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Another minute lost.
Jesse clicked the screen of his phone off as the clock ticked by, time sliding ever forwards to twelve o'clock. He frowned, set the device back on his stand, glanced off stage at his backpack. Currently serving as a makeshift audience member, it sat abandoned in one of the many auditorium seats. Unsatisfied, he spared a glance at Gabe—Mr. Reyes— as he lectured the woodwinds on how to properly play their parts, trying to gauge how much longer it would be until he himself would have to play again. He spared a glance at Hanzo, even though he knew it would kill him to do so.
He found that not much had changed since the last time he'd looked. Hanzo had zoned out, completely ignoring whatever Mr. Morrison was currently instructing the violin section on; the eldest Shimada's gaze was somewhere between the podium and the chair directly to his right, unconcerned with the reality around him. The chair itself belonged to the First Cellist, and was currently unoccupied; the First Cellist himself was absent, had been absent for well over a month now after the car accident that had left Genji Shimada in a coma. Whether he would wake up was currently a mystery; it wasn't even certain that he would survive— he'd already had so many close calls, the most recent of which having occurred only two nights ago.
It was honestly a wonder that Hanzo was even in practice today.
The directors had been lenient during class, conveniently forgetting to ever mark Hanzo as absent regardless of whether or not he was actually there; Jesse knew Mr. Morrison had offered at least once to let him sit somewhere else in the hopes that maybe he wouldn't have the constant reminder of an empty chair that belonged to his comatose brother driving him towards a panic attack. The offer had been made, but Hanzo was too stubborn to accept it, insisting that he couldn't possibly move. His current chair belonged to the First Violinist— Hanzo was the First Violinist, and thus had to sit in the proper chair. It would be a sign of weakness to disrupt the order of things. Jesse didn't even pretend to understand the thought process behind that logic. As it was, more often than not, Hanzo did not attend practice, so it was mostly a moot point anyways.
Jesse happened to have it on good authority that the sheer noise of the class was the quickest way to sensory overload, a combination of musician's haphazardly playing and any array of conversation that, when combined, could remind someone of the constantly beeping machines in the hospital. Particularly, the orchestra’s sounds were able to emulate the mechanical chaos that ensued when something went wrong with the patient they were meant to be monitoring.
He had seen it happen before, had seen Hanzo freeze up, completely unresponsive, his breathing so rapid Jesse was afraid he might hyperventilate.
Jesse also had it on good authority that when Hanzo wasn't in practice, he spent the hour hiding in the bathroom where, at least, it was quiet.
Mr. Reyes and Mr. Morrison were both fairly understanding people, particularly when it came to Hanzo's situation, but Jesse might have occasionally urged some extra kindness from Gabe whenever they were chatting together at the dinner table.
He watched Hanzo physically jump as Amelie tugged on his arm, nearly dropping his violin in the process of being pulled back into reality. She was gentle in trying to get his attention, but with the way he jerked back, it looked as if she'd slapped him.
She didn't seem offended, instead leaned further in and said something that worked well enough to cause Hanzo to slowly turn his attention to where Mr. Morrison had stepped back onto the podium to run through what they'd just covered. Whatever she'd said had apparently worked; even from a distance one could see the tension in his body relax (though still not quite enough to be considered 'normal' levels of tenseness for most human beings).
Jesse couldn't see Hanzo's face anymore, couldn't hear what they said to each other, but he could imagine. He shifted in his seat, wished he wasn't sitting on the opposite side of the orchestra. Looked back at his bag, reached his hand back to his phone and clicked the screen on. He checked the date for the third time this class period alone, let his eyes linger on his own wallpaper: a picture he had taken at home last week of him lounging on the couch. Hanzo Shimada was pressed against his chest fast asleep, his lips formed into a sneer, apparently, as far as Jesse could tell, a victim of sleeping bitch face. Jesse thought it was adorable, and his chin rested atop Hanzo's head as he smiled for the camera.
Fareeha leaned over from his right before the screen shut off, startling him from his thoughts.
