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Sharpness knows he’s going to spend all day working himself up about this, which is the worst part of it.
The thrumming under his skin doesn’t go away. Everything is the same as it is every morning, it should be fine. February 14th comes every year, and Sharpness does have plans, but really, it’s no more complicated than anything else he’s ever done. He’s giddy and a little dazed in the same breath as Jude pulls up to his driveway, beat up truck completely crooked and in the way for anyone who happens to drive by, which is—thankfully—nobody. The window rolls down, and Jude gives him that same stupid smile Sharp sees every morning.
“You’re late again,” Sharpness doesn’t hesitate to poke at him.
“Would you rather I leave you here?”
“Whatever. You’re such a bitch.” He passes Jude the cup in his hands, metal uncomfortably cold in the early morning chill, with a half-cocked grin. Jude takes it from him, sliding it into the cupholder as Sharpness crosses in front of the truck, but not before taking a sip. He seems to regret it. Not-so-subtly, Sharpness stares at the way his nose crinkles in distaste, watches all the places in which the soft skin bunches and tightens.
The truck is warm when he gets in, the way Jude knows he likes it. “I honestly don’t know how you drink that protein shit every morning,” he laughs, “it’s so nasty.”
“It isn’t that bad, you just whine too much.” It is that bad, but there’s nothing Sharpness wants less than to let Jude be right. He pulls back out onto the road, while Sharpness fumbles for the aux. If he thought about it for more than a second, he’d think that Jude hates it. It’s definitely not what he listens to normally, but he’s never complained about Sharpness putting it on. Never seriously complains about most things Sharpness does, really.
This revelation sends his head reeling, again. It’s easy when they’re talking–when it’s later in the day and they’ve both shaken off whatever lingering tiredness there may be–for Sharpness to forget about the anticipatory dread of what’s to come. To fall into rhythm, to lose any sort of worry he may have otherwise had. The pointed affection in his chest is always present, warm and loose and simple, around Jude. It’s hard for it not to be; he’s always there, he’s his best friend, he’s the person Sharpness would rather keel over than go a day without.
Love is best expelled through the body. It’s easier, more sensible, to lean on Jude. To inconveniently tuck himself into his side, pressed against him hard enough to leech off the heat from his skin. If it’s easier to do something, then he doesn’t need to say it. To Sharpness, at least, there’s just no need. Things are good. They’re simple. What he wants, he reaches for, and Jude is already right there, barely an arm’s length away.
Wanting more than this, though, leaves him feeling childish and a little ill.
He’s silent for a lot of the ride to school, low hum of the music and the sound of tire on pavement only cut through shortly before they pull in. Sharpness doesn’t bother waiting for Jude to park before unbuckling, reaching down to rifle through his backpack. He presents him with a small bag, tied up to hold a small lunchbox. “Food. Here.”
“Oh yeah, thanks.” Jude stares at him. He’s unusually quiet.
“What, does it look poisoned or something?” He shoves it closer to him.
Jude finally takes it, turning off the truck and slinking out just a moment after. “You wish it was that easy to get rid of me.”
For a moment, Sharpness thinks he should say something now. Rip the bandaid off.
“I don’t.”
“What?”
He needs to backtrack immediately. White-hot embarrassment fills him. “I don’t need to wish,” he huffs. “Just wait and see. I’ll get you.” It’s meant to be a joke.
Jude doesn’t seem to pick up on it. “Okay Sharp.” He turns his back to him, a wave as he moseys off. “Text me. And don’t keep leaving me on read!”
Sharpness’ path to class is opposite Jude’s. They don’t need to walk together, rarely even do, but there’s an inclination to trail after him. For a few extra seconds, he stands there, stunned and awkward.
It’s even harder to stop thinking about it when Jude isn’t right in front of him, which sounds like the opposite of what Sharpness would expect to be the case. Class is slow, uninteresting in the same way all of his senior year has been. Whatever his teacher is talking about, Sharpness has no mind to listen to after hearing the buzz in his pocket.
lol parker is so fucking dumb, the text reads. Sharpness doesn’t really care about Parker either. whatd he do, he writes back. Something ugly rears its head at the thought of Jude with him, and then selfish satisfaction. Jude wants to tell him about it.
