Archive of Our Own

“So, it’s, like, a date?”

“Of course not, The Ball. It’s an, uh, outing.”

“Hm.” Riz narrows his eyes, staring suspiciously at Fabian. “It’s dinner and a movie, Fabian. That sounds like a date to me.”

Fabian laughs and avoids Riz’s eyes. “Sure, if I were taking a beautiful girl out to dinner and a movie, it would be a date. But it’s you. And me. So it’s just two friends hanging out.”

Riz stares at the muscle twitching in Fabian’s cheek. “Then why did you bring me flowers?”

Fabian clears his throat. His voice comes out gruff. “You closed a case. I thought that deserved celebration.”

“It just means that I’ve gotta move on to the next thing,” Riz’s mind instantly wanders to the stack, a mile high, that lives on his office desk. Cases, homework, essays, projects, paperwork, everything he could imagine and everything that weighs on his shoulders when he pauses to take a single, shaky breath. “Cases don’t wait for me to go out to dinner and a movie, Fabian.”

Fabian shakes his head. “This was stupid,” he says. “Sorry.”

Turning around, Fabian’s shoulders slump as he takes a step down the hallway of the Strongtower Luxury Apartment hallway.

“No, wait!” Riz reaches for Fabian, grasping his wrist. He pulls with all his strength, enough to make an impact but just barely. “No, sorry. Sorry, dude. I’m being an asshole. I can take an evening off.”

He can’t. But the sad look on Fabian’s face is enough to get him to lie. He’ll just stay up tonight until the sun rises in order to catch up on everything he would be putting off to go gallivanting around town with Fabian. It’ll be fine, it always is. It’s amazing what a goblin’s body can handle when it must and Riz often finds that it must.

He tugs on Fabian’s arm. “Come on. Come inside and I’ll find a, uh, cup for those flowers. I don’t think we own a vase, to be honest.”

“If I knew that, I would’ve brought one,” Fabian says, a smile creeping onto his face.

Riz laughs in relief, a tiny exhale of breath at the look of life shining on Fabian’s face once more. He pulls Fabian inside and gestures to the stools at the breakfast bar. “What were you thinking for dinner?” he asks, turning his back and digging through kitchen cabinets for something tall enough for the long carnation stems. “I’m starving.”

“Like always,” Fabian jokes. “I was thinking of that new place on Main Street.”

“Oh, the one where that noodle place used to be?”

“That’s the one. I hear the new owners are from the Mountains of Chaos.”

Riz pulls down a pitcher, once used to hold liters of diluted lemonade on hot summer days. He grins and whips around, displaying his discovery with a proud flourish. “Are they really?” When Fabian nods, Riz grins widely. “I haven’t had Mountains food for ages. Man, I’d kill for a curry right now.”

“Then I picked well,” Fabian says as Riz pours water into the jug. Fabian leans over the bar and situates the carnations inside, fluffing up the arrangement until it looks just right. “We’re late for our reservations.”

“You made reservations?” Something in Riz’s stomach flips. He’s not sure why.

“Well, we wouldn’t have got in if I didn’t.” Fabian shrugs nonchalantly. “If you didn't want to come, I would’ve asked someone else. No big deal.”

Riz swallows bitter saliva. His stomach flips again and, this time, the sensation makes him nauseous. “Right. That makes sense.” Riz doesn’t care who Fabian spends his Friday evenings with. He hadn’t known that the time was reserved for himself until this very moment anyway. It’s not like he would’ve felt bad having that time taken away from him—he didn’t know it was his in the first place.

But now that he does know that Fabian thought of him first, reserving his night for his company, he feels protective over that time.

“Well, come on, The Ball. Don’t just stand there. We’re late, remember?”

“Well, whose fault is that?” Riz asks, snapping back to attention. “You’re the one who made the reservations.” He chuckles as if his gut isn’t swirling unpleasantly. “Get a move on, dude.” Riz shuffles Fabian out the door, shoving at his back.

“Alright, alright! I’ve got it, I can walk on my own,” Fabian says.

But he puts a hand on Riz’s shoulder and leaves it there as the two climb into Strongtower’s sketchy elevator. When they step into the cold September evening wind, he still doesn’t move it. Riz doesn’t know why but he knows he would miss it if he did.

“So, how are classes going?” Riz forces himself to ask, needing to break the silence that has him ruminating on such strange thoughts.

“Great question, The Ball. Horribly. Miss Jones assigned an essay. Can you believe that? In a fighter’s class, an essay. And I’m certainly not writing it.”

“Is that you asking for my help with it?”

“No, no.” Fabian laughs. “Not your ‘help.’ I’m asking you to do it for me.”

“Right.” Riz shakes his head in laughter.

“Is that a yes?”

“Would you write it if I didn’t do it for you?” Riz scoffs as Fabian shakes his head. “Then, yes, asshole. I will. You’re a dick, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are, going on a date with me,” Fabian jokes.

All the blood rushes out of Riz’s face. “You said—”

“I’m joking, The Ball.”

Riz curls his fingers up into fists, the sharp claws biting into his palms. “Right.” He laughs because it would be strange if he did anything else. But, again, his stomach lurches and he can’t, for the love of the gods, figure out why. He resents the fact that another mystery has fallen into his lap. Does he not have enough in his dreaded stack? “Funny,” he sighs.

Riz is drifting off, entirely against his will. If he had this way, he’d be on his third—fourth?—cup of coffee which would let him make it through sixth period without concern, but Adaine cut him off from the instant packets that she usually supplies him with during school hours. Something about his limbs shaking uncontrollably or his eyebags looking deeper than ever.

“Whatever,” he mumbles to no one.

“What’d you say?” Fig asks, nudging him. They’re seated side-by-side and Riz lets his head go loose, falling onto her arm. “Woah, tired, buddy?”

“Not at all.” He barely manages to get the words out around an enormous yawn.

“Why don’t you take a nap through lunch?” Gorgug asks.

Riz shakes his head weakly. “Gotta study. Quiz next period. Gotta… gotta get ready.” His words become softer and softer until they drift off into nothing at all and his eyes fall shut. The world becomes a dream, hazy and nondescript. He can hear voices muttering, barely making out the words but not quite understanding them. Light and dark flashes pass his eyelids as figures move across the cafeteria but Riz can’t get himself to pry an eye open. He’s just… so… tired.

“Who’s going to the dance with who again?”

“Adaine and I are.”

“Aw, man, who does that leave me with? A dude?”

“Rude.”

“I’ll go with you, Kristen.”

“We’re leaving Fabian alone, then?”

“The Ball and I already decided to go together.”

“Ooooh—”

“As friends.”

“Right.”

“Hey, uh, Fabian?”

“Oh, you’re… we’re in bard classes together; what was your name again?”

“Alysseia. I wanted to ask you, um, if you wanted to go to the school dance, maybe, with me. Next week. If you’re not already going with someone else. You don’t have to, but, I mean, if you wanted—”

“Alysseia?”