"Aww, look at that happy couple!" she winked at him like that was a normal thing that normal people did. "You doin' anything for Valentine's Day?" She shifted her French Horn to her other hand and nudged him playfully, completely unaware of Jesse's internal struggle.
Valentine's Day.
Jesse sighed.
"I dunno, Far," he let his shoulders fall as the sound of violins filled his ears.
"You dunno? Don't know what, exactly?"
"I just don't know! I don't know if he... if he cares, or if now's a bad time, or—I don't even know if we're together—"
"... You don't know if you're together? You both seem pretty... affectionate. That and you, y'know, seem to spend every waking hour together." She raised an eyebrow at him, clearly not buying his excuses.
"I mean yeah but I don't— nothing's official. And I—" he dropped his voice low, words meant for Fareeha's ears only, "— I don't want it to seem like I'm just taking advantage of him just because his brother's in the hospital. That's not—I'm not. Or at least I don't want to. I just wanna be there for him, y’know? We don't have to be dating for me to do that." Regardless of how much he wanted it, that wasn't important right now. "Besides... I got a stupid gift, anyways. It’s for the best if I just let it go."
"I don't believe that for a second, y—"
She clamped her mouth shut as Gabe glared at her and Jesse alike; he'd replaced Mr. Morrison on the podium, and was clearly waiting expectantly for them to stop talking.
"We're running through the piece again for the last five minutes of class, if you two are done," he said, already raising his baton. There were a handful of snickers from various points around the stage— Hanzo actually glanced back at him, mustered up a slight smirk that made Jesse's heart skip a beat. The moment lasted only a second before the orchestra dutifully raised their instruments as Gabe counted them off.
---
"Hey, Jesse, I need you to—"
He'd had to move quickly as soon as they'd been dismissed— Hanzo had immediately bolted for the door, quick to avoid any further human interaction after managing to (almost) make it through the entirety of class without issue. Eager to catch up to the violinist, Jesse had brushed off Gabe's request with an "I'm sorry, but can you ask me later, dad? I've got something I really need to do," as he swiped his backpack from the auditorium chair and half-jogged to the door to catch up, trombone trailing behind him as he tried to make sure he didn't take anybody's legs out with the case on his way out. Gabe seemed to let him go without any fuss, so hopefully he wouldn't be too upset about his son completely blowing him off.
"Hey, Hanzo!"
Hanzo kept moving at his brisk pace out of the auditorium and down the hallway, no doubt on his way back to the orchestra room to store his violin as usual (he loved routine, even though it had been all but destroyed as of late). If he'd registered Jesse’s call, he gave no indication.
"... Hanzo?" he tried again, finally catching up to him. Jesse reached out to lightly snag his arm as they both reached the door to the strings' room; Hanzo started, whipping around to the point of almost hitting Jesse in the head with his violin case, eyes wide in surprise.
"Woah, Han, careful with that thing please! I didn't mean to startle you," he yelped as he dodged out of the way.
Hanzo's eyes widened even further, though now he looked more guilty than startled.
"Oh, Jesse, I'm— I'm sorry. I lost myself for a moment."
He looked almost distraught, those soft brown eyes Jesse loved both apologetic and happy to see him, yet still filled beneath the surface with so much more hurt than anyone rightfully deserved.
Speaking quite honestly, Hanzo had looked better. Genji's accident on its own had hit him hard—and rightly so, Jesse reckoned— but in the weeks following Hanzo had spent almost all of his time outside of school at the hospital, and it was killing him. He wasn't sleeping well, and sometimes he’d completely forget to eat. It had taken nearly a month, but finally his schoolwork had begun to suffer (though, honestly, there was hardly a difference besides high A's dropping to lower A's, but— apparently— it was still a noticeable enough difference for someone to take notice). This developmenthad then caused Hanzo’s father to brutally lecture him on the importance of maintaining perfection, regardless of the circumstances. That had then led to an assortment of other problems, particularly with Hanzo's already rampant anxiety—every time Jesse saw him, he looked as though he could break down at any moment. It was almost impossible not to notice the heavy bags that lined Hanzo Shimada's eyes, the dullness of his hair, the way his hands would sometimes shake on their own.
