I Would Bleed the Colors of the Evening Stars
To be fair, Jamie was far too hungover and simply not in the mood when Connor's ex-boyfriend decided to ask him out.
He wouldn't even have gone to class at all that day if Henry hadn't pestered him so much that morning, claiming that he wasn't going to let his birthday celebrations that past weekend cause the downfall of Jamie's university education.
"Please, Henry," Jamie had grumbled over the mug of tea Henry had shoved into his hands, phone jingling on his bed sheets. Henry at least had the mercy to wake Jamie up with a song from his favorite band. 'My favorite song is the color of your eyes...blue as the sea, a million summer skies.' A gentle tune by the Moon Minders, and anyone who was anything to Jamie knew how much he loved the Moon Minders. Jamie took a delicate sip from his tea. "Your birthday wasn't that fabulous."
Henry had smirked at him. Jamie's hangover obviously told him otherwise, but he only said, "Come on, we'll walk to campus together after you're finished with your tea."
Which, admittedly, had been nice, despite the rolling nausea that plagued Jamie the entire way. They trudged out of their flat into the wet February air of late morning. Water dripped along brick walls and sunlight snuck through dusty clouds, remnants of melting snow glittering on the sidewalks. A quiet sleepiness hung in the air, and Henry lingered close, elbows bumping, familiar in a way Jamie had been missing lately.
If Jamie was honest, Henry's birthday had been fabulous. He and the lads had thrown him a party that Jamie only remembered in a haze of loud music, Josh laughing beer out of his nose, Connor challenging anyone who was brave enough to face him in a drinking game and Will losing, dancing on top of their wine stained couch, and a wide, glassy smile on Henry's face, yellow streamers tangled in unruly curls Jamie unknotted himself at the end of the night.
It was, probably, worth the pounding in Jamie's skull this morning, and at least Henry seemed to be in a chipper mood, a pleasant smile on his lips as they blended with the masses of students rushing to their morning classes.
They made it outside Jamie's building before Henry said, "Well, I've got to go meet Pete before I got to class, but I'll see you later, right?"
All the loveliness of the morning drained from Jamie at Henry's words, and he felt himself nod automatically. "Right, of course. We live in the same flat, don't we?"
Henry grinned and squeezed Jamie's arm. "That we do. Remember to drink lots of water for that hangover, and here-" He slung his bag from his back and reached inside, rummaging until he pulled out a perfectly ripe banana. "This'll help, trust me." He winked and handed it to Jamie, and then he was gone.
Jamie was left, students running around him to get to class, with a banana, a headache, and a sinking feeling in his stomach.
Jamie wouldn't even have felt the need to cherish mornings like these with Henry if it wasn't for bloody Pete. Pete, Henry's American exchange friend, who'd arrived last September and immediately gotten friendly with Henry in their media class. Pete, whom Henry took home for Christmas, whom he spent half off his time with, who stole the role of Henry's best friend right out from under Jamie's nose.
Jamie knew he should have stayed in bed that morning. Then he wouldn't have to know that Henry was off frolicking with Pete while Jamie wiled away in class. Not that he wouldn't have been able to guess that anyhow, since that was where Henry usually was these days.
"Jamie?"
Jamie blinked, thoughts broken, turning to the source of the sound and- Jesus fucking Christ, he really should have stayed in bed.
Looking back at him, a smile cocked in his pretty lips, was Drew, Connor's scum-of-the-earth ex-boyfriend Drew, whom Jamie had not missed for a minute since Connor kicked him to the curb. A blessed day, that had been.
"Hi," Jamie said, pointedly not returning the smile. He wasn't in the mood to give any pretenses of past friendship. His head gave a painful throb just at the sight of him, and he had no patience for idle chit chat right now.
"Haven't seen you in a while," Drew said, smiling placidly.
"Yup," Jamie said. "That's true, but, you know, classes to go to, other people to see." Better people to see, he thought as he attempted to walk around him. The crowds were thinning; class would start soon and he didn't want to be stuck in the front row.
"Wait, Jamie." Drew grabbed his arm, and Jamie froze. He turned, very slowly, to look at him. He could feel his blood beginning to boil under his skin, because Drew did not just touch him.
The thing was, Drew was pretty. He was very, very pretty, and no one could let it be said that Connor didn't have uncommonly superb taste in beautiful men. It just turned out that this particular pretty man happened to be an enormous sack of shit.
He'd been fine at first, nice and funny and he seemed to make Connor happy, which was the most important thing- that is, until he started skipping out on dates, cancelling plans, and hitting on the other guys when Connor wasn't around. It had culminated, finally, when one night he'd drunkenly cornered Jamie, and if Will hadn't come out of nowhere and punched him first, Jamie would have broken that pretty little nose himself.
It was telling that it hardly came as a surprise to any of them, least of all Connor, who had only shrugged a little sadly when Jamie asked him how he was feeling about it. So instead of talking any more about the guy, the boys had all crowded into Connor's flat and had a movie marathon of very non-romantic films. With ice cream. And alcohol. Mixed together. Jamie tried not to remember it as a celebration.
"Yes, Drew?" Jamie's voice was on the sharp edge of polite.
Drew looked at him as if considering something. Finally, he said, "Come on, Jamie, don't act like you never thought of it."
Jamie blinked. What the fuck?
Drew's lips twitched into a smile. "You know…" His eyes flickered to Jamie's lips.
"What are you talking about?" Jamie asked. What was this? Was Jamie supposed to swoon? Claim the past was a mistake? He'd sooner kick Drew in the balls.
"You definitely would have kissed me that night," Drew said, voice sweet and face close, and Jamie got an ugly flashback to that moment in his kitchen at the end of the previous semester. Jamie would admit- yes, it might have been hot, if Drew wasn't such douche. Jamie refused to think about it.
And what could Jamie say? He had a thing for nice guys. Annoyingly so. But that was a topic for a different time.
Jamie laughed. "In your fucking dreams."
Drew let him go, but didn't back away. "Jamie, I'm not trying to be a jerk."
Jamie laughed again. "Yeah? Is that what you said to Connor, too?"
Drew grew quiet and his eyes darkened slightly. Jamie crossed his arms, looking at him carefully. "What do you want?"
Drew slid his hands into his pockets. "Look, Jamie, I didn't mean…" he licked his lips. "It was a mistake, you know, what happened with Connor. I've…always kind of liked you, to be honest."
Jamie narrowed his eyes, growing increasingly wary. Was this how he got Connor? "What are you trying to say?"
Drew shrugged. "I spotted you and I thought…well, I'm on the committee for the Valentine Jam, you know the Valentine Jam?"
Of course Jamie knew what the Valentine Jam was, having personally attended it the previous year. It was a casual social held in the student union, and he and Henry had decided to go as a joke last year, just to see how lame it would be, expecting to find paper hearts hanging from the ceiling and couples slow dancing in glitter.
As it turned out, it was nothing like that at all, and both of them got enormously drunk off of free champagne and half-price drinks at the uni bar, sang several rounds of karaoke, and left a number of loud voicemails in Josh's inbox. They may have shared a glittery slow dance like the ones they'd been mocking, and Henry might have walked Jamie back to his flat afterward and maybe left a kiss on Jamie's cheek that neither of them trusted their memories well enough to mention afterward, but- it was all in good fun. And if it was Jamie's best Valentine's Day, he'd never told Henry that.
Maybe he should have, Jamie thought distantly. The previous year had been a whirlwind of friendship for them, after they'd met at the beginning of the year. They'd both gone to the first meeting of the cooking club, Henry for the art of cooking, Jamie because he happened to be hungry and saw the sign on the door. When the meeting couldn't even yield enough cookies to feed everyone, Jamie had nudged the cute boy next to him – Henry – and motioned for the door. Surprisingly, Henry had grinned and followed him out before the meeting had even ended, and they got burgers at the first pub they came upon. Instead of cooking meetings, they began to opt for HenryandJamie meetings instead.
Meetings that evolved into more burger outings, FIFA tournaments, club nights with the lads, those nights they would sleep over each other's flats when it got too late, more time witheach other than without, and sharing their own flat for their second year of uni. Their flat had been a perfect, beautiful idea that had been lovely until Pete arrived and Jamie wasn't sure if Henry would rather be living with him now, since Jamie found himself going to sleep in an empty flat more often than not these days.
The honeymoon phase of friendship was over, and now Jamie was stuck with these pesky feelings that just wouldn't go away.
Which- right. Yes, he did know what the Valentine Jam was. He looked at Drew again. "Yeah, what about it?"
Drew gave him a smile that Jamie was sure would have charmed anyone else. "Want to come with me?"
Jamie stared. "Are you- are you serious?"
Drew nodded.
"You do know that Connor is one of my best friends, right?" Jamie said, because he wanted to make sure. Because Drew couldn't be nearly this dense.
"Yeah, but Jamie, that's been over for a while and…" he shrugged. "It'd be fun, I think. You've always been so fit, and funny."
Jamie couldn't believe his ears. Well, yes he could, he was obviously fit, and fucking hilarious. But was Drew really that much of a prick? He didn't think it was possible for him to continually astound him like this.
"Have you really got anything else to do that night?" Drew said, and- hell no.
Jamie could take the silly sweet talk, but a jab at his love life? Which Jamie could have on fire this Valentine's Day, if he so chose?
Suddenly, he found himself choosing fire.
"Yes, yes I do, as a matter of fact," Jamie said hotly. "I don't know if you've heard, but I have a boyfriend now, and he's fucking fit, and doesn't fuck over my friends."
Drew looked at him for a long moment. "I don't believe you."
Jamie shrugged. "Maybe we'll stop by your little jam. We'll see."
Drew raised an eyebrow, cocked his head to the side. "Sure, I'd love to meet him."
"Yeah, I bet you would," Jamie muttered. "Now if you'll kindly fuck off, I have places to be."
"You're kind of an ass, you know that?" Drew said.
"Yup," Jamie said. "And you're not getting any of it."
Drew's scowl deepened. "Sure, Jay. See you at the Jam- with your boyfriend, I guess."
I guess? What did he mean by I guess? Before Jamie could say anything else, Drew was walking off, and the blood beneath Jamie's skin boiled so hot his hands were shaking.
What. The fuck.
He knew he shouldn't have let Henry drag him out of bed this morning.
Without a second thought, he turned around and started walking back to his flat. Fuck education. Fuck Drew.
What he needed was a fucking fit boyfriend.
Fuck.
It really was a beautiful day, Henry thought to himself as he skipped off to the other side of campus. He'd had a wonderful birthday, a lovely walk with Jamie this morning, and hopefully Pete would have good news about the tickets.
Henry spotted him leaning on the wall outside the media building. The wide grin that greeted him was all he needed to know.
"You got them?" Henry asked, greeting Pete with a customary fist bump. His heart thudded with anticipation as he waited for an answer. If Pete was able to get these tickets Henry would build him a shrine, name his firstborn child after him, and get Will to paint a portrait of him and hang it in the Louvre.
"Of course," Pete said easily. "I told you, my dad has connections. He had someone mail them this morning, they'll be here in a week."
Henry breathed, relief and excitement swelling in his chest. He could feel himself beaming. "I love you."
Pete laughed and knocked him on the shoulder. "Save it for Heart, man."
Yes, save it for Jamie- Jamie, who he was going to woo so hard this Valentine's Day he won't know what hit him. Henry hoped. God, he really, really hoped.
"Thank you," Henry said. "And thank your dad, please. How much do I owe him?"
Pete waved a hand. "It's on us." He gave Henry a lilted smile. "That's what you get for making friends in high places."
Henry frowned. "You know that's not why-"
Pete cut him off. "I know, Henry. From the moment I met you, I could tell you were too pure to ever use me." He winked. "I've got experience reading people like that."
Well, it wasn't as if Henry had known that Pete's family worked in the highest echelon of the music industry when he'd randomly sat down next to him on the first day of media class. Not that it would have really mattered if he had. Pete was just Pete, his cool American friend. If he offered to get Henry tickets to Jamie's favorite band when Henry absently mentioned how amazing would be to give Jamie something like that for Valentine's Day, well. Henry wasn't going to complain.
Still, Henry felt himself scowl at Pete's words. "I'm not pure-"
"Okay, fine, you're dangerous enough to sneak into a petting zoo at three in the morning because Jamie dared you," Pete said, "and steal a feather from one of the roosters to prove it. I've seen it twice, heard the story three times. You are downright bad, my friend."
"Heeey," Henry said, pouting.
"I know," Pete said, pushing himself up from the wall. "Come on, H, we need to get to class. But hey, now you can begin phase two of your big Valentine plan."
Right. Because now that Henry had tickets to the Moon Minders, Jamie's all-time favorite band, it meant it had to go through with his plan. Which meant actually asking Jamie out. Which. Oh god.
"Don't worry," Pete said, patting him on the back. "Worrying is the reason the two of you haven't gotten anywhere sooner. Drives me insane."
Henry gave a wary smile. Pete was right, of course. So was every other person who had ever seen straight through him and his feelings for Jamie.