There’s no response, for a while, and Sharpness doesn’t wait for one. Keeps texting absentmindedly, as if anxiety can be dispelled through the tap-tap-tap on his keyboard. ik ur not busy comes first, followed by class cant be that interesting. What an ass, telling Sharpness to reply to him. It’s hard to say if it would be better or worse if Jude replied, stuck in an uncomfortable push-pull. Finally–as soon as he puts it down, incidentally–after minutes, his phone buzzes.
look out the window.
Sharpness jerks up in his seat, looking over. There he is, smug and obviously trying to mess with him. The corner of his lip twitches upwards as Jude waves. Normally, he has no issue in keeping a straight face, but this is something that seems almost herculean now. Sharpness waves back. A voice cuts through his thoughts.
“Why the hell is Jude here, dude?” Theo’s just loud enough for Sharpness to hear, and quiet enough to not bother anyone else. Turning away from Jude to face him, all he can do is shrug.
“I dunno, I’m not his keeper. Does it really matter?” The regret he feels in turning away from Jude is poignant.
“No, I guess not.” Theo says. “Just figured you’d know. I don’t think he has any classes in this building anyways, and you’re like…” Theo crosses his fingers.
Sharpness wishes he would shut up. “Right.”
“Are you okay, man? You seem kinda tense.”
He only grumbles in reply. Sharpness picks his phone back up, and sends another text to Jude. when we get out today can u meet me by the back gate, he sends. Considers sending more explanation, typing and deleting a few messages, before deciding against it. He's not normally such a romantic. He could do this any other day of the year. What is remarkable about Sharpness, though, is how stubborn he is. He has to do this. There's no avoiding it now.
ya! A second later, everything ok?
Everything he says makes this infinitely harder. yes is the only thing Sharpness can bring himself to reply with. His phone vibrates a few more times after he puts it down. He’d rather die than look at any of the notifications. Focusing on class proves completely hopeless, so Sharpness settles for trying to make it through class without too much of a sour expression.
It waxes and wanes throughout the day. Sapa is with him when Theo isn’t, so it’s easy to find someone to shoot the breeze with. They’re supposed to be working on a project together for this class, but Sapa has nothing out, and Sharpness hardly knows what they’re meant to be doing for it, so by the time class lets out and he feels marginally less ill, they’ve been completely unproductive.
Jude comes to find him immediately, bouncing on his feet, bounding forward. Sits down across from him, talking about something that Sharpness doesn’t fully catch–the issue with Parker from earlier, he thinks. Whatever it is, Sharpness would be content to listen to it forever. Seeds of discontent sprout, knowing that this might end. He has to tell him now, but Sharpness isn’t as stupid as Jude might call him. He knows there’s a real possibility that Jude will laugh, make fun of him, maybe stop talking to him altogether.
The train of thought must show on his face. Or maybe Jude just knows him that well. He’s still grinning, but Jude’s staring right at him now. “You’re not even listening to me!”
Sharpness blinks a few times over. “No, what? I’m totally listening.”
“Don’t lie to me! What was I just talking about?”
He gestures hopelessly. “I don’t know, Parker or something–he fucked you guys over?”
Jude scoffs, pushing away from Sharpness. Finally has a chance to take a deep breath, easing some of the tension in his body leaving him wound-tight and jittery. This is Jude. Sharpness has never overthought anything like this before, and he–there’s no reason to start now.
He should just say it. He should just say it right now. There’s no reason to keep waiting, is there? Who cares about meeting him to do it if the opportunity is right in front of him? Right in front of him, talking to him, eating the food Sharpness made him, letting Sharpness keep his leg wrapped around Jude’s.
It makes perfect sense: Sharpness wants Jude to be his. He doesn’t want anyone else to have him. He wants everyone to know that where Jude goes, Sharpness follows. There’s that pride again; Jude is talking to him.
Sharpness opens his mouth. Before he can say anything, Jude starts talking again, and any bravery he might have had is lost. “Oh, you can listen! Didn’t know you had it in you, Sharpy.”
“I listen to you all the time! Ugh,” he can’t help this adoration. If things might go wrong, if it all might come to an end, he’ll give it just a bit more time. Savor the last slivers of sunrays before it all goes dark.
