In Magdalen Chapel 1/3
First part of a new fic. This will have three parts.
Title: In Magdalen Chapel
Author: drawingblinds
Rating: This part? PG
Characters: Akthar/Posner
Words: 1251
Part: 1/?
*
It started in Magdalen Chapel. Akthar was not surprised that Posner auditioned for the college choir barely before he'd unpacked his bags, and was pleased but no more surprised when he was successful - and reserve soloist, no less. Of course, it was Akthar's good luck that the second time he came to Eucharist (he might be Muslim, but he could still go to watch his friend sing), the first soloist had gone down with food poisoning the night before. In hindsight he would come to understand that it was Posner's light, pure tenor, which he has heard ten or a hundred times before but never forming such unfamiliar bewitching syllables, soaring through the the Gloria on that crisp February morning that moved his brotherly love into something altogether deeper. He learned to love quietly and steadily, the progressions of his feeling no less real for their lack of spectacle. The time for schoolboy crushes, sweeping and sharp, was long past, and that sure, simple faith of a college morning made Akthar feel as though he held his future in his hands.
Posner was still in love with Dakin, of course. Though Akthar would never call it love - that was something lives were built around. Infatuation, really. It was everything Posner was, grandiose and a little bit silly, while raw and aching beneath, and sometimes his friend would say something or look a certain way and suddenly the feeling of Dakin sat between them, unmentionable. Posner had never really talked to him about Dakin, not since an exchange in fifth year which had prompted the former to ask, "You don't like him at all, do you?" and Akthar to look away, silent because he didn't know what he hated more, that Dakin was so fucking smug all the time or that he'd toy with Posner only to discard him like something broken.
But now they were at Magdalen, mentions of Dakin grew less and less, because Magdalen wasn't Oriel and they wouldn't have visited him anyway. Well, Dakin wouldn't have visited them, and enthralled as he was, Posner still had his pride. So gradually the spectre of his friend's misguided affections faded, and Akthar would sometimes find himself smiling privately because as they worked, ate and lived, he could come to Posner without a single thing between them.
*
In half a year, nothing changed. Logically, Akthar felt that telling Posner eventually would be the sensible thing, but weeks ticked into months as he relished their bold camaraderie and the deep, secret joy it formed in his breast. It was only late in Hilary term, when Posner grew sadder, that Akthar realised the beginning was over.
It was prelims that did it, first. They both began to feel the weight of work, and the weight of urgency, of less than two months to go and you should be starting revision. In hindsight, of course, it was obvious that they would have to work harder for an Oxford degree than they ever did at school, but in that seventh term Oxbridge had been their holy grail and Akthar had never considered the fact that they would have to start again. This realisation hit Posner rather harder, and even though he was bright, brighter than any of them and Akthar thought he'd do just fine, he became daunted and drawn. Akthar found himself arranging Posner's revision for him, building a programme around testing each other and colour-coded flash cards, but the other boy still frowned and said I can't more than he had before. And this melancholy was compounded as that spring, everyone they knew seemed to fall in love at once. Within several weeks mid-Hilary, Posner and Akthar were almost the only single ones in their wider group of friends; they even heard through Scripps that three of their ex-classmates had girlfriends, including Scripps himself. Ever the romantic, Posner sighed and looked away whenever they were around a couple, and Akthar realised that it was time to tell.
*
"It's disgusting," Posner pulled a face. "Happy couples wherever we go. I'm sure there's a rule against public displays of affection in the middle of the quad." They were walking back to Posner's room, swerving to avoid a boy and girl kissing each other in the centre of the path. "Sometimes I feel like we're the only people in the world who are single."
"How come you haven't met anyone you're interested in?" Akthar was genuinely surprised that in almost two terms, Posner had never mentioned anybody beyond expressing an admiration.
"Oh, God. I'm attracted to practically every man I meet these days. Just I have no idea whether to tell if they're attracted to me. This isn't school - I'm terrified that anyone I express an interest in will beat me up or have me sent down or something."
Akthar laughed. "You're being melodramatic. If you like someone, there's no harm in trying."
