Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Someone flicks the light on.

Wylan whirls around, holding his shirt in his hands. Not the most effective weapon, he knows, but if he can just blind whoever it is long enough to grab the scissors, then he can-

"Wylan?"

He lowers his hands. It's only Nina. It's only Nina, standing at the door, eyes wide as saucers.

They stare at eachother for a long moment. Nina's standing in her nightgown, Wylan only in his boxers, trousers discarded on the bathroom floor. His roommate's eyes slowly take him in, and she raises a hand to her mouth.

"Who did this to you?" 

Ah, fuck. The bruises. He can’t hide them, not when there's this many of them. He tries anyways. 

Nina takes a deep breathe. "Whoever did this, Kaz is going to find them and we-"

"No!" He yelps, "No, no, Nina, its not what you think, I swear -"

"You don't know what I think!"

"I met this guy, at the club, he asked me if I wanted to head back to his place, I said yes, I said yes -"

His voice breaks on the last word. Nina has gone silent, and is just staring at him, her eyes filled with concern. He refuses to break the eye contact - he's fine, he really is, and it's none of Nina's fucking business.

Finally, Nina looks away, sighing deeply. "Wylan, I'm the last person who would question your sex life, but this isn't healthy."

He grits his teeth. "I'm fine, Nina. And I said yes."

"To all of it?"

He can't look her in the eye. "To all of it. You know what they say about liking it rough."

The joke fails, miserably. Nina seems to want to push the topic, before she changes her mind. "Just - take care of yourself, okay? The ice packs are in the freezer."

"I know. Thank you, Nina."

"Don't thank me." She shuts the door, and Wylan turns back to the mirror, to see the bruises on his throat.

●

The worst week of Wylan's life starts the next day.

Well. Saying that it's the worst week of his life is a bit of a stretch, when he's survived sixteen years in his father's house and months on his own on the streets and - worse. He's survived worse. But it is horrible, and exhausting, and long, and all in all he thinks he's justified. 

It starts on Tuesday. He and Matthias are both running low on groceries so his friend picks him up and they drive to the grocery store before his classes start. It's nice - he likes spending time with Matthias, who's looking for strawberries for Nina's upcoming birthday. He and Inej are going to bake something for her. 

"Do you think she would like peaches?" Matthias asks him, when they're standing in the que. Wylan shrugs. "She already likes them."

"Yes, but with cake?"

Before Wylan can reply, a voice behind them calls out his name. He turns around - it's a man, maybe late twenties to early thirties, brown haired and pale skinned. He looks vaguely familiar.

"Wylan!" The man has reached them by now, and beams at him. "Don't you remember me?"

"I-" He spots a dark mole above the man's eyebrow, and suddenly he does - Aart Bakker, his old tutor. One of the last ones he had. "Mr. Bakker?"

"Yes, my boy! It's been years since I've seen you. The last time was -?"

"Five years ago." Wylan says. "I was sixteen."

"And you’re twenty one now! What have you been up to?"

"I'm at university." Wylan wonders if Mr. Bakker still talks to his father. He wonders if this news will get back to him. "Architecture. And music."

"Good for you - I always knew that you were smarter than your father thought you."

The words fill Wylan with a strange warmth. "I still can't read." He mumbles. "Dyslexia." He waits for his old teacher's face to fall, for him to eat his words. But the man just waves a hand. "Reading alone isn't everything."

And now Wylan's grinning like a fool, sweet Ghezen. He feels fifteen again, awestruck by this intelligent man, the only one to treat him with kindness. Because he knows, he knows that he's not broken, not really, he knows that his father was wrong, but knowing it for himself and hearing it from one of the men his father hired to 'fix him' are two different things entirely.

He glances around - Matthias is at the checkout by now, scanning their groceries. He whips out his phone. "Are you staying in Ketterdam?" He asks. Aart nods, and Wylan shows the phone to him. "Could you give me your number? Maybe we could meet up sometime. Or something."

"Of course." Aart adds his number to the phone, then passes it back to Wylan, smiling. Their fingers brush. "I would love that."

