Chapter Text
At the end of the 19th century, Japan sent a lot of students in Occident. They learned art, law, architecture, medicine, mechanics, and they came back to their country to share their knowledge. In less than fifty years, the country, which had been closed to the world (except for Korea and the Netherlands) for the almost three centuries of the Edo Period, industrialized itself to the point of starting a war against Russia and win, a thing that Napoleon himself hadn’t been able to. But racism is also a thing in war it turns out and all the powerful occidental countries refused that Japan earn the war reparations that Russia owed them. Andrew wondered if it was because the Emperor wanted to prove himself, like every disadvantaged minority, that he followed the Occidental model and started to colonialize his neighbors, but it was all theory.
Among the many things the Japanese learned before the Russo-Japanese war was story-telling. After the Edo Period, written Japanese didn’t match at all spoken Japanese. The website Andrew had read had made a comparison with French to explain, like in written French, a story told in the past tense used ‘passé simple’ (simple past) even though no one used it in spoken French, preferring ‘passé composé’ (perfect tense). But you couldn’t use ‘passé composé’ in a story instead because it would read absolutely unnatural, or much more “present”.
So, the Japanese government had put its literary persons to the task of linking back the written and spoken language. For that, they turned to Occidental stories, and most of all, translation. It’s because they studied English stories that the pronouns he and she, kare and kanojo, came to be. Before, they just… didn’t use that.
For Andrew’s English class, they had had to present a non-English story and make up something about translation or some bullshit. They had been given a list to choose from, and Andrew had chosen “I Am a Cat” (Wagahai ha neko dearu) by Natsume Sōseki, which had been the reason why he had found himself in the rabbit hole that was the Meiji Period. Like every great writer of that time, Sōseki was also a translator, and he gave university lectures about Literature. And thus, came the lesson that shaped Andrew’s mind.
Tsuki ga kirei desu ne. The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?
It is only some myth, but here goes the story of how it happened. During one of his lectures, one of Sōseki’s students translated “I love you” directly, word by word. Sōseki didn’t like that, because Japanese people at that time didn’t say “I love you”. Never. They used references, and… and show, don’t tell. They used nature, the seasons, the flowers. It was even a rule in poetry. You had to make a reference to an element of nature, because it was how you could understand the author’s mindset and feelings.
And so, keeping in with the Japanese culture, Sōseki translated “I love you” by this: The moon is beautiful, isn’t it? The context could be this: a man and a woman (because it’s always like that, isn’t it?) are walking together under the moonlight. They would maybe stop at a bridge (because bridges were apparently another fundamental part of Japanese literature) and look at the river, and the man would gaze at the moon, gaze at the woman and say, “The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” And the woman would fucking blush and say, “Yes, indeed, it is beautiful.” And they lived happily ever after. Medetashi, medetashi.
In this sort of context, the moon would obviously reference the loved one. But in poems, the moon had also a lot more meaning. But mostly, it was melancholic, the ache of thinking of a loved one. The autumn moon in particular was terribly lonely.
Andrew liked that nature could reflect your feelings. It meant you didn’t have to express your own, that you could let nature do the job. It put some distance between you and your feelings. Use something simple, little, to say something complex, big.
It was “The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” and not “I love you.”
*
“Andrew, can you tell me five things you can see?”
Andrew inhaled sharply, his eyes roaming the room, and focusing on Bee.
“You.”
Bee nodded and smiled tightly. “What else?”
“The coffee table. Your favorite plaid. Your glass figurines. The windows.” He let out a shuddery breath.
“Now four things you can touch.”
Andrew looked down at his hands.
“My mug. The couch. My clothes.” He stopped.
“Just another one,” Bee encouraged him.
Andrew closed his eyes and just tried. To. Breathe.
“I don’t know.” He opened his eyes.
“It’s okay, take your time.”
He tried, he really tried, but all he could think about was mug, couch, clothes, mug, couch, clothes, mug, couch, clothes.