It'd be fine. It'd be better than fine. Henry might just get an amazing date out of this. With the most amazing boy. Jamie. His heart swelled at the thought, and so did his grin.
"There ya go," Pete said, cuffing him on the shoulder.
It was going to be great, Henry decided as he followed Pete to class.
Jamie knew he should deal with his situation in a calm and dignified manner, but the moment he heard the tell-tale creak of their flat door opening it was as if someone had flipped his rant switch on, and he didn't even care if Pete came in trailing behind Henry.
"And then, can you believe it, the fucking prick asked me to go with him."
Henry's hand stilled over the bottle of juice he was grabbing from the fridge. "What?" he said.
"I know, the audacity, right? Like Connor isn't one of my best mates and he's not a fucking cheating scumbag," Jamie said. He paused to take a breath, hands on his hips.
Henry blinked. "So you said no, right?"
Pete kicked him in the shin. "Have you heard a word he's said?"
Jamie scowled. At least Henry's new boyfriend had been listening. "Of course I said no, Henry. But now I need…" His shoulders dropped as angry tension seeped away. "I told him I have a super fit boyfriend who's coming as my date."
Henry drew his eyebrows together, looking at him. "But you haven't got a super fit boyfriend."
Jamie set his jaw. "How very astute of you."
"I think what Jamie's saying, Henry," Pete said, "is that he needs a boyfriend."
Been saying it for years, really. But that wasn't the point right now. Also, thank you Pete for making him sound impossibly more desperate.
Henry met Jamie's eyes again. "What are you going to do, then?"
Jamie dropped into the chair beside him, ignoring the dangerous creak of the old wood. "Find a boyfriend? I don't know." He paused. "Maybe I'll ask someone to stand in. Know any fit guys? Pete? Know any other exotic Americans around here?"
Pete scratched his chin, looking at Henry. "Can't think of any Americans." He looked at Jamie. "I'm glad you find me exotic, though." He grinned.
Exotic enough to capture Henry's attention, certainly. Jamie sighed. "Well, my Valentine's Day is fucked." Not that he'd expected to have any other plans, or had really given much thought to Valentine's Day before this morning. But still. You don't know what you've got till it's gone.
Henry looked at him, eyes wide. "Well, you never know, right?"
He sounded so earnest all of the sudden that Jamie felt his frazzled heart shift and soften ever so slightly. Trust Henry to always hope the best for him. He spared him a smile. "I appreciate your optimism, Henry, truly. Care to be my fake boyfriend, then?"
Henry began to blink rapidly, visibly stiffening. "I- I- well- I mean-"
Jamie hadn't meant to tack on that question, but it wasn't until it slipped off his tongue that he realized he maybe, sort of, really kind of meant it. This was the type of thing and he and Henry would have done in the blink of an eye the year before. It'd be a laugh, a hilarious way to get back at an idiot and avenge Connor, maybe engage in some harmless flirting, a silly kiss or two. Like they'd done at the Valentine Jam the year before.
Except now the difference was that Jamie wasn't quite laughing, because now he was wholly and painfully aware that if he wanted anyone to be his boyfriend, even a fake one, it'd be Henry every time. Something clenched in his chest as Henry continued to sputter.
Pete's laugh broke through the sudden tension. "H may just have a real Valentine's Day surprise."
And then he actually winked at Jamie, and Jamie's heart sunk to the floor like a stone.
"Oh," Jamie heard himself say, because implication that Henry had a Valentine's surprise waiting for him while Jamie was left to fuck around with some jerk at a stupid dance was- well, far more than sobering. Jamie swallowed and looked away, the realization that he might not have been so wrong about Henry and Pete materializing in poisonous disappointment.
So Pete had something real in store for Henry. Better than anything Jamie could do, apparently.
Jamie bit his lip and stood up, really, really not in the mood to hang around these two any longer.
"Jay?" Henry said, eyes following him, a crease forming between his eyebrows.
"Yeah, I don't know, I'm tired of thinking about this." Jamie waved a hand, avoiding their eyes, because a concerned Henry was a sweet Henry and he didn't really want that right now, not when Pete had beat him in a game he should have been playing harder.
Valentine's Day was stupid, anyway, and so was Pete, and so was Drew, and so was everything. It was only the second of February, and Jamie was ready for March.
Henry looked at Pete when he heard Jamie's bedroom door shut with a soft click down the hallway. "Did I say something wrong?"
"Henry." Pete looked at him. "The man just asked you to be his boyfriend."
"Fake boyfriend," Henry said carefully, scratching a rip into paper wrapping around his juice bottle.
Pete shook his head. "No. Henry. You need to ask him out."
"I'm going to." Henry bit his lip.
"No. Ask him out, like, now," Pete said. "Fuck, ask him to that Valentine Jam thing, the concert's not until the next weekend. You can still take him out to dinner beforehand. And fuck with that Drew guy. Kill three birds with one stone."
Admittedly, messing with Connor's ex-boyfriend was not part of Henry's grand plan of romance for Valentine's Day, but Jamie always managed to surprise him. Besides, the Valentine Jam was their thing, and the thought of Jamie asking anyone else to go with him, even as a 'fake date,' twisted the contents of Henry's stomach. Sure, he may have been fairly drunk, but that sloppy kiss he'd planted on Jamie's cheek meant something, and by the smile that stretched across Jamie's face, eyes glossy and cheeks flushed, Henry knew it had meant something to him, too.
And maybe this time, when they danced, Henry could tuck his head into the curve of Jamie's neck like he'd so wanted to last year. Could tell him just how very beautiful he was under the low lights of the uni bar, how very beautiful he was always. Henry's heart jumped at the thought. Pete was right.
Jamie needed a boyfriend, and Henry wanted to be that boyfriend. It was almost perfect.
Everything was shit, Jamie decided.
"You know," Will said, glancing up at him from his canvas, "you really don't have to go at all."
Jamie's eyes followed the motions of Will's pencil, gliding across the white fabric as his words sunk into Jamie's brain. Jamie had found him in the paint room in the art building, counters blotched with greens and purples and reds and walls lined with half-finished paintings. It all smelled strongly of chemicals, a strangely comforting scent that Jamie had come to associate with Will.
"I know, but," Jamie said, crossing his arms, "I need to get back at that fucker."
Will paused, an amused smile on his lips. "Normally I might object, but if there was one person I'd love to see you wreak havoc on…"
Jamie grinned, because if there was anyone he could have on his side for this, it was Will. Will, more than any of them, had always seemed to harbor a seething dislike for Drew, even before it was apparent that Drew was a raging shithead. It was that artistic intuition, Connor had claimed for him later, to which Will had given a vague shrug and sheepish smile.
A sudden thought occurred to Jamie.
"Will," he said, leaning forward on his stool. "You should come with me."
Will's pencil paused mid stroke. "What?"
"Yeah," Jamie said. "Will, it'd be perfect."
It would be. Will wasn't a violent person; he preferred his paints and his peace and his quiet. But as much as Will had always seemed to hate Drew, Drew had always loathed him right back. It was a mutual climate of dislike that had culminated into that night in the kitchen, when Will had punched him right smack in his pretty little face.
Frankly, Jamie thought it was beautiful, and it would be a shame to waste such a passion in Will.
Will shook his head. "I don't think so, Jay."
"Why not?" Jamie said. "You hate him, and he hates you. Can you imagine the look on his face when he sees you're my boyfriend? He'll have a fit."
Will bit his lip.
Jamie placed a hand on Will's knee. "Do it for Connor, Will. Help me avenge him."
Will snorted. "We're not superheroes, Jay."
Jamie sat back again. "It'd be sick if we were. Think of the look that'd be on his face then, if he saw me flying, or with, like, laser vision." He paused. "You'd probably read minds, I bet."
Will's expression darkened. "I don't think I'd want to read his mind."
Jamie sighed. He paused. "Please Will? Please please please-"
Will dipped the end of his pencil in a blot of paint and poked Jamie in the face. Jamie blinked, bringing his hand to his cheek and pulling away with his finger glistening green. "What the fuck?"
"Shut up," Will turned back to his canvas. "Why don't you just ask Henry?"
Jamie frowned. "Why should I ask Henry? He'll be on a date with fucking Pete anyway."
Will gave him a funny look. "Why would you think that?"
"Um, because he's with the guy all the fucking time," Jamie said. He tried to ignore the way his stomach clenched at the thought. It had been three days since Pete had hinted at his surprise plan, and fuck if Jamie wasn't getting any better at dealing with it.
"He's not going to be on a date with Pete, Jay," Will said.
It was deliciously tempting to believe him, to give into the surety in Will's voice, but Jamie pushed the thought away. He didn't want to talk any more about Henry. "Look, Will, I'm asking you. It's an honor, really."
"Wow, should I change my Facebook status already?"
Jamie kicked him in the shin. "Don't be a wanker."
"You're such a little shit."
"Does that mean you'll think about it?"
Will rolled his eyes. "How do you know I won't have Valentine's plans?"
"Oh? Who with?" Jamie raised an eyebrow.
Will looked back at his sketch, blinking. "Well, it's- I could."
Jamie patted him on the shoulder. "In a world full of mediocre faces, it's a crime that yours doesn't have a Valentine's date, quite honestly."
"You're a shit," Will said again.
"I'm serious." It was, in fact, probably the most honest thing Jamie had said through this whole conversation.
Will closed his eyes for a moment, let out a deep breath. "Fine. I'll think about it."
A wide grin stretched across Jamie's face. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on Will's cheek. "I love you."
"I said I'll think about it," Will said carefully. "And none of this kissing in public stuff."
"Only in seclusion, then." Jamie waggled his eyebrows. Will's expression was dry.
"I'm kidding, kidding," Jamie said, waving a hand. "I wouldn't dream of it." Well, maybe he'd dreamed of it. But who hadn't, honestly.
So Will was (most likely) going to be his fake boyfriend for the Valentine Jam. Honestly, if his Valentine's Day wasn't about bitter revenge, Jamie didn't think the holiday would really be worth it at all.
Maybe Henry was a bit behind on his grand Valentine plans, but tonight was The Night.
"Get the spring rolls, he likes spring rolls," Connor said, jabbing his finger at the menu in Henry's hands.
"I know," Henry said. Of course he knew that, because Jamie's food preferences were on a list of Very Important Things he kept in the safest compartment of his brain. Sadly he didn't have time to prepare Jamie a home cooked meal – picking up Chinese take away on the walk home would have to suffice – but hopefully he would still appreciate the gesture.
Jamie had been strangely absent from their flat the last few days, heading to class early and coming home late. Something was up with him, and he'd been slightly off ever since his confrontation with Drew. Hopefully this might prove a satisfactory solution to his problem. Hopefully Jamie would open up to him tonight, and hopefully he'd agree to be his Valentine. Henry bit his lip at the thought.
"You're worried, aren't you?" Connor said, eyeing him closely. They stood outside the little Chinese restaurant, paper menu flapping loosely between Henry's fingers in the cold breeze.
Henry shrugged. He closed the menu; he knew all of Jamie's favorites anyway.
"You don't need to be," Connor said, and yes, Henry knew that, because that's what Pete said, and that's what Josh said as well, and it's probably what the Queen of England would say about it. But honestly, even if Henry was absolutely certain that Jamie felt the same, he'd still be nervous. He still had to put his feelings on the table for Jamie to see, right between the fried dumplings and lo mein.
"I'm only human." A mere human with the desire to woo Jamie Heart, whose perfectly devilish imperfections set his heart aflutter since the moment he set eyes on him in that first meeting for the cooking club.
Connor's eyes went soft. "Wish I had your determination, mate."
"Thanks," Henry smiled, about to step into the restaurant, except- wait. He looked back at Connor. "What do you mean?"
"What?"
"Why do you wish you had my determination?" Henry asked curiously.
"Um." Connor blinked.
"Connor- who?" Henry nudged him. "Who do you need determination for?"
Pink blossomed on Connor's cheeks. "What? No one."
"Connor," Henry said. "I told you my secret."
"Hardly a secret," Connor said pointedly, but he wouldn't meet Henry's eyes. "There's no one, I was just…no one."
Henry raised his eyebrows. "Okay…but if you decide you want to ask 'no one' out for Valentine's Day, you've got my vote of confidence." He winked. Connor rolled his eyes.
"Let's go order your damn food for Jamie," Connor said, reaching for the door and disappearing inside. Henry shrugged and followed him.
"Jay?" Henry called out as he kicked the door of their flat open. Jamie was supposed to be here, he'd texted him. No mysterious disappearance for at least one night.
Henry shuffled into the hallway with the bag of food in his arms. He may gone a bit overboard, but Jamie liked so many things and Henry didn't want to risk anything. Maybe the crab rangoons would put him in right the mood to give Henry a yes.
"Henry?" Jamie stepped out of the doorway of his bedroom, clad in a pair of skinnies and a green hoodie that looked like a special kind of sin on him. His hair stuck up several directions of sideways, face soft like he'd recently woken up from a nap. He rubbed at one of his eyes, blinking at Henry, and Henry wanted to put the food down and wrap all his limbs around him and never let got.