“Yeah.”

“I already have a date for the dance.”

“Oh! That’s fine. Uh… who is she? If I can ask.”

Riz stirs, eyes blinking open, his quasi-nap being pushed away by his ambient curiosity. He hates being left out of conversations.

“The Ball.”

“What?” Riz asks blearily. “What’s up?”

Fabian’s head snaps towards Riz. He looks guilty, even a little afraid. His ears turn dark with blood, piquing Riz’s curiosity. He knows what that tell means in an elf. But why is Fabian embarrassed of all things?

Riz looks at the blonde stranger standing at the Bad Kids’ cafeteria table. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” she says, deflating slightly. “Congratulations, I guess.”

“What?”

“Have a good time at the dance with him. I guess.” Her voice becomes more and more mumbled as she turns around and walks away morosely. “Whatever.”

The table is frozen and silent for a beat, long enough to confuse Riz. He tries to catch up but his sluggish brain isn’t working properly.

“What just happened?” Riz finally asks, his stomach growling. Shit, he forgot to eat lunch, taking up his time sleeping. What a waste. Fabian pushes his own tray towards Riz who takes it gratefully, scooping up spoonfuls of chicken salad eagerly. “Thanks, dude.”

“I didn’t know you and Fabian were dating,” Kristen remarks.

Riz chokes, a chunk of celery lodging itself in his throat. “What?” he rasps out around the obstruction.

“He said you were his date-date for the dance.”

Riz’s stomach sinks as his—now fully awake—brain processes what he heard. Fabian did say that to Alysseia. But why? Suddenly, he doesn’t feel so hungry.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Kristen,” Fabian says, waving his hand dismissively. “I was just trying to let her down easy.” He looks up and over Kristen’s head, not quite meeting her eye. “It was for her benefit.”

“So you’re not dating?”

Riz stares down at his hands like they hold the secrets to the universe. “Of course we’re not,” he says.

“Of course not,” Fabian agrees. He clears his throat. “Sorry, The Ball, I should’ve asked before I—”

Riz’s eyes snap up. “No, no, it’s fine! It doesn’t bother me. It’s whatever, dude. I don’t care.”

He’s lying and he’s not, he realizes. The truth is that he’s not bothered by the way Fabian called him his date. The lie is that he does care. He feels something, some basic, primal instinct that makes his gut lurch and flip inside him at the idea of him and Fabian dating. He groans, dropping his head in his hands. He doesn’t understand why he’s feeling this way, though. It’s a mystery that he’s never had to unravel before because he’s never felt like this before. Why is it coming up now? Why Fabian? And why can’t he make any sense of his feelings right now?

“The Ball?”

“What’s up?” Riz rubs his temples.

“You alright?”

He sighs. “Stomachache. I should… I should go. Talk to the nurse or something. Bye guys, see you after class!” Riz leaps up from his seat and scrambles away from the table before any of his friends can stop him. He needs to figure this out and he can’t do that if he’s pinned under the watchful eyes of each Bad Kid.

“I’ll give you a ride home!” Fabian shouts out after him.

Riz presses his lips together too tightly to respond.

“I’ve got The Ball,” Fabian says casually.

Riz’s head snaps up at the sound of his voice as it does so often these days. He still doesn’t know why, which frustrates and scares him, but there’s something about Fabian that has him falling down obsessive spirals too, too frequently.

It’s not entirely unpleasant, he realizes; these new instincts of his make his stomach flip and his heart squeeze in his chest. A phrase comes to mind that he’s heard before but never quite understood. It terrifies him because of what it implies but he can’t think of a better way to describe what he’s feeling.

Butterflies in his stomach.

“What’s up?” Riz asks, like he’s not going through a crisis. “You’ve got me for what?”

“I’ll give you a ride back.”

The girls are sprawled across two short loveseats in Mordred Manor’s den, leaving the carpeted floor for the boys. Riz leans against the foot of the couch, Kristen’s feet hanging too close to his head. He bats them away.

“I can give him a ride, dude,” Gorgug offers. “Strongtower is way closer to my place than yours.”

“It’s fine,” Fabian says, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ve got him.”

“Didn’t you say you had to get home early tonight?” Kristen asks, kicking at the back of Fabian’s head. “Your mom—”

“I said it’s fine,” he snaps. “I’ll give The Ball a ride.”

“Dude, I don’t want you to get in trouble because you were going out of your way to get me home. Gorgug said he could do it.”

“And I said I can do it.” Fabian kicks at Riz’s leg. “Stop arguing.”

Riz lifts his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Go out of your way to drop me off. No skin off my back.”

Fig scoffs. “You guys are weird but hey, not my circus, not my dire monkeys.” She rolls over, laying her head in Adaine’s lap. “Now get out of our house, I wanna go to bed.”

Riz snorts. “Got it.” He stands up, avoiding Fabian and Kristen’s flying feet. “Stop kicking me.”

“Stop trying to leave,” Kristen whines. “Why don’t you guys just sleep over?”

“Maybe ‘cause you won’t stop attacking me?”

“Yeah, he’s just a little guy,” Fig adds. “You’ll knock him over if you touch him.”

“Okay, I didn’t say that,” Riz protests. “Fabian, staying or going?”

“Going,” Fabian says eventually. “You need a ride, after all.”

“I think we decided that I don’t. Like, not one specifically from you but—”

“Shut up, The Ball.”

Riz laughs and follows the order. He pulls his shoes on and follows Fabian to the front yard, waving goodbye to the other Bad Kids. The Hangman pulls up, revving his engine quietly. Fabian offers Riz his hand which he takes gratefully. Straddling a motorcycle that’s taller than he is has never been an easy task for Riz and he always dreads the days when Fabian is pissed at him for something and doesn’t offer him that hand up. He doesn’t know why Fabian doesn’t just leave him stranded on those days but he’s never skipped giving Riz a ride if he’s in a position where he can.

It’s almost strange.

Fabian settles in and Riz wraps his arms around his waist. He presses his cheek against Fabian’s back and prepares for the cold wind to blow, snaking under his shirt and freezing him solid.

“Why do you always give me rides?” Riz shouts over the wind that whips through the air as Fabian accelerates down 15th Street.

“What?”

“Why do you always give me rides?”

“Because I want to,” Fabian shouts back.

Riz has no reply for that, his mouth falling shut and his eyes following suit. He’s so tired, as usual, and there’s something about the warmth of a body pressed up against him that relaxes him enough to let his guard down. Heat radiates off Fabian’s torso and spills into every part of Riz that’s touching him.

He takes a deep breath in, then lets it out. His hands fall limp and his consciousness begins to drift away from him, carrying him into his dreams.

“The Ball!” Fabian’s voice startles Riz into squeezing every muscle in his body, something that he thinks just saved his life. As he grips his arms around Fabian’s waist, he realizes that he was about to let go. Another second and his unconscious body would’ve gone limp, releasing his grip and slipping from the saddle of the motorcycle.

