Fueled by a stubborn determination, a blaze of hope, and a twisting urgent worry that he might be too late, Jake finds himself standing in front of Kyle's door.

He's been thinking about this all day. Sitting through class had been a pain, and he had barely been able to focus, but he knew that he had to be there. Kyle would kill him if his grades dropped because he skipped to see him. The whole point is to make Kyle happy, not upset.

But as he's standing here, facing Kyle's dorm door, he starts to feel the first cold dredges of doubt rising. How the hell is he supposed to make Kyle happy? What does Kyle want? He's not exactly a typical guy, or a typical person even. He's complicated and sweet but rough around the edges and likes clichés but hates that he likes them and—

Get on with it, a voice in his head says, sounding suspiciously like Liddy. Just do it. Dive right in. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Before his nerves can get the better of him, reflex and adrenaline have his hand lifting to the door, knocking sharply. Then he stands back and waits, heart pounding painfully in his chest and making him dizzy. This is it. This is it. This is it—

His breath catches when the doorknob turns, body freezing stiff as it swings open—

But it's not Kyle. Jasper stands in the doorway. His hair is a mess, but no messier than usual. Half of it is tucked away beneath his gray beanie. He looks bored and tired and exhausted, but no more so than the average college student. When he sees Jake, he blinks, surprise coloring his boredom for a second before his eyes narrow suspiciously. "What'd you want?"

Heart in his throat, standing up a little straighter and trying not to fidget under Jasper's weighted gaze, Jake manages to say, "I'm looking for Kyle."

All at once, Jasper's demeanor changes. His shoulders sag, and he leans against the door, pressing his head to it as his eyes flutter briefly closed. "Oh, thank god," he sighs, pushing off the door and disappearing back into the room.

The door is left open, but Jake isn't sure if that's an invitation or not. After a moment of internal debate, he cautiously steps through the doorway, pushing the door a little wider and peering into the room.

"He's not here right now," Jasper says, hunched over his desk. His backpack sits in his chair, and he shoves books and his laptop into it haphazardly. "But this is the first time he's left the room except for class for like, fucking weeks. He's been a fucking downer. Like, more so than usual. Before he was just kinda a homebody and broody, you know? But he's been in the pits of some shit, man, lemme tell ya. It radiates off him, and I feel worse just being here. Not eating. Not showering. Yeah, that's noticeable. And whenever I try to say anything, he just snaps at me or looks like he's about to break down, and I do not do well with tears."

Jake stands to the side of the doorway, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he makes a show of looking around the room. "Oh, uh..." He clears his throat. Does he sound as nervous as he feels? Come on, just play it off. He can do this. "I had no idea."

Jasper zips up his backpack, swinging the strap over his shoulder as he turns. He gives Jake a flat stare. Flat and blank and seeing right through him. Jake tries not to fidget, but he knows he is. "It was pretty obvious you and Kyle were a thing, man." He says, blunt and flat, yet sharp and striking right to the heart of the matter. Jake stiffens, eyes going wide. But before he can scramble for words, Jasper shrugs, bending over to pull on his shoes. "Just like it's pretty damn clear something happened between you two." He straightens, rolling his shoulders. "So, like, if you have a plan to get him back into a good mood, or at least drag him out of this Debbie downer pit, that's great. Or better yet, get him to move in with you so I can finally bring people back here. But I'll settle for the whole better mood thing." He moves toward the doorway, pausing with his hand on the door as he narrows his eyes over his shoulder, giving Jake a stern look. "So, look, don't hurt him anymore. Get your shit and his shit together. As long as you fix whatever this is, I don't care if you guys fuck around in here. Just not on my bed, got it?"

Jake holds up his hands, heat flaring to his cheeks. "Dude, I would never—"

"Good," he nods, slipping out the door and calling a loud, "Good luck!" Before the door slams shut.

And then Jake is alone. In Kyle's room. He looks around, hands on his hips and nervous excitement bubbling in his veins.

He has a lot of work to do.

* * *

When he hears the telltale sound of a key in the lock and the doorknob turning, it sounds like the bells of his demise tolling. Which sounds kind of dramatic, but he's freaking out.

He freezes with the candle lighter in his hand, entire body going rigid and eyes widening as his heart pounds into overtime in his chest. It bruises his ribs, makes his breath come quick and shallow, and makes him light headed. Not good. Not good.

Only half the candles he's scattered around the room on every available surface are lit.

Not good. Not good.

He had gotten a sweet rose wine, but what if that's not what Kyle likes? What if he hates sweet wines?

Not good. Not good.