"I've picked up dinner," he managed to say instead, nudging the door closed behind him.
Jamie suddenly looked more awake, perking up. "What'd you get?"
"Just some Chinese," Henry said, moving toward the kitchen, Jamie following close behind.
"Just some Chinese?" Jamie said, mouth falling open as Henry began to empty the bag. "Did you buy half the restaurant? Is someone else coming over? Pete?"
"No." Henry looked up. "Just wanted to get your favorites."
A slow smile came over Jamie's face by degrees. "Aw, Henry, you shouldn't have. I'm already your flatmate, you don't have to woo me."
Henry rolled his eyes. "You love to be wooed." But was he really that obvious? Should he be obvious? Jamie did seem pleased. Maybe this was a good omen for the rest of this conversation. Maybe he actually hadn'tneeded to spend the extra eight pounds on orange shrimp.
"You know me too well, Henry." Jamie opened the fridge to grab some drinks.
"Of course I do," Henry said automatically, eyes following the back of his head.
Jamie looked back up. "Course," he agreed, walking back over to the table. He looked from all the food up to Henry, a vague look of befuddled amusement on his face. "What's all this for, Henry?" he finally said.
Perhaps it was unfair, but Henry felt just the tiniest bit offended. "Why does it have to be for something?" he said. "Why can't I just do something nice for my best friend?"
Something nice, like buy his best friend fifty quid worth of Chinese food. And acquire tickets to an exorbitantly expensive, sold out concert. In the name of love.
"I guess you can," Jamie said slowly, a soft, quiet smile growing on his face. "Thanks."
It was the kind of smile that made Henry's kneecaps turn to goo. He looked back down, fingers fumbling over the container of garlic chicken.
"I mean," Jamie went on after the smallest pause, slipping into his chair, "I was kind of thinking Pete was starting to beat me out for a bit there, but." He shrugged, leaving it with a wayward chuckle.
Henry looked back up at Jamie.
"What?" Henry said, blinking at him. "Jamie…that's absurd. I mean, Pete's a good friend, yeah, but you're my best friend. Like…you're my favorite."
Jamie stared at him for a fraction of a second, and then his shoulders relaxed, just enough that Henry noticed, and he looked away, biting his lips on the edge of a smile like he didn't want Henry to see. It made Henry wanted to tell him how important he was forever, for always, every single day.
Henry could feel himself treading dangerously near a heart-wrenching proclamation of his deepest love. He needed to focus. He didn't want to scare Jamie off by spewing out ungraceful sonnets over teriyaki sticks and pork fried rice.
Take it slow, Henry, he told himself as he grabbed a fork. Nerves were mounting in his stomach, and he took a deep breath. Slow.
It was all still a bit puzzling, but Jamie had a free buffet of all his favorites on the table in front of him and the knowledge that he was Henry's favorite sat in his head like a lottery prize, so he figured he'd let it rest for now.
"Aren't you going to eat, Henry?" he asked, looking up from his second plate. Henry was barely through his first.
Henry stuck a piece of chicken in his mouth. "I'm eating."
Jamie pointed his fork at him. "You know Connor will come over and clean out our fridge of everything we don't finish, which is as good as throwing it straight into the trash as far as I'm concerned. So eat up, Henry."
Henry smiled, amusement dancing in his eyes. "First you fight his ex-boyfriend to protect his honor, then you call him a trashcan. I'm getting mixed signals, Jay."
"It's called true friendship," Jamie said, raising his chin. "I'd rather he eat all our leftovers out of his love of eating large amounts of food, not because he's sad over his wanker of an ex. I'm looking out for him, is what I'm doing."
"You know," Henry said slowly, voice thoughtful. "I was talking to him today, I think he might be into someone else."
Jamie raised his eyebrows. This was news. "Really? Who?"
Henry shrugged. "I don't know, he wouldn't say." He ate a forkful of rice, chewing slowly. "I hope he's a good guy, whoever he is. I told Connor to ask him out for Valentine's Day."
Well, this was certainly a turn of events. Jamie wondered if that made him petty, for wanting to fuck with Drew if Connor had already moved on.
Nah, Drew was still a dick. And Jamie never had any qualms about being petty if someone was a dick.
Henry cleared his throat suddenly. He'd put his fork down and was rubbing the palms of his hands together. "Um, Jamie, about Valentine's Day…"
Cool dread filled Jamie's stomach. He was suddenly sure he wanted to know nothing about what Henry had to say about Valentine's Day. He may be Henry's favorite, but he wasn't the one who would be swept away in a romantic escapade with him come next weekend. The thought turned his taste buds sour, and if Henry was going to share the details with him, Jamie didn't want to hear. It probably made him a terrible friend, but he didn't think his heart could bare it.
"Don't worry, mate," Jamie said before Henry could continue. He waved a hand. "I asked Will to come to the Valentine Jam with me, so you're off the hook for being my fake date."
It was a joke. A piece of witticism. A jocular remark. So why was Henry staring at him like that?
"Uh, Henry?" he said into the sudden silence. Something about it was beginning to make him deeply uncomfortable. "You know I'm kidding, right? I didn't really expect you to be my fake date."
Henry blinked. He still wasn't smiling. "You asked Will?"
"Not for real," Jamie said. "Still just fake, but he shares my deep passion for revenge on Drew, so I figured he was a good choice."
"But I don't like Drew either," Henry said, drawing his eyebrows together.
Jamie looked at him. What was he trying to say? This was all too confusing. Jamie tried for another lighthearted remark. "Well I would hope not, that would be very disloyal to Connor's friendship of you."
Not even the hint of a smile from Henry. In fact, he looked increasingly bothered. Jamie couldn't make sense of it. Henry was going to have real Valentine plans; surely Jamie could have his deplorable fake ones.
"I know you probably don't approve of hurting someone's feelings, even if they did fuck over our best friend-"
"No, I don't care," Henry said quickly, looking away. His eyes seemed to flicker over everything except Jamie's face. "That's perfectly fine. Do what you want for Valentine's Day. I'm happy for you."
Funny, because the scowl on his face sure didn't make him look very happy.
Jamie didn't understand.
Henry turned back to his plate, jabbing at a piece of chicken with perhaps more force than necessary. Jamie bit down on his tongue, turning back to his own food and trying to ignore the heavy silence that had suddenly settled into the distance between them.
Connor was biting on his thumbnail when Henry found him in the student union the next day, and he looked so very distressed that for a moment Henry nearly forgot the dejection that currently swam through his melancholy veins.
"I was thinking," Connor said as soon as he reached him, and his eyes looked a little wild, as if he hadn't gotten much sleep at all last night, "about what we were talking about yesterday, about determination? Because, I guess, maybe there is someone? And you went ahead and asked out Jamie, and if you can do that then, yeah, I can probably do it to?"
Connor's eyes flicked back and forth between Henry's, searching for some sort of answer, and Henry had never seen Connor look so uncertain in his life. Always so full of sunshine and confidence, it was almost shocking.
Henry put a hand on his shoulder. "Of course you can. I don't see why this guy would say no."
Connor bit his lip, like he could think of a million reasons. Henry understood all too well. Yet of all the reasons he'd considered, Will had never been one of them.
He didn't want to hold it against Will, he loved Will, but fuck, why did the guy have to be so pretty? Why did he have to hold the bigger grudge against Drew? Henry could hate Drew, he really could, if he tried hard enough.
Why didn't Jamie choose him to be his fake date? This type of gimmick had HenryandJamie written all over it.
Yes, Jamie had asked him the other day when Pete had been over, but he'd said it jokingly, just like he'd joked about it last night. Like he'd never really mean it. He chose Will instead, and every time Henry thought about it was like a tiny punch to his increasingly bruised heart.
He was Jamie's best friend. Henry. Just Henry.
"Henry?"
He blinked and focused his eyes back on Connor again, who was looking at him curiously. "Last night went well, right? Fuck, I should've asked you that first. But you did it, right? You've got your date with Jamie." A grin began to grow on his face, uncertainty slipping into reassurance and excitement.
Henry really, really didn't want to burst Connor's bubble.
"Um," Henry said.
Because Henry never did ask Jamie out, and they'd spent the rest of dinner fading in and out of idle, blatantly stilted conversation that was entirely on Henry's part, because going through with his proposition seemed silly since Jamie already had his plans. When they'd finally finished Henry had insisted on doing the dishes by himself even though Jamie had adamantly offered to help, because even though his plan may have failed, dinner had still been his treat.
He'd retreated to his room afterword, had contemplated calling Pete, or Josh, or Connor himself, but instead he'd stayed lying face down on his pillow, utterly miserable and stupidly embarrassed. Pete would have told him to ask Jamie out anyway, would have demanded to know why he'd waited so long to do it; Josh would have been all sympathetic ears and might even have offered to talk to Jamie himself; And Connor, Connor would just have been sad and confused.
Like now, as his smile began to fade into a puzzled frown. "Henry?"
"Uh," Henry said, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his head. "Er, about that."
Connor's eyes widened, disbelief laced in blue. "There's no way he could have said no. How could he have said no?"
"I didn't ask him, exactly," Henry said slowly. Connor stared. Henry dropped his hand and sighed. "He has plans already, I couldn't ask him."
A scowl found its way to Connor's face. "What kind of plans? What could be more important to him than a date with you?"
May God bless Connor and shower his family with riches and good health. Henry wanted to cry.
"He has a date already, for- "
Henry broke off, realizing suddenly that Connor didn't know about Jamie's whole run-in with Drew, probably shouldn't know about his plan of Valentine revenge.
"He has a date already?" Connor repeated, his eyebrows rising so high they threatened to disappear in to the roots of his hair. "What? With who?"
"Um." Henry bit on his tongue. "Will."
Connor went positively rigid.
"What?" he said.
Henry looked at him, a pinch of vague unease settling in his chest for a reason he couldn't pinpoint. "He's going on a date with Will?" Henry repeated, framing the statement into a question, almost as if he hoped Connor might answer "no."
"Jamie…and Will?" Connor blinked, shock flitting over his face as he looked back at Henry, as if the words were just settling into his brain.
Henry figured for someone who didn't know the context of this date, this fake date, it might be rather shocking. Jamie and Will were great friends, obviously, but there had never been a hint of anything further.
The color had drained from Connor's face in the most peculiar way; even the red tips of his hair seemed to have wilted slightly. Henry felt distinctly confused.
"Yeah," Henry said, battering his confusion away. There were more important things to discuss here. "But hey, it's fine. Let's focus on you now, okay? When are you going to ask out that lucky bloke of yours?"
Connor's eyes flitted away from him. "Dunno."
"Well you're going to do it, right?" Henry said. He really, really wanted Connor to do it. Someone had to have a date this Valentine's Day with someone they loved.
"Yeah, maybe." Connor looked distracted now, the nervous energy from before completely gone and replaced with something almost like melancholy. Henry didn't understand.
"Connor-"
"I've got to go, Henry," Connor said suddenly. He adjusted the bag hanging over his shoulders and backed away, disappearing into the crowd of students passing through the union before Henry could say another word.
Henry blinked into the whirl of people and color, and Connor was gone.
"I don't need them anymore," Henry said, pushing the tickets back into Pete's hands.
"You can still go, H," Pete said, standing the doorway to Henry's flat, coat hanging off of his shoulders and cold still clinging to the paper in his hands. He tried to give them back to Henry. "It's a fake date, and the concert's not even on Valentine's Day. You can still ask him to go with you."
Except the thing was, Henry really didn't think he could. He dropped his shoulders and stepped back so Pete could walk in. "But he didn't ask me."
"Technically, he did," Pete said, stepping inside and kicking off his boots, soaked through from the snow.
"It was a joke." Henry knew he sounded like he was whining, but it wasn't fair, and it was frustrating.
Pete sighed and looked at him, a little more sympathy laced in his next words as they moved into the kitchen. "I know. This whole situation's turned to shit."
Yes, yes it had. Everything had seemed so perfect, too.
Henry wasn't actively avoiding Jamie now…but he hadn't really talked to him since last week's dinner, and Jamie wasn't doing much to cross the bridge between them either, and it was stupid and it hurt, like a physical bruise on his heart, and he didn't even know what he did to deserve it. What he did to make Jamie choose someone else.
The thought process he'd developed on why Jamie had picked Will over him was bordering on obsessive. It had come to its peak that morning, when he'd spotted Jamie and Will in the student lounge, and sure, maybe Josh had been their too, and Will looked half comatose over his coffee, but then Jamie had said something and he'd laughed and Henry had felt so irrationally irritated he had to turn away and physically leave the building.
"Henry," Pete said, absently flapping the tickets between his fingers, "have you talked to him? Tell him how you feel-"
"I tried that," Henry cut him off, crossing his arms in front of him and leaning back against the counter.
"I mean," Pete said pointedly, "how you feel about the whole Will thing, because I still maintain that Jamie feels the same about you. Don't be so bitter, it doesn't suit you."