With that, the older man walks off. Wylan stands still for a moment - he feels incredibly, unreasonably, warm, basking in the memories of their sessions together. Aart was one of the only tutors he ever really liked - maybe because he was good, smart, kind. Maybe because he gave into Wylan's demands for affection, never mocking his naivete or inexperience. 

After all, Wylan knows that he wasn't exactly the best lay, back when he was fifteen and sheltered. Mr. Bakker didn't care about that, didn't care about his disabilities, so Wylan tried to give him everything he asked for. It was a small price to pay, after all.

●

("Who was that man?" Matthias asks, when Wylan gets back into the car. His friend smiles but it seems . . . off. "He was an old tutor of mine."

"Your teacher?" 

"Yes."

"What did he teach you?"

"Some History, English." There's something in Wylan's tone that's teasing, in his next words too. "Alot of other things."

"Really?" Matthias recollects the little he knows of his friend's childhood - he knows it wasn't exactly a happy one. "Was he good to you?"

Wylan smiles. It isn't a happy smile - it seems rueful, bitter, hungry. It is unnerving. "Very good." He answers. "Not very gentle, though."

And Matthias -

He does not understand. He says as much.

Wylan smirks. It is an ugly expression. "That's okay."

It does not seem okay. Matthias says as much to Jesper and Nina, later. 

Nina seems worried. Jesper, however, looks visibly alarmed. "And this guy was his old tutor?"

"Yes. He said he taught him history. And English."

His friend mumbles a word that sounds alot like fuck. Nina turns to him in alarm. "What happened?"

Jesper ignores her. "How old was this guy?" He asks.

"Around thirty or so."

"Saints." He rubs a hand over his face. "Fucking saints."

"I'm sorry, is there something we should be worried about?" Nina's tone is annoyed, but her face is concerned.

Jesper shakes his head. "Just - I need to talk to Inej. I think I know who this guy is."

"Should we be worried?" Nina repeats. Their friend pauses. "I - Just let me talk to Inej, first. Nina, can you keep an eye on Wylan? When he gets back?"

"Of course."

Jesper pauses at the door, turns around to look at them. "It's probably nothing." He says. "Hopefully." 

The strange feeling in Matthias's gut begs to disagree.)

●

Wylan is fine. He's fine.

"I'm fine" He tells Inej. It's Wednesday. He's come over to her place to smoke weed and do his homework lying on her floor, not to deal with her careful, penetrating (hah!) gaze.

"It's alright if you're not." She tells him. "I just wanted to check in. Nina said that you've been going out alot lately."

"What I do is none of Nina's business." He snaps. She doesn't say anything, just looks at him, and he sighs. "There's - nothing you need to worry about, okay?"

"Will you tell me if there is something?"

He sighs again, rolling his eyes. "I will."

"Good." Inej slips down from the windowsill, stands, stretches. "You can talk to me about anything."

It's clearly an opening. Wylan knows that she knows something, but what is he supposed to say? I met someone I kind of regret and he's been texting me lately and I feel like I'm drowning and flying and I want people to want me and use me and fuck - 

He has nothing to tell her. He's fine. Everything is fine.

He's still fine when Jesper arrives and twitches nervously around him. He's fine when he goes home and Nina and Matthias won't look at him right. He's fine when he does his make up and goes to work at the Crow Club and goes on break and -

Some guy slides up to him, runs a hand down his arm. "Wanna get out of here?"

Wylan doesn't even see him. "Yes."

So they go to the bathroom and he gets his face fucked by a stranger in a club where he works and all he can think about is the one time that Mr. Bakker did this to him, in the bathroom off one of the spare rooms in his house. Aart was never this rough, always gentle if impatient, but this stranger cries his name and calls him baby and all Wylan can think is, Mr. Bakker never called me that. 

He's fine. When he re ammerges from the bathroom Kaz catches his eye and holds his gaze for just a moment too long before texting him to take the rest of the night off. Wylan wonders what he saw, why, why, why. He still doesn't ask any questions - just finds the man from the bathroom again and slides up to him. He doesn't want to go home. "You wanna get out of here?"

