Light hungrily ate at the dark room as the storage door opened. Jesper could feel it on his eyelids, bright and yellow, while someone shook him awake. Their voice was in his ear, soft but strained. Jesper opened his eyes and squinted at the light. Wylan sighed.
"Thank Ghezen you're awake," Wylan said. "We should leave before anyone sees us."
Jesper struggled to understand what Wylan was asking. Leave? He didn't even know where he was; it certainly wasn't his room, nor was it Wylan's.
His tailbone ached and his legs were asleep, though the soreness ended there. He was mostly just groggy from being woken up so abruptly, and he wanted to pull Wylan back to his chest and fall asleep again.
Wylan swore under his breath and pulled Jesper up by the arm. He almost fell on his ass doing so, but huffed cheerfully when he managed to get Jesper up on his feet. Jesper's legs were not happy, though. They buckled underneath him, and he would have fallen if Wylan didn't swoop in and hold him up.
"You're so much heavier than you look," Wylan grunted. "Now c'mon."
Jesper slowly found his footing as they made their way out of the storage room. Memories from last night began to resurface, though none of it truly felt real until they stepped out onto the harbor.
The wind was cool and friendly as birds twitted cheerfully in the trees a couple yards away. Jesper recognized those white sands and the green grass that met it halfway. He recognized the bird tunes and the smell of the clean ocean breeze that encircled his head.
Home. He was finally home.
But there was no time for tears now. Jesper gripped his suitcase tightly and gave it a little shake. It was time to find the farmhouse.
Jesper knew these grassy hills well, and though Wylan offered to find them a map, Ira's directions were still clear in his mind. He guided Wylan to the Long Road, the only paved road on the east coast to connect all of the towns together. It seemed smaller than Jesper had remembered, though that could have also been because he was no longer traveling alone — Wylan silently walked beside him.
Jesper tried to keep his eyes on the road, but he couldn't help but look back at Wylan. He loved watching the boy, his head and his eyes never staying in the same place; it was like he had just discovered the world for the first time. It was the way Jesper looked at Wylan sometimes, eyes wide and adoring. Seeing it on Wylan's face made his heart flutter.
The barn was just as Ira had described it; three massive stories of baby blue paint and white flower boxes. Jesper walked the little cobblestone path leading up to the door, key in hand and heart hammering in his throat. Part of him didn't think it would work; part of him thought it had all been a horrible trick and he had stranded Wylan here forever.
But the key slid in perfectly, and the door opened with a click.
The inside of the house was not as well kept. There was an inch of dust on top of everything at least, giving it an eerie, abandoned look. Though the dishes were all in their proper glass cabinets and the blankets on the sofa were neatly folded, Jesper half expected someone to run down the stairs and ask them why they were here. But there were no ghosts in this house (not that he could see, at least) which was good, because he was sick of seeing ghosts.
Jesper dropped his suitcase on the floor and marched towards one of the front windows. He flipped the latch and grunted as he slid it upwards.
"Let's get all these open," Jesper said to Wylan. "The faster we air this place out, the better we'll sleep tonight."
Zemini autumns were nothing like the ones he had experienced in Ketterdam. The winds were nippier here and the trees molted quickly, but at least the fresh air was nice. It didn't leave the house cold as it would have in the Staves, and it certainly brought the house to life.
It took fifteen minutes for them to open all the windows and doors on that first floor. Together, Jesper and Wylan discovered a beautiful kitchen supplied with every pan and plate they'd ever need, a dining room with hand crafted chairs on a hand-woven rug, and a living room similar in style to the one in Ira's apartment (though much older and much bigger). The kitchen had a door that led to the garden in the back, which was thankfully still alive after being abandoned for who knows how long. Jesper decided he'd check their garden's inventory later.
The second floor was much more exciting. Jesper counted two small bedrooms, one master suite, and two very nice bathrooms. Each room was fully decorated and dusty, just as the living room had been. It was creepy, really, like the people that had once inhabited these rooms had just disappeared.