Sitting here now, though, Sharpness doesn’t really know what to do with himself. Feeling unusually on-display, Sharpness only barely resists the urge to curl inward. To hide away. It’s so unlike him, uncomfortable and distressing, that it nearly snaps him out of it entirely. Nearly, but not enough. By the time Sharpness feels like he has any hold on himself, Jude is already there.
“Hello? Earth to Sharpness?” Jude waves a hand in front of him. Sharpness can’t manage to do much more than stare. His clothes are too hot and too tight, even in spite of the wind and weather. “You’re looking kinda faint.”
“Jude.” Are you an idiot?
“Good observation. Are you gonna say something?” Jude’s face is a little red. Likely from the cold. He’s pouting, just a little, eyes squinted and accentuating the bags under them. He needs to rest more. There’s a real possibility that Jude won’t let Sharpness pester him into sleeping when he really should anymore.
His mouth opens. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. His arms tense at his side. Jude seems to notice this, eyes flitting over to his hands, but doesn’t bother to comment on it. “I wanted—to ask you something.”
There’s not a lot of earnest concern, but Jude does grant Sharpness the mercy of giving him a minute. That doesn’t stop him from giving the worst possible reply after, though.
“What? Gonna ask me to be your valentine?”
There’s a pressure in his temples, and Sharpness closes his eyes. Reflexive irritation blooms first, followed by a nigh-unbearable level of embarrassment that curdles in his stomach. Please stop talking. Just stop fucking talking. I need you to not be a bitch right now. The words don’t come out how they’re supposed to–which is to say, at all. There’s still time to play this off, to give up or lie or say something else entirely. But Jude would know. He knows Sharpness like the back of his hand.
Just say it. You can’t back out now.
“Would you?” It feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. “Yeah, Jude. I– Fuck. Be my valentine. Jesus.” Sharpness can’t hear anything else over the sound of his hummingbird-paced heartbeat. The chill outside does nothing to ease how feverish he feels–is he sweating? You are so bad at this. He should never have said anything. Should have learned to get comfortable with wanting-and-not-having. There are some things you can only learn the hard way.
It’s probably only ten seconds or so before he musters the gall to open his eyes. Jude is wearing an expression that he’s never seen before, that he can’t properly discern. More than anything does Sharpness want to press against him, to commit this face to memory, to feel the warmth of his skin.
Jude doesn’t speak, but his mouth sits open awkwardly. His shoulders curl in on himself. All fondness is superseded by shame. Sharpness doesn’t know what he’s thinking. He’s attentive, but–he’s not as good at this as Jude is. Can’t just guess what people are thinking. The only thing he can do is shut up until Jude decides to speak.
“You–” Jude starts and stops, floundering. “Are you serious?”
“Uh.” It’s Sharpness’ turn to be confused. “Yeah?” If he were feeling any less overwhelmed, he’d have half a mind to be annoyed.
He watches Jude redden. What was a dusting of color before is now quickly creeping up his neck and face. “Okay. Yeah. Be my valentine, Sharp.” He sounds breathless. The sound of his name is enough to make Sharpness a little dizzy.
It’s hard to discern what all happens after that. He feels as if he’s given himself whiplash from the speed at which shame embarrassment anxiety turns to pure exuberance. His cheeks hurt from the intensity of his smile, and the distance between Jude and himself is closed in seconds. Clumsy, eager, earnest, Jude catches him easily.
“Jude.”
“Sharp.”
“I like you a lot,” Sharp says.
Jude finally laughs, punched out and breathy. “You are so, so stupid.” He grabs Sharpness’ face with both hands. He barely has the time to close his eyes before Jude pulls him just close enough, quick pecks all over his face. His cheeks, forehead, under his eyes, the bridge of his nose, his temples. His whole face feels slightly numb from the affair.
When he pulls back, Sharpness finally opens his eyes. Jude looks a little exasperated, brows knit and halfway smiling, like he’s not entirely sure what’s going on.
“I want to go on an actual date.” Sharpness says.
“Okay!” Jude blinks, eyes owlishly large. Sharpness knows this expression: he doesn’t want to seem overeager. “Okay. Just tell me where we’re going.” Another moment, and Jude is the one to pull back first. Starts walking away, too, only to turn back around and scoff when he sees that Sharpness is still standing in the same spot, dazed.
“We’re going to the truck, idiot. You cannot be real. Come on.”