The stranger says yes. They all do.

●

(Aart, 12: 33 pm

Hey, you awake?

Wylan, 12: 55 pm

Yeah

Aart, 12: 57 pm

What are you thinking about?

Wylan, 12: 59 pm

Is it bad if I say you?

The speech bubbles come through. Then they stop, then they start and stop again and it's been five whole minutes fucking ghezen-

 Wylan doesn't want to fuck Aart, he doesn't think. He just wants to remember what it was like, the first few times. He wants to see if anything had changed, if he has. He hopes he has. He highly doubts it.

A changed Wylan wouldn't be sitting in a stranger's bathroom. A changed Wylan wouldn't even be in this stranger's house - he had no reason to come here, the sex wasn't even that good and Wylan has his own place now, has a roof over his head that he doesn't even have to spread his legs for -

But still. But still.

The speech bubbles finally stop. Wylan stares at his phone, feeling something akin to desperation. It burns.

Aart, 00:03 am

I don't think that's bad at all)

Chapter Text

Jesper is the one who opens the door. He's clearly just woken up, and is still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Wylan?"

"Hey." Wylan shifts uncomfortably where he stands. His back hurts. "Can I come in?"

"Of course!" Jesper fumbles with the door, then pulls it wide open and ducks to the side. "Just - why aren't you at home?"

"I spent the night - somewhere else." Wylan answers. He doesn't want to talk about it. Jesper, of course, grins and raises his eyebrows in his annoying, endearing way. "Good for you, getting some!"

Wylan smiles at the joke. He doesn't feel good - nothing does.

Still, he grabs a change of clothes from Jesper's closet and hides in the bathroom to change, wincing when the cloth rubs against his bruises. They're large and dark, handprints - not too different from the ones his father used to leave behind, but much more explicit.

When he returns to the living room, its to find Jesper with two bowls of cereal and the television on. It's Thursday morning and there's nothing good on, except for the cartoons. Jesper smiles at him but something about it seems forced, strained. 

"Nina texted me, last night." He says. Wylan tenses. "Said you never came home."

Right. "I told Inej where I was," He offers. "She must have mentioned it."

Jesper just shrugs. "Inej left early this morning - said she was heading to your place. I'll text Nina to tell her you're here."

"Thanks." Wylan glances at Jesper's clear profile, his dark skin tinted gold by the sunlight. As always, it makes him catch his breathe, like he's staring at a great, beautiful painting.

His friend puts his phone down, then turns to him. Oh Ghezen. Something bad is coming, Wylan can tell.

His suspicions are confirmed the minute Jesper opens his mouth. "Are you okay?"

He rolls his eyes. "Of course I'm okay, Jes." 

"I know you say that but Nina seemed really worried and -"

"Worried about what?" Wylan asks. "Me 'getting some'?"

Jesper cringes at his earlier words. "It's not that, Wy. You just - you seem really off lately, and you ran into that bastard at the market-"

"What bastard?" Ghezen, he hopes it's not who he thinks he is. Jesper waves a hand. "You know - your old tutor."

"He's not a bastard." Wylan defends. Jesper gives him a pleading look. 

"Wylan, he slept with you. When you were sixteen."

 Fifteen , he corrects mentally. "I consented to it."

"He was still an adult, Wy. And he had no right -"

" You have no right to talk about my sex life." Wylan interjects. "It has nothing to do with you, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Wy-" and Wylan hates the look on Jesper's face, the gentle sorrow. Stop looking at me like that , he wants to say. He doesn't. 

"Look, I don't want to talk about it, okay? Can we just - watch the cartoon?"

Jesper sighs, heavily. "Of course. But you have to talk about this - at some point. You can't just keep it bottled all up."

When Wylan doesn't respond, Jesper just turns back to the television and increases the volume. As the wave of noise crashes over him, Wylan begins to disappear - the past, present, and future all seem to fade away with his body, until he's struggling to remember who or what he is. 

