A Contemporary Study of the Minor Romantic Poets (Jesse/Andrew) 2/3
Title: A Contemporary Study of the Minor Romantic Poets
Fandom: TSN RPF (Jesse/Andrew)
previous
"You're not dead," said Justin helpfully.
Andrew groaned and tried not to move in case his head fell off.
"I thought you might be wondering so I decided to stick around and make sure. You are one hundred percent not dead." Justin was crunching something and the noise made Andrew want to throw up, although his mouth tasted like he already had.
"I feel dead," Andrew told his pillow.
"Yeah. Well. You puked your guts out so that's probably why. There's water and Tylenol in the kitchenette if you make it that far. I have class."
Andrew moaned vaguely and it sounded like Justin left.
Eventually Andrew dragged himself out of bed and into the kitchen. Water and toast and a couple of aspirins and a shower later Andrew felt like he could go back to bed and lie there for a while and his head wouldn't throb off entirely.
He remembered throwing up and he remembered coming home with Justin and unfortunately he remembered all the misery before that. That meant he had no excuse not to call Jesse except the horrible pounding in his head and the feeling that if he tried to make sentences his head would definitely fall off.
Justin banged back into the dorm a little while later. "Yo, you still in bed? Did you die while I was gone?" he asked loudly. "I heard if your roommate dies you get straight A's. I wouldn't mind that."
"I'm working up the energy to move," Andrew said. "I don't think I've died. You're a terrible angel, if I have."
"Who says I'm an angel, baby?" Justin asked, leering a little bit. "Seriously, are you okay? I thought you knew about pacing yourself with booze, dude." He threw himself on the couch and clicked the television on.
"I was trying to get drunk." Andrew sat up. The room wasn't moving around too badly although the noise from the telly was awful. "I suppose it's good Jesse left when he did. I don't think he'd be particularly romantically inclined after watching me vomit."
"That was cold, how he ran off when you were all sick," said Justin.
Andrew shook his head, and fine, that was a bit of a mistake. "I've screwed things up for him and Patrick, I've got to go and apologize."
"So, wait," said Justin, frowning. "He for serious has another boyfriend who isn't you?"
"Yes," said Andrew. "But it's alright because I've worked out that I shouldn't be dating Emma; I should be dating Jesse."
"Duh," said Justin flatly. "Biggest duh ever."
"Yes!" said Andrew, and then regretted his enthusiasm. "Ow. Ugh, more water, please."
Justin waved idly at him. "Get it yourself. Wait, have you two morons really been cuddling on my couch all year and you weren't even getting any? That's pathetic."
"No, it just… It just took me a while to work it out," said Andrew, thinking. "I should probably go and find Jesse as soon as possible, shouldn't I?"
"You mean three years ago when the entire rest of the world was like, 'Oh, look at those dudes who are totally in love?' Yeah, that's a great idea."
Andrew attempted to scowl at Justin but his head hurt too much. He lurched out of bed and drank some more water, didn't immediately want to die, and decided it was probably best to go over and talk to Jesse. Jesse had a way of working himself up in to getting upset about things and if he got himself all tied in knots it might take a long time to unknot him.
Andrew was suddenly very interested in unknotting Jesse. Shoulder rubs, maybe, and cuddles, and more kissing, because that had been excellent. It occurred to him that he'd been doing the first two of those things for years, and potentially Justin had a point about what they ought to have been doing since freshman year.
Very possibly, in fact, Andrew had an unexpected mental filing cabinet full of pictures of Jesse. Laughing, crying, being just mean enough to be mistaken for joking, telling improbable lies and then looking over to see if Andrew was laughing, saying brilliant things, saying stupid things, curled up on the couch in Andrew's flat with the flu looking miserable. Those weren't entirely surprising. Of course, Andrew also had mental images of Jesse accidentally shirtless, Jesse getting out of the shower, what Jesse smelled like, and the horribly adorably embarrassed face Jesse had made once when Andrew had opened his laptop and found porn on it.
Interestingly, Andrew's brain had been busily taking notes on Jesse's shoulders and his neck and his thighs and his hands while Andrew had been looking at Emma and Shannon and Joe and a few other people.
"I'm going to Jesse's," said Andrew. "Wish me luck."
"I hope you both get less stupid," said Justin, and turned the TV up.
Andrew hoped so, too. He grabbed his keys and wobbled outside, feeling at least seventy percent recovered. Andrew actually didn't drink too frequently, or at least not too much at a time, and he usually recovered by having Jesse bring him lots of tea while making fun of his low tolerance. Jesse must have been awfully upset if he hadn't called to see if Andrew was alright.
The walk seemed longer than usual, and Andrew didn't appreciate how bright the sun was or how cheerful everyone else on the quad seemed to be. Andrew was realizing bit by bit that he was in love with Jesse, which should have made the morning seem lovelier and the birds more tuneful. Maybe the problem was that instead of an earth-shaking revelation he'd just noticed something that had been creeping up on him for years. The birds had been singing for years already. He'd just been deaf.
He knocked on Jesse's door feeling hopeful and oddly nervous, as if he hadn't barged his way into Jesse's room a million times before.
Jesse opened the door holding Hannibal, who snarled and hissed at Andrew. Jesse didn't look tremendously happier to see him; he also looked as if he hadn't slept. "Oh," said Jesse. "Hi."
He hadn't opened the door much. "Hi," said Andrew. He smiled hopefully because he knew Jesse had enjoyed kissing him. His reaction had been written all over his face.
Jesse made a weird, anxious, upset noise. The door was still only open a crack. "What?" Jesse asked. "Because I'm kind of busy. So. Is there something, or…?"
"Busy?" Andrew asked, affronted and a little bit startled. "Busy with the cat?" The cat in question yowled to be put down. Jesse clutched it closer to his chest. He was going to get his face scratched off, Andrew worried.
"No, just… I have things to do. I'm busy… Uh. Studying. I should go."
Jesse was normally a much better liar than that. Andrew tried not to look too confused and heartbroken. "Why don't you want to talk to me?" he asked, since direct and sad worked on Jesse a lot better than beating around the bush.
Jesse grimaced. "I just… I just can't right now, okay? Last night was bad and I need some time to stop wanting to kill myself out of guilt."
Right, Andrew's original plan had been to apologize. "I'm so sorry Patrick walked in, that was awful, I never meant for anything like that to happen. Well… But…" Andrew tried to sound hopeful and not at all disheartened by Jesse's weirdness. "But it was a good kiss, Jess! I mean... Wasn't it?"
Jesse made another horrified noise and tried to shut the door entirely. Andrew threw his shoulder against it so he couldn't. "I have a boyfriend, Andrew!" Jesse said. "I'm not supposed to kiss anyone else, especially not you. Oh god, I am the worst human being alive."
"I know! And I'm really sorry about that, that part was awful. But-" But I'm better than Patrick, Andrew wanted to explain. He knew that Jesse knew that, agreed even.
"Anyway, I said 'have a boyfriend,' but I should have said 'had.' Because I don't anymore. He was my first boyfriend and I screwed it up just about as badly as anyone possibly could and… Just… Leave me alone to feel sorry for myself for a while, please."
The problem was that Andrew knew he ought to say, "Oh, I'm so sorry," and be sympathetic and comfort Jesse about Patrick. But instead he said, "But that's great!" His mouth was apparently not entirely connected to his good intentions. He blamed the hangover.
"You… What?" Jesse asked, opening the door to give Andrew the baffled and mildly annoyed look he normally saved for Justin.
"Well, I mean… If you haven't got Patrick then we haven't got any problems!" said Andrew, finally feeling properly excited. "I thought it was going to be awful, having to explain to him that actually this whole time it was me you wanted, but now he's gone so it'll be easy!"
There was a long pause. If Andrew had been slightly less hungover or less excited about Jesse - and Jesse's mouth, honestly, he couldn't stop looking at it, had it always been that fantastic? - he might have noticed a dangerous edge to Jesse's voice. "So you think I've just been sitting around waiting for you?"
"And all this while I've been a blind idiot," said Andrew promptly. "But I've worked it out now so we can both stop being so stupid and-"
"Oh my god," said Jesse. "You… That is not… I haven't been just waiting around for you, you jackass!"
"Haven't you?" Andrew asked, confused, and then one second later his brain caught up to his mouth and started shouting at him that probably that was the worst possible thing he could have said.
"Go away," said Jesse, and shut the door in his face.
Andrew stared at the door for a minute. "Jesse!" he said. "I didn't mean it like that! Jesse!" He knocked a few times. He could hear Hannibal yowling inside but nothing else. "Jesse!"
He knocked again for a while until one of the other people on the hall stuck his head out. "Dude, I don't think he's coming back out," he said. "Could you maybe stop banging?"
Andrew scowled at him until he went back into his room. Then he pulled out his phone and texted Jesse I will be back!!!!!!! Ps I'm sorry didn't mean it like that DON'T BE MAD AT ME.
Well, Andrew thought, stomping back to his room. This was no way to begin a proper relationship.
--
Jesse didn't answer any of Andrew's phone calls and he didn't reply to any of his texts. There were four days until spring break and Andrew spent one of them sitting in Jesse's hallway sending texts full of exclamation marks and "I'M REALLY SORRY"s. Eventually the RA on the floor came by and made Andrew leave, and even then Jesse didn't open his door.
It was awful.
Justin thought the whole thing was pretty funny, and he refused to commiserate with a beer because, "That shit caused all the trouble last time. No, seriously dude, just let him cool off for spring break and when you come back bring him some flowers or something. Or some books, I guess. Or a kitten."
Those were pretty good ideas, but Andrew felt like he was going to die. The longer he felt sad and miserable the more sure he was that he was actually in love with Jesse and that every other feeling he'd ever had had just been liking. He wouldn't have felt this ill over Joe or Keira or even Emma. He wanted Jesse and he'd never not been able to have Jesse before. Worse, when he was sad he wanted Jesse to cheer him up and he didn't know how to cheer himself up when Jesse was the problem rather than the solution. He skipped his classes so he could lie on the couch and try to figure out what to do. All he worked out was that he should call Brenda and ask if she'd bring him some food because their fridge was always empty; Justin had drunk all the beer.