“Woah,” Riz whispers under his breath as his life flashes before his eyes.

“What the fuck, The Ball?” Fabian shouts. “Why were you letting go?”

“I fell asleep.”

“You fell asleep?”

“For a second. Almost. I don’t know.”

“Idiot,” Fabian curses. He yanks on the Hangman’s handlebars and pulls over on the side of the road, throwing a middle finger up at the cars that honk at him. He gets off the motorcycle, glaring daggers at Riz. “Scoot up.”

“What?”

“Scoot up,” Fabian repeats. “If you fall asleep back there, you’ll fall off. If you’re in front, I can keep you upright.”

Riz blinks twice, trying to eject the fatigue from his eyes to no avail. “Okay.” He follows Fabian’s lead—feeling particularly useless—and scoots forward in the saddle. Fabian swings a leg over the back and tucks himself in behind Riz.

With one hand on the handlebars and the other wrapped around Riz’s torso, he kicks off the ground and accelerates, cutting off a short blue sedan carelessly. Riz is too tired to criticize his driving. If anything, the adrenaline from the near crash is a good thing. Maybe it’ll keep him awake long enough to make it home.

But the warmth of Fabian’s arm around him and the comfortable weight of his chest against Riz’s back is too persuasive. He is coaxed into a state of safety that calms his overactive nervous system. In less than a minute, he’s asleep.

The next morning, Riz texts Fabian an apology for falling asleep on his motorcycle. He was too tired to apologize the night before, forgetting to even say thank you before pushing inside the doors of Strongtower.

FABIAN: it’s fine the ball

FABIAN: now come outside

Riz hurries to tie his shoes, racing down the stairwell with a permanently sticky floor and throwing himself into the cold late-autumn air. “Hey, I’m here,” he calls out, waiting to hear the familiar rev of an engine.

Instead, he hears a voice in his head.

“My master has requested that I give you a ride to school today.”

“Hangman?”

He hears a growl of an engine or perhaps of a very large dog. “If he had not specifically ordered me to come here, I would not be offering you the privilege of a ride.”

“Uh-huh,” Riz says, following the growling to the Hangman parked in the alley next to Strongtower. “Why are you hiding?”

“So I am not seen in public with a nerd atop my saddle.”

Riz snorts. Then, he realizes something. “Where’s Fabian?” He leaps, throwing his leg over the seat and settles in, placing his hands on the handlebars. It feels exceptionally strange to do so. Not only is the bike far too large for Riz’s frame; it’s Fabian’s job to drive. Riz feels like he’s playing pretend by doing so. “Is he okay?”

“My master woke up sick today.”

“He could’ve told me. I would’ve walked to class.”

The Hangman sparks to life, taking off down the nearly-empty streets of Elmville. It’s silent for a while, freezing cold and lonely. Then, he speaks again.

“My master was worried about you.”

Riz’s mouth goes dry. “Why?”

“He seems to always be.”

He swallows painfully, forced to clear his throat afterwards to relieve the burn. “He doesn’t have to worry about me.”

“So I tell him,” the Hangman says derisively. “And yet.”

Riz’s grip tightens on the handlebars. “Does…” He cuts himself off.

The bike grumbles.

Riz sighs. “Does Fabian… does he give anyone else a ride as often as me?”

The Hangman laughs, a rumbling noise in the back of Riz’s head. “If only,” he says, with no further explanation.

Riz falls silent, then. The Hangman doesn’t like him, never has, and so he feels no need to be polite in return. Besides, he’s distracted with confusing thoughts. How is he just now noticing that Fabian always offers him a ride? After school, every single day. When they split off at Mordred. On the way to school, even though it means having to leave early to go out of his way to pick Riz up. If Riz dares even mention that he wants to check out a new shop somewhere in town or that he’s craving a rock-throwing day, Fabian is at his place in an instant, revving his engine.

He’s taken it for granted and hasn’t realized that it’s not normal until this very moment, sat astride a motorcycle without Fabian because he sent it for Riz despite being too sick to get out of bed himself. Who does that?

Riz mumbles to himself, putting together clues, until he can see the school on the horizon.

“Dismount,” the Hangman grumbles.

“We’re not there yet,” Riz says, gesturing to the icy sidewalks between himself and the campus.

“I will not have my reputation sullied by driving a nerd around on—” The bike growls suddenly, loud and startling, before suddenly accelerating, throwing Riz backwards on his seat.

“Woah!”

“My master has… requested that I take you to the doors.”

“Oh, right, you can talk to Fabian from anywhere. Can you tell him that I hope he feels better soon? And can you tell him thank you for the ride? And, uh, sorry about last night. And—”

“I am not your messenger, Ball.” The Hangman skids to a stop and tilts over, depositing Riz on the ground not-so-gently. “Do not expect a ride home.” Another sudden growl. “Fine. Yes, I said fine. Fine. Yes, master. Gah. Expect a ride home,” he says, clearly half communicating with Fabian, half with Riz.

Riz laughs at the absurdity of fighting with a motorcycle. “Thanks, dude. Appreciate it.” He leaps up the stairs of the school building, racing for his locker so that he can pick up his books and maybe wipe some of the confusion off his face.

He’s coming to some conclusions lately, he realizes. And he’s so, so torn because they confuse him but, at the same time, they excite him a bit, too. He’s afraid yet eager. Wary but curious. These rides are just another point in a set of data that allows him to get closer to understanding what, exactly, is happening between him and Fabian.

It’s a mystery that he’s only just beginning to unravel but between the date nights that aren’t date nights, the school dance, and the rides, Riz is starting to realize something. Fabian treats him differently than he treats his other friends. He realizes something else, too. Riz likes it. He’s not sure why but the warmth that blooms in his chest when Fabian gives him special treatment seems to be a more and more common occurrence lately. It’s comfortable and safe and it makes him breathless, sometimes, realizing that he’s on the top of someone’s list. Maybe not the most important person in the world to them but, still, someone special.

He never thought he would have that. He never thought he could be someone’s first choice.

Riz slams his locker shut and pulls out his crystal as he walks to first period.

RIZ: thanks for teh ride

RIZ: the*

RIZ: the hangman’s kinda an asshole, huh?

FABIAN: what did he do to you??

Riz laughs as a gentle heat pools in his stomach.

RIZ: nothing nothing

RIZ: i gotta go but i’ll bring you soup after class

RIZ: i’ve got a ride after all :)

FABIAN: you don’t have to do that

RIZ: and yet, i will

Riz slips his crystal back into his pocket and smiles to himself. Even without Fabian on campus, he’s still looking out for Riz.

“What are you smiling about?” Kristen asks, nudging his shoulder and falling into step beside him, shortening her strides for his sake. “Good news or something?”