They also weren't very much to Jesper's tastes. The master bedroom had ugly rose accents everywhere, while the other rooms were decorated like nurseries for spoilt little girls. One even had a small bed covered in porcelain dolls that gave him the shivers.
The third floor had three additional rooms (guest rooms, it seemed by the lack of knickknacks) as well as an art studio, and study. Jesper called dibs on the master bedroom, and Wylan luckily didn't seem to care. He actually seemed to find the smaller bedrooms rather "cute" and "simple". It was obviously the words of someone who's never been poor a day in his life.
Wylan and Jesper quietly worked their way up the house, opening up as many windows as they possibly could and letting the house breathe. The farmhouse seemed grateful, too. It practically gleamed in the natural light, letting Jesper in on its secrets in every room.
Still, they certainly weren't done yet. Jesper stood with Wylan in the study after opening the last window and examined their work. He had rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, his collar undone and exposing his neck and collarbones. Wylan was flushed from the work, but he refused to even take off his sweater, which now had a layer of dust covering it.
"Alright, I think we need to start making a checklist or something," Jesper said. "If we're gonna live here, we need to tidy some things up and set some ground rules."
Wylan wiped away a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Agreed."
"This whole house needs a good wash," Jesper said. "It's just covered in grime, and there's no way that's up to code. We should focus on one room a day, maybe, just cleaning as much as we can so it's at least habitable.
"We'll also need to make sure the water storage is full or at least useable. If we're good about keeping our hot water useage low, we won't need to refill it very often; four or five times a year at most.
"I also need to check the gardens, still. Fall is the worst time to start farming, but if we don't start our inventory now, we'll starve."
"That's lovely," Wylan said with a roll of his eyes. "What else?"
"Well, that's probably gonna be most of it for the next couple of weeks," Jesper said with a shrug. "We can keep adding to the list, of course, until we're satisfied. Unless you'd like the add something right now."
Wylan brushed his curls back from his face and huffed. "I saw a radio downstairs," he said. "I'd like to fix it."
Jesper clapped his hands. "Sounds good! Look at us, working together so well."
"You'd almost think it was meant to be," Wylan joked awkwardly.
"We'll see about that," Jesper said with a wink. "Give it a day or two before I drive you mad."
Wylan smiled coyly. "You already do, Jesper Fahey."
Jesper almost weeped when he stepped into the garden. He had been worried sick that he'd have nothing to work with — that they'd be starting from scratch just as winter was sweeping its chilly tendrils onto the world — but it was just the opposite. It would have been impossible to count how many overgrown vegetable plants claimed the farm as their home or how old the thick orchard trees looked. It felt like a blessing from the Saints themselves as the fear of starving this winter dissipated from Jesper's mind.
Sorting out the gardens was the next thing on Jesper's to-do list, but without proper gardening tools all he could do was step over the vines that had settled thick on the garden floors. He spotted pumpkins, tomatoes, carrots, peas, onions, and potatoes. Underneath the golden leaves of the orchard's trees were fallen apples as red as candy. Maybe he'd even be able to gather whatever they wouldn't need and sell it at the market. Something about its simplicity was thrilling.
Simplicity? Thrilling? What the hell had Wylan done to him? He used to be fun! He used to be...
Well, he used to be hiding from all his problems. Of course, he was still hiding from his problems now — that's what he was doing here in the first place — but at least he wasn't alone. Wylan was inside the house searching for tools as he spoke. He had found the water tank in the basement earlier that day and wanted to make sure it worked. Even without seeing a Zemini water tank before, he somehow knew exactly what it needed to get hot water out of it. How, he refused to say. He simply said it would be fixed by the end of the week, and that was that.
With Wylan busy on household repairs and their first Zemini sun setting in just a few hours, Jesper had decided to do something useful for a change. He had found an old wicker basket near the back door and took it out with him to the garden. Now he picked out a few potatoes; a few of this and a few of that. He took it all to the kitchen where he had polished the counters just a few hours ago. He washed the vegetables in lukewarm water from the tap and began his cooking.