Brenda was a saint. "Oh no," she said, looking at him sadly. She wrinkled up her nose. "You have misery face."
"That's because I'm miserable," Andrew said. "What am I supposed to do? My best friend hates me and I think I'm in love with him."
"Weren't you in love with Emma a couple of days ago?" Brenda asked.
Andrew hadn't really stopped to think about that. "Fine, I suppose if I were Jesse that would seem a bit suspect, but it's different this time and he won't answer the phone so I can tell him so! Come in, sit down."
Brenda looked at his couch dubiously. "No, thanks. It smells like boys."
She'd brought him a burger and chips from the cafeteria but he didn't feel like eating ever again. He put them in the fridge. "How can I fix it if he won't even let me apologize?" Andrew moaned, throwing himself on the couch.
Brenda considered that for a second and then kicked him in the ankle. "He got dumped and it's your fault and all you're worried about is yourself, you jerk."
"No!" said Andrew. "I'm worried about Jesse as well." Jesse would be immensely happier once he had Andrew as a boyfriend. Andrew would be a much better boyfriend than Patrick had been. He adored Jesse and he knew all of Jesse's quirks and oddnesses.
"Have you considered trying to get him undumped?" Brenda asked, hands on her hips.
…he really hadn't. "But Patrick is boring and Jesse likes me," Andrew insisted. Getting Jesse undumped was the opposite of what Andrew wanted.
"Because you're only thinking about yourself. Jeez, you don't get this at all. Jesse likes you because you're sweet and kind and British and stuff. So be that guy. The one he likes."
"Oh," said Andrew. That made a depressing amount of sense. "But I don't want him to get back together with Patrick."
"That's okay," said Brenda. "I'm pretty sure you fucked things up enough that Patrick won't take him back. But a round of 'I'm sorry's would do your soul a lot of good. 'The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.'" He blinked at her. "What?" Brenda asked. "I pay attention in class, too."
Apologizing to Patrick sounded horrible. Worse, it sounded like something that would definitely make Jesse start speaking to him again. "'We decay like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief convulse us and consume us day by day, and cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay,'" Andrew moaned.
Brenda replied promptly, "Die, if thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek. Follow where all is fled!'" She gave him a sassy little wink. "Seriously, I'm getting A's, Andrew, don’t underestimate me."
"My mistake." Andrew made a face. "This is going to be awful."
"Stop doing awful things, then."
That was horribly good advice. Andrew was trying not to think about how much his own fault everything was, but there weren't a lot of ways around it. Behaving like a five-year old and whining about it would only make it worse.
Well, Andrew was nothing if not a person who could put a plan into action and look for the bright side of nearly anything. Potentially he could get Patrick to stop hating him, win Jesse over somehow, and end up with no one disliking him at all. "Do you think there's any chance he'll be speaking to me before I have to go home for spring break?"
Brenda sighed. "You're cute, and he loves you. Anything is possible. I wouldn't hold my breath, though."
"Right," said Andrew, trying to get himself excited for a horrible afternoon. "So. I should go and find Patrick."
--
Patrick was in the library, which was lucky because Andrew had a feeling Patrick was no likelier to open his door when Andrew knocked than Jesse had been. Andrew felt a little bit ill. The more he thought about the past couple of months the more he was painfully aware he'd been a jerk, and while apologizing was clearly the right thing to do, it would have been a lot easier to just pretend the whole thing had never happened. Unfortunately Andrew really did believe in trying to make things better and keeping everyone happy. He was glad to be in the library for once; at least Patrick couldn't shout at him in here.
He took a deep breath and sat down across from Patrick at the table. Patrick was buried in a pile of books and note cards and pens. He looked up and his face went stormy and then blank.
"Hi," said Andrew, biting his lip. "I completely understand if you don't want to talk to me but I wanted to say how sorry I am."
Patrick made a complicated, unhappy face. "Thanks, but I really don't care," he said.
Okay, fair enough. Andrew was good at getting people to like him, normally, but obviously this wasn't going to be easy. "I've been a complete arsehole to you since you started dating Jesse, and I'm really sorry. I didn't realize I was… I didn't realize how jealous I was, but I should have. I've been awful."
"I was willing to put up with it, since you're his best friend and all," said Patrick. "Right up until the kissing part."
Andrew winced. "That bit was the worst. I'm really sorry."
"Whatever," said Patrick. "Jesse said it was his fault. I have a paper to finish before I go home for break, so-"
The other students at nearby tables had been glaring at both of them since Andrew had come over. No one else in the library was really talking. One of them, a skinny boy with bad hair and glasses, hissed, "Shh!"
Andrew ducked his head apologetically and whispered, "He said that? No, that's… Uh, that's a very generous interpretation of events. It was me who asked him if he'd kiss me and it was me who insisted. Jesse said he had a boyfriend and it wouldn't be appropriate." Why was Jesse so ridiculously wonderful? Andrew really didn't need Jesse trying to take the blame for things that weren't his fault.
Patrick glared. "Yeah. Well. Whatever either one of you said, it was still shitty. Seriously, do you mind? I'm busy and I don't like you."
That was just about the worst thing anyone had ever said to Andrew, made infinitely more horrible because he deserved it. "I'm just… I wanted to tell you I'm sorry and Jesse really likes you and… Oh god, you should call him. Because I've been such a jerk and he hates me at the moment but he feels awful about you and it wasn't his fault and…" Andrew took a deep breath and called on all his skill as an actor to sound like he really meant what he was saying. "I don't want to have screwed things up with you for him."
Patrick gave him a really long look and Andrew tried not to fidget or squirm or burst into tears. He felt better for having said it but still bad about having to say it. Being responsible and adult wasn't usually this awful.
"You want me to call Jesse?" Patrick asked flatly. "I don't believe it."
"I…" Andrew sighed. "He's not speaking to me; you really should. I deserve to be miserable at the moment and he doesn't."
"I'm trying to study, here!" hissed someone behind them.
Patrick flipped the other student off and didn't bother lowering his voice. Maybe he wasn't quite as boring as Andrew had accused him of being. "I'll think about it," said Patrick. "You know, I was really enjoying hating you. You're kind of ruining that."
"Sorry?" Andrew offered with a tentative smile. "I'm trying to figure out a way to stop hating myself, and then possibly getting Jesse to stop hating me, but it's a process."
Patrick rolled his eyes. "I don't think anyone seriously hates you. Believe me, I've been trying. Fine. I'll call Jesse. Now can this conversation be over, please? I have work to do."
"Thank you," said Andrew, feeling miserable all over again. If Patrick and Jesse got back together he was going to have to pretend to be happy about it or Jesse would never forgive him. "And thanks for listening to me."
Patrick made a grumpy noise and waved him off. The kid at the table next to them said, "Thank god."
"I'm really sorry," Andrew whispered as he left. Patrick ignored him. That seemed fair.
--
After that the only way to deal with the last days of school before break was to be as relentlessly cheerful as possible. Andrew went to class and gave bright smiles and big hugs to all his friends, who did him the favor of pretending they hadn't seen him melt down at the party. Andrew pretended not to notice Jesse sitting on the opposite side of the room from him in the classes they shared. It was a lot like smiling while you were being stabbed. Brenda cooed at him a lot and brought him tea, but it wasn't as good as the tea Jesse made him.
He'd managed not to drown in his own false cheer by the time people started to leave for spring break. Every few minutes he took his phone out of his pocket to see if Jesse had texted him back yet, whether it was Sure I forgive you, let's make out, or Don't die in a horrible plane crash, which he always texted before Andrew flew home. There were no messages at all.
Andrew tried not to dwell on it too much while he packed. There wasn't anything else he could do before he left; he'd abandoned the idea of standing outside Jesse's window with a boombox playing "In Your Eyes" as probably disrespectful to Patrick, and anyway Jesse hated public displays of affection.
It was actually quite nice having Justin around, because at least he was loud and distracting. He was packing up a ton of dirty clothes into a dufflebag, which was his idea of what to bring home over spring break. "Memphis is gonna be awesome, man," he said. "My high school girlfriend is gonna be home and she broke up with her douchey college boyfriend so I'm gonna go home and see if I can score on the rebound."
"You're a prince," said Andrew dryly.
"Plus all my boys are gonna be in town so we can hit all our favorite bars. You should come! I'm bringing Lance, before he goes off to Louisiana to wrestle an alligator or whatever people do there."
"I've told you, I've got tickets home, thanks," said Andrew, relentlessly cheerful. He smiled at Justin and went back to checking the status of his flight.
Justin looked dubious. "And you're all like… You're okay and stuff?"
"I'm packed, I've got two books to bring home with me I'm not going to read, I had lunch with Emma and it was barely awkward at all. Well. There was quite a lot of not talking about the party but then I told her what happened with Jesse."
Justin whistled. "And she was sympathetic?"
"She was surprised we weren't already dating," Andrew admitted. "At any rate that's all patched up and she's promised to try and figure out a way for me to make Jesse forgive me after the holidays."
Justin made a really weird noise like there was something he wanted to say, but he didn't know how to say it, but he'd started to say it and then stopped again. It was sort of like the vocal equivalent of a car wreck.
"What?" Andrew asked. "Oh no, what?"
"Nothing," said Justin. "Nothing. Nothing at all, not one thing, nothing."
"You're the worst liar I have ever met," said Andrew. "Justin, what?"
Justin looked up at the ceiling. "So uh, I was kind of hoping maybe you got over Jesse. Like you got over Emma. That would be cool."
"No," said Andrew slowly. "I have definitely not got over him. I don't think I'm going to."
"That sucks," said Justin. "Because this morning he and Patrick were sitting together in the cafeteria looking pretty cozy and happy and like… They were all, 'Call me over break! We can hang out!' And I don't know about you, dude, but I don't hang out with my exes over break. I hang out with my currentlys."
