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It was the day that Wylan had been dreading for months.
It was Parents Weekend at University of Ketterdam, and he knew it was only a matter of hours before he was forcibly reunited with his father. His father only visited because he had an image to maintain as a university donor; nevertheless, Wylan wished his father’s image upkeep required nothing more than the annual alumni lunch and the occasional visit with administrators.
During his father’s biannual visits to campus, Wylan worked hard to steer clear of any of his usual spots on campus—the chemistry lab, the art studio—anywhere they might run into Wylan’s friends or professors. He wasn’t prepared for the hell that would inevitably arise from those interactions. And truthfully, he felt a duty to protect his friends from his father—Jan Van Eck was a cruel, cruel man, and Wylan would not bring him into any of his friend’s lives.
For this reason, Wylan rarely talked about his family. Generally, the less his friends knew, the better; one of the only exceptions to this was Jesper, who always begged to meet Wylan’s father when he visited. And this was exactly where Wylan found himself today, as he was preparing for the arrival of his father.
“Please, Wylan,” Jesper whined, gripping Wylan’s arms and lightly shaking them. “You’ve met my dad multiple times, I think it’s only fair I meet yours.”
Wylan rolled his eyes, wriggling out of his roommate’s grasp, walking around the other side of the dining table. The two shared a small, two-bed, one-bath apartment on campus, a quaint little thing that they had managed to make their own.
“No, Jesper—I’ve already told you. I want it to be just my dad and I while he’s here.” He wasn’t in the mood to have this conversation again, not after the dozen times they had had it over the years. The two boys had been friends since freshman year and roommates since sophomore year, and now, at the beginning of senior year, they were certifiably best friends. Jesper knew almost everything about Wylan—how he took his tea, what he liked to eat when he was sick, what he wanted to do after graduation. He had let Jesper in more than he had anyone else in his life, and sometimes, it truly terrified him.
He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t developed a crush—perhaps even something more—on Jesper over the years. Jesper, despite the walking bout of chaos he often appeared to be, had always managed to ground Wylan in a way no one else ever had. Having a crush on his roommate and best friend had certainly grown inconvenient, but Jesper was the best thing Wylan had ever known, and he wasn’t going to sacrifice that for some silly idea of romance. And he certainly wasn’t going to sacrifice it by introducing Jesper to his dad—even if it meant hurting Jesper in the process.
“Wylan…” Jesper started, his voice quiet. “Are you ashamed of me?”
Wylan turned to face the other boy, eyebrows raised.
“Ashamed? Why would I be ashamed of you?”
“I don’t know, you tell me,” Jesper’s voice was growing in volume with every word. “Is it the fact that I’m not as smart as you, or that I don’t come from as much money as you? In case you haven’t noticed, a great deal of us have to actually work our way through uni—we don’t have donor fathers who can pay our way through.”
“Shut up, Jesper,” Wylan gritted through his teeth, trying to ignore the swelling in his throat. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“If I don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s because you won’t let me close enough to figure it out!” Jesper shouted. “You’re my best friend, for Saints’ sake. The least you can do is let me meet your dad—or tell me why I’m not worthy of meeting him.”
Wylan wished he could tell Jesper that it wasn’t him he was ashamed of, that Jesper was the best person in his life and deserved to be surrounded by only good things. He wished he could tell him that Wylan wasn’t even smart enough to be at university, that his father’s money had practically bought his admission, that he only had himself to be ashamed of. Yes, Wylan wanted to protect the best person in his life from the worst one—but selfishly, there was a part of him that also wanted Jesper to never see this side of Wylan, to realize that he was just another dumb rich kid who would never amount to anything on his own.
“The least you can do, Jesper, is respect my wishes,” Wylan responded with a tone of finality. “Now leave me be—I have to leave soon.”
Wylan turned toward his room, unable to look at the hurt expression on Jesper’s face any longer. He felt awful hurting Jesper, he truly did—but it was better him than his father.
—
After nearly an hour of silent crying in his room, Wylan got dressed and made his way to the restaurant where he was meeting his father—an upscale Kerch-Suli fusion place on the outskirts of campus. Wylan had chosen the restaurant not only because he knew it met his father’s standards, but because it was dimly lit and offered lots of privacy between the booths, on the off-chance he ran into someone from school. He also had been here once before, and thus would simply order what he did last time to avoid looking at the menu, which was a plus.