“It’s alright Andrew. Can you breathe? Breathe for me, Andrew.”
Andrew forced back air in his lungs. His vision had started to creep black on the sides. The new air pushed it back.
“Let’s try three things you can hear.”
“You,” he said immediately. “The AC, cars.”
“Good, really good. Keep looking at me. That’s right. Keep breathing. You’re safe. Two things you can smell.”
He was getting back together, slowly. Bee’s voice, the only thing that was grounding him. And the coffee table, her favorite plaid, her glass figurines, the windows, his mug, the couch, his clothes, the AC, the cars. That was a lot. He could breathe, yes.
“Chocolate. And sweat.”
“Very good. And one thing you can feel?”
Andrew shot her a glare.
“That’s not how it’s supposed to go.”
Bee smiled at his vitriol and lifted two eyebrows. “Is it working?” Like they were sharing a joke.
Andrew was maybe breathing quickly, but he was breathing. So, “Yes.”
“Humor me then, one,” she lifted her pointer, “thing you can feel.”
“I don’t like that, Bee. Ask me the normal one.”
“Is it because you don’t want to answer it, or because you don’t know how to answer it?”
He glared at her. Right for the heart, eh, Bee? But she merely sipped her hot chocolate. He narrowed his eyes. “I just had an anxiety attack. You shouldn’t try to dissect me right now.”
“So should we talk about your anxiety attack instead? Why did it start?”
Andrew looked away. He clinked his fingers against his mug. “You’re mean, Bee.”
“You don’t like me when I’m kind.”
“Yes, I hate you,” he said simply.
Bee nodded like it was a very coherent answer. “Is that how you feel? Hatred against me?”
Andrew frowned, and sank further into the couch. He took one sip of his hot chocolate. It was cold. He scowled at it. Bee extended a hand, and Andrew gave her his mug. While the microwave was doing its bzzz bzzz chtong bzzz, Bee waited patiently, watching him from her chair.
“No,” he said finally as the microwaved beeped.
Giving him back his mug, Bee said, “No?”
Andrew shook his head. He took a scalding sip of his chocolate. Good, now his tongue couldn’t taste the vulnerability that it was unraveling anymore.
“It was the Brad Pitt comment.”
Bee frowned, just for the time it took her to understand which question he was answering.
“Why?” she asked simply.
Andrew put his tongue on his palate and could only feel numbness. It was always difficult to explain the way his brain could jump from one thing to another.
“One time we watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button in Juvie. Then, I thought about Juvie.” Andrew could feel Bee’s attention. He never spoke about his past. “What happened in Juvie.”
No other words wanted to come out, so Bee nudged him just a little. “What happened in Juvie?”
“I came to understand my sexuality.”
“That’s a good thing,” Bee seemed to search something on his face, “isn’t it?”
Andrew shrugged. “I guess.” Before he could think about it more, he jerked the cat out of the bag, “I’m gay.”
Bee drank the last of her chocolate and put her mug on the coffee table. “Thank you for trusting me with this. Did you tell other people?”
“No.”
“Was it why you had your anxiety attack?”
“No.” Because from his sexuality, his brain had jumped to other things. At why it had been so difficult to come to terms with being gay. He squeezed the mug too hard. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Bee nodded. “Do you want to stop talking about the reasons for your anxiety attack or about your sexuality?”
“Anxiety,” Andrew muttered.
Bee nodded again. Nod, nod, nod. “Do you want to tell other people about your sexuality?”
“I want nothing,” he answered, light-quick, almost slamming his empty mug on the table.
“We already talked about this, Andrew. You have the right to want things.”
“Want means nothing,” he reworded, crossing his arms.
“Why is that?”
“Because only actions matter.”
Bee hummed and played with the cuff of her sleeve. “So do you have any action in mind with respect to your sexuality?”
“Do I have to?”
