Chapter Text
Jesper found summers in Ketterdam as lamentable as the winters. The summer heat was damp, and humid, and generally horrible. Sometimes, it wasn’t sunny at all. Sometimes, summers in the city were as dreary as an October afternoon. But, today was the former. The heat greeted Jesper as sunlight stretched its weary arms across his face. He reached for Wylan, extending his arm across the bed. Empty. He turned his head, blinking.
He became aware of noises from the kitchen area, through the door. Quiet, nonsensical singing. Jesper smiled at the ceiling. Someone was in a good mood today.
Rubbing his eyes, Jesper got out of bed. He shrugged on a shirt of his that was discarded on the floor the night before, not bothering to button it, and approached the door. The bedroom brightened as he opened it and entered the main part of the apartment. Wylan had left the windows open, and the curtains fluttered nervously in the breeze.
“Good morning,” Wylan murmured, not looking up from whatever task it was he was performing at the kitchen counter.
“Hello, sunshine,” Jesper replied. “What’s going on?”
Wylan turned around, holding two mugs. “Tea,” he replied.
“I thought mornings required coffee,” Jesper commented, though he accepted the tea regardless.
“That was when we worked on Sundays,” Wylan replied, with an air of wisdom. “Now drink. I put honey in yours.”
Jesper ruffled his hair, earning a scowl and a contradictory smile, before sitting down at the kitchen table. “You’re up early,” he said.
“It’s ten o’clock!”
“Like I said, early.”
“Always so slothful,” reprimanded Wylan.
“Slothful…”
“It’s a word,” Wylan retorted.
Jesper took a sip of tea. “Nobody who isn’t a religious leader or under the age of fifty uses the word ‘slothful.’”
His boyfriend did not deign to reply. Instead, he sat down on the other chair at the kitchen table with his own tea. “It’s still weird having Sundays off. Crow Radio never let us have Sundays off.”
“It’s so weird, isn’t it? Leaves us with so much free time.”
Wylan smiled into his mug. “Do you miss it? Miss them?”
“Eh. A little. I mean, the Crows are still our friends, right? Our friendship doesn’t rely on the fact we all work at the same radio station.”
“I suppose. I mean, look at Nina. Off running her magazine. It’s really just Inej, Kaz and Matthias nowadays, isn’t it?”
Jesper snorted. “And the way it’s looking, what with a baby Brekker on the way, it’ll just be Kaz and his best friend Helvar.”
“Reckon that they’ll pass it on to some others?”
“Yeah. It’s for the best.”
Wylan nodded. Jesper liked Wylan a lot, but he liked him the most in the mornings, he discovered. Especially on lazy mornings like this. With his hair mussed— it was getting longer, he realised, fighting the urge to find a curl and tug— and his shirt loose. It was quite a blessing.
“What is it?” Wylan asked, his eyes lifting from the mug. Jesper propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand. He grinned like a complete fool.
“You’re my boyfriend,” He said. He let out a sound that could be considered a giggle, if not for Jesper’s pride.
That made Wylan smile, which made Jesper smile more. It was a vicious cycle, he concluded.
“I am your boyfriend, sweetheart.”
Jesper took another sip of tea. “You make very good tea,” he added.
“One of my many skills.”
“My, my, is that an innuendo?”
Wylan shrugged, nonchalant. “It’s whatever you want it to be, sweetheart.”
“You’re terribly unprofessional.”
“Oh, I never claimed to be such a thing.” He finished his tea with finality. He got up, set it in the sink, and opened the fridge. “Do you want something to eat? I got fruit a few days ago. The strawberries are…” he gave a little sigh of bliss. “You know what? I don’t care if you say no, I’m gonna make you eat them.”
“That good, huh?”
“Mhm.”
Wylan prepared a small bowl of strawberries, singing under his breath as he went. He methodically removed the stalk and its leaves, popping them into the bowl once it was done. “Et voila,” he announced, brandishing the dish and setting them in front of Jesper, who was sitting oddly, so that his legs weren’t under the table, but facing Wylan.
Jesper snaked his arms under Wylan’s shirt, pulling him between his legs. “I’ve trapped you.”
Wylan looked down at him and rolled his eyes. “Oh no, whatever will I do?”
“Guess you have to stay here forever,” Jesper said, feigning an apology.