When he arrived, he found that his father was already sitting at a booth towards the left side of the restaurant, eyes perusing the menu. Feeling a nervous jump in his stomach, Wylan took a deep breath to steady himself before walking over to the table.
“Hello, father,” he said quietly as he slid into the booth. Jan Van Eck did not react, his eyes still scanning the menu as if he did not notice Wylan’s presence. Wylan didn’t have a problem with this—if anything, it gave him a few more seconds of respite. He sat there in silence for another minute or so before his father’s eyes raised to meet his.
“Ah, you’re here.” Jan raised his eyebrows, taking in his son’s appearance. “I see you haven’t changed since the last time I saw you.”
I see you’re still the disappointment I’ve always known you to be, Wylan translated in his head.
“Yeah, I’m still the same,” Wylan murmured quietly.
“I’ll take a bottle of red,” his father said to the waiter before the poor boy could even get a word out. Wylan gulped, knowing that despite his father’s desire to maintain his image, alcohol had a tendency to make him loose-lipped, especially in public. The waiter—David, his name tag read—nodded quickly, awkwardly and looked at Wylan expectantly.
“Just a water, thanks.” David nodded once more before scurrying back to the kitchen.
When he turned back to his father, he found himself under the usual gaze of scrutiny.
“It’s hard to believe it’s your senior year,” his father started. Wylan held his breath, knowing the seemingly normal comment was preceding something far nastier. “The fact that you’ve managed to playact as semi-intelligent for all these years is actually impressive.”
And there it was.
Wylan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, reaching to take a sip of the drink that David had just deposited onto their table. There was actually some truth to his father’s statement—Wylan knew he wasn’t intelligent, but he had learned a fair share of tricks to make his way through his classes. It had been much harder his first year of college, when he was forced to take more general requirements and didn’t know many people he could rely on for help in those classes. But sophomore year, when he began taking more chemistry classes and could rely on oral instruction, he found himself almost coasting through each term. There was still the occasional written assignment, of course, but Wylan had learned to tell a classmate he had missed class and ask them to repeat the instructions so he could write his paper using his text-to-speech software. And whenever he was tasked with reading, he would complain of poor vision, which often prompted Jesper to read to him. Surprisingly, Jesper never complained—and Wylan certainly didn’t, not when it meant getting to listen to the husky baritone of Jesper’s voice.
“Thank you, father,” was all Wylan replied, unsure of what else to say.
“That wasn’t a compliment,” Jan sneered in response, downing his first glass of wine before pouring himself another. If this awkward silence with passive aggressive comments was going to be the course of dinner tonight, Wylan would take it. Saints knew he had dealt with far worse.
“Wylan?” Wylan froze at the sound of his name, husky baritone turned to something lighter in a confused tone. He turned to see Jesper and his own father, Colm, standing a few yards away from his booth. At the sight of them in the same room as his father, Wylan felt something burning in his stomach, on his skin. He didn’t need to look in the mirror to know how red his face was, except this time it was not caused by a flirty comment or witty remark made by his roommate. This time, his flush was ugly, spurred by the knowledge that his entire world was about to come crashing down.
“Jes, hey…”
“Well hello Wylan, it’s so good to see you again,” Colm smiled at him, all toothy and bright. Wylan’s chest ached at the sight of it.
“Hi Mr. Fahey,” Wylan waved, awkwardly.
“Fahey? Ah, so you’re Wylan’s roommate,” Jan spoke up, his eyes assessing both Jesper and his father. Wylan turned sharply towards his father, unsure of how he knew Jesper’s name. He had been sure to never mention any of his friends, allowing his father to believe that he was lonely and miserable, which Wylan knew he appreciated. The dark grin on his Jan’s face told Wylan that his father had been keeping tabs on him, making sure he never got too comfortable.
“Yes, sir. It’s nice to meet you.” Jesper was smiling hesitantly, likely still feeling the effects of their earlier fight.
“Why don’t you two join us?” Jan offered, eyeing the two men with an easy smile on his face.
“Oh, no, I’m sure they have other things to be doing—”
“No, no. I insist.” His father’s smile had become wider, more sinister, though Wylan knew only he could see that.
“That sounds great, we’d love to,” Colm replied jovially, moving to sit beside Jan as Jesper slid in next to Wylan, who refused to meet his roommate’s eyes. He could feel Jesper’s gaze on him, but moved to grab a menu just to have somewhere to place his eyes. His hands shook as he held the paper, willing the burning tears to remain in his eyes.