Maybe he should've—

But it's too late now. The door is opening and Jake spins on his heel, setting the lighter down on the table as he does so. "Heeeey," he says, a nervous grin plastering across his face as he freezes, arms out to put the room on display. He's striking a pose. Oh god, he probably looks stupid. Not good. Not good. "Surprise?"

Kyle stands in the doorway, hand on the doorknob, backlit by the florescent hallway lights. He looks frozen, face captured and stuck in a moment of complete surprise and bewilderment. He stands frozen, and Jake stands frozen, staring at each other as the tension builds and builds, filling his chest, threatening to burst.

Kyle's eyes are wide, lips parted and moving as he struggles to find words and eventually fails.

Then his gaze shifts from Jake, moving around the room. Jake watches, heart pounding loudly in his ears, as Kyle takes it all in.

The room is dark, with just the pale orange glow of the setting sun peeking through the closed blinds. The lights are off, and the only sources of light are about twelve candles scattered around the dorm in his attempt to set an atmosphere. The other eighteen remain unlit. On Kyle's desk is a bottle of wine, framed by two glasses that look simple and nice enough that he managed to find for cheap at the store in his mad dash to collect everything.

Slowly, so very slowly that Jake can count it in heartbeats, Kyle closes the door behind him. The soft click resonates around the room, sealing his fate. For better or for worse.

Kyle licks his lips, and Jake tries to pretend he isn't as mesmerized by the movement as he is. "What— what are you doing here?"

And it's then that the tension in Jake's chest reaches a head, bubble bursting in a cacophony of nerves and embarrassment, kicking his fight or flight reflex into overdrive as his posture crumbles. He laughs, and it sounds hollow and forced, shaking at the edges. He gestures vaguely with one hand, the other scratching the back of his neck. His eyes dart around the room. "I, uh, I admit it's not my best display. It's not really what I hoped it would be, and I dunno if it was my planning or the execution or the timing, I just—"

His shoulders slump as he sighs, breath shuddering out of his lungs. He looks up at Kyle, feeling lost and forlorn.

"I just didn't know what to do," he says softly. "I've only ever dated superficial girls, and they love shit out of romance movies or whatever. And I've never tried to get any of them back when they broke up with me, so I'm a little out of my element here."

He's floundering, and he knows he is, but the word vomit won't stop.

Thankfully, Kyle saves him from himself. He takes a cautious step into the room, slow and deliberate. He drops his backpack to the floor by his desk, eyes on the bottle of wine and empty glasses. Jake finds it hard to read his expression, unsure of what he sees and what he wants to see. "Is that what you're trying to do?" Kyle asks softly. "Trying to get me back?"

Jake laughs, but it's barely more than a nervous huff of breath. "Y-yeah, I... that's exactly what I'm trying to do. That's the idea anyway. Clearly, I don't know what I'm doing, and I suck at this, but—"

He stops when he hears it. It sounds so foreign for a moment. So out of place that he has a hard time processing it. But then it continues, and he's sure— giggling. Kyle is giggling.

It starts out small. Bubbling and light and soft, slipping past his lips even as he presses them tight. Jake stares at him, eyes widening, as Kyle leans a hand on his desk, hunching over to hide his mirth. But his shoulders shake, his chest heaves, and eventually he can't hold it back anymore.

He laughs.

Loud. Bubbling. Bursting from his lips in a rush of sound, shaking his entire body. He laughs. And he laughs. And when the sound begins to dissipate into giggles, it starts all over again. Rising and falling. A melody of enjoyment and mirth that once would've made Jake's heart soar.

But now it only sinks.

He feels a rush of embarrassment, hot and shameful. It's followed by the sting of hurt in its wake, fueled by the brief panic of Kyle laughing at him. But the longer his laughing fit continues, the more his panic recedes, and Jake realizes Kyle has never laughed at him. Never once. His laughter, dare he hope, sounds like more the hysterics of relief than anything else.

His hurt fades to amusement, a smile breaking out across his lips. And then he's laughing, too. His own relief that Kyle isn't mad is its own source of adrenaline and endorphins, flooding his system and making him feel light and giddy. The tension and nervousness that had been building in his chest bubbles out in the form of laughter.

"In my panic, I almost got balloons," he confesses between rounds of laughter, a chuckle still edging his words. Kyle looks up at him, eyes crinkling at the edges and face red. His smile is so wide and genuine, and it takes Jake's breath away.

"Really?" He giggles, covering his mouth as if that might stop it.

"Yeah, nearly got a bunch of balloons, and I thought about scattering flower petals all over your dorm, but then I wasn't sure if you or Jasper were allergic to flowers, and I think he would kill me if I did something like that. Plus I couldn't find any pre-picked flower petals, and I didn't have time to do it myself." He shrugs and snorts another bout of laughter, running his fingers through his hair as he tries to catch his breath. "Then I wasn't sure if I should like, be naked on your bed or something? But I never got around to that anyway. Like I barely started to light the candles before you came back."