“No.” Andrew narrowed his eyes at her and she smiled. She looked at the window and the September sun. “Do you think a boyfriend would interest you?”
“Oh look,” Andrew said while showing his naked wrist, “It’s already the end of our session.”
Bee laughed. “Fine. Let’s call it an end. See you next week, Andrew.”
*
Neil Josten found him while he was hiding behind the bleachers to smoke. Andrew froze, his cigarette almost at his lips, and stared as the most popular guy in school just made an “oh” upon seeing him.
“Sorry, I thought no one would be there,” Neil said, not looking sorry for a second. Andrew ignored him, and took a drag of his cigarette, looking straight in front of him. As long as Josten wouldn’t rat him out to the teachers for smoking on school grounds, he didn’t care what the other man did. He didn’t care when Neil settled next to him, close, but not at a touching distance. He didn’t care when Neil took out his own pack. He didn’t care when Neil started to look everywhere on him for a lighter and came up empty.
Fuck. Why was the guy so hot?
Andrew took a long drag to push his thoughts asides. Yes, Neil was the most beautiful guy in school, with his lean body, his fucking auburn hair, his perfect face—made only more interesting by his scars—but that didn’t mean Andrew would fall into the trap. He would not be flustered by him.
“Hey, can I steal your lighter for a second?”
Andrew didn’t cough on his cigarette. No, he didn’t. He only did it metaphorically. Sighing, he put his hand in his pocket to throw the lighter at Neil.
“Thanks,” he said. When he gave it back to Andrew, their fingers almost touched. They didn’t, but Andrew could feel the missed opportunity on his knuckles, the missed warmth. Neil had longer fingers than him, and he carefully stowed away this information in his pro list.
They smoked in silence. All the while, Andrew tried not to think of the guy next to him, who, actually, didn’t smoke his cigarette but let it waste away. He was taller than him, but not by much, which was good. Andrew hated guys hovering over him. Another pro on the list.
Fuck, what did he not understand about not thinking about Neil?
Maybe if he sucked him off, he would get his gorgeousness out of his system. Neil was a flirt after all, he would probably be okay with that. He dated anyone who asked him. It even had a hashtag, #DatingNeilJosten. Since his transfer to Palmetto High in October, the guy had dated twelve persons until now. The dates didn’t last long, usually a week, maybe two. Neil was known to be a heartbreaker, cold with the persons he dated, but still, every time he was newly single, someone was quick to ask him out. If it wasn’t clear enough, the guy was gorgeous. His longest date so far had been a month, with Kevin Day, and it had all been a trick to get Neil to join the Exy team. (It had worked.) Everyone knew that their dating was really a friendship thing, but they had officially ‘broke up’ when someone found out that Kevin was dating this girl from PSU for six months.
According to Instagram, Neil was single since yesterday.
Andrew crushed the butt of his cigarette under his boot, but didn’t leave. He gathered his courage. He always asked guys he was sure would be okay if he sucked them off and wouldn’t then blabber about him after. Neil was a safe choice. He stood before him and Neil just smiled at him, like that was a normal thing to do.
“I want to date you,” Andrew said.
Wait. It had come out wrong. That was not what he had planned to say!
Neil just let his cigarette butt fall, joining Andrew’s on the concrete. “Okay,” he said, looking at Andrew in the eyes. Fuck, his eyes were blue. Whitish blue. Blue. Yeah, okay, they were blue, what was the hold-up? Lots of people had blue eyes.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked, because he was already a foot in the grave, so why not dig it deeper?
“Hm, no?” Neil said, sheepishly.
Andrew backed off a foot. “Okay.” Well, maybe the rumors about Neil being a player weren’t entirely true. He shouldn’t have listened to Aaron ranting about it. Andrew frowned at Neil’s startled look. “What?” he drawled.
“It’s really okay?”
Andrew huffed. “You said no. Or you wanted me to push? I don’t work like that. A no is a no. If you say no but mean yes, we’re not doing this.”
“This?”