“Just thinking about my, uh, friends.” Riz swallows nervously, his comfortable warmth turning into something more anxious in an instant. “That’s all.”

“That’s all, huh?” Kristen nails Riz with a discerning gaze. She nods slowly. “I see.”

“What do you see?”

“All,” Kristen laughs. “But you don’t seem to yet so I won’t spoil the surprise.”

“Wait, what surprise?” Riz swats at her arm. “You know I hate surprises!”

Kristen dodges his attacks, running into other students in the halls without a second thought. “I’m being attacked! Hall monitor, help!”

A tall senior standing in the corner sighs and shakes his head. “Please don’t attack other students, kid.”

Riz scowls while Kristen grins like the cat who got the cream. “Whatever.”

“You’ll see soon enough,” Kristen says. “Give it another, uh…”

“How long?”

“You know, I’ve got no fucking clue. Some things take a lot of time, you know? But there’s no harm in waiting.”

Riz frowns, chewing on his bottom lip. “I hate waiting.”

“Hate surprises, hate waiting, what’s next? Hate whimsy?”

“I do hate whimsy.” Riz plays the straight man because he knows it’ll get under Kristen’s skin. She laughs and swats at him.

“I said, no attacking other students,” the bored hall monitor repeats as Riz and Kristen pass him.

“Sorry, sorry. He deserved it,” Kristen explains.

Riz just laughs, having forgotten his anxious preoccupation from this morning already. This afternoon, when an empty motorcycle is waiting for him in the parking lot, he’ll remember it again, all at once, but until then, he falls into step with his typical life and indulges in its simplicity.

“Are you, like, open?”

Rogue classes just let out, and Riz turns to the fellow student whose name he knows that he knows, somewhere in the recesses of his mind. It’s just a matter of—

“It’s Madeline.”

“How did you know I forgot your name?”

“I’m a mastermind. And you looked totally lost.” She shrugs. “Name’s Madeline. So, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Open.”

“To?”

Madeline sighs. “You’re kind of stupid for being at the top of our class, you know that?”

Riz laughs, then realizes she’s serious. His face falls. “I’m not stupid. You’re… you’re the one being so vague.” He hates this feeling, being left out of a joke, a conversation, some piece of insight but, for the life of him, he just can’t follow what Madeline is suggesting.

“Vague,” Madeline says, shaking her head. “I’m asking if you’re open.”

Riz throws his hands up in the air. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Do you want a fucking third or not?”

“What?” Riz’s mouth falls open. He only recently learned that term, thanks to a crash course in dirty slang from Fig and Kristen. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh my gods,” Madeline sighs, pressing her fingers across the bridge of her nose. “You’re so fucking stupid, why do I want to—whatever. Whatever, man. You don’t want a third, I get it.”

“Who’s my second?” Riz asks, still feeling just as gobsmacked as he did fifteen seconds ago. “I don’t have a second and I don’t want a third, man. What the hell?”

“You don’t—you don’t have a second?”

“No!”

“What the fuck?”

“What?” Riz is about ready to throw the towel in. To tuck his tail between his legs, walk away from this conversation, and call this whole entire day a loss. “Who do you think is my second?”

“Fabian, obviously,” Madeline says. “...Right?”

Riz freezes like ice water just poured through his veins, petrifying him. “Uh.” He thinks he just swallowed his own tongue.

“Oh, shit, are you still, like, in the closet? Fuck, dude, I thought it was an open secret.”

“I’m not in the closet,” Riz says stupidly. “Or out of the closet. There’s no closet involved. Fabian? Did you say Fabian?” His words rush out of his mouth in a tidal wave, brain chugging along. “Fabian Aramais Seacaster? You think I, me, am in a relationship with Fabian Aramais Seacaster? Him? And me? Ha.” Riz laughs frenetically. “That’s… that’s funny. That’s a good one.”

Madeline narrows her eyes. “Dude, I think you need to, like, figure out whatever this is,” she says, gesturing to all of him. “Because, like I said, I’m a mastermind. I don’t really misread things as a general rule. And, like, that would mean the entire school is misreading it, too, which… Come on, dude. Do some self-reflection.”

“On what?”

Madeline laughs carelessly, like her stomach isn’t filled with turbulent marbles, the way Riz’s is. “You’re funny, too. Fuck. This is why I wanted—whatever. Here.” She hands him a slip of paper with a crystal number on it. “When you figure out, you know, all of this, gimme a call.”

“I—”

“If you want a third.”

Riz buries his head in his hands. “A fucking third,” he mumbles to himself as Madeline’s shoes echo on the tile as she leaves, walking down the hall and disappearing around a corner. “A third. Just… just a fucking third. That’s all. Normal question to ask someone. Such a normal social interaction you just had; great work, Gukgak. Fuck me.”

He sighs as his brain, no longer frantically trying to keep up with the batshit things that Madeline was saying, finally settles into a base level of confusion. Madeline thinks that he and Fabian are together. She says the whole school thinks so, in fact. She thinks it’s such an obvious fact of life that she could just waltz over and ask to join in.

What the fuck? 

Riz sits across from Fabian at Krom’s Diner and drums his fingers on the side of the table. He swallows sparkling nerves down with his Shirley Temple.

“Did I get you sick?” Fabian asks, studying Riz’s face closely. There’s concern in his eye, something raw and earnest. “You look weird.”

“No, I’m not sick,” Riz says, ignoring the swirling in his stomach. He very well could be sick. Maybe the events of today were the creation of feverish delusions. That might make more sense than someone actually asking if Riz was in a polyamorous relationship with his best friend.

Riz can hardly imagine being in a relationship, let alone a polyamorous one. It’s not exactly that he has anything against the idea of one, it’s that he doesn’t know what a relationship entails. When he asks his friends, as subtly as he can, what the difference between dating and friendship is, they don’t know how to answer him.

“It’s about how you love them.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Between romantic and platonic love? Man, I don’t know how to put it in words.”

Or…

“It’s about kissing and stuff.”

“It has to be?”

“Well, no, I guess not. But usually it is.”

Or…

“When you know, you know.”

But Riz doesn’t know. He doesn’t get it. Platonic and romantic love, he couldn’t tell someone what the difference is or what they might feel like in his body. He knows he loves his friends. Does he love them in a different way? He couldn’t say.

So after he talked to Madeline today, he was left even more confused about relationships than usual. How could everyone at school think he was in a relationship when he doesn’t even know the definition of the word? How clueless is he?

“I had a weird interaction at school today,” Riz offers as nonchalantly as he can.

Fabian’s eye darkens. “What happened?” His hands clench into fists, twitching as if to grab a weapon.

Riz would laugh at the spontaneous bristling if it didn’t make something hot spread through his chest, the feeling of security granted by having someone ready to throw down for him in an instant. “Someone asked me… well, no. They told me that you and I were dating.”