Andrew felt dizzy and sick. "That's good," he said, trying to sound upbeat. "They're nice people and they like each other and they should… I mean, Jesse didn't do anything wrong so it's nice of Patrick to give him a second chance. I'm happy for them."
Justin snorted, "And I'm the worst liar ever."
"I want Jesse to be happy," said Andrew determinedly. "He likes Patrick so that's… That's nice. Look." He texted Glad you and Patrick are happy and hit 'send' and then showed it to Justin.
"Dude, send all the texts you want, I can tell you wish you were dead." Justin put the last of his dirty clothes - which was all of his clothes - into his duffle. "You need a ride to the airport?"
"Yes, please." Andrew also needed his mum to make him a cup of tea, and to lie on the bed in the guest room that had been his bedroom for years before his mum had suddenly decided they might have guests. He planned to lie there, unmoving, for most of break, unless his mum could persuade him there was any point in going anywhere ever again. She was better at cheering him up than even Jesse was, but he was fairly sure his heart was broken. It certainly hurt.
Justin grabbed his keys off the coffee table where he usually left them lying around. "Okay. But after break if you aren't for reals cheerful I'm going to have to take drastic measures, man. Like… Like I don't even know yet. Drastic."
Andrew was oddly touched. "Thanks," he said.
"It'll probably involve alcohol and more puking, just FYI," Justin said. "Okay. Let's go."
--
The airport wasn't terrible for once, and Andrew slept through most of his flight. His parents were late getting him at the airport but they were always late getting him at the airport and he'd learned to stop taking it personally. They asked him about classes and essays and the shows he'd been in and had he seriously considered transferring somewhere closer to home yet, and he answered with lots of bright, enthusiastic-sounding stories that he cribbed partially from Justin and partially from Brenda, because both of their lives sounded better than his at the moment. He didn't think they needed to hear about broken-hearted crushing disappointment.
Once they were home Andrew's mum brought him some tea and biscuits and he imagined just staying there on the couch, never leaving again (because honestly what was the point of university for acting anyway?) until his mum patted his knee and said, "And how's Jesse?"
They'd met Jesse of course. They'd come out to pick Andrew up at the end of freshman year and Jesse had been in his room, worrying about his flight home. They'd come out to one of his shows the next year and sat with Jesse in the audience, quizzing Jesse about why Andrew's marks weren't better and who he was dating. They'd sent Jesse a Chanukah present this year, along with a miserably embarrassing card to thank him for looking after Andrew.
In retrospect, Andrew thought perhaps they'd picked up on things faster than he had.
"Oh," said Andrew, "he's fine. He's got a boyfriend called Patrick and he's not speaking to me at the moment but it's all a big misunderstanding. It'll all be fixed when I get back."
"Oh dear," said his mum. "What happened?"
"Nothing. I don't want to talk about it. How's everything? Has Dad turned the shed into a tomb for old computer bits?"
She sighed. "He's got four disassembled computers out there and not enough parts to fix any single one of them, but he keeps picking them up off the neighbors for free and insisting he can use the parts from the older ones to fix it up. He can't, of course, and now I've got nowhere for my plants."
"Perhaps I can help him put them together again," Andrew said cheerfully.
"You'll smack yourself in the thumb with a spanner and have to go to the hospital," said his mum. "It's happened before. Remember when you and Ben tried to help him fix the car? He threw his back out, Ben was nearly electrocuted, and you dropped a hammer on your foot and broke your toe."
"But the car did start running again," Andrew pointed out.
She gave him a long, deeply worried look. "What's happened with Jesse, then? You two have never had a fight, have you? Is everything alright? I worry about you, sweetheart. You take everything to heart."
"Absolutely fine," Andrew lied. "I'm going to go and have a nap, I think. The jet lag always gets me coming this direction. Thanks for the tea."
"You're getting a hug before you go anywhere," she said firmly, and hugged him. There was obviously no substitute for hugs from his actual family, and for a second Andrew forgot that he was moping around being heartbroken and miserable because he had his mum. Then she said, "You are eventually going to tell me what you did to Jesse, aren't you? That poor boy."
"He might have done something to me, you know," Andrew grumbled. "He hasn't, but he could have." He hugged her again because he had missed her hugs terribly and he hadn't been getting any from Jesse lately. "I'm going to go and lie down."
She called after him, "If you're still this sad in a couple of days I'm going to call Ben to come and bully the truth out of you. I'm really worried about you, Andrew!"
Andrew waved her off. He could get loads of moping done in two days.
--
In actuality his parents gave him four days, nearly half his holiday, to feel miserable. His chest hurt all the time as if he'd just finished crying. But when he was dragged out of his room he smiled a lot and tried to steer the conversations toward the show he'd just finished and the classes he was thinking about taking as a senior and the show he was going to direct, if he got permission from the Undergrad Theater Collective. Whenever possible he snuck off to nap, or pretended to nap so he wouldn't have to answer any questions. Sometimes he stared at his phone feeling betrayed because he'd sent Jesse approximately three million texts and got zero back. He hadn't honestly realized how much he needed Jesse until he wasn't around at all.
Friday he woke up from a nap with his brother Ben staring at him. "Life can not be as bad as all that," Ben said, which was the sort of unhelpful thing he said. Ben was thoughtful and clever and rarely got upset; Andrew was nearly always upset or giddy and he knew that was why Ben always thought of him as younger than he really was, which he hated.
"I'm fine," said Andrew, and tried to roll over and put his head under his pillow.
Ben grabbed the pillow away. "Mum says you won't talk about what's going on. Apparently you're just lying in here like a lazy slug."
"That's because it's fine," said Andrew. "Everything is fine. Go away; I'm on holiday and I can sleep all day if I want to."
"You've never been the type to lie around. You must be mostly dead or something. Now stop scaring Mum and Dad to death and get up," said Ben cheerfully, and hit him in the face with the pillow.
"Stop that, Mum didn't send you in here to hit me," said Andrew, trying to grab it back.
Ben smiled and hit him again. "She might have. Why don't you get up and find out?"
"You are such a dick," Andrew said. Ben started to swing the pillow around again and Andrew, out of years of instinct, lunged for him.
It was actually a bit cheering, knocking Ben off the bed and managing to get an elbow in his ribs, although Ben had the advantage of being older and weighing more and also having won every single wrestling match they'd ever had eventually, even if he was a cheater.
"I win," said Ben, a little bit out of breath, sitting on Andrew on the floor.
"You cheat," Andrew complained, trying to get his hand free so he could give Ben a proper bruise for his trouble. "And you're getting fat. Get off me; I can't breathe."
Ben ignored him. "Mum and Dad think you might kill yourself. I've had to tell them you're just being an idiot. What's wrong?"
"Nothing," said Andrew, and Ben hit him with the pillow again. "Oh my god, I hate you."
"I am prepared to sit here all day," said Ben, still sounding horribly cheerful. That was how their family reacted when things were upsetting, Andrew knew, but he still hated having it used against him. "I can wait as long as you can."
Andrew groaned. "Can't you just tell Mum I'm fine, please? Then you can go home and she can leave me alone and everyone wins."
Ben squinted at him. "Is university making you stupider? I thought it was supposed to be the opposite."
"No," said Andrew. He missed breathing and he was tired of being hit with things. "Listen, I… I just screwed things up with a friend of mine and they aren't speaking to me and it's awful because it's my fault."
"And?" Ben prompted. "Even you aren't that sensitive."
"I really hate you," Andrew grumbled.
"I am prepared to tickle," Ben added.
Andrew managed to get a knee up and catch Ben in the side and make him swear, which was a little bit of a comfort. "And just… It's possible I'm a little bit in love with them."
"Aha," said Ben. "Who is it?"
Andrew had to sort of consider that answer, because while he knew his parents were perfectly aware he had occasionally done things with boys it was a topic strictly Not To Be Spoken Of between brothers. He didn't think Ben would be disgusted or anything, it was just well beyond the realm of what they were allowed to talk about before Ben made jokes about Andrew being a girl or put horribly embarrassing things on Facebook about him.
Still, Ben didn't seem likely to move. "Jesse," said Andrew grudgingly.
Ben groaned. "You must have really fucked that up. No wonder you're a wreck. Have you apologized?"
"He won't answer his phone." Andrew was in danger of bursting in to tears which Ben would definitely never, ever forget or let him forget. "Or answer my texts. Can we please just not-"
"Get up, then," said Ben abruptly, standing up and offering Andrew a hand. "Dad's in the shed rebuilding a computer and mum says she doesn't want him to electrocute himself."
Andrew needed a moment to take a few deep breaths and make his eyes stop feeling prickly. Ben pretended to be interested in the odd little knickknacks and kitten statues their mum had decorated the room with. Eventually Andrew said, "But I suppose it's all right if he electrocutes us?"
"If your hair stood on end who could tell?" Ben asked. "Come on."
"You're just jealous because you'll be bald soon," said Andrew. Ben snorted. "Is that it?" Andrew asked suspiciously. "You're done interrogating me?"
Ben shrugged. "For now. I can tell mum you aren't going to kill yourself. If he won't answer his phone you haven't tried hard enough. Don't be such an idiot. When Alex is cross with me I let her cool down before I call, especially if I've done something really stupid, which I suspect you have." Ben shook his head. "After you fix this you'd better bring him round so we can all stare at him and scare him to death. I've got loads of embarrassing stories about you to tell him. Now shall we go or do you want to wait for the smell of singed Dad, and Mum to start shouting?"
Andrew felt a bit like crying for an entirely different reason. "I hate you, shut up," he said, and then he hugged his brother.
"Ugh, get off me, stop it," said Ben, hugging him back. "Put on some proper clothes and come out to the shed before Dad connects the red wire to the black one and we have to put the roof back on like two summers ago."
--
"You've dropped the spanner down the back," Ben said.
"Yes, well," said Andrew, shrugging, "that means dad can't use it to break anything else, doesn’t it? You ought to be thanking me."