But at least Hanzo wasn't avoiding him anymore.
"Aw, that's alright, Han, I just wanted to talk to you if that's okay? It's nothing important, don't worry." He stepped to the side and reached for the door handle, pulling it open and gesturing for Hanzo to go first, not wanting to block the doorway for anyone else looking to put their instruments away.
Hanzo's eyes immediately narrowed, suspicious.
"Jesse, we eat lunch together every day. You can talk to me there?"
"I— I know, but I just... wanted to talk to you somewhere a little more private—"
"You are making it sound like something quite important." Hanzo side-eyed him as he slid his violin back onto the shelf where it rested. This one's case didn't fit quite as properly as his old one had.
"No, no, it's not, I swear!" Jesse clambered for words, trying to sound convincing. Hanzo was, suffice it to say, not convinced in the slightest. Jesse's confidence was disappearing by the second. "It's just..." he spoke again, more quietly this time, "it's a tad bit sensitive, is all." His gaze was planted firmly in the floor as Hanzo studied him.
"... Fine," he answered warily. "Where do you wish to talk?"
Jesse hadn't actually thought that far ahead. He clambered for an answer.
"Uhhhm, Gabe's office is fine! It'll only take a sec, promise."
Clearly still skeptical but at least in agreement, Hanzo followed Jesse into the small space that could hardly be considered appropriate space for an office— more of a broom closet, maybe—as Jesse closed the door behind them. Privacy.
He turned to the office's window, noticing that Gabe had just returned from stage, his hands filled with various music scores, and was currently making a face that said 'why the hell did you just shut the door to my own office in my face.' After the stunt he'd pulled earlier, Jesse was almost definitely in for a stern talking to. Legitimately sorry, but unwilling to sacrifice what was likely his only opportunity, Jesse flashed up a hand, begging for 'just five minutes, please,' before he pulled the cord to the blinds, effectively leaving the two alone in the room for a little while. Or at least, he hoped.
"Jesse, are you feeling all right? You're acting strange."
"Me? No I'm— I'm fine, honest. I just, well.. I..," he made a nervous sound that could probably be equated to some sort of dying animal as he pulled his backpack forward and dug around for a moment, trying to keep it together. He took in a deep breath as he found what he was looking for.
"... Hanzo, I just, I wanted to ask if you would be my Valentine?"
Hanzo gaped as he stared at the gift Jesse had extended to him. A small box of chocolates. A singular yellow rose. A card that simply said Hanzo in a beautiful script which, compared to Jesse's typical handwriting, must have been painstakingly penned. A stuffed bear with soft brown fur, not too small, but not obscenely large like some others he had seen.
"O-oh," was Hanzo's response.
Jesse deflated, immediately tried to recover, to play it off as something, anything.
"Aw, hell, I'm sorry, I didn't— I didn't know whether or not you'd want anything, just cause I don't know if we're actually datin' or not and— and I knew it was a stupid gift anyways, I don't know why I thought you'd want a dumb stuffed bear I just, I saw you'd grabbed my old one that mornin' after Gabe let you stay at our place 'cause Genji was gonna be in surgery all night and you were holdin' onto it for dear life when I came to wake you up and I just thought—it probably wasn't even intentional I just—”
He was rambling, of that he had no doubt. He didn't know how else to handle it.
Hanzo finally cut him off, as if he'd just registered what was happening.
"What? No—no, Jesse, I.. I love it. It's perfect, completely, absolutely perfect. I… I'm just rather oblivious. I didn't realize today was Valentine's Day. I didn't get you anything." He stared at the gift almost as if he felt ashamed before he finally reached out and took the items from Jesse's fingers; he set the flower and chocolates aside, choosing to focus on the bear as he gently ran his fingers across it. "I didn't get you anything," he repeated.
He looked as though he might cry.
Jesse was mostly just confused.