Henry sighed, letting his hands fall to his sides. Pete was right. Technically, Jamie hadn't done anything wrong. If he was this upset over Jamie having a fake boyfriend, he didn't want to know how he'd feel when Jamie started dating someone else for real. The thought made his throat burn.
Henry looked up at Pete through a sheet of untidy curls. "You really think he feels the same?"
Pete rolled his eyes. "Will saying it for the millionth time really make any difference?"
"Maybe." Henry felt a tiny smile crease at his corners of his mouth.
"It's no mystery, Sherlock. It's been obvious since the day I met him," Pete said. "He half hates me, you know."
"What?" Henry drew his eyebrows together. "No he doesn't! The two of you get along really well!"
"H, he spends half of his time glaring at me," Pete said. "Believe me, I like the guy, but any appearance he puts up, it's for you."
"But- you're not even gay!"
"And he doesn't have a thing for Will," Pete said. "And Will doesn't have a thing for him. Honestly, have you seen him and Connor?"
"What about Connor?" Henry said distractedly, trying to take in this new information. Jamie couldn't hate Pete…okay, maybe he'd said something about how he'd thought Pete was his new best friend, but surely-
Surely he knew Henry loved him best? Henry had told him so, but surely he knew?
Henry groaned. "Pete, everything's a mess."
"That's why you need me to tell you to get your shit together," Pete said. "You're going to talk to him, alright? When he gets home. And give him one of those tickets. My dad didn't waste an intern's energy on mailing these for nothing." He shoved them into the pocket of Henry's coat, hanging neatly on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Henry watched him, too wary to put up another fight.
"Okay," Henry sighed. He glanced at his watch. Jamie probably wouldn't be back for another hour or so. He looked back up at Pete. "I'll talk to him."
"Good." Pete clapped him on the shoulder and made for the doorway. "Glad that's settled for now. Now let's play a video game that's not fucking FIFA. I don't know why you guys play it all the time."
"Wait," Henry said, following him. "I had a Youtube video I wanted to show you."
"H, if it's fucking kittens again, I swear I will convince Jamie to go out with Will instead of you."
"Heeey…"
There was something off between himself and Henry, Jamie decided, if the fact that they had barely acknowledged each other in nearly a week was any indication. It was a very solid decision, mostly influenced by the gnawing ache and confusion that had plagued him ever since Henry had come home with dinner, and it twisted and tightened with every passing day that started and ended in silence between them. And they fucking lived together. The only thing that separated them at night was a single wall, yet it felt miles thick. Even if he could still hear Henry's hipster music on the other side.
"Maybe telling him about the fake date wasn't the best idea," Will had said when Jamie had met up with him and Josh for coffee that very morning. "I knew I shouldn't have agreed to this."
"I'm allowed to fake date other people, Will," Jamie said. He scowled. He was.
"Even if you've been half real dating Henry since the day you met him?" Josh said, raising an eyebrow.
"I think you're talking about that American lad? Rhymes with Shmeet? He'd dump all of Henry's tea into the harbor and Henry would still kiss his feet?" Jamie took an aggressive sip of his drink.
"I'm glad to see that jealousy has sharpened your knowledge of American history," Josh said.
"Know thy enemy," Jamie muttered.
Will burst out laughing, so sudden Jamie nearly dropped his mug. He looked at Jamie. "You and Henry are both fuckin' idiots."
Jamie brushed Will off, but as the day went on the words began to itch at his skin, and when he opened up his text messages and realized he actually had to scroll down to find Henry's name for the first time since he'd added Henry as a contact, he decided something had to change, that perhaps Will wasn't entirely wrong.
He walked up the three flights of stairs to their flat with purpose and a strange set of nerves. This was Henry.
Which. Was exactly it. This was Henry. There was something strange going on between them, which was odd, because things had always been so easy between them, warm and fluid, and Jamie didn't like that things had grown awkward and stilted. It was weird, it was off. It wasn't them.
And Jamie wasn't sure what might have to be said in order to fix it.
"Henry?" he called out as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. "Henry, are you-"
His voice died as he chucked one of his shoes off, because there, in the middle of the hallway, were Pete's boots. An inexplicable spark of annoyance flared behind his eyes.
Shoes left kicked in the hallway was a well-known pet peeve of Henry's, one only Jamie was allowed to get away with.
Jamie glared at the boot. He liked to imagine the water pooling around it was a nervous sweat caused by his dagger gaze. He kicked his own wet shoes off against the wall and stalked into the kitchen. A laugh sounded from the living room, followed by a familiar giggle and the sound of cartoonish music from whatever vintage hipster video game of Henry's they were playing.
So Pete was here. Fine. Jamie would still talk to Henry, it was fine.
He grabbed a bowl and a box of cereal and set them on the table with a clatter, not that he was trying to draw attention to his presence. He opened a drawer for a spoon and didn't mean to slam it shut.
He also didn't mean to knock Henry's coat off its chair when he went to sit down, heavy zipper clanking against the floor. He sighed, figuring he wasn't cruel enough to leave it there, and bent over to retrieve it. Something slipped out of one of the pockets as he stood back up, two slips of paper fluttering down to the sun bleached linoleum floor.
Jamie bent down again to pick them up.
He froze halfway, fingers outstretched.
That…that said MOON MINDERS. The name of Jamie's favorite band. His favorite band. Printed in solid black capital letters, screaming up at him. Jamie blinked at them.
Of course, Jamie had known they were coming to their city at the end of February. Of course he knew that, he knew every fucking thing about them. He also knew he'd never, in a million years, be able to get tickets, couldn't dream of affording them. Yet here they were, two perfectly good tickets to the show of his dreams, literally right beneath his fingertips.
And they'd been in Henry's pocket. Two whole, real tickets to the Moon Minders. What on earth-
His eyes fell to the next set of words on the ticket, printed considerably smaller but there all the while, forming the very last name Jamie would have ever wanted to see there.
Peter Hoffson
Jamie heart fell right through the linoleum and straight to the cold empty dungeon he suddenly imagined must exist beneath a place like this. Henry had two concert tickets from Pete in his pocket. To Jamie's favorite band.
This must have been Pete's surprise.
Did the universe honestly have to fuck with Jamie that badly?
He clenched his fingers around cold air, looking away from the tickets, wanting to leave them there, maybe step on them, sweep them under the table, vacuum them up by mistake. Fuck Henry for telling Jamie he was his favorite.
Something stung horribly in the back of his throat.
The television sound drifting through the doorway muted suddenly, and he heard a "Jay?"
Heart jumping into his throat, Jamie grabbed the tickets and shoved them back into Henry's pocket. By the time Henry appeared in the doorway, he had poured twice as much cereal than he'd meant to into his bowl.
Henry looked tentative as he peered at Jamie from the doorway, one foot inside as if he wasn't quite sure he was allowed to enter his own kitchen. And what the fuck? How did things get like this?
"Hi, Jay, um. Hi?" Henry said, eyes unsure but bright beneath his side swept hair. He hadn't cut it in months, had returned from winter break with it nearly reaching his shoulders, and now his curls hung loose and soft in the remaining light leaking through their small kitchen window. Jamie bit his tongue, because he dreamed of touching those curls every single day, because sometimes he got to when they were lazing about, Henry soft and dozy as a cat with his head on Jamie's lap in front of the television. And when Jamie pushed his hand through his hair, smelling of lilacs or strawberries or his favorite apple crunch muffins, fingers dragging along his scalp, the boy positively purred and looked up at Jamie with hooded green eyes and sweet pink lips that Jamie just-
-had no right to think about, really, anymore. He blinked, glancing away from said boy in the doorway. "Hi, Henry."
"I just wanted to ask you," Henry said, taking a step into the kitchen, "if we could maybe talk, later? We haven't really talked, you know?"
Jamie looked back up, and Henry looked so uncertain and hopeful and uncharacteristically shy, and Jamie wanted to say yes. God, he needed to say yes.
But all he could see where the two Moon Minders tickets in Henry's pocket, with Pete's name on them, and there was nothing he wanted less in the world than to talk about that. How could he support something that made him actually want to cry real tears? He'd have to leave town the night of that show.
He wasn't being overdramatic about this.
Except maybe he was, just a little, but his words were the product of a suffering heart when he shrugged and strolled past Henry on the way to his room, a bowl too full of cereal in his hands as he said, "What's there to talk about?"
"You know what we should do tomorrow?" Connor said the night before Valentine's Day, absently carding his fingers through Henry's hair.
"What?" Henry said, head in Connor's lap. He lay sprawled out on Connor's bed because he hadn't really wanted to go back to his own, had been avoiding his flat as much as possible the last few days, dividing himself between Pete and Connor and Josh and whoever else might take him. Connor's room was an absolute disaster, items thrown about haphazardly, and ordinarily that might annoy Henry, but right now he felt it appropriate, felt that it matched the state of his heart.
"We should get drunk," Connor said. "Fuckin' wasted. Pissed out of our minds."
Jamie wouldn't even talk to him. Henry had tried, and Jamie hadn't even wanted to hear him. Henry didn't understand what he'd even done.
Yes, drunk sounded good. Besides, it wasn't as if he had anything else to do for Valentine's Day. "Alright."
Henry still didn't understand why Connor never asked out his own boy, the one he'd had such declared such determination for that one morning, but whenever Henry tried to ask him Connor shrugged it off, got unusually quiet and moody. So Henry stopped inquiring him about it, dropped his wary head into Connor's lap instead, and Connor's hand in his hair didn't feel quite as nice as Jamie's – no one's did – but it was comforting, and at least they could wallow in their heartache together.
"Perfect," Connor says.
Yes, perfect. Jamie and Will will be on their glorious fake date and Henry will be drunk with Connor and still have two unclaimed concert tickets in his pocket. Henry closed his eyes.
Perfect.
"This is fucking stupid. I never should have agreed to this."
"Now there's something I love to hear a guy say before a date."
Will rolled his eyes, and he made it look graceful and exquisite in a way Jamie hadn't thought possible, dressed in a sleek black blazer, and he'd be jealous if he wasn't so pleased at how very pissed off Alex was going to be.
At least Valentine's Day only existed to cater to commercial consumerism, not some religious or patriotic cause. May as well just add this scheme to the long list of Jamie's sins.
"I could be on a date with the man of my dreams," Will sighed, breath full of melodrama.
"Are you implying I'm not the man of your dreams?" Jamie said, giving himself one more glance in the mirror. He'd slicked his hair back into a wicked quiff, and his pants hugged his bum deliciously, if he did say so himself.
He and Will looked fucking hot together, and Alex was going to cry himself mad with lust on the dance floor. Connor would love them forever.
"Is Connor still clueless about all of this?" Will asked, glancing at him as they made for the door. "What's he even doing tonight, anyway?"
Jamie shrugged as he locked the door behind him. "Not a clue. Josh will be at the Jam, though, right? With Amelia?"
Will nodded, eyes sliding to meet Jamie's as they proceeded down the hallway. "And what about Henry?"
Jamie's face immediately fell into a scowl. "Probably shagging our favorite American hotshot as we speak." The words tasted sour on his tongue.
"Jamie-"
"I don't want to talk about it, Will," he cut him off as they emerged into the freezing outdoors. The air was still, crisp and dry.
Why should he talk about Henry? Why should he give him the time of day when he'd hardly seen the boy in the last several days, flying in and out of their flat in little more than a whirl of wintry air and windswept curls to grab some piece of clothing or a schoolbook, only to hightail it back to Pete's, probably?
You're my favorite, Jamie.
He wished Henry had never said that. Maybe all of this would hurt just a tiny bit less if Henry hadn't said it.
Jamie needed a drink. What was he thinking, going into this stone cold sober? He grabbed Will's wrist and pulled him inside the pub nearest them, just outside university grounds.
"We need a little heat in our veins," Jamie said at Will's indignant yelp.
The pub was full on this Saturday night, of course it was, and Jamie pulled Will right up to the counter and ordered two drinks.
"Put it on his tab, he's my date," Will said, nodding at Jamie, as the barman looked between them for payment.
Well, it was true. Jamie had asked him to be his date. He slid his card across the counter. But after the second drink Will was on his own. Romance was dead, anyway.
The barman placed their drinks on the counter with a thunk and Jamie pushed one into Will's hand. He spun around to lead him through the sea of pub-going faces. "Come on, Willy boy, let's go-"
"Jamie?"
A glossy-eyed, flushed and rosy-cheeked Connor stood in front of him, empty glass in hand. His red tips stood proudly and he wore a silly blue polka dotted bowtie over a polo shirt and he had a funny little grin on his face. He looked positively cute.
"Hi, Jamie!" he said, throwing his hand up in the air. "And-" His eyes flew around. "Will! Hi, Will!"
"Why hello, Connor," Jamie said, because running into a drunk Connor in a pub any night of the week was hardly a shock. He reached forward and straightened his bowtie. "Don't you look dashing."
"Thanks," Connor said, face blooming as he picked at the bowtie himself. "This was Henry's idea. Do you really like it?" His eyes slipped to Will again.