Ben grumbled and started pulling desks and boxes and huge piles of wires and screws and marooned motherboards out from against the wall. Their dad had left the shed to go and get tea. Andrew wasn't even a little bit repentant about having lost the spanner; he wanted tea and a break.
His phone beeped and he picked it up. "Yo, I'm paying international rates, Garfield, you better love me!" said Justin's unmistakable voice.
"Of course I do," said Andrew. "Hello. Do you know anything about computer repair?"
"Of course not," said Justin. "Okay, big news from Mila, who heard from Emma, who was hanging out with Jesse over break because she's got cousins in the city."
Andrew had forgotten who Mila was. "Right," he said. "Yes?"
"Jesse and Patrick are not dating."
Andrew's heart stopped for just a second and then he had to remind himself to breathe. He glanced over; Ben was under the desk, so Andrew let himself do a tiny, ridiculous victory dance, just for a moment. "Are you sure? You've got to be absolutely sure."
"Emma says one-hundred-percent Jesse is not dating Patrick. Apparently they decided they were always 'better off as friends,' and I'm air quoting that because that's just bullshit people say."
Andrew's heart was racing for no reason he could put his finger on. "That's fantastic," he said, and then, "Wait, that's not fantastic. Jesse's probably really upset, he's going to be furious with me when we get back if Patrick's dumped him again. Oh god."
"Nnnnno," said Justin, "I'm pretty sure you're basically free and clear on that one. They're friends, as lame as that is. Plus, Emma, who you owe, like, your first born child to, says she spent the whole day telling Jesse how miserable you are. And he, apparently, feels totally shitty about it."
"Good," said Andrew. "Wait, no, that's awful. I don't want him to feel shitty about me. Are you sure this isn't just making things worse?" The conversation was giving him whiplash and he felt oddly nervous. He wished the spring holiday was over so he could go home and just apologize to Jesse some more in person. No matter how it turned out, whether Jesse ever wanted to date him or not, he was sure he couldn’t fix anything from another continent.
Justin snorted into the phone. "It doesn't get worse than your best friend hating you, right? This is better, dude, trust me. He knows how bummed you've been, so when you get back he'll be all set to forgive you. Then you just have to put the moves on him."
"No," said Andrew, "that sounds like a terrible idea." At least, whatever Justin meant by "moves" did.
"He kissed you one time, right?" Justin asked. "And you were fucking trashed, so it's not like you were super smooth about it. Anyway, I have to go; Mila's wearing a bikini."
"Right, of course, obviously," said Andrew. Justin hung up.
Ben was staring at him, lost spanner in hand. "Has something happened?"
"Yes," said Andrew. "No. Maybe. I don't know. I need to get back to uni and find out."
"It's really lucky for you you're stuck here, I think," said Ben. "You'd just go charging in and declare your love or something."
"No, I wouldn't," said Andrew, because he didn't want to mention that he'd already done that once and it had blown up rather spectacularly.
Ben rolled his eyes. "Go and get me some tea and stop imagining you can lie to me." He made a funny, uncomfortable face. "Do I need to… You know, do you need advice about what to do when… I mean if he's stupid enough to want to be seen with you in public, when you get back do you…"
Andrew was really, really enjoying watching Ben's face while he tried not to mention sex. "Do I what?"
"Do you know all the… How all the bits go together and… And all the things you've got to do to… Ugh, god, I can't do this. If you get pregnant don't come crying to me. I'll get my own tea," said Ben, and stomped out of the shed.
Andrew sat down on the floor and laughed until he felt sick.
--
They didn't blow the shed up but they didn't get any of the computers working, either. Not that day, and not the next. Andrew's mum made them come in for regular meals and to give them all mildly worried looks, particularly Andrew. He gave her reassuring hugs and actually meant them. Eventually Ben had to go home - something about having a fiancée made him funny about that - and Andrew and his dad went back out to the shed.
"Can you hand me that when you've finished banging on it," said Andrew's dad. "I've nearly got this working."
"You said that hours ago," said Andrew. He'd been humming tunelessly to himself, he realized, and bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn't start smiling like an idiot. He'd told himself not to get overly hopeful after Justin's phone call but then he couldn't help it. Hopeful was where he lived, usually. He was starting to make vague plans as he wandered the house, stealing food and annoying his father while he tried to fix things. Jesse wouldn't like a big gesture; they made him nervous and he hated being noticed in public. Something small and meaningful was the way to go, and Andrew was wracking his brain trying to think of something special enough. It distracted him and meant he wasn't much help in the shed. "Fuck, I can't get this fucking thing out. Come on."
His dad gave him a mildly amused, patient look. "I'm sure the banging is helping."
"I can't reach inside the stupid case, how does anyone-" The motherboard and wires came out of the plastic casing with a satisfying snapping noise. Andrew held his arms up in triumph. He was bleeding where he'd scraped his knuckles against the table earlier and he'd banged his shins on more disassembled computer parts than he could count. He was also sweaty, which was absurd in England this time of year when one was simply fiddling with electronics.
"Certainly not with patience," said his dad.
"Couldn't be. More likely with explosives," said Andrew.
His father laughed. "I'm not sure I should be letting you help."
"Probably not; I'm rubbish at this," said Andrew cheerfully. "Can I use the soldering gun?" He tried not to bounce on his toes in case that made him seem like he'd be dangerous with something called a 'gun.'
"Absolutely not. Er," said his dad, giving him a sidelong glance. "You seem a bit less… You know, than you were earlier."
"Tall?" Andrew suggested. "Handsome? Brilliant?"
His father sighed the very, very put-upon sigh of a parent who had stopped finding Andrew funny years earlier but hadn't had the heart to tell him so. "I'll just call Ben and tell him what a brilliant job he's done fixing you, shall I? Let him take all the credit and-"
"No," said Andrew. "God, no. Anything but that. I suppose I am feeling a bit cheerier."
"Good," said his dad. "I thought you'd drown us all with weeping."
"I was not weeping," said Andrew, a little bit crossly. Ben had probably told him that.
"Keeping us up all night, wailing and sobbing." His dad fiddled with some wires and some other things Andrew wasn't sure of the name for. "Your mother was going to call that boy and tell him how upset you were."
Andrew winced. Having Emma tell Jesse how sad he was certainly fell under 'pathetic.' But having his mum call was one million times worse. "Don't let her. Dad, please. He'll never - Oh god, I'll never be able to go back."
"I told her not to," said his dad. "There, look, I fixed it!" He flipped a switch and stood back triumphantly. Nothing happened. Andrew clapped enthusiastically. His father glared. "I still can tell her it's a good idea, you know."
"But you won't, because secretly I've always been your favorite, haven't I?" Andrew smiled winningly.
His father sighed and rolled his eyes a little bit. "I think I'd get more done if you went back in the house."
"I'm only here a couple of days. Kindly pretend to be the loving and supportive patriarch of a family instead of a doddering old geezer who's been sent to the shed by his wife for a few hours' peace."
"I would definitely get more done if you went back inside," said his father, shaking his head.
"But it wouldn't be as entertaining, would it?" Andrew asked cheerfully.
"That it would not," said his dad. He flipped the switch again. This time there were sparks.
"Oooh, it's like bonfire night!" said Andrew excitedly.
"I think I liked you better when you were miserable," his father grumbled half-heartedly and picked up the spanner to start again.
--
Andrew was simultaneously anxious to go back to uni and terrified of what it would be like when he got there if Jesse was still mad at him. It meant he was really annoying to have around, and by the time his parents took him to the airport he could tell they were glad he was going. Not that they didn't love him - he suspected sometimes that he really was their favorite, or at least the one they worried most about - but because he'd broken half his mum's teacups and backed his dad's car into a tree entirely by accident while relating a story about American college life to one of his high school friends. Possibly he shouldn't have been gesticulating quite so much whilst driving. Ah well.
"Be good," his dad said, handing him his suitcase.
"I am," said Andrew. "At least I try."
His mum was looking a tiny bit teary. "Call us when you've sorted things out back there," she said. "And if you can't, well, I can call Jesse's mum and we can have a chat-"
"Mum, no," said Andrew, horrified.
"Just in case."
"No. I love you, I'll see you in a couple of months." He hugged her and then fled before she could get any more ideas about calling Jesse or his family. He clearly had to patch things up with Jesse as quickly as possibly, before parental intervention actually happened.
He was late for his flight but the plane was delayed, so he spent a long time sitting on the uncomfortable chairs in Terminal Five watching the big screens and waiting for one of them to blink up with his gate, rather than just "DELAYED."
Andrew texted Justin, Are you back yet? and then Can you pick me up I'm going to be late sorry :(((((.
He tried to arrange himself on the padded bench so that he could relax for a few hours. He reluctantly pulled his textbook out and opened it, then groaned and put his head back and tried to pretend the book wasn't there. He couldn't read with so many flashing lights from the televisions running news overhead and the duty free shops.
His phone beeped and he picked it up hopefully, because if Justin didn’t come to meet him he was going to be hours getting home from the airport. He'd be tired and jet lagged and horribly nervous about seeing Jesse when he got home.
fly safe, said his phone, which didn't make sense until he realized it wasn't from Justin, it was from Jesse.
Andrew's mouth went dry. He wanted to text back something like OH THANK GOD ARE YOU NOT MAD AT ME ANY MORE I LOVE YOU CAN I SEE YOU WHEN I LAND?????? but he had the nagging suspicion that it wasn't a good idea. Usually when Jesse texted that Andrew just sent thx and then some nonsense texts about the weather or his shoes. That seemed a bit flippant since he wasn't sure if this was an "I forgive you" text or just Jesse's morbid fear that a plane would crash and the last thing he'd said to someone wouldn't be properly kind.
Andrew texted and then deleted and then texted and then deleted and then finally typed Thanks I'll be home soon I miss you lots.