"W-well, Han, that's okay! It's not your fault things've been so busy, and you didn't have to get me nothin' anyways! It's just a gift, it don't have to be mutual or anythin'—"
Jesse watched as Hanzo's eyebrows furrowed together and he suddenly looked up to meet Jesse's gaze, confusion plain on his face.
"Wait," he said, probably trying to prevent Jesse from continuing to speak at nine hundred words a minute as he thought over what had been said. "You... don't know if we're actually dating or not?"
Jesse's face went red, he was sure of it, and he tried to formulate a response that wasn't just eight thousand words haphazardly strewn together.
"Well, it's just, we never explicitly said it, y'know? Maybe before... before the accident, but then you went a solid month without so much as even lookin' at me, so I kinda thought you just weren't interested anymore. 'Cause it was my fault, maybe. Or you were punishin' yourself somehow, I dunno. I assumed whatever we'd had was sorta dust in the wind, and that was okay by me, but I was still worried about you, 'n then you showed up on my doorstep a couple weeks back and fell apart in my arms and I let you sleep in my room and..." He paused to take a breath, to find the right words, remembering how conflicted he'd been laying on the couch that night. He hadn’t slept a wink.
Hanzo took advantage of the momentary pause to set the bear aside with the rest of the gifts.
"... You were suddenly fine with hangin' around me again, eatin' lunch with me at school and lettin' me keep you company at the hospital, and I figured that if I was helpin' you somehow then it was worth it. And I was just gonna let it be, 'cause I didn't want to push anything, but then I saw that bear and just kinda thought maybe.. I dunno what I was thinkin', to be honest. I didn't wanna take advantage of you just cause things are rough right now, but maybe that's what I'm doin' anyways." He stared at a stack of papers on the shelves to his left, unable to meet Hanzo's eyes.
Hanzo, however, had hardly even moved, his eyes fixed on Jesse's face.
"Jesse McCree," he breathed, "you are one of the kindest people I have ever met. I do not think you could take advantage of me even if you tried."
He took a step forward; Jesse fought the urge to take a step back.
"Your gift is not 'dumb.' It is sweet, and perfect, just like I believe you are. I am sorry you felt you had to be embarrassed by it."
Another step. Jesse's gaze switched to his right side, finding purchase on a vase full of flowers that sat on the desk there. ... Where did those even come from?
"... And I'm sorry if I was.. unclear. Perhaps I can be clearer, though, if you will look at me, Jesse."
Hanzo was so close it was nearly impossible not to acquiesce to his request. Jesse met Hanzo's eyes and found himself in love with them. No matter how tired they looked.
And then Hanzo's hands were framing his face, pulling him closer, the cold limbs sending chills down his spine and heat to his cheeks as Hanzo Shimada kissed him. Hanzo's lips were significantly warmer than his hands, slightly chapped but soft nonetheless, and completely, absolutely perfect. Jesse took only a second to be surprised before his eyes fluttered shut and he returned the gesture, mesmerized by the way Hanzo tasted, felt against him. Jesse wrapped his arms around him, pulled him closer, savored the moment for everything it was worth before Hanzo broke the kiss, pulling back only slightly and reaching out to absently brush a strand of hair out of Jesse's face. Jesse was almost too awestruck to move. He wanted to do that again. Hell, he wanted to do that for the rest of his life.
Hanzo smiled up at him, the act beautifully genuine, his own cheeks tinged red. The look suited him. His lips parted to speak, the same lips that had just been pressed against Jesse's—
"Are things clearer now, or should I spell them out? Because I'm more than willing to do so, if that's—"
"—No, no! Message received, loud 'n clear. Totally transparent. Clear as crystal."
"That is... good. Because while I may have forgotten to get you a gift, I have a very important question to ask you."
Jesse let the statement sit, simply raised his eyebrows as a response. Hanzo had kissed him. If that wasn't a gift, he wasn't sure what was. Still, he was intrigued enough not to argue the point.
"Jesse McCree, will you be my Valentine?"
"... Darlin', nothing would make me happier."