Posner pouted (really, that was the only word for it). "You like girls, how could you possibly understand?"
Akthar took a breath. This was the moment. "...not exclusively." He looked ahead and began to climb the stairs.
"Fuck!" Posner was still standing at the bottom, staring at him. "You're joking! All these years you let me think you were straight." He sounded a little aggrieved.
"I was straight. It's only recently... I liked girls, and then I saw someone and realised that it just wasn't limited to girls."
"Wow, and I had no idea." He laughed to himself, and followed Akthar up the stairs. "See, I can't even tell. So who's this mystery man? Is it someone we know?"
"Can we have toast? I'm starving," Akthar called behind him as they reached Posner's room. He knew his friend could tell that he was evading the question, but decided it was necessary until they had tea and buttered toast each and Posner was prepared for the fact that there was a conversation to be had. This wasn't a conversation they could have while on the move.
Ten minutes later, Akthar wiped a scattering of crumbs from around his mouth and decided it was time. "This boy I was talking about...yes." Akthar gulped and swallowed a mouthful of tea. "I realised I was attracted to men when I realised I was attracted to you."
He looked up from his cup. Posner's eyes widened. "Me."
"You." Akthar paused. The air was thick and heavy, as before a storm. He could almost feel the tension crackling.
"How long have you...?"
"Er, a few months. I wanted to make sure... you know, that I'd got it right." Posner was still just looking at him, and it was the first time that he could remember finding his friend's gaze inscrutable. "Look, I've said this now, and we can just...I don't know. Whatever you want."
Posner drank his tea, slowly. "I have to think about this. It's..."
Akthar held up a hand. "You don't have to explain."
"No, I want to. Us...God, I don't know. We're best friends, and if we do this, this is a big move. Whatever our relationship is it's never going to be casual. We could change a lot of things, and it could all go wrong, and I know I'm babbling but I do really need to think about this."
"Would you like me to go?"
"No. No, just stay here. You haven't finished your tea. I'm going to write in my diary." Posner turned round on his chair, and soon Akthar heard the scratch of his pen against the paper.
Title: In Magdalen Chapel
Author: drawingblinds
Rating: This part? PG
Characters: Akthar/Posner
Words: 1251
Part: 1/?
*
It started in Magdalen Chapel. Akthar was not surprised that Posner auditioned for the college choir barely before he'd unpacked his bags, and was pleased but no more surprised when he was successful - and reserve soloist, no less. Of course, it was Akthar's good luck that the second time he came to Eucharist (he might be Muslim, but he could still go to watch his friend sing), the first soloist had gone down with food poisoning the night before. In hindsight he would come to understand that it was Posner's light, pure tenor, which he has heard ten or a hundred times before but never forming such unfamiliar bewitching syllables, soaring through the the Gloria on that crisp February morning that moved his brotherly love into something altogether deeper. He learned to love quietly and steadily, the progressions of his feeling no less real for their lack of spectacle. The time for schoolboy crushes, sweeping and sharp, was long past, and that sure, simple faith of a college morning made Akthar feel as though he held his future in his hands.
Posner was still in love with Dakin, of course. Though Akthar would never call it love - that was something lives were built around. Infatuation, really. It was everything Posner was, grandiose and a little bit silly, while raw and aching beneath, and sometimes his friend would say something or look a certain way and suddenly the feeling of Dakin sat between them, unmentionable. Posner had never really talked to him about Dakin, not since an exchange in fifth year which had prompted the former to ask, "You don't like him at all, do you?" and Akthar to look away, silent because he didn't know what he hated more, that Dakin was so fucking smug all the time or that he'd toy with Posner only to discard him like something broken.
But now they were at Magdalen, mentions of Dakin grew less and less, because Magdalen wasn't Oriel and they wouldn't have visited him anyway. Well, Dakin wouldn't have visited them, and enthralled as he was, Posner still had his pride. So gradually the spectre of his friend's misguided affections faded, and Akthar would sometimes find himself smiling privately because as they worked, ate and lived, he could come to Posner without a single thing between them.