His hands were shaking a little when he hit send. He hoped Jesse understood how much he meant that. He hoped Jesse knew how sorry he was. He stared at his phone until his flight was finally announced but it didn't beep again.
next
Fandom: TSN RPF (Jesse/Andrew)
previous
"You're not dead," said Justin helpfully.
Andrew groaned and tried not to move in case his head fell off.
"I thought you might be wondering so I decided to stick around and make sure. You are one hundred percent not dead." Justin was crunching something and the noise made Andrew want to throw up, although his mouth tasted like he already had.
"I feel dead," Andrew told his pillow.
"Yeah. Well. You puked your guts out so that's probably why. There's water and Tylenol in the kitchenette if you make it that far. I have class."
Andrew moaned vaguely and it sounded like Justin left.
Eventually Andrew dragged himself out of bed and into the kitchen. Water and toast and a couple of aspirins and a shower later Andrew felt like he could go back to bed and lie there for a while and his head wouldn't throb off entirely.
He remembered throwing up and he remembered coming home with Justin and unfortunately he remembered all the misery before that. That meant he had no excuse not to call Jesse except the horrible pounding in his head and the feeling that if he tried to make sentences his head would definitely fall off.
Justin banged back into the dorm a little while later. "Yo, you still in bed? Did you die while I was gone?" he asked loudly. "I heard if your roommate dies you get straight A's. I wouldn't mind that."
"I'm working up the energy to move," Andrew said. "I don't think I've died. You're a terrible angel, if I have."
"Who says I'm an angel, baby?" Justin asked, leering a little bit. "Seriously, are you okay? I thought you knew about pacing yourself with booze, dude." He threw himself on the couch and clicked the television on.
"I was trying to get drunk." Andrew sat up. The room wasn't moving around too badly although the noise from the telly was awful. "I suppose it's good Jesse left when he did. I don't think he'd be particularly romantically inclined after watching me vomit."
"That was cold, how he ran off when you were all sick," said Justin.
Andrew shook his head, and fine, that was a bit of a mistake. "I've screwed things up for him and Patrick, I've got to go and apologize."
"So, wait," said Justin, frowning. "He for serious has another boyfriend who isn't you?"
"Yes," said Andrew. "But it's alright because I've worked out that I shouldn't be dating Emma; I should be dating Jesse."
"Duh," said Justin flatly. "Biggest duh ever."
"Yes!" said Andrew, and then regretted his enthusiasm. "Ow. Ugh, more water, please."
Justin waved idly at him. "Get it yourself. Wait, have you two morons really been cuddling on my couch all year and you weren't even getting any? That's pathetic."
"No, it just… It just took me a while to work it out," said Andrew, thinking. "I should probably go and find Jesse as soon as possible, shouldn't I?"
"You mean three years ago when the entire rest of the world was like, 'Oh, look at those dudes who are totally in love?' Yeah, that's a great idea."
Andrew attempted to scowl at Justin but his head hurt too much. He lurched out of bed and drank some more water, didn't immediately want to die, and decided it was probably best to go over and talk to Jesse. Jesse had a way of working himself up in to getting upset about things and if he got himself all tied in knots it might take a long time to unknot him.
Andrew was suddenly very interested in unknotting Jesse. Shoulder rubs, maybe, and cuddles, and more kissing, because that had been excellent. It occurred to him that he'd been doing the first two of those things for years, and potentially Justin had a point about what they ought to have been doing since freshman year.
Very possibly, in fact, Andrew had an unexpected mental filing cabinet full of pictures of Jesse. Laughing, crying, being just mean enough to be mistaken for joking, telling improbable lies and then looking over to see if Andrew was laughing, saying brilliant things, saying stupid things, curled up on the couch in Andrew's flat with the flu looking miserable. Those weren't entirely surprising. Of course, Andrew also had mental images of Jesse accidentally shirtless, Jesse getting out of the shower, what Jesse smelled like, and the horribly adorably embarrassed face Jesse had made once when Andrew had opened his laptop and found porn on it.
Interestingly, Andrew's brain had been busily taking notes on Jesse's shoulders and his neck and his thighs and his hands while Andrew had been looking at Emma and Shannon and Joe and a few other people.
"I'm going to Jesse's," said Andrew. "Wish me luck."
"I hope you both get less stupid," said Justin, and turned the TV up.
Andrew hoped so, too. He grabbed his keys and wobbled outside, feeling at least seventy percent recovered. Andrew actually didn't drink too frequently, or at least not too much at a time, and he usually recovered by having Jesse bring him lots of tea while making fun of his low tolerance. Jesse must have been awfully upset if he hadn't called to see if Andrew was alright.
The walk seemed longer than usual, and Andrew didn't appreciate how bright the sun was or how cheerful everyone else on the quad seemed to be. Andrew was realizing bit by bit that he was in love with Jesse, which should have made the morning seem lovelier and the birds more tuneful. Maybe the problem was that instead of an earth-shaking revelation he'd just noticed something that had been creeping up on him for years. The birds had been singing for years already. He'd just been deaf.
He knocked on Jesse's door feeling hopeful and oddly nervous, as if he hadn't barged his way into Jesse's room a million times before.
Jesse opened the door holding Hannibal, who snarled and hissed at Andrew. Jesse didn't look tremendously happier to see him; he also looked as if he hadn't slept. "Oh," said Jesse. "Hi."
He hadn't opened the door much. "Hi," said Andrew. He smiled hopefully because he knew Jesse had enjoyed kissing him. His reaction had been written all over his face.
Jesse made a weird, anxious, upset noise. The door was still only open a crack. "What?" Jesse asked. "Because I'm kind of busy. So. Is there something, or…?"
"Busy?" Andrew asked, affronted and a little bit startled. "Busy with the cat?" The cat in question yowled to be put down. Jesse clutched it closer to his chest. He was going to get his face scratched off, Andrew worried.
"No, just… I have things to do. I'm busy… Uh. Studying. I should go."
Jesse was normally a much better liar than that. Andrew tried not to look too confused and heartbroken. "Why don't you want to talk to me?" he asked, since direct and sad worked on Jesse a lot better than beating around the bush.
Jesse grimaced. "I just… I just can't right now, okay? Last night was bad and I need some time to stop wanting to kill myself out of guilt."
Right, Andrew's original plan had been to apologize. "I'm so sorry Patrick walked in, that was awful, I never meant for anything like that to happen. Well… But…" Andrew tried to sound hopeful and not at all disheartened by Jesse's weirdness. "But it was a good kiss, Jess! I mean... Wasn't it?"
Jesse made another horrified noise and tried to shut the door entirely. Andrew threw his shoulder against it so he couldn't. "I have a boyfriend, Andrew!" Jesse said. "I'm not supposed to kiss anyone else, especially not you. Oh god, I am the worst human being alive."
"I know! And I'm really sorry about that, that part was awful. But-" But I'm better than Patrick, Andrew wanted to explain. He knew that Jesse knew that, agreed even.
"Anyway, I said 'have a boyfriend,' but I should have said 'had.' Because I don't anymore. He was my first boyfriend and I screwed it up just about as badly as anyone possibly could and… Just… Leave me alone to feel sorry for myself for a while, please."
The problem was that Andrew knew he ought to say, "Oh, I'm so sorry," and be sympathetic and comfort Jesse about Patrick. But instead he said, "But that's great!" His mouth was apparently not entirely connected to his good intentions. He blamed the hangover.
"You… What?" Jesse asked, opening the door to give Andrew the baffled and mildly annoyed look he normally saved for Justin.
"Well, I mean… If you haven't got Patrick then we haven't got any problems!" said Andrew, finally feeling properly excited. "I thought it was going to be awful, having to explain to him that actually this whole time it was me you wanted, but now he's gone so it'll be easy!"
There was a long pause. If Andrew had been slightly less hungover or less excited about Jesse - and Jesse's mouth, honestly, he couldn't stop looking at it, had it always been that fantastic? - he might have noticed a dangerous edge to Jesse's voice. "So you think I've just been sitting around waiting for you?"
"And all this while I've been a blind idiot," said Andrew promptly. "But I've worked it out now so we can both stop being so stupid and-"
"Oh my god," said Jesse. "You… That is not… I haven't been just waiting around for you, you jackass!"
"Haven't you?" Andrew asked, confused, and then one second later his brain caught up to his mouth and started shouting at him that probably that was the worst possible thing he could have said.
"Go away," said Jesse, and shut the door in his face.
Andrew stared at the door for a minute. "Jesse!" he said. "I didn't mean it like that! Jesse!" He knocked a few times. He could hear Hannibal yowling inside but nothing else. "Jesse!"
He knocked again for a while until one of the other people on the hall stuck his head out. "Dude, I don't think he's coming back out," he said. "Could you maybe stop banging?"
Andrew scowled at him until he went back into his room. Then he pulled out his phone and texted Jesse I will be back!!!!!!! Ps I'm sorry didn't mean it like that DON'T BE MAD AT ME.
Well, Andrew thought, stomping back to his room. This was no way to begin a proper relationship.
--
Jesse didn't answer any of Andrew's phone calls and he didn't reply to any of his texts. There were four days until spring break and Andrew spent one of them sitting in Jesse's hallway sending texts full of exclamation marks and "I'M REALLY SORRY"s. Eventually the RA on the floor came by and made Andrew leave, and even then Jesse didn't open his door.
It was awful.
Justin thought the whole thing was pretty funny, and he refused to commiserate with a beer because, "That shit caused all the trouble last time. No, seriously dude, just let him cool off for spring break and when you come back bring him some flowers or something. Or some books, I guess. Or a kitten."
Those were pretty good ideas, but Andrew felt like he was going to die. The longer he felt sad and miserable the more sure he was that he was actually in love with Jesse and that every other feeling he'd ever had had just been liking. He wouldn't have felt this ill over Joe or Keira or even Emma. He wanted Jesse and he'd never not been able to have Jesse before. Worse, when he was sad he wanted Jesse to cheer him up and he didn't know how to cheer himself up when Jesse was the problem rather than the solution. He skipped his classes so he could lie on the couch and try to figure out what to do. All he worked out was that he should call Brenda and ask if she'd bring him some food because their fridge was always empty; Justin had drunk all the beer.