Fabian’s mouth falls open. He almost seems to buffer like a computer program. Then he wipes off the blank look on his face and replaces it with a casual disinterest. Riz frowns. That’s not authentic. That’s a mask that Fabian wears sometimes, usually when he doesn’t want the people around him to see what he’s really feeling.

Fabian laughs, loud and bright. “Did they really—”

“Stop that.” Riz bites. “You just… You’re hiding.” He recognizes the way that Fabian withdraws into himself, not by making himself smaller but by making himself bigger, larger than life. “What, have you heard the rumor before?”

Fabian freezes, a small degree of anxiety pushing through his mask and leaking out, a glaze on the paint of his carefully crafted veneer. “I have,” he says cautiously. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you.”

Riz’s eyebrows pinch together. “That’s so weird.”

“What is?”

“Having rumors going around. About me. I’m a rogue, man; I’m supposed to stay in the shadows but now I know for a fact that people are talking about me when I’m not around.”

“It’s nothing bad, The Ball,” Fabian insists. “It’s just your love life—”

“Nothing bad? People think we’re dating!”

Fabian swallows. “What’s wrong with that?”

Riz collides with a cement wall of hard logic. Is there anything wrong with people thinking he and Fabian are dating? Why does it make him feel strange to even consider that possibility? The fact that other people are thinking it doesn’t seem to be the part that’s making Riz’s stomach flip. It’s more so imagining the hypothetical. What if he and Fabian were dating? What might that feel like?

“Why do people think that?” Riz asks, avoiding the question entirely.

Fabian snorts. “Come on, The Ball.”

“What?”

“Oh. You don’t… I thought you were, uh, observant, you know?”

“I am,” Riz insists. “Gods, why do people keep talking to me like I’m oblivious today?”

Fabian isn’t laughing any longer, looking at Riz with soft sympathy. “Sorry, I didn’t realize. I thought… I thought it was—I mean, think about it. You’ve said it before; we basically go on dates.”

“Dinner and a movie,” Riz mutters to himself.

“Right. We were each other’s dates for the school dance, too.”

“As friends.”

Fabian shrugs. “How would other people know that?”

“But…”

“We’re always together. I drive you to school, we eat lunch together, you know… all of it.”

“We’re party members,” Riz protests weakly. Uselessly.

“I mean, hell, you’re always climbing all over me, too. I know you don’t mean anything by it but think of it from an outsider’s perspective. The goblin who’s attached at the hip to the half-elf. You never really see them apart. I mean, hell, right now. If a Aguefort student walked by, what would they see?”

“Two friends eating a meal together.”

“Playing footsie,” Fabian prompts Riz.

“You’re the one who keeps kicking me. I’m just fighting back.”

“Mhmm. And drinking from the same glass.”

“I didn’t want a whole drink! You said you were fine with sharing.”

“And I am,” Fabian smiles, his eye softening. “But think about how it looks.”

Riz curses under his breath. “Damn, that’s… I’m sorry.”

Fabian’s feet still under the table, no longer tangling with Riz’s. “Why?” he asks, his face falling.

“That I’m tying you up in rumors. That sucks, dude. I mean, it’s fine for me or whatever. People think I’m with the coolest kid in school. I guess I can’t be too mad. But you… does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?”

“People thinking that you’re dating a dweeb.”

“The Ball,” Fabian says, his voice rasping the words. “That’s…”

“Hello and welcome to Krom’s diner, what can I get started for—oh, hey, guys.”

Riz’s head snaps up to the waitress, someone vaguely familiar from the hallways at school. He forgets his manners, neglecting to smile at her or even say hello, too caught up in his newest upheaval, fighting to understand these new rules of the universe.

“Hey, Thessalandra.” Fabian offers her a casual smile. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Just got hired.” She shrugs. “Not sure how I feel about it yet. What about you guys? Good date spot?”

“We’re not dating!” Riz snaps without thinking.

“Woah, my bad.” Thessalandra holds her hands up in surrender. “When did y’all break up?”

Riz buries his head in his hands. He groans. “Fabian, you’re right. You did get me sick. I have to go home right now.”

Fabian’s chair screeches as it pulls away from their table. Riz’s head jerks up at the sound. Fabian is already on his feet. “Let’s go.”

“What?”

“I’m your ride,” Fabian explains with a concerned line to his brow. “And you have to go home.”

“I was gonna walk,” Riz offers pathetically.

Thessalandra snorts. “Your boyfriend’s not going to let you walk home in the dark in November, dude. Especially not if you’re sick.”

Riz bristles. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Right, right. My bad.”

Groaning and dropping his head in his hands, Riz deflates. He hears Fabian sit back down slowly and tell Thessalandra that they need a few more minutes. Riz takes slow, steady breaths, trying to calm his nerves and quell his nausea.

“Do you still want to have dinner together?” Fabian asks after a few moments of silence.

Riz nods silently.

“Me, too,” Fabian says. Riz can hear the smile in his voice. “It’ll be okay, The Ball. If the rumors don’t bother you, they don’t bother me. And if they do bother you, I’ll make them stop.”

“How?”

“Threaten anyone who says anything about us dating with certain death? Stage a dramatic break-up?” Fabian grins as Riz looks up at him, a playful, crooked smile on his face. “Start dating you for real so that they’re not rumors anymore?”

“Oh, shut up,” Riz says, laughing. Fabian and his outlandish ideas… He sighs dramatically and shakes his head. “It’s fine, I guess. I’ll just deal with it.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I mean… the rumors aren’t even the craziest part. There’s this girl in rogue classes, Madeline, and you wouldn’t fucking believe what she asked me today.”

“Oh?” Fabian asks, followed by a sip of their now-diluted drink.

Riz sees his perfect opportunity. “She asked if she could be our third.”

When bright red soda sprays from Fabian’s nose, Riz laughs until tears form in his eyes.

“Gimme.” Riz narrows his eyes. “No games this time.”

“How much caffeine have you had today?”

“Not enough,” Riz answers quickly. “I mean, not too much.”

Fabian raises an eyebrow, pushing past Riz and collapsing onto his office’s comfortable desk chair, too large for Riz but the perfect size for a half-elf. Riz frowns as Fabian drops two cups of coffee onto his desk, unprotected by coasters. He eyes both cups. One, an iced cold brew with a caramel syrup swirl and cold foam on top. The other, he isn’t sure. It’s in a hot cup but it’s unlabeled save for a single black-marker heart drawn on the side.

“Damn.”

“What?” Fabian asks, raising an eyebrow.

“That barista must really like you.”

“Hm?”

Riz gestures to the cup. “She always draws hearts on your cup. I think somebody’s got a crush on you, dude.” He grins, hoping to get Fabian thrown, stammering about how he’s impossible not to fall in love with, which, if Riz is lucky, might distract him enough for Riz to lean in and snatch the second coffee cup.

“Right, uh, the barista. Drawing that heart.”