 He is Wylan Hendricks, twenty one in Jesper Fahey's living room . 

 He is Wylan Van Eck, sixteen and coughing up water under a bridge.

 He's 'Just Wylan', seventeen and starving, giving up his body for a place to stay.

He is Wylan Van Eck, fifteen with his back pressed against the wall and his tutor pressed against him.

With every memory he sinks, down, down, down , down. His body hits the riverbed. His body is not real. 

"Wylan? Wy!"

When he comes to, the television is off, the curtains drawn wide open. He's pressed against someone else, someone thin but warm and sturdy. Comforting.

"Jesper?" He croaks.

The other man startles, almost pulling away. Wylan let's out a small whine. "Stay."

His friend freezes, and then sticks himself back into Wylan's side. "Of course, love." He promises. "Of course."

●

Nina shows up at four pm.

"Wylan fucking Hendriks, -"

Nina charges towards him. Wylan raises his hands in surrender - a part of him braces for the blow but it never comes, Nina just wraps her arms around him and pulls him in for a hug instead. 

Kaz raises an eyebrow at him, from where he's lingering in the doorway. Jesper grins warmly, and Wylan slowly raises his arms to reciprocate the hug. One hand lands on Nina's back, the other in her hair. 

"I was so worried about you!" Nina tells him as she pulls away. "Kaz said that he had dismissed you, and you didn't come home and didn't call and I - are you okay? Are you hurt?" 

"Nina, I'm fine."

She isn't listening to him, though. She reaches down and pulls up the sweater to get a better look, to double check and freezes when she sees the bruises.  

Fuck, Wylan thinks. He spares a glance at Jesper to see a pained expression on the other boy's face. Even Kaz looks off put, and isn't that a sight?

Finally, Nina pulls away. She's holding herself very, very still. "You can't keep doing this to yourself." She whispers.

He pulls the sweater back down. "I'm not doing anything." He argues back.

 Nina's expression is almost one of despair. "What is going on with you?" She pleads. "I can help, just tell me how to help, and I will, I swear -"

"I don't need help!" 

"This isn't healthy!" She looks like she's about to cry. Fuck. "You keep - getting hurt and insisting that it's fine when -"

"That's because it is fine!" Wylan would really like it for everyone to stop looking at him please. He takes one look at Nina's face and decides to double down on it. "Everything is fine, and you can't keep calling me fucked up just because you need a charity case."

He's struck gold, he knows. Nina's eyes are still bright with tears, but her expression hardens. Wylan distantly wonders if he's lost another friend. "Fine." She spits out. "I'll leave you alone, and you can keep getting yourself hurt, again and again until you finally admit that you're fucked up, maybe even more than the rest of us." She turns and stalks out of the apartment. 

The rest of them just stand there, for a few moments.

"That was a low blow, merchling." comes Jesper's voice.

"I know." He sighs. "I - I'll make it up to her tomorrow. Can I stay here for tonight?"

Jesper looks like he's about to say something - Wylan doesn't know what. Finally, he smiles softly. "Of course." 

Kaz doesn't say anything, but he gives Wylan a very curious look as he leaves.

●

Friday night, and Wylan is going to make it up to Nina. 

He and Jesper show up at their apartment at six pm, with a cake they baked together. When Nina opens the door, she smiles at him warily. He offers the cake to her. 

"Happy Birthday." He tells her. "And I'm sorry. About what I said."

"I'm sorry too." Nina pulls him into a hug and Jesper and Inej smile from where they're standing behind them. It's a good day.

It's a good day, except all of his friends won't stop treating him weird. Jesper glues himself to his side, Matthias pushes food and more food onto him, and he sees Inej looking, something dark in her expression. He runs into Kaz and Nina having a hurried conversation in the kitchen - they both stop the second he walks in, and Nina shoots him worried looks for the rest of the day. 

Wylan still hasn't talked to Nina, about anything. Hopefully that conversation can be delayed. But he does know that it's coming and he spends the day on edge, jittery. He wants to leave. He wants to disappear- or, at least, the next best thing.