Brenda was a saint. "Oh no," she said, looking at him sadly. She wrinkled up her nose. "You have misery face."
"That's because I'm miserable," Andrew said. "What am I supposed to do? My best friend hates me and I think I'm in love with him."
"Weren't you in love with Emma a couple of days ago?" Brenda asked.
Andrew hadn't really stopped to think about that. "Fine, I suppose if I were Jesse that would seem a bit suspect, but it's different this time and he won't answer the phone so I can tell him so! Come in, sit down."
Brenda looked at his couch dubiously. "No, thanks. It smells like boys."
She'd brought him a burger and chips from the cafeteria but he didn't feel like eating ever again. He put them in the fridge. "How can I fix it if he won't even let me apologize?" Andrew moaned, throwing himself on the couch.
Brenda considered that for a second and then kicked him in the ankle. "He got dumped and it's your fault and all you're worried about is yourself, you jerk."
"No!" said Andrew. "I'm worried about Jesse as well." Jesse would be immensely happier once he had Andrew as a boyfriend. Andrew would be a much better boyfriend than Patrick had been. He adored Jesse and he knew all of Jesse's quirks and oddnesses.
"Have you considered trying to get him undumped?" Brenda asked, hands on her hips.
…he really hadn't. "But Patrick is boring and Jesse likes me," Andrew insisted. Getting Jesse undumped was the opposite of what Andrew wanted.
"Because you're only thinking about yourself. Jeez, you don't get this at all. Jesse likes you because you're sweet and kind and British and stuff. So be that guy. The one he likes."
"Oh," said Andrew. That made a depressing amount of sense. "But I don't want him to get back together with Patrick."
"That's okay," said Brenda. "I'm pretty sure you fucked things up enough that Patrick won't take him back. But a round of 'I'm sorry's would do your soul a lot of good. 'The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.'" He blinked at her. "What?" Brenda asked. "I pay attention in class, too."
Apologizing to Patrick sounded horrible. Worse, it sounded like something that would definitely make Jesse start speaking to him again. "'We decay like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief convulse us and consume us day by day, and cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay,'" Andrew moaned.
Brenda replied promptly, "Die, if thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek. Follow where all is fled!'" She gave him a sassy little wink. "Seriously, I'm getting A's, Andrew, don’t underestimate me."
"My mistake." Andrew made a face. "This is going to be awful."
"Stop doing awful things, then."
That was horribly good advice. Andrew was trying not to think about how much his own fault everything was, but there weren't a lot of ways around it. Behaving like a five-year old and whining about it would only make it worse.
Well, Andrew was nothing if not a person who could put a plan into action and look for the bright side of nearly anything. Potentially he could get Patrick to stop hating him, win Jesse over somehow, and end up with no one disliking him at all. "Do you think there's any chance he'll be speaking to me before I have to go home for spring break?"
Brenda sighed. "You're cute, and he loves you. Anything is possible. I wouldn't hold my breath, though."
"Right," said Andrew, trying to get himself excited for a horrible afternoon. "So. I should go and find Patrick."
--
Patrick was in the library, which was lucky because Andrew had a feeling Patrick was no likelier to open his door when Andrew knocked than Jesse had been. Andrew felt a little bit ill. The more he thought about the past couple of months the more he was painfully aware he'd been a jerk, and while apologizing was clearly the right thing to do, it would have been a lot easier to just pretend the whole thing had never happened. Unfortunately Andrew really did believe in trying to make things better and keeping everyone happy. He was glad to be in the library for once; at least Patrick couldn't shout at him in here.
He took a deep breath and sat down across from Patrick at the table. Patrick was buried in a pile of books and note cards and pens. He looked up and his face went stormy and then blank.
"Hi," said Andrew, biting his lip. "I completely understand if you don't want to talk to me but I wanted to say how sorry I am."
Patrick made a complicated, unhappy face. "Thanks, but I really don't care," he said.
Okay, fair enough. Andrew was good at getting people to like him, normally, but obviously this wasn't going to be easy. "I've been a complete arsehole to you since you started dating Jesse, and I'm really sorry. I didn't realize I was… I didn't realize how jealous I was, but I should have. I've been awful."
"I was willing to put up with it, since you're his best friend and all," said Patrick. "Right up until the kissing part."
Andrew winced. "That bit was the worst. I'm really sorry."
"Whatever," said Patrick. "Jesse said it was his fault. I have a paper to finish before I go home for break, so-"
The other students at nearby tables had been glaring at both of them since Andrew had come over. No one else in the library was really talking. One of them, a skinny boy with bad hair and glasses, hissed, "Shh!"
Andrew ducked his head apologetically and whispered, "He said that? No, that's… Uh, that's a very generous interpretation of events. It was me who asked him if he'd kiss me and it was me who insisted. Jesse said he had a boyfriend and it wouldn't be appropriate." Why was Jesse so ridiculously wonderful? Andrew really didn't need Jesse trying to take the blame for things that weren't his fault.
Patrick glared. "Yeah. Well. Whatever either one of you said, it was still shitty. Seriously, do you mind? I'm busy and I don't like you."
That was just about the worst thing anyone had ever said to Andrew, made infinitely more horrible because he deserved it. "I'm just… I wanted to tell you I'm sorry and Jesse really likes you and… Oh god, you should call him. Because I've been such a jerk and he hates me at the moment but he feels awful about you and it wasn't his fault and…" Andrew took a deep breath and called on all his skill as an actor to sound like he really meant what he was saying. "I don't want to have screwed things up with you for him."
Patrick gave him a really long look and Andrew tried not to fidget or squirm or burst into tears. He felt better for having said it but still bad about having to say it. Being responsible and adult wasn't usually this awful.
"You want me to call Jesse?" Patrick asked flatly. "I don't believe it."
"I…" Andrew sighed. "He's not speaking to me; you really should. I deserve to be miserable at the moment and he doesn't."
"I'm trying to study, here!" hissed someone behind them.
Patrick flipped the other student off and didn't bother lowering his voice. Maybe he wasn't quite as boring as Andrew had accused him of being. "I'll think about it," said Patrick. "You know, I was really enjoying hating you. You're kind of ruining that."
"Sorry?" Andrew offered with a tentative smile. "I'm trying to figure out a way to stop hating myself, and then possibly getting Jesse to stop hating me, but it's a process."
Patrick rolled his eyes. "I don't think anyone seriously hates you. Believe me, I've been trying. Fine. I'll call Jesse. Now can this conversation be over, please? I have work to do."
"Thank you," said Andrew, feeling miserable all over again. If Patrick and Jesse got back together he was going to have to pretend to be happy about it or Jesse would never forgive him. "And thanks for listening to me."
Patrick made a grumpy noise and waved him off. The kid at the table next to them said, "Thank god."
"I'm really sorry," Andrew whispered as he left. Patrick ignored him. That seemed fair.
--
After that the only way to deal with the last days of school before break was to be as relentlessly cheerful as possible. Andrew went to class and gave bright smiles and big hugs to all his friends, who did him the favor of pretending they hadn't seen him melt down at the party. Andrew pretended not to notice Jesse sitting on the opposite side of the room from him in the classes they shared. It was a lot like smiling while you were being stabbed. Brenda cooed at him a lot and brought him tea, but it wasn't as good as the tea Jesse made him.
He'd managed not to drown in his own false cheer by the time people started to leave for spring break. Every few minutes he took his phone out of his pocket to see if Jesse had texted him back yet, whether it was Sure I forgive you, let's make out, or Don't die in a horrible plane crash, which he always texted before Andrew flew home. There were no messages at all.
Andrew tried not to dwell on it too much while he packed. There wasn't anything else he could do before he left; he'd abandoned the idea of standing outside Jesse's window with a boombox playing "In Your Eyes" as probably disrespectful to Patrick, and anyway Jesse hated public displays of affection.
It was actually quite nice having Justin around, because at least he was loud and distracting. He was packing up a ton of dirty clothes into a dufflebag, which was his idea of what to bring home over spring break. "Memphis is gonna be awesome, man," he said. "My high school girlfriend is gonna be home and she broke up with her douchey college boyfriend so I'm gonna go home and see if I can score on the rebound."
"You're a prince," said Andrew dryly.
"Plus all my boys are gonna be in town so we can hit all our favorite bars. You should come! I'm bringing Lance, before he goes off to Louisiana to wrestle an alligator or whatever people do there."
"I've told you, I've got tickets home, thanks," said Andrew, relentlessly cheerful. He smiled at Justin and went back to checking the status of his flight.
Justin looked dubious. "And you're all like… You're okay and stuff?"
"I'm packed, I've got two books to bring home with me I'm not going to read, I had lunch with Emma and it was barely awkward at all. Well. There was quite a lot of not talking about the party but then I told her what happened with Jesse."
Justin whistled. "And she was sympathetic?"
"She was surprised we weren't already dating," Andrew admitted. "At any rate that's all patched up and she's promised to try and figure out a way for me to make Jesse forgive me after the holidays."
Justin made a really weird noise like there was something he wanted to say, but he didn't know how to say it, but he'd started to say it and then stopped again. It was sort of like the vocal equivalent of a car wreck.
"What?" Andrew asked. "Oh no, what?"
"Nothing," said Justin. "Nothing. Nothing at all, not one thing, nothing."
"You're the worst liar I have ever met," said Andrew. "Justin, what?"
Justin looked up at the ceiling. "So uh, I was kind of hoping maybe you got over Jesse. Like you got over Emma. That would be cool."
"No," said Andrew slowly. "I have definitely not got over him. I don't think I'm going to."
"That sucks," said Justin. "Because this morning he and Patrick were sitting together in the cafeteria looking pretty cozy and happy and like… They were all, 'Call me over break! We can hang out!' And I don't know about you, dude, but I don't hang out with my exes over break. I hang out with my currentlys."