This wasn’t happening—there was no way this was happening. After all of the times Wylan had made sure his father and his friends—specifically Jesper—didn’t interact, he couldn’t believe that they were all in the same room: his favorite person in the world, his least favorite person in the world, and an unsuspecting bystander who had no idea what he was getting himself into.
“So, Jesper—what do you study?” Jan asked, ignoring his son’s glare.
“I’m a part of the trade school, sir—I mainly study welding. But I’m doing a minor in finance, in case I want to make a business out of it,” Jesper answered easily, and Wylan could see he was turning on his charm.
“That’s very respectable, kid. Colm, was it? You must be very proud to have a son with such a bright future ahead of him.”
I could never be proud of you, was what his father was indirectly saying to him. You have no future.
“Yes, yes, I’m very proud of my boy,” Colm replied earnestly, grinning at Jesper. Wylan smiled slightly—he knew that Jesper was often insecure of his studies, pursuing two fields he wanted to be good at so desperately, but often struggled with. He had made improvements, for sure, and Wylan was so proud of him; but even Wylan’s—or Colm’s—pride couldn’t coax the insecurities that ran through the Zemeni boy’s head in the middle of an exam. “I’m sure you know how it feels, though, having Wylan as a son—I think chemistry is one of the most difficult subjects. I wish I could understand just a fraction of Wylan’s experiments.”
Wylan flushed, both at Colm’s praise and at the reality of it occurring in front of his father.
“Something like that,” Jan laughed. Colm laughed with him, though Wylan could tell he was confused. “I have never regarded chemistry as particularly difficult, or useful. But Wylan is quite fond of doing whatever he wants.”
“It sounds like Wylan’s always been innovative, then?” Jesper’s question was slow, his expression mirroring the confusion of his own father’s.
“That’s one word for it,” Jan muttered, taking another sip of his wine.
“Right…” Colm said awkwardly. “Why don’t we place our orders?”
“Excellent idea, Colm,” Jan replied matter-of-factly. “Wylan? Why don’t you order an appetizer for the table?”
Wylan’s heart dropped into his stomach. He knew his father was mocking him, attempting to reveal what an idiot his son was. Wylan had only prepared to order his own entrée, and did not know the name of anything else on the menu.
“I— I don’t—” Wylan stuttered, his father’s eyebrows raised in amusement.
“I’d really fancy some hardtack, if you don’t mind,” Jesper jumped in easily, and Wylan could tell the boy sensed his nervousness; he probably thought Wylan couldn’t see in the dim lighting of the restaurant. “Maybe a plate for the table?”
Jan failed to hide an eye roll before nodding in assent. Jesper squeezed Wylan’s knee, a reassuring gesture even though he knew Jesper was still angry at him. Wylan offered Jesper a small smile before turning his eyes back to his lap, a habit that always resurfaced in the presence of his father.
“So, Jesper. What’s it like living with Wylan? Is he as much trouble as I remember?” To most, comments like this came off as good-natured banter between father and son; but the look in Jan’s eyes and the danger in his tone told Wylan otherwise.
“Wylan? Trouble? Never,” Jesper grinned, nudging the boy next to him. “At least when he’s not blowing up our dinner.”
“That was one time,” Wylan couldn’t help but pout.
“Two times, darling. Two times.”
“Ah yes, sounds about right,” Jan grinned wolfishly. “Wylan’s always had a knack for ruining things.”
“I’m kidding, of course,” Jesper said after a moment of awkward silence. “Wylan is an incredible roommate and even better friend. I don’t know what I did to deserve him.”
Wylan looked up to see Jesper gazing at him softly, his eyes glimmering against the glow of the table lamp. It was moments like this that convinced Wylan he was harboring far more than a crush—that his feelings had grown into something stronger, something more dangerous in the face of the most important friendship he’d ever had.
“Huh. You must’ve really fucked up in your past life to be stuck with this one by your side,” Jan laughed humorously. Jesper’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m sorry, am I missing something here?”
“Kid, it sounds like you’re missing a whole lot. I’m sure you’re smart in one way or another, but you have to be pretty oblivious to be friends with someone for so long without realizing they’re an absolute imbecile.”
Wylan inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. He knew it was only a matter of time before things got to this point, but he was not prepared to see things through to the end.
“Are you saying Wylan is an imbecile?” Jesper asked in disbelief.
“Jes, don’t—”
“No, Wylan. I want to hear what the man has to say.” Jesper crossed his arms over his chest, looking at Jan expectedly. Colm also stared at the man next to him.