He gave a dramatic sigh. “Guess I do… what a shame…” Wylan threw a glance at the strawberries. “Aren’t you going to eat the strawberries? After all that preparation?”
“Can’t,” Jesper replied, “otherwise you might escape.”
Wylan picked up a strawberry, inspected it for a second before holding it to Jesper’s lips. Jesper gladly ate it.
“Huh,” he said, “you were right. They are that good.”
“What did I tell you?” Wylan picked up another strawberry, but saved this one for himself. “Are you going to let me go now?” He said through a mouthful, “I have to get dressed.”
“You are dressed,” Jesper argued.
“Jesper, if I went out in public like this, I’d be on the front page of Ketterdam Today within the hour.”
Jesper heaved a sigh, and his arms slackened, his hands resting on his knees. “Fine.”
“Thank you.” Wylan planted a generous kiss on his forehead before disappearing into their bedroom.
Jesper popped another strawberry in his mouth. He went to rest his head on the table, but was interrupted by the phone mounted on the wall ringing. Rolling his eyes, he reluctantly rose and picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Jesper? Hi,” came a familiar voice.
“Nina!” He exclaimed, “hello! You’ve just missed Wylan.”
“Oh, that’s fine, you’ll do,” teased Nina, “I was just calling to ask if you guys are free for lunch Wednesday? Kaz and Inej have already agreed to come.”
“Sure, we’d love that. How’s Matthias these days?” He asked.
She laughed. “Oh, you know him. Big, blonde, and gruff.”
“But you still like him.”
“I like him very much. And how’s Wylan?”
“He’s great,” Jesper said with a smile, “he’s just great.”
“Not as great as my boyfriend.”
Two could play that game.
“Oh? Do you think so? Well, we’ll see about that on Wednesday, won’t we, Zenik?”
“Suppose we will, Fahey. Wednesday. Two. Mine. Be there or be square.”
“Deal.” Still grinning, Jesper hung up.
Wylan emerged from the bedroom. “Who was that?”
“Nina. We’re having lunch on Wednesday.”
“With the Crows? Aw, that’s nice of her.” Wylan fixed the collar of his shirt, fussing with the uneven angle of its fold. Once it satisfied him he approached the door. “I need to go get some bread. Do you need anything while I’m out?”
Jesper thought for a second, popping another strawberry in his mouth while he deliberated. He swallowed, then announced, “no, thanks. Just a kiss before you bid me farewell.”
“You’re so dramatic. Anyone would think I was going off to war, not across the street.” He indulged Jesper regardless.
“Goodbye, my angel! I miss you already!” He called after Wylan as he left. Wylan very generously offered two middle fingers before quietly closing the door behind him.
Jesper laughed, although there was nobody to hear it anymore. He didn’t think he’d been this happy since… well, maybe, ever. Happiness was a tricky thing to measure. It came in all sorts of different forms, Jesper had found; an arm slung easily over someone’s shoulder, and encouraging voice wandering along the shell of one’s ear, a kiss, lingering hands, a smile, breakfast in bed, cold mornings, breezy afternoons, trips to the grocery store, insisting it was not one’s turn to do the laundry. Happiness, at least, Jesper’s happiness, had become inseparable from the feeling of being loved. Maybe that was it, he concluded, maybe Wylan was his source of joy. Maybe it was his family, his friends. Whatever the source was, Jesper could say with confidence that he had felt it in this kitchen, in their bedroom, in their apartment. He felt it wherever Wylan went.
It had taken them both a while to forget that they did not have to pretend anymore; that there were no cameras or microphones to hide from. Within these four walls, they were perhaps the most unconstrained versions of themselves. For all of a split-second, Jesper thought he’d forgotten who that version was, thought that he’d forgotten how to be real. But it was easy, with Wylan. He didn’t think he had the words to explain. But, every so often, he had to remind himself this was real.
Jesper regarded their kitchen, their living room; this is real.
The bowl of strawberries on the table, the mug of tea beside it; this is real.
Two chairs at the kitchen table. Two coats hanging on their pegs; this is real.
Lunch on Wednesday afternoon, sleepy Sunday mornings, nipping out to get some bread. It is real.
In the silence, Jesper laughed again, quietly, so as not to disturb the peace too greatly. Real, real, real.