“The dating thing.”
Strangely, Neil laughed. Andrew wanted to bottle his laugh to listen to it again later. Neil stopped laughing to just smile at him, his hands in his pockets.
“So, we’re dating?”
“You said okay.”
“I did,” Neil acknowledged. His smile dropped, and his face became somber. “Usually, they push when I say no.”
Andrew sighed. “Don’t tell me you kissed people you didn’t want to kiss.”
Neil worried his lips and looked away, but stayed silent.
“You didn’t?” Andrew insisted.
“You told me not to tell you.”
Andrew sighed again, and this time added a hand on his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. Neil Josten was a menace.
“Why did you let them?”
Neil was also famous for being prone to get into fights (especially with his teammate Seth), and from what Andrew had gathered, he managed okay. He didn’t seem the type to let things happen to him. But, Andrew was not that type either and look where that had got him. His hands formed fists.
“Well, they said I couldn’t know if I didn’t try, or that it was only a kiss, or they didn’t ask. But it only happened three or four times.” Neil counted on his fingers.
“It’s three or four times too much,” Andrew said. Why was he teaching consent to Neil Josten under the bleachers on a Tuesday afternoon? How had it come to this? He didn’t like having this discussion with him, it made him dwell on past things. It definitely went on his con list. “Let’s go to Sweetie’s after class.”
“Okay,” Neil said easily.
“Okay,” Andrew repeated.
*
Neil didn’t have a car so they went to Sweetie’s in Andrew’s GS. Neil didn’t seem to understand how awesome his car was, so Andrew put it on the con list. The drive was silent except for the radio.
Sweetie’s wasn’t that busy, but it would soon be. When they got their menu, Andrew said, “I’ll pay. What do you want?”
“Oh, okay. Well, what do you recommend?”
“The ice cream special.”
Neil contemplated the option with a frown. “Is that what you’re taking?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to share? I don’t really like sweet things.”
Andrew scowled at him. “Everyone like sweet things.” Another one for the con list.
“Not me.” Neil shrugged, looking intensively at his menu. “Can I take the blueberry pancake if you’re not sharing?”
“I’m not sharing.”
Neil hummed like it was a perfectly valid answer. They ordered and some time later, they were eating in silence. It grew on Andrew, heavy and uncomfortable. Neil didn’t seem bothered at all by their lack of conversation, and maybe that’s what they meant by ‘cold’. Usually, Andrew wasn’t one for conversation either, but Neil was too much of a mystery for him to be at ease.
“So why the dating?” God, he was awful at small talk.
Neil looked up from his pancake. “You asked.” He frowned and Andrew wanted to put his thumb on it and soothe it. Fuck.
He cleared his throat. “Not me, the dating in general. Why are you dating everyone who asks you?” He hated explaining himself, and that was another con on his list that was growing exponentially. Why had he asked Neil to date again? Right, he messed up.
“Oh. Well, to be honest, I normally don’t date.”
Andrew’s face asked him to develop, because that didn’t make any sense at all, but he would not say it out loud.
“It’s my uncle.” Neil seemed to have understood his silent glare. “He asked me why I always say no when people ask me out, and I said it was because I didn’t know them, so I wasn’t interested.”
Andrew frowned. That didn’t match what the rumors said. This was not a player kind of mindset.
“So he said that I couldn’t start to know them if I didn’t spend time with them. That dating was a way to know if you liked the other person or not. That I shouldn’t say no right away and give it a try. And maybe eventually I’ll like the other person.”
Andrew suddenly understood better why Neil had let people kiss him against his will. “That’s fucked-up.”
The blueberry on Neil’s fork fell down on his plate. His mouth was still open. He closed it. Said, “Why?”
“You should go out with people only if you want to, not because you should ‘give it a try’. You can learn how other people are without going on a date with them.”
“Huh.” Neil seemed perplexed, and he played with the blueberry with his fork, making it roll and roll around the plate. He cast a glance at Andrew, who was stuffing himself with ice cream. “I’m not very good with social rules,” he confessed.