“He can’t read!” Jan cackled, the alcohol clearly having seeped into his system by now. “He grew up in a house with a huge library, the best tutors Ketterdam could offer, and the most he can do is stare at a page like a newborn.”
“And what of it?” Jesper pressed, leaning across the table.
By now, hot tears were flowing down Wylan’s cheeks. He wanted to leave—to run far away, where he would never have to face his father, Colm, or even Jesper ever again. But he was trapped between the wall and Jesper, who was staring at Jan with an absolutely murderous look. Wylan had never seen Jesper so angry in his life.
“He was supposed to be a great businessman!” Jan shouted. By this point, other patrons were beginning to stare at them uncomfortably. “Instead, he’s a bumbling idiot who’s as shameful as the working girls on the corner.”
“Wylan is your son—he was supposed to be loved by you.”
“Trust me, kid—I ran out of things to love about him real fast. You will too.”
“Do not speak to me as if I don’t know what it’s like to love Wylan,” Jesper snapped. “I fell in love with him years ago and every day have found something new to love. It’s not his fault you’re too much of a pisspoor person to see how loveable he is.”
Wylan blanched. Jesper was in love with him? Wylan had been feeling dizzy since he first walked into the restaurant, but now everything was entirely hazy. His mind was out of sync with his body, his mind swirling while his body felt frozen in shock.
“And frankly, the only thing he has to be ashamed of is having you as a father,” Jesper said with finality before turning to Wylan. “C’mon, angel. Let’s get you home.”
Wylan felt Jesper’s arms wrap around his shoulders, guiding him out of the booth and into a standing position. At Jesper’s touch, he could feel himself coming back into his body. Jesper walked him out of the restaurant, pausing just outside the door.
“I need to say goodbye to my Da, okay?” Jesper said, his hands on either side of Wylan’s shoulders. Wylan noticed Colm hovering just inside, keeping an eye on the two boys. “He’ll want to make sure I have everything handled.”
Wylan nodded absently, watching Jesper go back inside. He knew he shouldn’t have, but as soon as Jesper’s back was turned to him, he ran. He ran faster than he ever had before, faster than all of the times he had unsuccessfully tried to run away as a kid. He ran onto the campus grounds and across the quad and past the dining hall to his apartment. By the time he arrived, he was breathing so heavily he couldn’t tell if it was because he was out of shape or if he was mid-panic attack.
He shakily unlocked the door, slamming it behind him once he was inside. He used the furniture to steady himself on the way to his room, gasping for breath. He all but collapsed onto his bed, gripping the bedding tight in his palms as he hyperventilated.
Everything was ruined. Now Jesper knew what a fuck up he was, knew why he had worked so hard to prevent him from meeting his father. Jesper was the one person he had allowed himself to rely on, to feel safe with—and now that was all gone. Once again, Jan Van Eck had spoken the truth: Wylan did have a knack for ruining things.
Suddenly, Wylan heard the front door slam. He knew it was Jesper—his father would never run after him, not even to taunt him. And within seconds, the Zemeni boy was in front of him, though all Wylan could see through his lowered eyes were Jesper’s legs.
“Wylan? Wylan, can you hear me?” Wylan faintly nodded, his breathing still shallow. He felt the bed sink next to him. “Can I touch you?”
He nodded once again in response, and felt Jesper take his hand, and place it over his heart. Jesper’s heart was beating swiftly—likely as a result of running all the way back here after Wylan—but still slower than Wylan’s. On the edge of his palm he could feel Jesper’s lungs expanding and contracting.
“Can you breathe with me?”
“I can try,” Wylan responded weakly. And he did—under Jesper’s instruction, he focused his efforts on matching their breathing. He squeezed Jesper’s forearms with every breath, willing his body to slow down. At some point, his forehead fell to rest against Jesper’s own, and he could feel the taller boy’s breath against his skin. They sat like this for the next few minutes, next few hours—Wylan didn’t know. All he knew was that when he opened his eyes, he was met with the stormy grey of Jesper’s gaze, looking at Wylan with a mixture of sadness, confusion, and care.
“I’m so sorry,” were the first words that poured out of Wylan’s mouth. Jesper stared at him, wide-eyed.
“You’re sorry?” Jesper asked in disbelief. “Wylan, the only person who needs to be apologizing is that asshole of a father back at the restaurant. And maybe me for pressing you so much about meeting him. But I’m not sorry for being there during that dinner, because I couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone with him, now that I know what he’s like.”