Fabian’s eye darts around the room, avoiding Riz’s gaze. Riz narrows his own in suspicion but doesn’t waste his opportunity to grab the coffee cup while Fabian is distracted. He nabs it and scrambles out of Fabian’s reach. “Thanks for the drink,” he says, grinning impishly and taking a sip. The coffee burns his tongue but soothes his dry throat. It’s sweet and creamy, tasting of nutmeg and cloves. “Oh, this rules; what is this?”

Fabian shakes his head and rolls his eye. “You little devil.”

“You’re the one who bought it for me!”

“It was a bribe, The Ball. It was in exchange for doing my homework.”

Riz feels the coffee pour into his veins and perk him up in an instant. “I can do your homework,” he says with a shrug. “Hand it over.” He jumps up on the desk, sits criss-cross, and pulls the pencil out from behind his ear. “What are we working on?”

“What are you working on,” Fabian corrects.

“Not gonna help?”

“I helped. I bought you coffee.”

Riz laughs. “Fair enough.” He tilts his head curiously as his subconscious mind makes a connection. “Shit, are you Pavlov-ing me?”

“Hm?” Fabian asks, put-upon innocence marking his face.

“You always bring me coffee when you need a favor.”

“That’s just called ‘being very nice,’” Fabian says casually. “‘Being a good friend.’”

“Oh, come on.” Riz laughs again. “I mean… I guess it works. I fall for it everytime.”

“You’re easy to please, The Ball,” Fabian says. “And I’m getting better every time, too.”

“Hm?”

“At finding what you like.”

Riz frowns, eyebrows pinching together. “You know what I like. My order has been the same since freshman year. Black with a bit of sugar.”

“I never get you black coffee,” Fabian points out.

“Oh. Yeah.” Riz runs through his catalog of memories, pulling out the files on drinks Fabian has bought him. Peppermint mochas, vanilla cappuccinos, hot chocolates, and today, some sort of spiced latte. “Why?”

“Because you like the other drinks better.”

Riz frowns and shakes his head. “Black coffee’s my usual though.”

“Your usual, not your favorite.”

Riz hates to admit it but Fabian’s right, he realizes, his stomach clenching. He drinks black coffee because it works and because it’s cheap, not because he likes the taste. He really does prefer these creamy, sweeter drinks. But… “How do you know that?”

Fabian smiles. “You’re easy to read, The Ball.”

“That’s not true.”

Shrugging, Fabian takes a sip of his own drink. “I know you well enough at this point that, yeah, you are. Either that or I’m just that perceptive.”

Riz snorts. “Well, we know it’s not that.”

Fabian shakes his head and rolls his eye. “It’s your ears, you know. They give you away.”

Riz flattens his ears against his head instinctually. “Shut up.”

Fabian grins devilishly. “See, there it is? You’ve got tells for days.” Riz’s ears twitch as he manually tries to force them into a neutral position. “I can read you like a book.”

“Shut up.” Riz covers his ears with his hands. “That’s unfair.” His tail whips behind him in irritation and he tries to still it with all his might when he sees Fabian’s eye narrow, studying it.

“Your tail, too—”

“I’m not doing your homework if you’re going to be a jackass,” Riz groans. “Leave my ears and my tail alone, you bigot.”

“I’m not anti-goblin, The Ball!” Fabian protests. “I’m just using your… quirks to my advantage.” He laughs, leaning back in the desk chair, performing nonchalance.

Riz pelts the back of the chair with a stress ball he keeps on his desk, providing just enough force to set the equilibrium off balance. Fabian goes tumbling backwards, the desk chair collapsing underneath him. Cold brew spills across his white bomber jacket and Riz does not care one bit. He laughs, watching as Fabian’s ears pin back on his head.

“You deserved that.”

“I did not!”

“Thanks for the coffee, though,” Riz says with a smirk, taking another sip of the warm, spicy drink.

Fabian looks up at him, betrayed. He twists his lips. “You’re still going to do my homework, right?” he asks weakly.

Riz laughs. “Obviously. You know my love language.”

Fabian’s ears droop for a beat, down and then back in place in an instant. “Your love language?”

Riz lifts the cup in his hand, already nearly empty. “Coffee.”

“Right.” Fabian’s cheeks burn as he pushes himself to his feet, avoiding getting his sneakers in the puddle of coffee underneath him. Riz laughs at his clear embarrassment at the slip. “Well, throw another projectile and you won’t get another latte out of me.”

Riz chuckles. “Fine, fine. You got me. I’ll behave for the promise of more coffee.” He smiles to himself, thinking of how lucky he is to have someone who knows his coffee order better than he does. Not just knowing it but buying it, too. Spending gold on Riz like it’s nothing. Bringing it halfway across town to Riz’s office. Treating him like he’s special…

Riz is sure that he’s getting sick with how frequently his stomach has been swirling. It’s an unfamiliar feeling though, not like a flu or a cold. It’s warmer. He’s sure if someone touched his skin right now, he would feel feverish, like a heat lamp has been warming his skin for hours. Or maybe a megawatt spotlight with how exposed this sickness makes him feel.

No, not a sickness, not quite. Sicknesses have never caused a pleasant buzzing in his chest before. They’ve never made him feel safe and secure, or even strangely comfortable, despite his latent anxieties. With this gift from Fabian, he feels taken care of in a way that he’s not used to. He’s seen it in the wild. Boyfriends buying flowers for their girlfriends. Girlfriends showing up at their boyfriend’s place for company. Partners knowing each other’s orders by heart.

“Hey, Fabian?”

Fabian lifts the fallen chair, hanging his stained jacket on the back of the leather seat. “Yeah?”

Riz hums under his breath, preparing himself to speak something terrifying into the world. “Does it ever feel like we’re dating to you?”

Fabian movement arrests for a moment, arm frozen in place halfway to his face. He laughs as he breaks out of the paralysis, just a blink later. “Does it feel like that to you?”

Riz chews on the inside of his cheek, agitating his raw, soft skin. “I don’t know, man. I’ve never dated anyone before. But I look at us and…”

“And?”

“And I don’t know.” Riz shakes his head. There’s nothing more frustrating than ignorance, he’s come to learn. “I don’t know, Fabian.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Like you said, people can believe what they want.”

“What do you want?” Fabian asks, his voice as careful as Riz has ever heard it.

“Nothing,” Riz laughs humorlessly. “Just… this. You know? Coffees and homework. Going to the diner together. Rides home after school. What we already have.”

“Yeah. Totally.”

Riz sighs. “I don’t get it, you know. The lines people draw in the sand.”

Fabian’s eyebrows draw together, a sharp line across his forehead. “What do you mean?”

“Do you want me to do your homework or do you want me to answer that question? Because either option will take the better part of the next hour.”

Fabian tilts his head curiously. “I—”

“I’m gonna do your homework,” Riz interrupts, signaling Fabian to give up the chair. He does, reluctantly, making his way to the short leather couch stuffed into the other half of the office. “Executive decision.”