(Art texts him in the bathroom. Are you free tonight?

Outside, Wylan can hear Jesper's excited chatter. He remembers the low note in Jesper's voice when he was talking about Art. You were sixteen. You were sixteen.

Wylan, 8:53

My friends and I are going clubbing tonight, would you like to come?)

●

It happens like this. 

They're at the club. Wylan's on the dance floor with Inej, then Jesper, then Nina. Kaz and Matthias stay firmly away. 

He doesn't remember alot from that night, actually. He remembers dancing with his friends and kissing Nina on the cheek. He remembers sitting at the bar with Inej. He remembers recieving Art's text.

He kisses Inej on the cheek, too, because he's a little bit wasted and a little bit sappy. He loves his friends. "I love you!" He shouts into her ear. "I have to go!"

"Go?" But Wylan is already on his feet, and our of there. "Go where?"

He giggles. "I'm meeting someone!" 

"Who?" Inej trails behind him. "Wylan, what's happening?"

"Nothing." He's at the exit, he's out, he's free, but then Inej grabs his arm. "Wylan, who are you meeting?"

"No one." He smiles. "Art."

"Art?" He wants Inej to leave him alone, actually. "Your old tutor." 

A car pulls up. Speak of the devil, and there's Mr. Bakker. He's dressed up all in black. Is that a Kaz look? It feels like a Kaz look. 

"There you are." Art smiles at him, wide and inviting. It's an ugly smile. "And who's this lovely lady with you?"

Inej is still holding onto him. "Don't go." She pleads. "Wylan, please, just stay -"

An arm wraps around his waist. "Well, are we leaving?"

"Don't do this." Inej whispers.

The past is tugging at him, begging to pull him away. He lets it. 

Inej looks so small, standing there. She's the last thing he sees before the car door shuts.

●

Art lays him down. "I'm really glad you're here."

Strips off his clothes. "You're so gorgeous."

Kisses his neck. "I've been dreaming of this." 

Wylan has too. His dreams weren't exactly good ones. 

By the time Aart starts kissing a trail down his chest, Wylan is already gone.

●

(He cries the whole way home.)

●

Kaz is waiting for him when he gets home.

"Ghezen." Wylan nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees him. "What happened?"

"Why do you assume something happened?" Kaz asks.

"Because you're in my kitchen at seven in the  fucking morning." Wylan snaps. "And you barely ever visit us during the day."

"Well, this time I have business here." Kaz shuts the laptop. Wylan cautiously crosses over to the table and takes a seat before Kaz pushes a cup towards him. He even made tea. Incredible.

Kaz lets him take a few sips before getting down to business. "Do you know what hypersexuality is?" 

Wylan almost chokes. "I - what?"

"Hypersexuality." Kaz repeats. "It's a coping mechanism that certain people use to give themselves an illusion of control."

"I'm not the psych major, Matthias is." Wylan puts his cup down. "Maybe you should ask him for his opinion."

"Why talk to a student when I know someone who practices it in real life?"

Just because Wylan now knows how to look people in the eye doesn't mean he has to. He keeps his gaze on the floor and the floor only. "I have no idea what you're implying." 

"I think you do." Kaz says. Wylan can feel his stare. "Ignore it all you want, Merchling. That doesn't mean it's going to go away." 

When Wylan stays silent, Kaz gathers his things and pulls himself to his feet. "I've sent you some research material." He says. "Podcasts and videos and such. Reference material." He stops and gives Wylan one last, long look. "I don't particularly care whether or not you follow up on them - what I do care about is that my demolition expert keeps hurting himself. Its not very productive. Neither is making Zenik cry."

"I'll make it up to her." Wylan promises, again. He watches Kaz head for the door. "And - Kaz?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you." Wylan almost chokes on the words, on the feeling in his throat. He remembers all of it, now, he remembers being fifteen and desperate and clawing for attention. It isn't a feeling he wants to relive, ever again. "I want to try." He starts. "I think - I'll try. To stop." To get better.

Kaz smirks at him, but for once, it doesn't feel cruel. "Good."