A touch of color dusted Will's cheekbones. "Course, Connor," he managed to say in a strange voice, and it might have been peculiar except Jamie's brain had caught on one thing.
Henry's idea?
"Connor! Where'd you—oh."
The man himself suddenly appeared beside Connor, emerging from a group of girls adorned with large pink bows and heart shaped glitter in their hair. It dusted his own curls, falling around his face in near ringlets, face flushed to match Connor's, eyes shiny and round and lips so perfectly pink Jamie felt the thud of his heartbeat down to his fingertips.
Which, no.
Henry was wearing a red polka dotted bowtie to match Connor's, his own button up shirt dotted with small pink hearts and it clashed so terribly Jamie felt he should shield his eyes, if it wasn't so very Henry. Who stared back at Jamie, expression stretching into something blank. His eyes flickered to Will.
"What are you doing here?" Jamie asked before he could help himself, genuinely surprised.
"Connor and I are having a night out," Henry said, raising his chin ever so slightly. The flush reached all the way down his neck. "Where else would I be?"
With Pete? With Pete. Pete.
"I thought you'd have found some hot date, of course," Jamie said quickly, smoothly, fixing a grin onto his face because they weren't fighting, really. Because he was joking, obviously.
Everything was weird. He took a large sip of his drink.
"Excuse me, Heart?" Connor said, raising his eyebrows. Henry looked equally indignant. Will tucked his tongue between his lips and bit back a smile.
Jamie flicked Connor's bowtie, dragged a finger up his neck. "I'm only saying that because you deserve far better than a dingy pub, Connor."
"I could say the same for Will," Henry butt in, and there was less humor in his tone than Jamie's. What was he doing? He knew this wasn't real.
Except.
Jamie guzzled down the rest of his drink and reached down to snatch Will's hand. Both Henry and Connor's eyes dropped down to their newly entwined fingers. "You're right. Which is why, if you'll excuse us, we'll be on to the ball now."
Jamie started through the mass of people, tugging Will along. He didn't stop until they were outside the pub, cool air brushing over their faces and the sidewalk considerably quieter. Will still had his glass in his hand, half full.
He raised an eyebrow at Jamie.
"What the fuck was that about?"
"What?" Jamie said, bringing a hand up to his hair to make sure it was still standing. Thank goodness he always sprang for the heavy duty spray.
"I told you to ask Henry to do this instead of me," Will said.
"I told you he would be busy." Jamie didn't meet his eyes.
Will took an idle sip from his glass. "On a date with Pete. That didn't look like a date with Pete."
Jamie began to move along the sidewalk, lamplight reflecting off the pavement shining with ice. "So he's on a date with Connor, whatever. Did you see their matching bowties?"
Will fell silent behind him, and when Jamie turned back around he had an empty glass in his hand, staring back at the pub.
For fuck's sake, this wasn't a very good start to their evening of revenge and debauchery.
Jamie doubled back and grabbed Will and pulled him into the next pub they came upon. They could do with a little more alcohol in their veins.
It was fake, it was fake, it was all fucking fake and Henry knew that. Maybe it was just the alcohol that made his head spin when Jamie held Will's hand.
He wiped a speck of glitter from beneath his eye. He turned to Connor, who was facing the exit, the direction Jamie and Will had just stalked off. His rosy smile seemed to have wilted, eyes a touch somber.
Henry couldn't have that. He put a hand on Connor's shoulder. "Mate, you know Jamie was joking, right? You're the hottest date, like, ever."
Connor's eyes slid to his face, his smile returning, even if it didn't completely reach his eyes, clouded with some sort of sadness. "And you the very same, Henry."
"You know what?" Henry said, swallowing thickly because an idea had just come to him. Maybe it was bad. Maybe it was great. "Let's go somewhere else. I've got an idea."
Connor considered it. "Okay, but will there be food there? I'm fuckin' starving."
"We'll stop on the way," Henry said.
Connor grinned, a semblance of sunshine returning to his smile.
"You know," Will said as he and Jamie walked into the student union, their hands clasped firmly together and their limbs warm and loose and a few drinks deep, "this better not be like the movies, this better not make us fall in love. I've read this before in books, you know."
"What do you think this is, The Proposal?" Jamie said. "I'm much fitter than Sandra Bullock. If you were meant to be in love with me you'd have fallen ages ago." He looked at him, lowering his voice and raising a suggestive eyebrow. "Unless you already have, that is."
Will laughed.
Well, fine.
They were still the hottest fucking couple at this shindig.
Jamie gazed around the bar hall, bathed in red lights reflecting off glittery glowing hearts and the highlights of girls' hair and boy's glossy eyes. It was warm, or maybe it was the drink in Jamie's veins, or both, and the music pulsed electrically and flashed inside Jamie's brain, and it was all kind of like being inside a beating heart.
It was funny, the way it bared complete resemblance to the previous year's Valentine Jam, except last year's seemed brighter, somehow, in his memory. Less shadowy.
Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that a pliant, sweet, curly haired boy wasn't pressed against his side, nuzzling his neck as he sang along to the music, giggling into his ear at jokes Jamie forgot seconds after he said them, lighting every crevice of Jamie's heart.
What had Jamie done to lose that? Why had he been a dick in that pub?
He wished he could go back in time to a year ago, latch on to Henry and never let go. He fucking missedhim. He fucking loved him.
Jamie swallowed the thought, feeling decidedly sour and sad all of the sudden, and he didn't want that, not when he had another best friend beside him and maybe he wasn't in love with him but they could have fun, they could make a night of this, punishing Drew for his sins or not. Beneath the flashing, crimson lights Will looked positively magnetic.
"Let's dance," Jamie said, pulling Will in further. Will followed easily, pausing to grab two flutes of rose colored champagne lined along the bar. He passed one to Jamie and grinned, dark hair glinting beneath the low lights and eyes bright.
"Let's give our single fucking selves the best fucking fake Valentine date of their lives," Jamie said, tapping his glass against Will's, bolstered by the sweet burn of the drink as it met his lips. "And if we happen to run into Drew, our luck is golden."
Will's lips grew into a slow, simmering smile. Jamie felt tipsy and giddy and also slightly sinister. He and Will would rule this night, and he wasn't going to think about Henry once. He and Will slunk onto the dance floor, blending with the bodies and fusing with the lights and the music.
Henry found himself at the Valentine Jam because apparently he was a masochist.
"Wait, Henry," Connor said, looking at him blankly. They had stopped and eaten some burgers on their way because Connor had complained of being hungry, and now he seemed languid, eyes heavy, boring into Henry's. "Aren't Jamie and Will here?"
Yes. Yes, exactly.
Because Jamie didn't feel the same about Henry, because Jamie didn't even consider him his best friend anymore, because he was supposed to surprise Jamie with those stupid tickets and they were supposed to fall stupidly in love and maybe Henry already was. Because it was Valentine's Day and the Valentine Jam was their thing.
The burger sat thick and heavy in his stomach and as he grew sober he began to feel miserable on the inside in more than one way. It was hot and it made him want to claw his bowtie off, an idea that had seemed so fun and quirky just hours ago, and everything was too red and the music pressed in on his ears and it all kind of felt a bit like hell, to be honest.
"You're very dramatic," Connor said, and Henry realized he'd said the last part out loud, impassioned, and Connor reached over and loosened his bowtie for him. "I thought you said this was going to be fun? Why are you doing this to yourself, Henry?"
Henry looked at Connor. His face was drawn in concern, looking as distressingly sober as Henry suddenly was. Henry gazed back at Connor and said the first thing that came to his mind. "Why didn't you ask out your mystery boy, Connor?"
Connor's expression went black, cherry red lights sliding across the smooth contours of his face, and Henry immediately felt bad. Connor was one of his best friends, and they were supposed to have fun together tonight, and he was taking his broken heart out on him, and it was just now occurring to Henry that Connor might be feeling the same.
"He's on a date," Connor said suddenly, before Henry could apologize and change the subject. He looked back at Henry, blue eyes glowing. "Someone else got to him before I could."
Shit.
Henry was such a terrible friend. He kind of wanted to throw up.
Connor sighed, a sad kind of smile tilting his lips upward. He put a hand on Henry's arm, rolling his eyes. "We weren't supposed to get depressing tonight. I'm gonna get us some more drinks."
Connor disappeared into the crowd, the tips of his hair flashing redder. Henry felt oddly empty all of the sudden, alone in a room full of hearts and couples dancing and laughing and wet lips pressed to skin. He pulled his bowtie snug around his neck again.
He was just contemplating slinking off after Connor – he'd been gone nearly an entire minute and Henry was growing jittery – when he found a pair of eyes looking at him from the edge of the dance floor.
Henry glanced away, then looked back.
For fuck's sake.
Drew began walking toward him and Henry glanced away again, because weren't Jamie and Will supposed to be groping each other in Drew's general vicinity? Why was Drew approaching him?
"Lose your boyfriend, Henry?" Drew said as soon as he was close enough for Henry to hear him, and, oh fuck, had Drew seen him and Connor? Did he seriously think- ?
"S' Henry," he said instead, gazing back at him, because seeking revenge was a mission he hadn't signed up for.
"I like your bowtie," Drew said, walking close enough to give it a tug, and something funny and uncomfortable twisted in Henry's stomach. Maybe he wasn't Connor's boyfriend, but this guy was an utter dick to him, and to Jamie, and maybe Henry was no one's boyfriend but he was their best friend.
Henry's stature hardened. "Look, Drew, do you think you could just-"
"Who'd you find, Henry? Got you some funny pink champagne!" Connor rounded Henry's shoulder, a newly flushed tinge to his cheeks and a smile on his face, two glasses held loftily in his hands, one already empty.
Connor's eyes fell upon Drew, and amazingly – or maybe not? – Connor only looked marginally surprised. He raised his eyebrows at him, passing the champagne to Henry. Connor was right, it was a funny pink.
"Hey Drew, long time no see," Connor said, voice light, and only someone who knew him very well would hear the shadowed edge of coolness to it. "Not that I've been complaining." He shrugged.
Oh shit. Henry looked back at Drew.
Drew's face immediately simmered, blank and unaffected. He glanced between the two of them and opened his mouth to say something else when someone positively barreled between Henry and Connor, hooking their arms around their necks.
"Lads!" Josh said, cheerful and smiley and perhaps a little bit drunk. "What are you doing here?" His lips were the color of roses under the lights and he pressed a sloppy kiss to each of their cheeks. Too much pink champagne for Josh, then. Henry could feel a smile budding on his face.
Josh looked up, eyes falling on Drew in front of them. "Hello, Drew," he said, smiling sweetly at him. "Lovely party you've helped throw here."
Drew looked at him, blank. "Thanks," he said, voice toneless and the tiniest bit mystified as he looked between the three of them. He took a step back. "I'm off to get back to my date, then."
"Have fun!" Connor sang after him as they watched him fade back into the crowd. Connor barked a laugh, turning to look at Henry and Josh, his smile sunny. "Well, that was fun."
Is that all it took, then? To make Connor happy? A few thinly veiled insults and a show of true joy and friendship? Why was this even coming as a surprise?
Henry felt himself grin. And Jamie, he didn't even need to-
Jamie. That was…Jamie?
Dancing, just near the edge of the dance floor, with Will, on Will, nearly in Will, crimson lights shining off their glistening faces, hands all over each other, and Drew wasn't even there, they were doing this for no one's eyes, it was fake it was supposed to be fake-
Henry's insides positively burned.
"Excuse me," he said suddenly to Josh and Connor, voice oddly caught in his throat. He passed his champagne glass to Connor. "I've got to go to the loo."
He ducked out from under Josh's arm, not caring if his and Connor's eyes were following him as he very obviously didn't walk in the direction of the toilet.
It was supposed to be fake.
"Will McAbe, you minx," Jamie said into Will's shoulder, skin covered in a thin layer of sweat and too many glasses of rose petal champagne running through his veins. "Why didn't you tell me you were such a good dancer?"
"Maybe I'm not," Will said, teeth glinting, pulling back slightly. "Maybe you're just as bad as I am."
Jamie took a step back. "Excuse me, I am the best dancer here. I take back what I said about you being a minx."
Will smirked, until his eyes caught focus on something over Jamie's shoulder. "Look, look, there he is again-"
Fuck, had Drew even seen them yet? They'd seen him loads of times, had been raucously loud, danced like wild men. "Hurry, quick, dip me!"
Maybe Jamie had spoken too soon when he'd complemented Will on his dance skills, because dipping someone was move he was clearly not versed in. Jamie went hard and fast toward the floor, and for one frightful moment he was sure he may just crack his head open – such a shame for his perfectly sculpted hair tonight, honestly – but Will caught him, pulled him back up, twirled him around until all he saw was a mass of swirling red.
"I almost died right there, you fucker," Jamie said, catching his breath as he fell back into a steady rhythm, Will's arms low around his waist.
"You're the one that said I was a minx," Will said. He glanced behind Jamie again.
"Where'd he go?" Jamie said, twisting around and finding nothing but swaying bodies.
