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Part 8 of Collected Short Works (Fence)
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Fence Summer Nationals 2026
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Published:
2026-07-05
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1,583
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1/1
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Seven Hours, Fifteen Days

Summary:

I could put my arms around every boy I see, but they'd only remind me of you.

It's been two weeks since 5:37PM in a grocery store on Second. The words still hang on Aiden's ears, on his chest, heavy and whole. He doesn't remember what his own bed feels like and maybe that's for the best.

(Fence Summer Nationals, Day Ten: "You're Too Predictable")

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Aiden had come clean with it. Talking about it. For real, not vaguely, not skirting around the subject, but honest to god directly coming forward with it. 

Two weeks ago. 5:37 PM. A grocery store on Second. 

He hadn’t thought much of it. It was normal to peruse a grocery store, the air heavy around them, while Nick and Seiji had ducked into a specialty store of a variety that had little to no appeal to Aiden. Eugene was with them. Harvard had, ultimately and surprisingly, decided to tag along with Aiden on his endeavors outside. 

They were walking past the goldfish and the oreos, past a woman with a shopping cart who looked as if she couldn’t quite decide what the best snack option in the moment was. 

“I have to know,” Harvard had asked, a little smile on his face like he already had the end to the sentence he was still working through, “are you yearning?” 

Aiden’s eyebrows furrowed immediately. He forced out a laugh, something that felt more like choking. “I don’t… what? Me? Are you high?” 

“You act like I don’t one, live with you, and two, actually watch your Instagram stories,” Harvard pointed out. “So come on. Out with it. Why are we posting sad memes about being alone on the close friends? When did you start listening to Jeff Buckley of all people? Lover, You Should’ve Come Over? From you?”

“It’s a good song. What’s wrong with that?” 

“Come the fuck on, Aiden.” Harvard slowed down his pace to match Aiden’s. “You’re in your feels, and that’s fine, but as your best friend, I feel like I gotta know who this is about. I wanna be there for you.” 

“I’m fine, I swear,” Aiden told him through tight teeth and a thin smile. “I like sad music sometimes, that’s all.” 

Harvard snorted. “Yeah, but it’s not usually on a theme like this. I Wanna Be Yours, or Lovesong, or Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me, or… Jesus, what was that other one, yeah, fucking Hayley Kiyoko. Sleepover, for Christ’s sake.” 

Aiden blinked a few times. The way he could remember all of that at once was almost jarring, but if nothing else proved the point that he may have been vagueposting online a little too much. Harvard paid attention, yeah, of course, but this was different. This was pattern recognition that he’d latched onto. 

“Okay, yeah. Maybe I am. So what?” Aiden admitted, something that took more breath than it should’ve. He’d stopped in his tracks, looking at Harvard almost expectantly. “It’s nothing, I’ll get over it.” 

His record had previously shown that he would not get over it. Not as quick as he’d have liked, but he didn’t want to admit that the brave face he’d gotten so good at putting on was crumbling around him at his feet. That it was so hard, day in and day out, being next to Harvard but not in the way that he wanted. His heart ached, physically hurt like his chest had a hole punched through it and his bones were folding in on themselves to fill in the gap. His lungs constricted every time he looked at Harvard. The limit existed, the limit as to what he could bear with his feelings existed, and it was so much closer than he’d ever wanted it to be. 

“Well, I want to know who it is,” Harvard told him plainly. His hands went onto his hips as he faced Aiden, backlit by cereal boxes. “We’re best friends. It’s what best friends do.” 

“It’s… complicated. And weird. And strange, and I hardly understand it,” Aiden admitted. “I’ve taken my defeat in stride, it is what it is, and I don’t expect to wind up with the result I want.” 

Which was true, for better or worse. Even once he’d found out Harvard was bisexual, an earth shattering revelation in its own right, he knew Harvard’s rules. Primary one being that he wouldn’t date within the team, that he didn’t want to fuck up what they had going. Whether it was scholarships on the line, futures, or otherwise, it was a precautionary measure dictated after a previous relationship had gone tits-up. Not that it had been a team at that point, not like their fencing team anyway, but it had ruined everything around it and the breakup hadn’t even been ugly. 

Aiden might’ve ugly cried right there, actually, thinking about that. He wouldn’t, but his body might have wanted him to.

“And I don’t care about how messy it is. Just fess up Aiden, come on now. Why are you listening to Crane Wives and Beach House on repeat?” 

“Really, I… don’t think you want to know,” Aiden tried, awkwardly smiling through it. “It’s weird, especially for me.” 

