, his breath hitches. A voice, muffled, from walls away, but still familiar as no other.

“Wylan!?”

Jesper calling him. Wylan slowly pushes himself on his hands, out of the bed. Carefully, soundlessly, he gets out of his room, his heart pounding. Why is he here? What is he doing?

“Matthias said you were home so don’t fucking think of ignoring me now too,” his voice gets clearer and louder as Wylan gets closer to their apartment door. Jesper sounds… worried? Afraid? Mad? Wylan isn’t sure. Every word hit his ears like a punch to the throat. “Wylan! I will pick the fucking lock if you don’t let me in, I’m not fucking kidding!”

Jesper bangs his fist on the door this time. Wylan, on the other side, watches it jolt. He swallows up. Prepares to be let down. Reaches his hand to the doorknob. He hopes at least it’s as gentle as possible, and maybe they can go back to being friends someday. Pulls on the doorknob to make it turn. He prays it’s brutal and it leaves him without any possibility of going back to being as miserably hopeful. The door clicks. Here it comes. The end.

Jesper’s open palm falls through the air, sliding off the door, when Wylan opens. He stands there, still in his pajamas, his hair a mess, his eyes bloodshot and fixed on Jesper, who’s taking him in, looking up and down. Next thing he knows, Jesper has closed the space between them with a single step, has crouched down to wrap his arms around him.

Wylan can’t breathe. He hears Jesper say something from a very remote place, he can’t make any sense of it. He’s too busy making sense of what’s now in front of his eyes. Kaz. Distant. Cold. Dark and lightless and out of reach, but somehow still as present as Jesper’s fingers on his back, gripping on his clothes. Wylan must’ve asked what they were doing there, because Jesper pulls away, his hand coming to cup his cheek in the softest motion possible. But it is Kaz who answers.

“We have to talk to you,” he simply states, and welcomes himself into Wylan’s apartment, closing the door behind him. Wylan watches, confused as one could be, as Kaz walks up to his room and goes in without saying any other word. When the other man leaves his sight, Wylan turns to Jesper, whose hand is still on his face. He opens his mouth to ask, but Jesper shakes his head, points toward the door behind which Kaz just disappeared.

“Together,” he mumbles, drops his fingers from Wylan’s cheek to get a hold of his hand, and leads him through his own apartment to his own bedroom, where they find Kaz sitting on Wylan’s half undone bed. In normal circumstances, he would’ve never let them come in when his room was in such a state, but the confused haze barely allows him to think right. What are they doing here? What is going on?

The three of them stay in silence for a moment. Wylan and Jesper, standing before Wylan’s bed, where Kaz watches them from, silently fidgeting with his gloves. Jesper’s still holding Wylan’s hand. Wylan’s eyes go from one man to the other, his brain still working on finding plausible reasons as to why are they here, why don’t they seem angry, why are they in his room and why are they looking at him so worriedly. So anxiously. So… longingly?

Kaz and Jesper share a look Wylan can’t decipher, and the latter clears his throat before he starts talking.

“Wy, I ― Listen, I know I fucked up by coming at you like that, I know it wasn’t the right moment, I know we were both drunk, but precisely because I was drunk and we were kind of having a moment, I thought―And I didn’t know Kaz had talked to you and I―”

Kaz brings a hand to Jesper’s shoulder, which drops immediately. He whispers something that sounds a lot like “ It’s okay. Breathe ”. Jesper closes his eyes and obeys. When his eyelids lift, they contain galaxies. Galaxies and something that looks a lot like a prayer. Wylan must be dreaming again.

“I’m sorry ,” Jesper starts again, and the word just melts off his mouth. “I shouldn’t have come at you that way. I should’ve been patient . It’s…, I’m learning to be,” he smiles out the corner of his mouth. The word burns amber red on Wylan’s mess of a mind as he remembers a recent conversation where he heard that same voice pronouncing that same word. Oh. “But…, there is still something very important I― we ,” he nods his head to Kaz when he says we , “need to ask you.” He stops then, licks his bottom lip, and drops his gaze to Wylan’s lips, which hang parted, letting heavy breaths go in and out his lungs.

Jesper’s hand lets go of Wylan’s, but doesn’t break contact as he brings it up his arm, shoulder, cheek, and, ever so delicately, he brushes a finger to Wylan’s bottom lip.