"Somewhere off the dance floor, I dunno," Will said. "He'll be back."
And he was, hardly five minutes later, and this time it was Jamie who spotted him and instead of the smugness Will claimed had been there before, his face was coated in a scowl. Jamie wasn't going to pretend it didn't please him.
"Look, quick, twirl me," Jamie said, grabbing Will's hand again, feeling laughter bubble up his throat as Will spun him around again. He hoped Drew was close enough to hear it.
"Did he see us?" Jamie asked once he came to face Will again, eyes fading in and out of focus as dizziness tilted the room around him. He hooked his hands around the back of Will's neck, pressing his chest close against Will's to steady himself.
"I don't-" Will started. He broke off as his eyes caught something over Jamie's shoulder once more.
"Is it him again?" Jamie asked, catching his breath and spinning around again, only to come face to face with-
"Henry?"
It was a physical shock to the chest, because Jamie most certainly was not expecting to come face to face with Henry, who still had glitter in his hair and wide eyes and a distinctly ruffled scowl on his face, eyebrows drawn so closely together Jamie would make a joke about buying him a pair of tweezers if occasion deemed slightlymore appropriate.
"Henry, what are you doing here?" Jamie asked, mind wiped completely blank because he'd been dancing to forget Henry and he'd been having fun with Will and trying to antagonize Drew.
"You- you're-" Henry said, voice low over the music and the voices and- oh, there was a couple with their tongues quite intimately intertwined behind Henry's back, and-
"You're dancing," Henry said, eyebrows upturning ever so slightly, his voice oddly strained. "You're dancing, like, like-"
Jamie stared at him. "Like what?" he said, voice careful, because there was something going on here, that much was clear, despite his hazy mind.
Henry stared back, eyes imploring, like he wanted him to understand something that was just out of Jamie's reach. Jamie blinked, his chest pinching. He was very aware of the way Will decided to choose that moment to slide his hand off of his waste.
"We're dancing like we're having fun, Henry," Jamie said slowly. Henry was still staring at him with that horrible scowl and something felt distinctly off. "And like we're out for revenge. You can't expect us to be arms length apart, can you? Virtue doesn't say revenge, Henry."
Henry's eyes flickered, just for an instant, like the undercurrent of a laugh swam just beneath his skin. Jamie felt himself relax the tiniest fraction.
"Maybe," Henry said slowly, like he was unsticking the words from his tongue, "maybe Drew will be jealous of the virtuous respect between you."
Jamie actually barked out a laugh at that, because just what was going through this boy's head right now? He put a hand on Henry's arm as his chuckles faded into the music, changing with the song.
"Henry, this is a fake date, you know that," Jamie heard himself say, voice gentle over the tide of the music, because he felt like it should be, for some reason.
Henry's eyes were quiet, flickering from his to Will's. "I know, I was just- I wanted to know why-" He broke off, looking down and shaking his head, a stray curl falling from behind his ear. He pushed it back at and looked up again, a small, almost morose, smile on his face. "Never mind. I've had too much to drink. I've got to get back to Connor. Amelia's probably caught up with Josh by now."
"Connor's here?" Will said suddenly, breaking his silence and stepping forward.
Henry nodded. "Well, yeah. We saw Drew, too. Connor was pretty okay with it, you know. He stands up for himself well." There was a sudden edge of defensiveness in his voice, quietly cool.
"Of course he does," Jamie said, "We're just- Henry, it's-"
"I've got to go," Henry said, and then he spun around and was gone, lost in a sea of dancers. The music changed to something a bit faster.
"What the fuck?" Jamie said, eyes still searching after him.
"Jay," Will said, and Jamie turned to look at him. His eyes were annoyingly knowing. "We don't have to keep doing this, you know. We can stop. You heard Henry, Connor's okay."
"Of course Connor's okay," Jamie said, a spark of irritation biting at him as he glanced away from Will's eyes. He didn't like the look in them, not one bit. "Henry had said he likes some new boy, anyway. This is just about fucking Drew up." His voice was vicious.
"What?" Will's whole face dropped. Jamie looked back at him. He raised his eyebrows.
"This is just about fucking Drew up. Will, you know tha-"
"No, I mean, about Connor," Will cut him off, a strange look of growing in his eyes. Jamie blinked at him.
"Henry said he wanted to ask someone out for Valentine's Day," Jamie shrugged. He paused. "Guess he didn't, though."
"Oh," Will said, and his voice sounded funnily distant as he looked away from Jamie, and-
Fuck.
Of all the fucking moments for him to spot them.
Because they happen to be standing still in a mass of dancers and Will is not twirling him and they are not laughing like they're in love and Jamie is frowning and Will looks like he wants to punch something.
"Lost your boyfriend, Jay?" Drew said, his arm tucked around a strong jawed, handsome faced, ruggedly quiffed lad that could only be his date. "Forced to mingle with the riffraff?" His eyes flickered distastefully to Will.
Jamie saw red, and it wasn't the lights. He managed to swallow it down, however, because if he wanted this to be affective, he had to play it cool. He had to remain aloof. He grabbed Will's hand.
"This finely crafted china," he said, voice cool, "is my date. So fuck off, Drew."
To Jamie's surprise, a look of immense astonishment came over Drew's face, and not the enraged kind like he was hoping for.
"Will is your date?" he said, voice coated in disbelief.
"Yes," Jamie said through his teeth. Honestly, was it that unbelievable that someone like Will might want him?
Drew's surprise faded into confusion as he drew his eyebrows together. "Will? Are you sure? I just saw Henry by the entrance. I thought, surely, when you said you had a date-"
"Fuck off, Drew," Jamie interrupted, because fuck, fuck, Will was supposed to be his boyfriend, Will, and even if Drew thought Henry would have been more believable- fuck it all. Fire burned through his veins now, and it was uncalled for, all very uncalled for. Jamie wanted to punch the guy in the face.
He fisted a handful of Will's shirt instead, and met his lips.
Henry hadn't meant to look back.
But Josh was watching, Connor was staring over his shoulder when he found him, a funny expression on his face. So Henry looked back.
His stomach dropped to his toes. That was Drew they were talking to, Jamie was talking to, right on the dance floor where Henry had left them. He couldn't see Drew's face, but judging by the look on Jamie's, it was a most hostile dance.
And no good, absolutely no good, could come from this.
It was a sickening hunch. Henry's insides felt sour.
"Why is Drew talking to them?" Connor asked him, his voice a mix of curiousness and confusion. "Why were you-"
Connor broke off and grabbed his arm. Henry heard his gasp before it actually happened, and it sounded like his breath had been punched out from the very bottom of his lungs.
Jamie pulled Will into a kiss, a grand, spectacular kiss full on the mouth that was sure to have teeth clashing and lips on fire and all of Henry's limbs went numb, positively lifeless, doused in ice cold water that left him feeling a million miles from his body. Jamie was kissing Will, and it felt endless, infinite, and every millisecond was a fire burning in some distant, far off heart that Henry didn't want to associate with anymore.
Connor's fingernails dug into the skin of his forearm, pinpricks on an outer shell that brought Henry a little closer to his body. He might be bleeding.
Jamie and Will broke apart. The air came rushing back.
The drop of a heartbeat.
"Oh, shit," Josh said from Connor's other side.
"It was fake," Henry breathed, looking around wildly. "Jamie- Jamie just said. It was supposed to be fake."
"What?" Connor said, voice sounding distant, as he looked at Henry, eyes wide and cheeks strangely flushed.
"It is fake," Josh said quickly, looking between them. "I'm sure there had to be a good reason-"
"Like that it isn't fake?" Henry's heart was peeling in his chest.
"You know he can be brash-"
"He didn't have to kiss him!"
"Drew probably said something stupid, Henry, you know Jay-"
"What are you guys talking about?"
Henry and Josh broke off and looked at Connor, staring at them, confusion written clear across his face.
Josh looked at Henry. Henry wanted nothing more than to disappear.
What a fucking mess.
Josh clapped them both on the shoulders. "Okay lads, I think I should talk to Jamie and Will. If Amelia comes looking for me, tell her I'm gone because you're all idiots, alright?"
And then he disappeared onto the dance floor. The little fucker.
"I don't…" Connor said, gaze following him. He looked back at Henry, eyes begging for an explanation, full of confusion and hurt and something akin to the heartache Henry felt reflected in his own eyes.
Which. Wait.
Wait.
Connor looked positively torn. Why did Connor look torn about Jamie and Will kissing?
Why…
…Why had his boy been inconveniently asked out after Henry had told him about Jamie and Will?
Very slowly, something began to dawn on Henry.
Shit.
"The fuck?" were the first words out of Will's mouth when pulled back from Jamie. His face was glazed in absolute shock, a stray lock hair falling across his eyes.
Jamie felt himself blink. "Will, I-"
"You know what," Drew cut in, and they both turned to look at him. Jamie had forgotten he was there. Which, was kind of against the point- "There's some shit going down here, and I really don't feel like being a part of it." He was looking at them with a strange look on his face, almost like pity. Jamie wanted to shrivel up and die. He tugged on the other boy's hand. "Come on, Jess, let's go dance." The two of them disappeared back into the crowd.
Damn. Damn. What the fuck?
This wasn't at all what Jamie had wanted. He felt horrible, all of the sudden, like his internal organs were rotting. He couldn't bring himself to look back at Will.
"Jay," he was saying, a hand on Jamie's arm. "Jay."
Jamie looked at the ground. His hands felt clammy and he felt hollow and he wanted to leave. "What?"
"Jay," Will said, quieter, on the edge of a sigh, one full of sympathy. Jamie didn't like it. He didn't want this pity-
"What?" he said again, voice harder, bordering on snappish. He looked back at Will.
Will paused a moment, gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "What was that?"
Jamie wished he had an answer. Everything was just a swirl of too much emotion, and he needed someone else to be angry, upset, jealous, other than himself. But- fuck. Drew didn't even care.
"I don't know," he said, defeated.
Will eyed him closely. He didn't look angry, or shocked, or very much bothered anymore. Just concerned. "What's going on in your head, Jamie?"
Jamie swallowed, looking away. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck-
"Fuck, you two!"
Josh appeared out of nowhere, a positively wild expression on his face, looking between him and Will. "What was that? What was that?"
"Is it a crime for two friends to enjoy a bit of tongue?" Jamie said without thinking, annoyance prickling at the back of his neck.
"Jamie," Will groaned, rubbing his forehead.
"Yes, I think so," Josh said. He crossed his arms and looked at him pointedly. "Especially when Henry and Connor are over there having a fucking conniption fit over it."
All the annoyance drained out of Jamie as dread slowly crept into its place.
No. Oh no.
"Connor saw?" Will said in a strangely strained voice before Jamie could say anything, peering at Josh, eyebrows raised in distress, like Connor seeing them kiss was a cause for concern, not when Henry-
Fuck. Oh fuck.
Henry saw them.
And he was upset. About him kissing Will. After he'd just found Jamie and made him assure him it was a fake date. After Jamie did assure him. And then he kissed Will. Henry was upset about it.
An agonizingly odd mixture of warmth and horrified guilt flooded Jamie's chest.
Henry was upset.
Jamie wanted to rip his hair out.
"It was just a fake kiss," he said, grasping at salt in water. He looked at Josh. "It wasn't- we just- Drew-"
"You are an absolute tit," Josh said, rolling his eyes. "Just drop the Drew thing, okay? He's a jerk. Connor's over him." His eyes flicked to Will. "Beyond over him, I'd say."
Will started. "I- I should talk to him." Without another word, he shouldered himself off the dance floor. Jamie's eyes trailed after him.
Okay.
"And you," Josh said, turning his gaze back on him, "need to talk to Henry."
He did, didn't he.
When had he turned into such fucking hot mess?
Jamie groaned, rubbing his temple. "Shit, Josh."
"Shit indeed," Josh said solemnly, putting his hands on the back of his shoulders and shepherding him off the dance floor.
Henry stared at Connor, mind whirling.
"It's Will, isn't it."
Connor looked at him, face flushing red. "What?" he said, despite the fact that his flaming cheeks told Henry he'd heard him perfectly well.
"Your…the guy that you wanted to ask out. It's Will," Henry said, a sad lilt to his voice, because this was all such a mess.
"What does that matter?" Connor asked, crossing his arms and sounding defensive. A trace of uncertainty lined his eyes, however. He looked nervous as he glanced back at Henry. "You won't tell him, will you? I- I didn't know he liked Jamie."
Definitely a big fucking mess.
"Connor," Henry sighed, wiping a hand over his face. He looked at him through his fingers. "He doesn't like Jamie. They're on a fake date, okay?"
"What?" Connor said, complete confusion painted on his face. "What the fuck? What are you talking about? That didn't look fucking fake to me, Henry."
Connor was right, of course. They'd said it was fake, but- could they have- Henry had seen The Proposal-
"Why would they go on a fake date, anyway?" Connor said, rumpling his eyebrows.
"Drew asked Jamie out," Henry said, because no more lying, no more pretending, no more hiding things. "And he was a dick about it. So Jamie asked Will out to make him jealous."