He isn't sure when or how Kyle ends up in front of him. He doesn't think he moved, but he doesn't remember Kyle moving. All he knows is that one moment they're laughing across the room from each other, and in the next, they're standing toe to toe.

Kyle looks up at him shyly, eyes lidded beneath thick lashes. His hair is a mess. His clothes are oversized and wrinkled. The bags under his eyes are dark and huge. He looks paler and, quite frankly, exhausted. But he still manages to be the cutest damn thing Jake has ever seen, and his chest is fluttering with that knowledge.

He bites his lip, but doesn't say anything, and Jake takes that as his cue.

"I just...," he says, hands aimlessly waving in vague, helpless gestures. His shoulders slump, and his voice drops low. Defeated. "I didn't know what to do. I kind of panicked. The truth is..." He breathes in deep, trying to steady himself. He straightens a little, closing his eyes as the truth rushes out of him with painful honesty. "I think I love you, Kyle. I didn't mean to, and I didn't expect to. I didn't start all of this with that in mind, it just sorta... happened. I never wanted you to forget the other people in your life, and I understand that you need time. You're not ready to come out, and I get that. I really do. I know you're not done grieving, and I'm not trying to put pressure on you, I just..." His hands curl into fists at his side. He bites the inside of his cheek. He opens his eyes to meet Kyle's gaze, feeling far too exposed and far too vulnerable. But this is what he's supposed to do, right? Expose himself and let Kyle judge for himself. So he rips his heart out and holds it out on a silver platter. He meets Kyle's gaze unflinchingly and hopes he can see his honesty. "I don't like the thought of you going through all of it alone. It's a lot to deal with alone, and I'm not selfish enough to abandon you just because you're not ready to be— you know, public with me." He tilts his head, a wry smile touching his lips. "Every day without you is painful."

He watches as Kyle's eyes drop, and he lifts a hand, fingers curled and hesitating before he reaches out. He lays it, palm flat, on Jake's chest. The touch is gentle and hesitant, but there all the same. Jake feels the breath freeze in his lungs.

"I may not ever really be ready," Kyle says, low and soft enough that Jake has to strain to hear.

When he does, he feels the hot knife of rejection stab deep into his heart, twisting and gutting him. But then Kyle's fingers curl into his shirt, clinging to him like an anchor as he lets out a shuddering breath.

"But... I suppose that's not really the point. No one's really ever a hundred percent ready for something, right? Games are tested and tested and tested, but when they're released, they still have bugs. Hiccups. They have to release patches to fix things." His lips purse, head tilting a little to the side. "Maybe being ready is just a goal post that's always a football field away."

"Did you..." A breathless laugh escapes him. "Did you just try to make a sports metaphor for my sake?"

Kyle glances up through his lashes, a shy but amused smirk on his lips. "Did it work?"

"Yeah," he breathes. "I think it did."

Kyle closes his eyes for a moment, taking another step closer. Hand still on Jake's chest, they stand barely inches apart. He tilts his chin up, meeting Jake's eyes with a fiery but vulnerable intensity that makes his heart stutter in his chest. "So... if you can forgive me for being selfish, and weird, and not good at— anything like this... then, maybe... we can give it another shot?" His smile is hopeful. Nervous. Wavering at the edges as he tries to hold it steady. "Just take it one day at a time?"

Jake lifts a hand, ignoring the way it shakes as he puts a knuckle beneath Kyle's chin to lift it. Running his fingers along his jaw line to his neck, fingers diving into his hair to cradle the back of his head. His heart beats wildly in his chest. Hope making his skin feel light and tingly. A new fire burns and itches beneath his skin. One of eager anticipation and disbelieving wonderment. "Yeah," he says. "One day at a time sounds good."

The moment stretches between them, soft and tender and new. It's fragile, and it's precious. Something neither of them have felt before and both of them cherish.

Kyle is the first one to look away, glancing around the room with a teasing smirk finding a home on his lips. "So... you decided not to be naked on the bed?"

Jake laughs, loud and uninhibited as relief washes through his system. "Would that have even worked?"

Kyle reaches out, fingertips running lightly along the neck of the wine bottle. He glances at Jake sidelong, capturing him in a gaze that's dark and lidded and smoldering. And holy shit, Jake didn't even know Kyle was capable of looking at him like that, but he's into it. He's really fucking into it.

He licks his lips, smiling when he sees Jake's eyes flicker down to watch. He tilts his head, playful and coy as he says, "Wanna find out?"