*
In half a year, nothing changed. Logically, Akthar felt that telling Posner eventually would be the sensible thing, but weeks ticked into months as he relished their bold camaraderie and the deep, secret joy it formed in his breast. It was only late in Hilary term, when Posner grew sadder, that Akthar realised the beginning was over.
It was prelims that did it, first. They both began to feel the weight of work, and the weight of urgency, of less than two months to go and you should be starting revision. In hindsight, of course, it was obvious that they would have to work harder for an Oxford degree than they ever did at school, but in that seventh term Oxbridge had been their holy grail and Akthar had never considered the fact that they would have to start again. This realisation hit Posner rather harder, and even though he was bright, brighter than any of them and Akthar thought he'd do just fine, he became daunted and drawn. Akthar found himself arranging Posner's revision for him, building a programme around testing each other and colour-coded flash cards, but the other boy still frowned and said I can't more than he had before. And this melancholy was compounded as that spring, everyone they knew seemed to fall in love at once. Within several weeks mid-Hilary, Posner and Akthar were almost the only single ones in their wider group of friends; they even heard through Scripps that three of their ex-classmates had girlfriends, including Scripps himself. Ever the romantic, Posner sighed and looked away whenever they were around a couple, and Akthar realised that it was time to tell.
*
"It's disgusting," Posner pulled a face. "Happy couples wherever we go. I'm sure there's a rule against public displays of affection in the middle of the quad." They were walking back to Posner's room, swerving to avoid a boy and girl kissing each other in the centre of the path. "Sometimes I feel like we're the only people in the world who are single."
"How come you haven't met anyone you're interested in?" Akthar was genuinely surprised that in almost two terms, Posner had never mentioned anybody beyond expressing an admiration.
"Oh, God. I'm attracted to practically every man I meet these days. Just I have no idea whether to tell if they're attracted to me. This isn't school - I'm terrified that anyone I express an interest in will beat me up or have me sent down or something."
Akthar laughed. "You're being melodramatic. If you like someone, there's no harm in trying."
Posner pouted (really, that was the only word for it). "You like girls, how could you possibly understand?"
Akthar took a breath. This was the moment. "...not exclusively." He looked ahead and began to climb the stairs.
"Fuck!" Posner was still standing at the bottom, staring at him. "You're joking! All these years you let me think you were straight." He sounded a little aggrieved.
"I was straight. It's only recently... I liked girls, and then I saw someone and realised that it just wasn't limited to girls."
"Wow, and I had no idea." He laughed to himself, and followed Akthar up the stairs. "See, I can't even tell. So who's this mystery man? Is it someone we know?"
"Can we have toast? I'm starving," Akthar called behind him as they reached Posner's room. He knew his friend could tell that he was evading the question, but decided it was necessary until they had tea and buttered toast each and Posner was prepared for the fact that there was a conversation to be had. This wasn't a conversation they could have while on the move.
Ten minutes later, Akthar wiped a scattering of crumbs from around his mouth and decided it was time. "This boy I was talking about...yes." Akthar gulped and swallowed a mouthful of tea. "I realised I was attracted to men when I realised I was attracted to you."
He looked up from his cup. Posner's eyes widened. "Me."
"You." Akthar paused. The air was thick and heavy, as before a storm. He could almost feel the tension crackling.
"How long have you...?"
"Er, a few months. I wanted to make sure... you know, that I'd got it right." Posner was still just looking at him, and it was the first time that he could remember finding his friend's gaze inscrutable. "Look, I've said this now, and we can just...I don't know. Whatever you want."
Posner drank his tea, slowly. "I have to think about this. It's..."
Akthar held up a hand. "You don't have to explain."
"No, I want to. Us...God, I don't know. We're best friends, and if we do this, this is a big move. Whatever our relationship is it's never going to be casual. We could change a lot of things, and it could all go wrong, and I know I'm babbling but I do really need to think about this."
"Would you like me to go?"
"No. No, just stay here. You haven't finished your tea. I'm going to write in my diary." Posner turned round on his chair, and soon Akthar heard the scratch of his pen against the paper.