“Yes, sir,” Fabian jokes, falling into the cushions and pulling out his crystal. He swipes the screen unlocked and begins typing furiously, sparking curiosity in Riz’s gut. Who is he talking to? About what?

But if he lets himself fall into another distraction, he’ll run out of time to get both of their assignments done while the caffeine is still in his system so he settles in, puts pen to paper, and lets the distraction of busywork keep him from musing on what makes a relationship a relationship.

An hour later, Riz throws the stress ball at Fabian’s forehead to stop his snoring and he wakes up bleary-eyed and personally offended. “I brought you coffee, The Ball. And this is how you treat me? I’m being taken for granted.”

Riz laughs and easily catches the ball thrown at him in an act of revenge. He doesn’t refute Fabian’s claim because it’s the truth. He does take Fabian for granted. He can’t imagine a life where he doesn’t have his best friend by his side, doing him favors, looking after him, and knowing him in a way that no one else does.

“Yeah, you are,” he says. He waves Fabian’s finished essay in the air with a flourish. “But if you want this essay, you better stay awake while I finish my own project. Otherwise I’ll accuse you of taking me for granted.”

Fabian shakes his head, hiding a laugh. “I’m awake, I’m awake. What do you need from me?”

Riz grins. What an offer, he thinks. “Just your company.”

Fabian smiles, ducking his gaze low. “At your service, The Ball,” he says. “I’m all yours.”

It’s the first day of Moonar Yulenear and Riz is holding his first present of the year in his shaking hands.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he rasps out.

Fabian chuckles softly. “It’s Moonar Yulenear, The Ball. It’s sort of assumed that you give your best friend a gift.”

“You didn’t have to do this, though,” Riz repeats. “It’s... gods, when did you even… fuck, Fabian. This is—”

“The best gift ever?”

“Too much,” Riz corrects. He gently lifts the necklace from the jewelry box, familiar but brand new. On a shining golden chain hangs a single pendant, half a heart with jagged edges, meant to interlock with its other half. BE FRI is engraved into its surface, gently pressed into the metal in looping cursive.

“You were so upset when you lost the other one,” Fabian explains gently. “How could I not?”

He’s right. Riz was a mess when he realized that his old pendant, the cheap, one-copper store version of the one in his hands, was lost during a battle in the Red Wastes. He was out in the desert until the daylight faded, kicking sand and praying to unearth it. All night, he was unable to sleep, feeling like he ruined something important by losing that symbol of his friendship with Fabian.

When he told Fabian, he was told it was no big deal but Riz saw a flash of hurt in Fabian’s eye. It felt like a knife to the gut.

Ever since Riz gave it to him, Fabian has worn his half of the necklace each and every day. At first, he made jokes about it, claiming to wear it ironically. In time, though, the jokes stopped but the jewelry never disappeared off Fabian’s neck, even as it turned green and rusty. Riz used to smile every time he saw the glint of light off the silver chain but, in the past few months, those smiles had turned to frowns. All he could think about was how he wasn’t careful enough to keep track of his own.

This brand new version of the necklace, gorgeous and sturdy, is a gift and something more than that: it’s the offer of forgiveness. Riz can read between the lines; he understands what Fabian is saying with this present. I don’t care that you lost the other necklace. You’re still my best friend.

He feels a tear spring to his eye, unwelcome and a personal betrayal. “This looks expensive,” he says weakly, clearing his throat.

Fabian laughs. “It’s nothing I can’t afford. Besides, there was a sale. The enchantment was practically free.”

“Enchantment?”

“The Everlock.” Fabian gestures for the necklace, taking it out of Riz’s hands carefully. He beckons him closer and reaches around his throat, clasping the necklace in place with gentle hands. “It’ll never fall off. In fact, you can’t even unclasp it manually unless it recognizes your fingerprints.”

“I can’t lose it?” Riz asks. Fabian nods, coaxing a childish grin onto Riz’s face, carefree and vibrant. “Oh, thank the fucking gods.” He holds the pendant tightly, his fingers playing with the sharp edges.

“I got the enchantment on mine, too.” Fabian pulls the tarnished chain out from under his shirt. “So you don’t have to worry, either.”

Riz’s face tightens in confusion. “You didn’t buy yourself a fancy one, too?”

“Why would I?”

Riz swallows bitter saliva. “Because… because that one’s horrible. It was literally one copper piece. I mean, aren’t you embarrassed to be wearing it? Your other jewelry is so valuable.”

Fabian shakes his head, scoffing. “You gave it to me, The Ball. That makes it valuable to me.”

And that’s all it takes. Riz has been so careful to push down and dismiss everything that’s been building until this very moment. He meticulously ignored the way his heart skipped a beat when people asked him if he and Fabian are dating. He pretended like his stomach didn’t swoop dangerously low when Fabian gave him special treatment. He turned his face when his ears were burning because of something abnormally earnest that Fabian said to him. He pushed it all down and down, pretending like nothing out of the ordinary was going on but, when Fabian tells him that this horrible, decaying necklace is important because it was gifted to him, with love, by Riz, he breaks open. The words spill out, released by the catastrophic failure of his carefully built dam.

“Are we dating or what?” Riz asks, the words surprising even himself.

Fabian’s baffled expression is understandable, Riz thinks, considering that he’s feeling fairly bewildered himself. “Sorry?”

“I—We—Uh, the… you, um,” Riz stumbles over his words like it’s his first time linking them together. “Uh.”

“You and I?”

“Yeah.” Riz swallows. “You and me.”

Fabian studies his face carefully, a look of total discernment that Riz has never seen on his face before. It’s cautious and surprisingly tender, his gaze, but it still leaves Riz feeling entirely exposed. He holds his tongue, begging Fabian to fill the silence. Maybe if Riz never speaks again, he’ll somehow get out of this situation without having to explain himself. He resolves to keep his mouth firmly shut, unwilling to risk another monumental example of what it tastes like to stick his foot in his mouth.

“I don’t think so,” Fabian finally says. “Do you?”

Riz shakes his head, his vow of silence locking his lips.

“Okay. Uh… okay.” Fabian fiddles with a loose thread on his pants. “Why do you, uh, ask?”

Riz shakes his head again, a wild look in his eyes.

“Not quite an answer, The Ball.”

Riz presses his lips together as he runs a nervous hand through his hair. “I, uh… I—” Riz laughs frenetically. “That’d be crazy, right? Crazy?”

Fabian narrows his eye, suddenly statuesque in his stillness. “Would it?”

Riz groans and buries his head in his hands. “I don’t know,” he whispers. “I mean, we’re practically there, aren’t we? By all intents and purposes?”

Fabian takes Riz by the arm and guides him to the edge of his king-sized mattress. He settles down by his side, leaving his hand on Riz’s back. “You’re going to have to go back a few steps if you want me to follow you, The Ball.”