“Is this okay?” Jesper whispers when Wylan’s breath catches and he nearly pulls back. Perplexed as he is, lost for words and trying to recover his breath, Wylan nods.

He doesn’t really know what he’s agreeing to, but he’s agreeing anyway, because it’s Jesper, and it’s Jesper’s finger on his lips, and Jesper’s darkened eyes on him, and he would’ve let him break him apart completely only to earn the memory that is now being created, to be worthy of gaining the knowledge of how this feels. So when Jesper leans in and presses his beautiful (silken, honeyed, tender, precise) lips to his, Wylan’s whole world blows up in technicolor.

He barely dares to move, but when he does, it’s gently and prudently, his hands looking for Jesper’s hips, for his waist, for something to hold just to make sure he’s real, that he’s not dreaming again. The kiss doesn’t deepen, it just lasts for a few seconds, but it’s better than anything Wylan’s ever tasted in his entire life. When he opens his eyes again, that galaxy of his is staring back, shimmering silver, charcoal, platinum and a million more shades of gray, as if he held moonlight in his eyes. His mind is filled with Jesper, only Jesper, for a moment. And then reality snaps him back.

“What…? But…,” he starts, breathless, but Jesper shuts him with another kiss, and it takes everything in him to pull away. “Jes. Please,” he manages to get out. He needs an explanation of some sort. Jesper lets out a soft giggle, answers by pulling him closer to the bed. Wylan, as he does, lets him lead. The taller man sits next to Kaz, still holding Wylan’s hand, who is now standing in front of the both of them. His lips come together to ask again, but Kaz speaks before he does.

“It was not a jealous fit ,” Wylan feels his cheeks burn when he recognizes his own words on Kaz’s lips. He hears Kaz take a deep breath in before he adds something else. “And I told you. I don’t do stuff just because.”

When he finishes talking, he is holding his hand, ungloved, out for Wylan. Silence falls on them like realization starts to fall on Wylan. He must have taken them out when Jesper was kissing him. Or were they off before? Wylan truly can’t remember, and right now, it’s not like it matters, does it? What matters is… whatever is going on between them. 

His widened gaze drops from his eyes to his hand, then back, then to Jesper. He’s staring at him, something inquiring, but oh, so tender, there. Wylan stays still for a second, almost unable to breathe, move, or even think.

And then, he inhales. He calls upon the feeling of want, of need, of boldness he’s ever felt when he’s seen Kaz and Jesper together, always from afar. Exhales. Decides, for once, to move forward. With his eyes still fixed on Jesper, he dares to reach out to Kaz’s hand, holding it on his. He feels him shiver. He sees Jesper shiver as well. Sees his questioning stare melt into a loving yet cautious look, so Wylan turns to Kaz, turns to his closed eyes, his breathing getting heavy. 

“It’s okay,” Wylan repeats in a whisper, like those are the only words that the three of them would ever know, at least for now. Kaz’s eyelids flutter open, Wylan sees an entire universe in them. Everything is clear as it’s ever been now, everything Wylan had refused to admit even to himself. The mirror he saw in Kaz when it came to loving Jesper. The reasons he counted at night why Jesper must be in love with Kaz. How easily it came to him to understand both of them, to see through both of them. A third factor he had never dared to take into consideration. Something missing . Him. How Jesper’s hands were made to hold him the same way his own hand now fits in Kaz’s, effortlessly, like a puzzle piece falling in place. He guesses now, it makes perfect sense. Kaz. Jesper. Him. Together.

Carefully, slowly, Wylan draws both his and Kaz’s hands close to his face, stopping right before making any contact, waiting for Kaz’s confirmation to keep going. Which he gives. So when he nods, Wylan delicately touches his lips to Kaz’s fingers, eyes never leaving his, looking for any kind of shift in them. After a few seconds, he pulls his head back, drives Kaz’s hand to his chest, rests it right above his racing heart. Kaz breathes in, nods once more. It’s okay.

This time, the question that shifts Wylan’s world is unspoken, though tangible as Jesper’s one hand on his, the other on the small of Kaz’s back, Kaz’s hand on Wylan’s chest. He replies the same way.