Andrew swallowed his cold ray of paradise. “I can see that.”
“So, does that mean I shouldn’t date you?”
Andrew shrugged. “I’m only dating you so I can get into your pants.”
Neil laughed at that and Andrew scowled at him. Neil froze. “Wait, you’re serious?” Andrew glared at him. Did he really think Andrew was the kind to joke about that sort of thing? And another con. And Neil’s flushed cheeks didn’t land at all on the pro list.
Neil shifted on his chair. “Sorry, I’m not…”
“Am I asking you anything?” Andrew interrupted, angry with Neil’s vague assertions of his boundaries. Already with the kiss it had been a question and not a statement.
“No, I guess not.”
“Then, don’t apologize.”
“Yeah, okay.”
They were silent until they finished their food, enough time for Andrew’s anger to calm down and only simmer at its usual levels. While they waited to pay, Neil rasped his knuckles on the table. “Sooo… are we still dating?”
“Do you want to?”
“Do you?”
“I asked you first,” Andrew drawled.
“Well, technically, it was me.” And fuck, Neil was right. Andrew laid back in his chair, examining the situation. At the moment, his list of pros and cons was filled with cons and the few pros were physical ones. That was not a good look on them dating. And he had only started this because he wanted to blow the guy.
And yet… Andrew’s mind came back to the way Neil had settled near him for smoking but not too close, how he hadn’t touched his fingers when he gave back his lighter, when he had wanted to share ice cream with Andrew but had not even attempted to steal a bit when they each had their food, not even asking to try and taste it. And Andrew still very much wanted to blow him.
He wanted to say yes, he thought, surprised. He wanted to continue this masquerade, see where it would get him. But at the same time, it wasn’t fair to Neil, who wasn’t someone who dated, who would get a blowjob from a stranger.
“No,” he eventually came up with. Neil nodded, an indecipherable look on his face. Andrew tapped two fingers on the table. “Did you want to?”
Neil shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I kind of want the intimacy my uncle promised, but it always felt wrong like that.” He sighed. “And I really don’t like dating. They always want me to be with them all the time, as if I had nothing better to do.”
Andrew nodded, glad they had come to an agreement. Neil was right, it had felt wrong. Neil didn’t date. Andrew wasn’t the type to date people. It was for the best.
Andrew paid for the two of them and offered to drive Neil home. In the car, they were silent again, Neil looking out of the window. He came back to his senses when they approached where he lived and gave Andrew directions. Five minutes later, Andrew parallel-parked in front of a one-story house with blue shutters. Before Neil could get out, Andrew extended a hand. “Your phone.”
Neil went for his duffel bag and proceeded to get all of his things out of it to find his phone at the bottom. He gave it to Andrew with a grin to answer his lifted eyebrow. Slowly, Andrew took it without looking away from his face. He finally broke eye contact to look at the monstrosity in his hands. It was a clamshell model. Andrew flipped it and was welcomed by what must have been the default background.
“Can you even receive pictures?” he asked, dumbfounded.
“I guess.” Neil shrugged.
God, Andrew was going to kill him. Painfully, he buttoned his way to the contacts menu and entered his info, and then sent himself a message. He gave it back to Neil, feeling tarnished by the ancient machinery.
“Drama queen.” Neil grinned.
Andrew didn’t deign to answer that. “Get out.”
Still grinning, Neil opened the door and left the car, waving with much irony. “Wait,” Andrew said when Neil went to slam the door close.
“What?” Neil asked, a smile lingering on his very kissable lips.
“Don’t tell anyone about me.”
“About you?”
“About me being into guys.”
“Oh okay. Why?” He said evenly, like it didn’t matter, like he just wanted to know.
“I’m not out.”
“Of course, no problem.” Neil bit his lips, and Andrew absolutely didn’t feel his heart climb up in his throat. “Can I… Can I still talk to you at school?”