Riz’s chest shakes as he inhales desperately. “It’s just that we do everything that people in relationships do, don’t we? Well… almost everything. The dates that aren’t dates, and the sleepovers, and the going everywhere together, and the reading each other’s minds, and the gifts and the—and the—and the—” Riz’s words skip like a broken record player but Fabian’s hand squeezes his shoulder, a warm reassurance. He takes a breath and goes on. “Everyone thinks we’re dating. Sometimes I think we’re dating. But we’re not? We’re just friends?”

Fabian raises his eyebrows. “Just friends,” he laughs. “Is that not enough for you, The Ball?”

“No! That’s not what I meant. No, no, I just mean… I guess… Gah, I have no idea how to put this into words.” He groans and slumps forward. “I don’t know, Fabian. It just feels like we’re something else, sometimes.”

“A different category, you mean?”

“Yeah, exactly. I mean, I have friends, right? The other Bad Kids? And then there’s you.”

A tiny twitch in the corner of Fabian’s smile seems to tell Riz something that he’s not ready to decode. “I know what you mean,” Fabian eventually says. “It’s different, right?”

“Yeah,” Riz sighs. “With you, it’s… it’s different. But what does that mean?” His words are a desperate plea, not for Fabian but for the universe to answer his burning question. “I—”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Riz sighs. “Go crazy,” he says, waving a flippant arm. “I can’t get any more confused than I already am.”

“Do you want to be something else? Other than friends?”

Riz freezes solid. He hadn’t gone so far as to ask himself that question before. All this distress and anxiety and he never stopped to wonder what it is that he wants.

“In an ideal world, what would we be, The Ball?”

Riz sighs and shakes his head, breaking out of his petrification. “I don’t want anything to change. There are certain… expectations that come with relationships. I… I don’t want that.”

“No expectations,” Fabian says, raising his hands in surrender. “Not a one from me.”

Riz begins to play with an idea in his head, batting it around like a kitten with a toy mouse. “I… I’d be worried that things would change. In a bad way, you know? Things are good right now, aren’t they? I don’t want to ruin a good thing.” Change is a dangerous thing, he knows. He heard a saying once upon a time that has stuck with him ever since: don’t give up something good for a chance of something great. He immediately adopted it as one of his foundational tenets. Why would he risk the comfortable for the chance of something that may or may not be better?

Fabian laughs lightly, like Riz isn’t currently going through a life-altering crisis. “The Ball, there’s nothing that could make us stop being best friends. You realize that, right?”

“But—”

“I feel like I’m getting close to something here so I’m gonna ask you again. In fact, let me rephrase. Do you want to date each other?”

Riz squeezes his eyes shut. Why is this question so hard for him to answer?

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking that hard,” Fabian jokes but his voice is soft.

It breaks something inside Riz, the piece of him that’s been holding him back. The one that makes him afraid to want for anything. When it cracks open, so does his heart, which comes pouring out from between his lips. “I think I want to try,” he admits.

He lifts his head so he can meet Fabian’s eye. Fabian’s bright smile, though, distracts him from his efforts to read his face. “Really?”

“Don’t ask me any more questions,” Riz groans. “My brain’s done. Off the clock for the night. For the season, actually.”

“No more questions from me.” Fabian grins. “Wait, no. I lied. One more—”

“Fabian,” Riz whines.

“Will you be my partner?”

Riz’s heart jumps in his chest. The warmth, the butterflies, the flipping of his stomach, it’s all too much. He feels sick with the overwhelming sensations. “Yeah,” he chokes out. A rush of endorphins spill across his skin, wiping away the latent fears and stress that have been suffocating him since he began to let himself wonder what things might be like if they were different. Just a step to the left.

“Okay,” Fabian grins. “Then we’re partners.”

“What does that mean?” Riz asks, desperate for answers. He’s following his heart, for once in his life, but his brain isn’t far behind, filling his head with questions and worries.

“Do you remember when I was at your office and I asked you what you wanted? You said ‘just this.’” Fabian smiles. “The title—dating, partners, whatever—it doesn’t have to mean anything changes if you don’t want it to.”

Riz lets out a relieved breath, brushing his fingers across his new pendant. The cool metal reassures him in the same way as Fabian’s heavy hand on his shoulder. “Just us?”

“Just us.”

Riz nods, tightening his hands into fists and sucking in deep, clear breaths. “And it’s okay that… that it’s me?”

Fabian frowns. He drops his hand from Riz’s back. “What does that mean?”

“You know… you’d be, like… happy? With me?”

Fabian takes a deep breath in. He lets it out, tension reverberating from his frame. “I’m gonna answer that question and then I’m going to ask you to do me a favor, The Ball.”

“Okay?”

“The answer is without a doubt. And the favor is easy. All you have to do is never worry about that again.”

Riz laughs, a frantic shock from the bold and open proclamation which wracks through his system. “Oh,” he says. “Okay. Uh, got it.”

“Good,” Fabian smiles, a hint of tightness left behind. “Then we can go back to celebrating Moonar Yulenear.”

“It’s just that easy?”

“Yeah, I mean, what’s the big deal? I was gonna spend it with my best friend. Now I get to spend it with my partner.”

Riz smiles at the ease that the word slips from Fabian’s lips. “Okay, well, uh… I got this gift for my best friend but I guess my partner can have it instead,” he says teasingly, pulling out a small box from his jacket pocket. “Oh, gods.” He freezes in place, hand half-extended.

“What?” Fabian asks urgently.

“We’re gonna have to tell our friends.”

Fabian’s tension drops into anxious laughter. “I can hear them now. Kristen will be, like, ‘you guys weren’t already dating?’”

“Adaine will say she saw it coming.”

“Fig’s gonna make nonstop jokes about it, I just know it.”

“Gorgug’ll be chill, at least,” Riz offers. “Gods, I can’t believe we’re gonna prove the whole student body right. They thought we were dating and, uh, guess what? We just didn’t know it yet.” He laughs, feeling so much lighter. “Or…”

“Or?”

“Or we could keep it a secret,” Riz suggests, shrugging. “I mean… for now, at least.”

“Would that make you feel better?”

Riz nods. “I think so. It’s just, hm. How do I put it? It feels special, you know. I want to keep it for myself for a little bit. Or, for us, I guess. Our secret?”

Fabian smiles, throwing his arm around Riz’s shoulder and squeezing him in a comforting embrace. “Our secret.”

“For now! If Fig figures out that we’ve been keeping a secret for too long, she’ll actually kill both of us.” Riz tilts into Fabian’s arms, resting his head on his chest. He relaxes into his arms, letting the rise and fall of Fabian’s chest lull him into a state of calm contentment. “Okay?”

“Whatever makes you happy, The Ball.” Fabian tucks his chin down, resting it on the top of Riz’s head gently. “Now, give me my gift before I multiclass into rogue so I can steal it from you.”

Riz, tucked away from the world by Fabian’s strong arms, grins to himself.

He thinks he made the right choice in a partner.