Andrew felt dizzy and sick. "That's good," he said, trying to sound upbeat. "They're nice people and they like each other and they should… I mean, Jesse didn't do anything wrong so it's nice of Patrick to give him a second chance. I'm happy for them."
Justin snorted, "And I'm the worst liar ever."
"I want Jesse to be happy," said Andrew determinedly. "He likes Patrick so that's… That's nice. Look." He texted Glad you and Patrick are happy and hit 'send' and then showed it to Justin.
"Dude, send all the texts you want, I can tell you wish you were dead." Justin put the last of his dirty clothes - which was all of his clothes - into his duffle. "You need a ride to the airport?"
"Yes, please." Andrew also needed his mum to make him a cup of tea, and to lie on the bed in the guest room that had been his bedroom for years before his mum had suddenly decided they might have guests. He planned to lie there, unmoving, for most of break, unless his mum could persuade him there was any point in going anywhere ever again. She was better at cheering him up than even Jesse was, but he was fairly sure his heart was broken. It certainly hurt.
Justin grabbed his keys off the coffee table where he usually left them lying around. "Okay. But after break if you aren't for reals cheerful I'm going to have to take drastic measures, man. Like… Like I don't even know yet. Drastic."
Andrew was oddly touched. "Thanks," he said.
"It'll probably involve alcohol and more puking, just FYI," Justin said. "Okay. Let's go."
--
The airport wasn't terrible for once, and Andrew slept through most of his flight. His parents were late getting him at the airport but they were always late getting him at the airport and he'd learned to stop taking it personally. They asked him about classes and essays and the shows he'd been in and had he seriously considered transferring somewhere closer to home yet, and he answered with lots of bright, enthusiastic-sounding stories that he cribbed partially from Justin and partially from Brenda, because both of their lives sounded better than his at the moment. He didn't think they needed to hear about broken-hearted crushing disappointment.
Once they were home Andrew's mum brought him some tea and biscuits and he imagined just staying there on the couch, never leaving again (because honestly what was the point of university for acting anyway?) until his mum patted his knee and said, "And how's Jesse?"
They'd met Jesse of course. They'd come out to pick Andrew up at the end of freshman year and Jesse had been in his room, worrying about his flight home. They'd come out to one of his shows the next year and sat with Jesse in the audience, quizzing Jesse about why Andrew's marks weren't better and who he was dating. They'd sent Jesse a Chanukah present this year, along with a miserably embarrassing card to thank him for looking after Andrew.
In retrospect, Andrew thought perhaps they'd picked up on things faster than he had.
"Oh," said Andrew, "he's fine. He's got a boyfriend called Patrick and he's not speaking to me at the moment but it's all a big misunderstanding. It'll all be fixed when I get back."
"Oh dear," said his mum. "What happened?"
"Nothing. I don't want to talk about it. How's everything? Has Dad turned the shed into a tomb for old computer bits?"
She sighed. "He's got four disassembled computers out there and not enough parts to fix any single one of them, but he keeps picking them up off the neighbors for free and insisting he can use the parts from the older ones to fix it up. He can't, of course, and now I've got nowhere for my plants."
"Perhaps I can help him put them together again," Andrew said cheerfully.
"You'll smack yourself in the thumb with a spanner and have to go to the hospital," said his mum. "It's happened before. Remember when you and Ben tried to help him fix the car? He threw his back out, Ben was nearly electrocuted, and you dropped a hammer on your foot and broke your toe."
"But the car did start running again," Andrew pointed out.
She gave him a long, deeply worried look. "What's happened with Jesse, then? You two have never had a fight, have you? Is everything alright? I worry about you, sweetheart. You take everything to heart."
"Absolutely fine," Andrew lied. "I'm going to go and have a nap, I think. The jet lag always gets me coming this direction. Thanks for the tea."
"You're getting a hug before you go anywhere," she said firmly, and hugged him. There was obviously no substitute for hugs from his actual family, and for a second Andrew forgot that he was moping around being heartbroken and miserable because he had his mum. Then she said, "You are eventually going to tell me what you did to Jesse, aren't you? That poor boy."
"He might have done something to me, you know," Andrew grumbled. "He hasn't, but he could have." He hugged her again because he had missed her hugs terribly and he hadn't been getting any from Jesse lately. "I'm going to go and lie down."
She called after him, "If you're still this sad in a couple of days I'm going to call Ben to come and bully the truth out of you. I'm really worried about you, Andrew!"
Andrew waved her off. He could get loads of moping done in two days.
--
In actuality his parents gave him four days, nearly half his holiday, to feel miserable. His chest hurt all the time as if he'd just finished crying. But when he was dragged out of his room he smiled a lot and tried to steer the conversations toward the show he'd just finished and the classes he was thinking about taking as a senior and the show he was going to direct, if he got permission from the Undergrad Theater Collective. Whenever possible he snuck off to nap, or pretended to nap so he wouldn't have to answer any questions. Sometimes he stared at his phone feeling betrayed because he'd sent Jesse approximately three million texts and got zero back. He hadn't honestly realized how much he needed Jesse until he wasn't around at all.
Friday he woke up from a nap with his brother Ben staring at him. "Life can not be as bad as all that," Ben said, which was the sort of unhelpful thing he said. Ben was thoughtful and clever and rarely got upset; Andrew was nearly always upset or giddy and he knew that was why Ben always thought of him as younger than he really was, which he hated.
"I'm fine," said Andrew, and tried to roll over and put his head under his pillow.
Ben grabbed the pillow away. "Mum says you won't talk about what's going on. Apparently you're just lying in here like a lazy slug."
"That's because it's fine," said Andrew. "Everything is fine. Go away; I'm on holiday and I can sleep all day if I want to."
"You've never been the type to lie around. You must be mostly dead or something. Now stop scaring Mum and Dad to death and get up," said Ben cheerfully, and hit him in the face with the pillow.
"Stop that, Mum didn't send you in here to hit me," said Andrew, trying to grab it back.
Ben smiled and hit him again. "She might have. Why don't you get up and find out?"
"You are such a dick," Andrew said. Ben started to swing the pillow around again and Andrew, out of years of instinct, lunged for him.
It was actually a bit cheering, knocking Ben off the bed and managing to get an elbow in his ribs, although Ben had the advantage of being older and weighing more and also having won every single wrestling match they'd ever had eventually, even if he was a cheater.
"I win," said Ben, a little bit out of breath, sitting on Andrew on the floor.
"You cheat," Andrew complained, trying to get his hand free so he could give Ben a proper bruise for his trouble. "And you're getting fat. Get off me; I can't breathe."
Ben ignored him. "Mum and Dad think you might kill yourself. I've had to tell them you're just being an idiot. What's wrong?"
"Nothing," said Andrew, and Ben hit him with the pillow again. "Oh my god, I hate you."
"I am prepared to sit here all day," said Ben, still sounding horribly cheerful. That was how their family reacted when things were upsetting, Andrew knew, but he still hated having it used against him. "I can wait as long as you can."
Andrew groaned. "Can't you just tell Mum I'm fine, please? Then you can go home and she can leave me alone and everyone wins."
Ben squinted at him. "Is university making you stupider? I thought it was supposed to be the opposite."
"No," said Andrew. He missed breathing and he was tired of being hit with things. "Listen, I… I just screwed things up with a friend of mine and they aren't speaking to me and it's awful because it's my fault."
"And?" Ben prompted. "Even you aren't that sensitive."
"I really hate you," Andrew grumbled.
"I am prepared to tickle," Ben added.
Andrew managed to get a knee up and catch Ben in the side and make him swear, which was a little bit of a comfort. "And just… It's possible I'm a little bit in love with them."
"Aha," said Ben. "Who is it?"
Andrew had to sort of consider that answer, because while he knew his parents were perfectly aware he had occasionally done things with boys it was a topic strictly Not To Be Spoken Of between brothers. He didn't think Ben would be disgusted or anything, it was just well beyond the realm of what they were allowed to talk about before Ben made jokes about Andrew being a girl or put horribly embarrassing things on Facebook about him.
Still, Ben didn't seem likely to move. "Jesse," said Andrew grudgingly.
Ben groaned. "You must have really fucked that up. No wonder you're a wreck. Have you apologized?"
"He won't answer his phone." Andrew was in danger of bursting in to tears which Ben would definitely never, ever forget or let him forget. "Or answer my texts. Can we please just not-"
"Get up, then," said Ben abruptly, standing up and offering Andrew a hand. "Dad's in the shed rebuilding a computer and mum says she doesn't want him to electrocute himself."
Andrew needed a moment to take a few deep breaths and make his eyes stop feeling prickly. Ben pretended to be interested in the odd little knickknacks and kitten statues their mum had decorated the room with. Eventually Andrew said, "But I suppose it's all right if he electrocutes us?"
"If your hair stood on end who could tell?" Ben asked. "Come on."
"You're just jealous because you'll be bald soon," said Andrew. Ben snorted. "Is that it?" Andrew asked suspiciously. "You're done interrogating me?"
Ben shrugged. "For now. I can tell mum you aren't going to kill yourself. If he won't answer his phone you haven't tried hard enough. Don't be such an idiot. When Alex is cross with me I let her cool down before I call, especially if I've done something really stupid, which I suspect you have." Ben shook his head. "After you fix this you'd better bring him round so we can all stare at him and scare him to death. I've got loads of embarrassing stories about you to tell him. Now shall we go or do you want to wait for the smell of singed Dad, and Mum to start shouting?"
Andrew felt a bit like crying for an entirely different reason. "I hate you, shut up," he said, and then he hugged his brother.
"Ugh, get off me, stop it," said Ben, hugging him back. "Put on some proper clothes and come out to the shed before Dad connects the red wire to the black one and we have to put the roof back on like two summers ago."
--
"You've dropped the spanner down the back," Ben said.
"Yes, well," said Andrew, shrugging, "that means dad can't use it to break anything else, doesn’t it? You ought to be thanking me."