"What?" Connor said, eyebrows raising so high they nearly disappeared into his hair. "What the absolute fuck? That is the fucking stupidest thing I've ever heard, Henry. I don't care about Drew! The only reason I ever went out with him was because I had no chance with Will! So I could forget about him! But that obviously didn't work, did it! I was going to ask Will out for Valentine's Day!"
Later, Henry would say it was fate that chose to push Will out of the crowd behind Connor at that precise moment.
"What?" Will said, eyes round, staring at him from behind. Connor froze. A beat passed.
"Connor?" Will said, voice tentative, his eyes careful and only Henry could see both of their faces. Connor stared at Henry, eyes wide and terrified, as if he stood still enough Will might not notice him.
"You were going to me out?" Will said, voice soft, just beyond Connor's shoulder. Henry bit his tongue between his lips, feeling like an intruder, but also like if he moved the glass surrounding them might break.
Connor said nothing.
"Connor?" Will said again, expression faltering slightly. He'd risen his hand, about to place it on Connor's shoulder. Henry gave a tiny nod of encouragement. Will's eyes flickered between him and the back of Connor's head.
He let it fall, grasp light, his fingers gentle. Connor made no move of acknowledgement, eyes still trained on Henry's, terrified and still. Will's breath rose and fell in his chest.
"I would have said yes, you know," he said quietly.
Connor blinked.
Another beat passed before he finally broke and he looked around at Will, movements stilted and uncertain, turning away from Henry. "What?" he said, voice an octave higher than usual. His eyebrows were nearly one with his hairline.
"I would have said yes," Will said, a fraction more confident now that Connor had reacted, and a fraction more terrified now that Connor was actually looking at him. "If you'd asked me before Jamie had – fuck, if you'd asked me after Jamie I would have ditched him for you, Connor-"
"Well thank you, McAbe, I love you too," a loud voice cut him off, sending Henry's nerves jumping to his throat as he looked up and found Jamie and Josh joining their little circle. Jamie's eyes flickered to Henry's, just for a moment, before he looked away, swallowing and looking strangely nervous, all traces of previous confidence and cockiness disappearing. Henry's breath left his lungs.
Will rounded on Jamie.
"I told you not to kiss me, that was part of the deal, remember?" he said. "And that guy you said Connor was going to ask out? That was me, you dick! This whole thing with Drew was useless! "
Jamie ran his tongue over his lips, eyes looking glassy and uncertain under the red lighting. "I'm sorry, Will," he said. "If I'd known you had a thing for Connor- is that why you wanted to get back at Drew so badly?" He cut himself off, looking at Will. Will's face flushed.
"Well- I- he's a fucking idiot anyway, but-"
He broke off when Connor wrapped his hand around his wrist. Will turned his eyes back to him.
"You did it for me?" Connor asked.
"Well yeah," Will said, looking down at Connor's hand on his wrist, unable to meet his eyes. "I mean, Jamie and I both did, but I-" He looked back up and met Connor's eyes. "Drew was such a dick to you, and I- Connor, I wish you'd never dated him, because you always had a chance with me." He let out a tiny sigh, eyes imploring. "Always. I just didn't think I had a chance either. I never made a move because you were always dating other people."
Connor opened his mouth, then closed it, pressing his lips together. "Fuck," he finally said, softly, looking at Will. They were quiet for a moment, staring at one another.
Finally Will smiled, just the tiniest bit. "Do you want to get out of here? Get some food maybe?"
"Ditch this Valentine crap?" Connor said, a grin blooming on his own face. He slid his hand down Will's wrist and laced their fingers together, palm to palm. "Fuck yes."
They smiled at each other, eyes positively glittering. Henry swore his heart was melting in his chest, seeping through his ribcage.
If only Connor had told him his boy was Will.
Will patted Jamie on the shoulder, a kind of 'it's alright' gesture, and Connor whispered, "Good luck, Henry," as he turned toward the exit with Will, winking at Henry. Henry blinked, watching them leave, hands intertwined sweetly between them.
Good luck. Yes. With Jamie.
Henry's hands immediately felt clammy. Thank god Josh was still there.
"Josh!" a female voice rang out suddenly, and Amelia appeared at his side. She wore a stunning red dress and her hair was pulled back half way, falling over her shoulders in waves. She looked beautiful. What was Josh doing with them instead of her, anyway? Henry made a mental reminder to complement her on her dress later. "I've been looking for you," she said. "Hi Henry, hi Jamie." She smiled between them and looked back at Josh. "Had enough time with your lads, then?"
"More than enough," Josh said, grabbing her hand. "Let's dance, babe, I've missed you. See you guys later!" He waved as Amelia pulled him back into the crowd, and it almost felt mocking.
Henry chanced a glance at Jamie, and he found a scowl on his face, eyes following Josh's retreating back.
And then he was gone.
Jamie's eyes flickered to Henry's.
Shit.
Never, in all the time they had known each other, had Henry felt uncomfortable in Jamie's presence like this. Things had always been so easy; they read each other's thoughts and finished each other's sentences. Things had grown so complicated over the last few weeks, and it felt hard and sour in Henry's stomach.
That's what happened, he supposed, when feelings got involved.
Jamie looked as if he was about to open his mouth to talk, to say something, when the music changed.
"I'll throw a party in my garden
Where I'll grow a thousand roses
To attract a thousand noses
In the hopes that yours will be one"
Of course, at this moment, one of the Moon Minders' songs would choose to play. Of fucking course. The tickets sat cold, untouched, in the drawer of Henry's desk in his room, where he only ever kept old receipts and too many pencils.
The song was upbeat, but sadness collected on Henry's skin like frost. Jamie stood oddly still until finally he sighed, his entire body slouching under some invisible, tired weight, before he looked at Henry and didn't look away.
"Harry, we really need to talk," he said. "But not in here, I can't- not in here."
Yes, that was something Henry could agree on. Not in here, because it was one thing to be looking at Jamie and to be talking to Jamie but to have to hear his music, too? Everything was Jamie, just like he'd originally hoped for Valentine's Day.
Except Jamie wasn't his Valentine. He led Henry out of the dance hall, into the hallway, through the double doors that led to the freezing outside where snow was swirling in the air and they didn't even have coats, for god's sake, but at least the music fell silent as the doors swung shut.
Jamie stood in front of him, nervous and uncertain and shadowed by the light that spilled through the union windows, as if he was finally going to say something-
Henry only had one question.
"Why didn't you ask me to be your fake boyfriend?"
His voice came out strained and a bit more imploring than he would have liked to let on, but it was all he wanted to know, he just wanted an answer to the question that had been haunting him for days.
Jamie blinked.
"I did ask you to be my fake boyfriend."
Henry could help it. He rolled his eyes. "You were joking, Jamie."
"I-" Jamie broke off, looking away, at the ground, at his feet, where silent flakes were gathering in the thinnest layer of white. His voice came out small. "I was still hoping you'd say yes, though."
Henry stared, his anger crumbling as his brain began to process Jamie's words, as Jamie looked back up, eyes suddenly flashing with an unfamiliar kind of pain. "But how could I be serious, Henry, when I knew you were going out with Pete?"
What?
What?
"What?" he said, confusion flashing through his brain.
"I was there, Henry," Jamie said, looking at him pointedly. "I heard him say you were going to have a real Valentine surprise."
Henry wasn't comprehending. What on earth was he talking about?
Jamie sighed, frustration laced in his breath, swirling through the air in a puff of white. "'H may just have a real Valentine's Day surprise." His American accent was, perhaps unsurprisingly, very spot on.
Except, that wasn't what Pete had meant at all.
Henry felt his shoulders fall. "Jamie,' he said, staring at him, voice almost painful in his throat. "Pete didn't have a surprise for me! He was talking about my surprise for you!"
"What are you talking about?" Jamie drew his eyebrows together, looking angry, defensive, all of sudden. "Don't play with me Henry, I saw those tickets in your pocket. I sawhis name on them."
Henry's lungs felt small, flooded with too much air.
"And to my favorite band, honestly, Henry, were you trying to shove it in my face?" Jamie's voice cracked oddly, giving way so an entirely different sort of emotion. A strange, creeping horror itched its way up Henry's limbs as a sudden sheen filled Jamie's eyes.
"I would have died for those tickets, Henry, I would have died, and instead I have to let Pete take you and I fucking had to ask Will to come to this stupid jam with me when last year I was so fucking nervous to ask you for one dance when I was fucking drunk, and it didn't even matter, nothing I've done this year or last year have even mattered."
Jamie seemed very, very determined to not look at Henry's face, but Henry could see the way his eyes swam, glinting in the low light, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides.
Henry didn't know how to comprehend it all, his head buzzing, because Jamie was so, so wrong, and Henry's internal organs were breaking, disintegrating as he stared at him in disbelief. The snow fell quietly, peacefully between them and it felt all so wrong.
When Jamie spoke again, his voice was softer, laced with a deeper kind of sadness. "I just wish you hadn't told me I was your favorite. Date whoever you like, but please don't tell me I'm your favorite if I'm really not."
Shit.
Shit shit shit.
Henry's hands shook. He held them clasped together in front of him, knuckles white and numb against the cold.
Jamie thought Henry was lying. He thought he was lying when he told Jamie he was his favorite. Jamie thought he liked Pete better. Jamie thought the tickets were for Henry, from Pete. Jamie thought Henry didn't even like him enough anymore to be his fake boyfriend.
Horrified nausea rolled in Henry's stomach. He felt freezing, all of the sudden.
"But you are." His voice felt strained.
Jamie finally met his gaze, and his eyes reflected a desperate kind of pain. "Please, Henry."
The words bounced around Henry's mind.
Please, Henry.
Jamie didn't know how much Henry positively fucking loved him.
"Shit." The word came out of Henry's lips in a swirl of white air, and suddenly he was reaching forward, hands outstretched, finding the bare warm skin of Jamie's arms.
"Henry-" Jamie's eyes widened as Henry practically fell against him, sliding his arms around him and pulling him close against his body, combining the last of their warmth together.
Jamie didn't exactly melt in Henry's arms, but he wasn't resisting, either.
"Jamie," Henry said. "Jamie, those tickets were for you."
A beat of silence.
"What." Jamie's voice was quiet, breath hot against Henry's ear.
"Those tickets were for you," Henry said again, Jamie's hair tickling his lips. His heart began to hammer in his ribcage, his chest swelling, ready to brim over. This was it. "I was going to ask you out, to that concert, that night with the Chinese food." His voice came in a rush. "I had a whole plan."
Jamie pulled away, just slightly, enough for Henry to meet his eyes. They gleamed, a ghostly blue in the darkness. "What?" he whispered.
Henry's chest felt ready to burst open.
"You weren't supposed to need a fake date for Valentine's Day, Jay."
Jamie stared at him. The cold breeze ruffled his hair, quiff softened nearly back to fringe, dusted with snow. The pounding of Henry's heart in his own ears was deafening.
Say something, Henry was just about ready to beg, when finally Jamie opened his mouth and sucked in a breath.
"Are you- you're not, like, drunk, are you?" he said, widening his eyes.
Ouch. Ouch.
It was like a punch to the gut, Jamie's words, and Henry pulled away, taking a step back. He could feel himself blinking rapidly, staring at Jamie and faintly hoping that maybe he hadn't heard him right, that maybe he'd comprehended his words wrongly.
He could feel every goosebump along his bare skin, all of the sudden, every breath of ice in the air.
Jamie knew before the words left his fucking mouth that it was the wrong thing to say.
Henry's warm hands left him as he took an entire step back, visibly recoiling from Jamie. His face crumbled in confusion and sudden hurt, and fuck fuck shit fucking shit-
Henry wasn't lying, Henry wasn't lying and Jamie had to go and fuck it all up because he couldn't fucking handle his own emotions and let himself see that this was, very truly, going in every direction he never quiet let himself think possible.
Henry rubbed his hand along his bare arms, visibly shivering all of the sudden and Jamie felt a physical pang in his chest, he wanted him back, wanted to wrap his arms around him and keep him warm forever and tell him that he's always, always Jamie's favorite.
And why should he not do that? He swallowed down the last urge of self preservation and took a step forward.
It was a like a kick to his heart when Henry flinched away. His face grew hard. No," Henry said. "No, Jamie, I'm not drunk. Probably too fucking sober, actually."
Jamie definitely deserved that. "Fuck, Henry, I didn't mean that." He ran a hand through his hair, destroying the last of his quiff and he didn't care at all. "I'm sorry, Henry. Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."
Henry was quiet. "What did you mean, then?" His eyes were careful.
Jamie's tongue felt stuck in his throat, blood rushing through his veins a bit too fast and all he could feel was his heartbeat and crushing fear and he had to say it. It had come so easily before, when he'd spoken out of hurt. Now he had to make it better, for the both of them. Henry wanted him to say it.
"I would have liked it a lot," he said quietly, hoping his voice wasn't shaking too badly, "if my date wasn't fake. If nothing was fake, actually. Fuck, Henry." He looked up at him, throat feeling raw, as if he'd just spoken a lifetime of words in those short sentences. "There's been no one but you since the day I met you."