“You’ve never talked to me at school.”
“I did! Once.”
“Why would you want to talk to me?”
“I don’t know. I liked spending time with you.”
Andrew studied his face, but Neil was nothing if not earnest. He tapped on the steering wheel. “Okay. You can.”
Neil grinned. “Great! See you tomorrow.” On this note, he closed the door and made his way to the door. Andrew watched him look for his keys for a moment, not knowing what to think of Neil. He was supposedly one of the popular guys, but he didn’t act like one. All Andrew had heard about him had turned out false, but what he had said didn’t feel true either. He didn’t know what to make of Neil, but he was interested.
*
Nicky had gotten groceries so Andrew proceeded to squander all of the candies while skimming through his car magazine. Nicky had bought him a monthly subscription for his birthday, and it was the only reason he let him drive his car.
His cousin was currently in the kitchen singing in time with Beyoncé on the radio. Tonight, it seemed they would eat enchiladas. Andrew didn’t like spicy foods, but it didn’t bother his twin at all. Probably because he had eaten Nicky’s mother’s cooking all his life. Another unfair advantage, he thought as he flipped through another page.
“Andrew!” Nicky cried in dismay when he went to the living room with plates in his arms he put down on the table. “You shouldn’t eat sweets just before diner, you won’t be able to eat anything.”
Andrew fixed his gaze on his cousin, and took a handful of gummies he put in his mouth. Nicky squirmed and lifted his arms in the air. “Fine! Do whatever you want, but I’m not paying for your cavities.” Andrew just smiled at him, with all his half-chewed gummies showing on his teeth. “Urgh, you’re disgusting.” Nicky turned his back to him in order to not see him anymore and finished setting the table while Andrew finished chewing his candies. It had been a little too big a handful, but Nicky’s face was worth it.
Nicky used his arm for balance against the archway and bellowed, “Aaron! Food!” Five seconds later, Andrew’s twin came bouncing down the stairs. He didn’t spare a glance at Andrew, who didn’t scoff.
They ate their dinner with Nicky’s habitual chatter about his shift at Sweetie’s. For a moment, Andrew was almost about to volunteer about his visit to the restaurant (that he had timed so he wouldn’t come during Nicky’s shift), but quickly tampered down the urge. Where had that come from? He never volunteered any information, and certainly not to Nicky of all people. (Aaron didn’t matter.)
But the one-way discussion continued without him having found a reason, Nicky being now dismayed by their neighbor. “I mean, what does she care about the state of our lawn? Is it that serious to not mow it?” Aaron shrugged, and Nicky took it as a sign to keep going about his complaints. It had been less than a year since Nicky had gotten them the house, and he had managed to either make the best of friends or an enemy out of every one of their neighbors. Mrs. Reynold was one of the latter, as a woman who prided herself on being part of the neighborhood committee. Nicky and his less than state-of-art front yard was not on her good side.
Andrew recalled how her daughter, Allison Reynold, had asked Neil on a date for a bet between her and some of the Foxes, the Exy team. Thinking back about what Neil had told him and his ineptitude to say no, Andrew wanted to get his hands on Allison’s neck.
He didn’t understand why he was like that. Other people’s lack of boundaries didn’t usually bother him like that. Yes, he didn’t like seeing a girl saying no to her boyfriend with a smile and him still putting his hand on her breast, but that wasn’t about him. That didn’t touch him. It wasn’t an attack against him. Why did Neil feel like an attack against him?
In his bed that night, he took apart their interactions, trying to understand. Was it because Andrew had asked Neil to date him? He wasn’t better than the others. He had taken Neil for granted, something he could have just because everyone else had him, with no respect for what Neil wanted at all. Andrew was disgusted with himself. How could he have done that? He was no better than them.
Scratching at his arms, Andrew swore that he wouldn’t come near Neil again. He couldn’t be trusted to not take advantage of him.