“Yeah he’s a real charmer, isn’t he?” Wylan chuckled darkly.
“Wylan, I’m serious. Knowing that you’ve gone through however many years of his bullshit makes me sick to my stomach.”
“You knew, didn’t you?”
“Knew about your father? Of course not, no. I would’ve—”
“No, not that,” Wylan cut him off. “You knew I couldn’t read.”
“Oh. I didn’t want to assume or anything, but I figured it was more than bad vision stopping you from reading. You’d look too cute in glasses,” Jesper added, winking at him. Wylan huffed in annoyance.
“So you don’t think I’m stupid?” He asked quietly.
“Saints, no. I think you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. You work with all of these dangerous chemicals and you’re so damn good at it, it’s unreal. I couldn’t even attempt some of your homework without losing a finger or two. And you always give the best advice—no matter what thing I’ve messed up, you always know how to fix it and how to make me feel better about it. You’re fucking brilliant, Wy, and I’m sorry you’ve spent so much time being told otherwise.”
Now Wylan was crying again, though these tears were born of happiness, of love.
“Please tell me you believe me, Wylan.” Jesper’s fingers combed through the front of Wylan’s hair, something Jesper knew calmed him down. Wylan inhaled wetly.
“I can try,” he repeated, and Jesper smiled.
“That’s all I need. I’ll spend the rest of my life convincing you, if I have to.” He tugged Wylan to lay down, their bodies parallel to each other. He continued running his fingers through Wylan’s hair, smiling as Wylan closed his eyes in contentment.
“What about the other thing?” Wylan asked.
“What other thing?”
“You—you said you loved me. That you were in love with me.” Wylan felt Jesper’s hand pause in his hair, and cursed himself for ruining the peace they had just cultivated. He opened his eyes to find a panicked expression on Jesper’s face. “It’s okay if you didn’t mean it.”
“Of course I meant it. Saints Wylan, of course I did. I just didn’t realize I was saying it when I did. I promise I didn’t mean to tell you this way—not in an argument with your father at a restaurant that I most definitely will never be allowed into again.” Wylan laughed lightly at that.
“How would you have told me?”
“Well, ideally, I would’ve taken you someplace romantic—somewhere we could watch the sunset together, or a garden where I could tell you why you remind me of your favorite flower.” Wylan blushed deeply.
“I would’ve pulled you close, like this.” Jesper tugged lightly on Wylan’s waist, their faces now mere inches apart. One arm remained on Wylan’s waist while the other returned to his hair. Wylan’s heart was beginning to race again, but this time, it was with cautious exhiliration.
“And I would’ve told you how brilliant you are. ” Jesper paused, pressing a soft kiss to Wylan’s temple. “How beautiful you are.” Another featherlight kiss, this time on the opposite temple. “How strong you are.” A kiss on his forehead. “How compassionate you are, how funny you are.” Between his eyes, on the bridge of his nose. “How perfect you are. How everything started making sense when I met you.”
With every declaration, Wylan let more tears fall down the slope of his cheeks and onto the upward curve of his lips.
“I’m so fucking in love with you, Wylan. At the very least, you have to believe that.”
And he did. Wylan had never felt this loved, this cherished in his life.
“I do, I believe you. And I love you too.”
“You do?”
“Yes!” Wylan hollered, laughing. Jesper dissolved into giggles with him, tears of joy streaming down his own face. For the next few minutes, the two cackled at their obliviousness over the years. Love had long been thrumming between them, even if they had only just now attached words to it. And when they came down from their laughter, feeling more settled into their bodies than they had all day, Wylan looked up at Jesper cheekily.
“You missed a spot, by the way.” Jesper grinned.
“Did I? Well, we can’t have that, can we?” And just when Wylan went to laugh again, Jesper kissed him so deeply, so intimately, it rocked Wylan to his core.
This was how they spent the rest of the evening: kissing and cuddling and expressing their love for each other. Here Wylan had been, thinking he was on the verge of losing his best friend because of his father, who had always made Wylan feel worthless. And here was Jesper, who had always made Wylan feel cherished, who had never made him feel anything less than loved.
As they fell asleep that night, Wylan held tight in Jesper’s arms, he felt like something precious. He knew that a single night could not erase the years of trauma and insecurities created by his father, but he thought that with Jesper by his side, Wylan might just believe that he was deserving of love.