Harvard huffed, smiling wryly. “It’s Eugene, isn’t it?” 

Aiden did his best not to fucking balk. His face may have betrayed him somewhat in that regard, but he at least tried. “Are you fucking high? No, it’s you, you dipshit.” 

Harvard went dead quiet. His eyes were a bit wide, his shoulders had slacked. Aiden would’ve sworn the entire grocery store was quiet too. He could feel more eyes on him than just Harvard’s. 

All of the oxygen was sucked out of the building. 

“Are you… serious?” Harvard finally asked, almost warily, almost like he was sure he was being punked.

“Yes! Why would I lie about something like this?!” 

Harvard hesitated, words on his tongue that didn’t want to come out. “I… I’m not gonna lie, I really did think it was Eugene. You’ve been weird around him lately.” 

For a brief moment, Aiden wondered if Harvard was legitimately stupid. On the flip side, he was glad that he hadn’t just been playing with his food. In a way. But for him to be so, dead, convinced that he knew the answer only to not be able to see what was glaringly right in front of him was… strange.

Then again. Men. Right? 

“Aiden, I…” Harvard chewed on his lip for a long moment, then sighed. “You know we can’t. You know we’d break each other entirely, right?” 

An invisible hand may have been wrapped around Aiden’s throat. Squeezing it tight. “Yeah. I think I do,” he agreed, almost on autopilot to say it. 

Maybe Harvard wasn’t wrong either was the thing. Maybe given Aiden’s history, how he liked to treat his lovers in lieu of allowing them to get close enough to burn him, it was true. If given the wrong chance, Aiden probably would have thrown a match onto kerosene he’d poured under the guise of protecting himself and his sanity. It was how he lived. It would probably be how he died. Nature or nurture and all of that, but maybe both coexisted in him to make him this way. 

Harvard added, quietly and hesitantly, “What happens if we self-destruct when we finally get somewhere with the team this year? I… I mean listen, I really don’t like the rules I have, but I can’t risk fucking up anyone’s scholarships, present or future because you and I decided to start a free-for-all. And if Williams decides to bump you up and give you more responsibilities, I…” 

Coach would have had to be insane to give Aiden more responsibility of any variety, but it wasn’t an incorrect point to make. And to think that if they did self-destruct, what kind of shockwaves would follow suit… 

“I get it.” Aiden smiled and held up his hands. “I told you that you didn’t want to know.” 

“I did want to know. I do. I’m glad I do.” Harvard tapped on his thigh suddenly, looking away. “It’s not fair.” 

“What’s not?” 

“It’s horrific for me to say, and you can and should hate me for saying it.” 

Aiden’s heart sank further than he previously thought possible.

Harvard continued, “But I do love you too. And that is the right word to use, I’m not scared of it or anything. We’ve known each other for so long, it’s fair. I really do, and I’m too terrified at the idea of losing you, especially when it’s about more than just us. I worry that the pressure cooker we’re about to put ourselves into is only going to make things worse, and I… can’t do it. Not right now.” 

It may have shattered his heart into a million pieces, fragmented onto linoleum tiles. As much as he wanted to lash out and be angry, to argue the thought process, to kick and to scream, he couldn’t do it. Not a single muscle, ligament, or tendon in his body wanted to move. Not to leave, not to throw something at him, not to try and eat an assault charge. 

Was it because he knew Harvard was right? Or was it because the words couldn’t change his mind nor heart? Or… alternatively, was it because the stupid part that didn’t want to be acknowledged deep within him had been given a glimmer of hope? 

“I hope this doesn’t change things between us. I really don’t want it to,” Harvard tacked on. He scratched the back of his neck. “But I get it if you need space for a bit. That’s fair.” 

Aiden exhaled, long and slow, his head already light before anything had left his body. “I think I might. I don’t want things to change either, but… I think I do need space.” 



Notes:

Seven Hours, Fifteen Days. Title from Sinead O'Connor's cover of Prince's Nothing Compares 2 U.

hi and thank you for tuning into a rewritten piece from... my thesis! which was granted written in second person and on the lowks autofiction but that's fine. i should probably have hated him but he's still one of my best friends, and i wouldn't have it any other way.

this was one that i knew what i was going to do from the day i saw the prompt list. it's such a small trope to see, right? love confessions are a staple in a lot of fics, and i am but a poor sucker who eats that shit up and will always have it to some capacity in my work. so what happens when i flip it on its head? when it's a rejection in a way, but another confession worked into said rejection? it's painful and it hurts, but isn't that life? and these two specifically were going to be so perfect for it, i mean come on.

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