Ben grumbled and started pulling desks and boxes and huge piles of wires and screws and marooned motherboards out from against the wall. Their dad had left the shed to go and get tea. Andrew wasn't even a little bit repentant about having lost the spanner; he wanted tea and a break.
His phone beeped and he picked it up. "Yo, I'm paying international rates, Garfield, you better love me!" said Justin's unmistakable voice.
"Of course I do," said Andrew. "Hello. Do you know anything about computer repair?"
"Of course not," said Justin. "Okay, big news from Mila, who heard from Emma, who was hanging out with Jesse over break because she's got cousins in the city."
Andrew had forgotten who Mila was. "Right," he said. "Yes?"
"Jesse and Patrick are not dating."
Andrew's heart stopped for just a second and then he had to remind himself to breathe. He glanced over; Ben was under the desk, so Andrew let himself do a tiny, ridiculous victory dance, just for a moment. "Are you sure? You've got to be absolutely sure."
"Emma says one-hundred-percent Jesse is not dating Patrick. Apparently they decided they were always 'better off as friends,' and I'm air quoting that because that's just bullshit people say."
Andrew's heart was racing for no reason he could put his finger on. "That's fantastic," he said, and then, "Wait, that's not fantastic. Jesse's probably really upset, he's going to be furious with me when we get back if Patrick's dumped him again. Oh god."
"Nnnnno," said Justin, "I'm pretty sure you're basically free and clear on that one. They're friends, as lame as that is. Plus, Emma, who you owe, like, your first born child to, says she spent the whole day telling Jesse how miserable you are. And he, apparently, feels totally shitty about it."
"Good," said Andrew. "Wait, no, that's awful. I don't want him to feel shitty about me. Are you sure this isn't just making things worse?" The conversation was giving him whiplash and he felt oddly nervous. He wished the spring holiday was over so he could go home and just apologize to Jesse some more in person. No matter how it turned out, whether Jesse ever wanted to date him or not, he was sure he couldn’t fix anything from another continent.
Justin snorted into the phone. "It doesn't get worse than your best friend hating you, right? This is better, dude, trust me. He knows how bummed you've been, so when you get back he'll be all set to forgive you. Then you just have to put the moves on him."
"No," said Andrew, "that sounds like a terrible idea." At least, whatever Justin meant by "moves" did.
"He kissed you one time, right?" Justin asked. "And you were fucking trashed, so it's not like you were super smooth about it. Anyway, I have to go; Mila's wearing a bikini."
"Right, of course, obviously," said Andrew. Justin hung up.
Ben was staring at him, lost spanner in hand. "Has something happened?"
"Yes," said Andrew. "No. Maybe. I don't know. I need to get back to uni and find out."
"It's really lucky for you you're stuck here, I think," said Ben. "You'd just go charging in and declare your love or something."
"No, I wouldn't," said Andrew, because he didn't want to mention that he'd already done that once and it had blown up rather spectacularly.
Ben rolled his eyes. "Go and get me some tea and stop imagining you can lie to me." He made a funny, uncomfortable face. "Do I need to… You know, do you need advice about what to do when… I mean if he's stupid enough to want to be seen with you in public, when you get back do you…"
Andrew was really, really enjoying watching Ben's face while he tried not to mention sex. "Do I what?"
"Do you know all the… How all the bits go together and… And all the things you've got to do to… Ugh, god, I can't do this. If you get pregnant don't come crying to me. I'll get my own tea," said Ben, and stomped out of the shed.
Andrew sat down on the floor and laughed until he felt sick.
--
They didn't blow the shed up but they didn't get any of the computers working, either. Not that day, and not the next. Andrew's mum made them come in for regular meals and to give them all mildly worried looks, particularly Andrew. He gave her reassuring hugs and actually meant them. Eventually Ben had to go home - something about having a fiancée made him funny about that - and Andrew and his dad went back out to the shed.
"Can you hand me that when you've finished banging on it," said Andrew's dad. "I've nearly got this working."
"You said that hours ago," said Andrew. He'd been humming tunelessly to himself, he realized, and bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn't start smiling like an idiot. He'd told himself not to get overly hopeful after Justin's phone call but then he couldn't help it. Hopeful was where he lived, usually. He was starting to make vague plans as he wandered the house, stealing food and annoying his father while he tried to fix things. Jesse wouldn't like a big gesture; they made him nervous and he hated being noticed in public. Something small and meaningful was the way to go, and Andrew was wracking his brain trying to think of something special enough. It distracted him and meant he wasn't much help in the shed. "Fuck, I can't get this fucking thing out. Come on."
His dad gave him a mildly amused, patient look. "I'm sure the banging is helping."
"I can't reach inside the stupid case, how does anyone-" The motherboard and wires came out of the plastic casing with a satisfying snapping noise. Andrew held his arms up in triumph. He was bleeding where he'd scraped his knuckles against the table earlier and he'd banged his shins on more disassembled computer parts than he could count. He was also sweaty, which was absurd in England this time of year when one was simply fiddling with electronics.
"Certainly not with patience," said his dad.
"Couldn't be. More likely with explosives," said Andrew.
His father laughed. "I'm not sure I should be letting you help."
"Probably not; I'm rubbish at this," said Andrew cheerfully. "Can I use the soldering gun?" He tried not to bounce on his toes in case that made him seem like he'd be dangerous with something called a 'gun.'
"Absolutely not. Er," said his dad, giving him a sidelong glance. "You seem a bit less… You know, than you were earlier."
"Tall?" Andrew suggested. "Handsome? Brilliant?"
His father sighed the very, very put-upon sigh of a parent who had stopped finding Andrew funny years earlier but hadn't had the heart to tell him so. "I'll just call Ben and tell him what a brilliant job he's done fixing you, shall I? Let him take all the credit and-"
"No," said Andrew. "God, no. Anything but that. I suppose I am feeling a bit cheerier."
"Good," said his dad. "I thought you'd drown us all with weeping."
"I was not weeping," said Andrew, a little bit crossly. Ben had probably told him that.
"Keeping us up all night, wailing and sobbing." His dad fiddled with some wires and some other things Andrew wasn't sure of the name for. "Your mother was going to call that boy and tell him how upset you were."
Andrew winced. Having Emma tell Jesse how sad he was certainly fell under 'pathetic.' But having his mum call was one million times worse. "Don't let her. Dad, please. He'll never - Oh god, I'll never be able to go back."
"I told her not to," said his dad. "There, look, I fixed it!" He flipped a switch and stood back triumphantly. Nothing happened. Andrew clapped enthusiastically. His father glared. "I still can tell her it's a good idea, you know."
"But you won't, because secretly I've always been your favorite, haven't I?" Andrew smiled winningly.
His father sighed and rolled his eyes a little bit. "I think I'd get more done if you went back in the house."
"I'm only here a couple of days. Kindly pretend to be the loving and supportive patriarch of a family instead of a doddering old geezer who's been sent to the shed by his wife for a few hours' peace."
"I would definitely get more done if you went back inside," said his father, shaking his head.
"But it wouldn't be as entertaining, would it?" Andrew asked cheerfully.
"That it would not," said his dad. He flipped the switch again. This time there were sparks.
"Oooh, it's like bonfire night!" said Andrew excitedly.
"I think I liked you better when you were miserable," his father grumbled half-heartedly and picked up the spanner to start again.
--
Andrew was simultaneously anxious to go back to uni and terrified of what it would be like when he got there if Jesse was still mad at him. It meant he was really annoying to have around, and by the time his parents took him to the airport he could tell they were glad he was going. Not that they didn't love him - he suspected sometimes that he really was their favorite, or at least the one they worried most about - but because he'd broken half his mum's teacups and backed his dad's car into a tree entirely by accident while relating a story about American college life to one of his high school friends. Possibly he shouldn't have been gesticulating quite so much whilst driving. Ah well.
"Be good," his dad said, handing him his suitcase.
"I am," said Andrew. "At least I try."
His mum was looking a tiny bit teary. "Call us when you've sorted things out back there," she said. "And if you can't, well, I can call Jesse's mum and we can have a chat-"
"Mum, no," said Andrew, horrified.
"Just in case."
"No. I love you, I'll see you in a couple of months." He hugged her and then fled before she could get any more ideas about calling Jesse or his family. He clearly had to patch things up with Jesse as quickly as possibly, before parental intervention actually happened.
He was late for his flight but the plane was delayed, so he spent a long time sitting on the uncomfortable chairs in Terminal Five watching the big screens and waiting for one of them to blink up with his gate, rather than just "DELAYED."
Andrew texted Justin, Are you back yet? and then Can you pick me up I'm going to be late sorry :(((((.
He tried to arrange himself on the padded bench so that he could relax for a few hours. He reluctantly pulled his textbook out and opened it, then groaned and put his head back and tried to pretend the book wasn't there. He couldn't read with so many flashing lights from the televisions running news overhead and the duty free shops.
His phone beeped and he picked it up hopefully, because if Justin didn’t come to meet him he was going to be hours getting home from the airport. He'd be tired and jet lagged and horribly nervous about seeing Jesse when he got home.
fly safe, said his phone, which didn't make sense until he realized it wasn't from Justin, it was from Jesse.
Andrew's mouth went dry. He wanted to text back something like OH THANK GOD ARE YOU NOT MAD AT ME ANY MORE I LOVE YOU CAN I SEE YOU WHEN I LAND?????? but he had the nagging suspicion that it wasn't a good idea. Usually when Jesse texted that Andrew just sent thx and then some nonsense texts about the weather or his shoes. That seemed a bit flippant since he wasn't sure if this was an "I forgive you" text or just Jesse's morbid fear that a plane would crash and the last thing he'd said to someone wouldn't be properly kind.
Andrew texted and then deleted and then texted and then deleted and then finally typed Thanks I'll be home soon I miss you lots.
His hands were shaking a little when he hit send. He hoped Jesse understood how much he meant that. He hoped Jesse knew how sorry he was. He stared at his phone until his flight was finally announced but it didn't beep again.
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