He heard Henry's breath catch in his throat, eyes widening.
"I'm an idiot," Jamie said. "I'm the biggest fucking idiot and I'm sorry, and I wish your plan had gone right because I want to date the fuck out of you, Henry. I would date you so hard."
The beginnings of a tiny, goofy smile grew along the curves of Henry's lips, eyes warming, but he was still holding his arms around himself, was still shivering, snow tangled in his curls. His bowtie hung around his neck, loose and crooked.
Jamie held out his arms. "Henry- please-"
Henry stepped into his arms easily, melting against Jamie's body like he'd always done, face finding Jamie's neck effortlessly, sweetly, even though he was so much taller.
"It wouldn't even have been about Drew at all," Jamie mumbled into his hair. It smelled nice, like champagne and that sickeningly sweet strawberry shampoo he always used that Jamie pretended to dislike. "And I wouldn't have asked Will to be my fake date and he and Connor would have been fucking two weeks ago."
Henry giggled against Jamie's neck, low and rumbling and comforting, and Jamie felt himself finally relax a fraction. He dragged his finger through Henry's thick hair, nails gentle against Henry's scalp like Jamie knew he liked it. They were quiet for a moment until Henry lifted his head up, resting his chin on Jamie's shoulder. His arms snuck around Jamie's middle, solid and secure..
"I'm sorry for being an idiot, too," he said into Jamie's ear. "I should have just asked you. I shouldn't have taken you and Will so seriously." He paused. "You do know it's going to take Will years to forgive you for that kiss." There was a smile in his voice.
Jamie groaned. "Shut up."
Henry chuckled softly, and Jamie felt himself relax even more. If Henry could laugh about all this already, it was a good sign. A very good sign. Henry fell quiet again before he said, softly, "I should have just told you I wanted to be your real boyfriend when you asked me to be your fake one."
A surge of pleasure flooded Jamie at Henry's words. I wanted to be your real boyfriend.
"S'not too late," Jamie said, voice soft.
Henry was quiet for a moment before he began to say- no, sing, Jamie realized as Henry's low voice drifted into Jamie's ear, only loud enough for him to hear, "Did you know my favorite song is the color of your eyes?"
His voice was sweet, slower than the original Moon Minders song. Jamie's breath caught in his throat.
"Blue as the sea, a million summer skies."
I'd sail them for hours, past dusk and till the sunrise.
In the hope that maybe you'll take a glance at me."
Henry pulled his head back and met Jamie eyes with the biggest, dopiest smile Jamie had ever seen on his face. His dimples might hold glitter. He took another breath and sang louder into the air,
"So can I be your real boyfriend, Jamieeeee?"
He ended the line all dramatic and pitchy, so loud it bounced off the union walls and back into Jamie's ears, he didn't stop, carrying the second syllable of Jamie's name for another few seconds, until Jamie slapped a hand over his mouth and said, grinning stupidly, "Yes, you idiot."
Henry didn't even seem to mind when Jamie didn't take his hand off of his mouth right away, just smiled widely beneath his palm, so bright Jamie wouldn't be surprised if light began to peak out from between his fingers. When Jamie finally pulled his hand back Henry said, "Did you like my lyric change? I liked it a lot, do you think we could persuade them to sing it that way when we go see them live?"
Right, because they have tickets to a real, actual Moon Minders concert. As in, Jamie is going to see them in person, on stage, singing directly into his ears. With Henry beside him, as his very real boyfriend. Fuck.
Henry looked at him, smile melting into something just a bit brighter than a star. He leaned in, pressed his forehead to Jamie's. "You alright?" he asked, lowering his voice.
"Yeah," Jamie breathed. Henry was so close, his face right there, he could feel his hot breath on his own lips. His knees might have felt a little shakey."Yeah, just- happy."
"Me too," Henry said. He closed his eyes, humming something in his throat, a close-mouthed smile of utter bliss on his lips. "Should have done this last year. Wanted to kiss you so bad, you know?"
"You did," Jamie said, despite himself, thinking of the single, sloppy kiss Henry had left on his cheek when he'd dropped him off at his place last year. A kiss that Jamie had thought about far too much about over the last year for it to mean as little as he'd always tried to convince himself it did.
"You know what I mean."
"Do I?"
Henry opened his eyes and pulled back just slightly, a tiny, delighted spark of mischief coming over his eyes and his smile. "Do you?"
"I don't know," Jamie said slowly, putting on a show of consideration, even if his heart was beating wildly in his chest. "You might need to show me what you mean."
Henry's answering smile was pure, unfiltered sunlight.
"Gladly."
The air was quiet, then, though the rush in Jamie's ears was loud, loud, and loud, and even though it was still freezing, Jamie felt nothing but warm bursting colors and stars as Henry's lips parted his own.
"You make me a sappy shit," Jamie breathed against Henry's skin when they broke apart. Henry only laughed and leaned back in, and Jamie could taste his smile.
"Henry, you do know that this isn't slow song."
They stood with their arms around each other, swaying slowly to the fast paced music at Henry's insistence because he 'liked being close.' Henry rolled his eyes, but leaned in to press a smiling, close mouthed kiss to Jamie's lips. Jamie had already lost track of many times since they'd kissed since they had gone back inside to dance out the rest of the jam.
The swoop of pleasure and delight every time it happened was something Jamie wouldn't mind getting used to. He wondered how long it would take him not to feel a tiny bit surprised every time Henry did that, every time he kissed Henry's own lips.
"Of course, Lewis, I do have ears," Henry said. "Dunno how I'm not deaf, though, considering I live with a very loud someone."
Before Jamie could make any kind of objection, Henry leaned in to kiss him again. Honestly, if he kept this up, their flat may just become a very silent place. Unless…
Jamie leaned in closer, parting his lips against Henry's so he wouldn't pull away. He snuck a hand up the side of Henry's neck, skin hot from dancing, and wrapped his fingers around a lock of Henry's hair and gave an experimental tug.
Henry half yelped, half groaned into Jamie's mouth, and Jamie pulled back, feeling sufficiently successful and a bit smug. Henry's eyes glossed over just slightly, mouth hanging open in surprise as he looked back at Jamie, and Jamie decided they'd definitely have to finish this later.
"That's what I thought."
They both looked up, and a surge of annoyance momentarily overtook Jamie's pleasure as he realize Drew was, once again, invading his space, this time wholly unwanted.
"What, Drew," he said, impatient. He had more kissing and dancing and sappy new boyfriend things to do with Henry. He was not going to waste this Valentine's Day any more than he already had.
"When you said you had a date, obviously it had to be Stebbins," Drew said, and to Jamie's vague surprise, he simply looked amused.
Jamie felt his face flush, not that there was anything to feel very embarrassed about anymore. He felt Henry's hand slip down and intertwine his fingers with his own. When Jamie turned to look at him, he found a smile on his face. Jamie felt the tension uncurl in his stomach, a smile nudging at his own lips.
"Obviously," he repeated. Henry beamed.
Drew glanced between them. "I have no idea what went on here tonight, but for the record, if you think I was fooled for one second into thinking Will had a thing for anyone by Connor, well." He rolled his eyes. "It's not like I wasn't aware of it during the whole time we were dating."
"Duly noted," Jamie said. "Now please, go dance with your date, so I can dance with mine."
Drew scowled, just the tiniest bit, but disappeared back into the crowd. Jamie looked back at Henry. "How come Drew knew about Connor and Will and we didn't?"
Henry shrugged, looking a bit guilty. "We're crap friends."
"Well, alright," Jamie said. "I was going to say I was too busy being distracted by you, but that's true too."
It wasn't hard to get Henry grinning again, dimples popping. "We'll throw them a fabulous wedding to make up for it."
"I'll let you cater. You can order Chinese food."
"Heeey."
Jamie wrapped an arm around him and pressed his lips to Henry's cheek. Immediately he felt the dimple return.
Slowly, he kissed his way up to Henry's ear, pushing his curls back so he could murmur, "Hey, Valentine."
Henry turned his head so Jamie met his lips instead. They were smiling. Jamie hoped they were always smiling.
The concert had just let out, and Jamie was positively buzzing. He tugged on Henry's hand, pulling him into the cool night air, a delicious contrast to the thick smokiness of the concert venue.
"Henry, that was fucking amazing, the best fucking night of my life. I don't think any night could top this, I really fucking don't. Did you hear the when they played Frostbitten Heart? They should have played it twice. fuck." Jamie's blood felt like it was on fire, injected with Moon Minders music, played directly into his ears, live. He'd just seen them live.
He paused, coming to a halt on the pavement and jerking Henry back so suddenly that people nearly walk right into them. He let go of his hand and spun back around. The Moon Minders was spelled in big letters lit up against the building. Jamie didn't want to leave.
"I can't go, Henry," he said. "They're still in there. I can't just leave." As if to prove some sort of point, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a picture of the venue, as if he hadn't already taken about twenty on their way in.
When he turned back around, coming out of his momentary haze, he found Henry just standing there, quiet and looking at him, smiling softly with an expression of such utter fondness on his face it made Jamie's toes squirm in his shoes.
"I- Moon Minders," Jamie said distractedly, as if reminding himself why he was here, because Henry had the power to make him forget he was at the single best event of his life with just a simple look.
"Yeah, babe," Henry said, stepping up to him and reclaiming his hand, lacing their fingers. His touch was warm, and when Henry leaned down to give him a quick kiss it was even warmer. "Glad you liked it so much."
"Liked it, fuck, I- " Jamie broke off, trying to find the words. Turned out he couldn't. "The best night, Henry. The very best. Thank you." He reached up and kissed him back, harder this time. He'd have to kiss Henry a thousand more times to show the extent of his gratitude. By the beaming smile on Henry's face when he pulled away, Jamie guessed he wouldn't mind.
"And I need to thank Pete again," he said. His breath came out in excited puffs. "I should get him something. A Nando's gift card. Does he like Nando's?"
Henry shrugged. "Probably."
"I'll get him two Nando's gift cards. And apologize for every bad thing I've ever thought about him."
"That might take a while." Henry gave him a wry smile. But he squeezed Jamie's hand, pleased that Jamie was warming to his friend so much. He was on fucking fire. Fuck, if only he'd known that all this time he was busy being jealous of Henry spending so much time with Pete, Pete was only helping him get Jamie presents.
"Don't care. I love Pete now," Jamie said, pecking Henry's lips twice.
Henry raised his eyebrows. "Do you, now?"
"Yes," Jamie said. He pressed another kiss to his lips. The crowd cleared out around the, bodies filtering out on either side of them, but Jamie hardly noticed. "But."
Henry kissed him back, lips sweet, traces of the drinks they'd had still lingering. "But?"
"But," Jamie said, warm breath ghosting over Henry's lips. His ears felt muffled, music still washing over him in echos. He kissed Henry again. "You're my favorite."
Henry grinned and sank into his touch, and kissed him again.
I think Jamie loves you more than he loves me now, Henry typed into his phone later with one hand, Jamie fast asleep on his chest. He'd been all energy and kisses and loud voices the entire way home, but the moment they stepped into their flat, his promises of 'the best experience of seduction you'll ever have' flew right out the window as he collapsed right on Henry's bed, shoes still on his feet.
Knew he'd come around eventually, Pete's message came a moment later.
Henry was tempted to make some sort of joke of offense, but instead he simply typed out Thanks mate, too pleased and content with everything to start some sort of banter, and entirely too sleepy himself. His phone lit up again.
Can't wait to see what you get my girlfriend for Christmas.
Henry snorted, and Jamie shifted on his chest, nosing at Henry's shirt sleepily. "Wasso funny?"
"Nothing," Henry said quietly, setting his phone down and putting his hand in Jamie's hair, running his fingers through it soothingly.
Jamie opened an eye at him. Henry thought he looked like a drowsy kitten, sweet and rumpled. "Go to sleep, Henry ," he said sleepily. "Need to make you breakfast in the morning."
That certainly sounded adorable and domestic. Henry was suddenly inclined to fall asleep immediately. "Okay," he closed his eyes, hand still in Jamie's soft hair.
The weight on Henry's chest disappeared suddenly, and he felt a pair of warm lips kiss his own. Delight and pure happiness shot down to Henry's toes.
Jamie tucked his head into the crook of Henry's neck, and as sleep overtook him, hazy and warm, Henry decided that this simple moment right here, Jamie soft and sweet and lovely against him, was worth everything.
A/N: This is bad. This is so bad. I literally started it over five times in the hopes that I could make it less bad but it still came out bad. At least I finished it. I had to see the boys cry. There's nothing I enjoy more than boys being in love with each other and crying. I just really wish it wasn't so bad.
But my heart has moved on from this story. It's too late to have any hope of improvement, sadly. Next time I'll write something with more girls in it. This had too many foolish boys. Who swear far too much. SORRY.
Title from Owl City's 'Technicolor Phase.'
Also, if you read this, I love you :)