Saints, when was the last time he properly cooked a meal for himself? University? With his da a couple years ago? His heart hurt knowing it had been so long. He enjoyed cooking, even if he never got the opportunity to do it often. He liked having something to do with his hands and clear instructions he could follow for clear results. Even better yet, he had a natural gift with spices. His mother used to say it was a Zemini thing, although that might have just been her way of teasing his father for his bland tastes. Jesper simply liked to believe he was good at it because he was good at nothing else. Except maybe guns. And being an idiot around beautiful gingers.
Jesper had a makeshift garden soup on the stove in fifteen minutes (although it took nearly half an hour to get the gas stove to work). It bubbled softly as he looked through the spice cabinets. He wouldn't mind adding a bit of basil if he could find any.
As he worked, a strange sort of humming came from the living room. He stopped what he was doing to look behind him. Wylan had entered the kitchen with a big grin on his face.
"I didn't know you were a cook," Wylan said as he strode over to the stove, hands deep in his pockets.
"I didn't know you were a mechanic," Jesper retorted. "Sounds like you got that radio to work again."
Wylan shrugged. "It wasn't that hard. Just thought it might liven things up. Set the mood."
Jesper cocked an eyebrow. "And what is the mood?"
Wylan shrugged. "Happy?"
He grinned. "I can settle for happy."
So much for spices. He grabbed Wylan's hand and pulled him into a dance right there in the kitchen. The music, though far away, echoed on the tile walls, giving it an almost magical appeal. It was some woman he didn't recognize singing about first love in a northern Zemini accent. It felt strangely fitting (though he'd never tell Wylan that).
Wylan laughed when Jesper spun him under his arm. He nearly hit the table, tripping over one of the chairs. Wylan pushed his red hair back with the palm of his hand, his eyes trailing from Jesper to the stove as he eyes widened.
"Jesper, your soup!"
"What about it?" Jesper looked over at the stove and jumped. "Shit! My soup!"
That was the end of kitchen dancing for both of them. It died how it lived: short, sweet, and a little bit reckless. But at the least soup didn't burn.
In fact, it was probably the best thing Jesper had had in a very long time, and certainly the freshest, too. Wylan seemed to enjoy it too when they sat to eat at the dining table minutes later. They sat on opposite ends, though Jesper didn't mind. It felt incredibly fancy that way.
Afterwards, Jesper scrubbed the dishes and put them away to dry as Wylan continued to fiddle with the radio. The sun had set by then, and the crickets had come out to play. They sung sweet music, which took Wylan by surprise. Ketterdam didn't have crickets, nor did they have fireflies which was evident when one of them accidentally flew in through an open window. Wylan screamed like a frightened child when he saw it.
They went to bed shortly after. Jesper brought a glass of water with him to his new room. They had switched out the bedding earlier in the day, ugly rose-themed blankets now replaced with white sheets and a handsewn blue quilt. He wondered if Ira had ever used this blanket before, his arms wrapping the quilt snugly over his lean shoulders.
Wylan popped his head inside Jesper's room just as Jesper finished buttoning up his nightshirt. He'd need to remember to lock his room as he was changing; if Wylan came in any earlier they would have been in a very different situation. Nina would have loved to hear about it. Maybe he'd have to write to her one of these days.
"I think I'm gonna be up for a bit longer," Wylan said. "You don't mind if I keep a light in my room, do you?"
"No, not at all," Jesper said, swinging his legs from where he sat on the bed. "I can stay up with you if you want company. I don't have to go to sleep yet."
"No, no, it's fine." Wylan smiled. "I'm not going to be doing anything interesting, anyway. Probably just finish putting my stuff away."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive." Wylan was leaning against the doorway, his arms folded ever so casually, like he didn't have a care in the world. He looked so comfortable right there, like he had been living in the farmhouse his whole life. It suited Wylan. "I guess I should leave you be. Good night, Jes."
"What? No good night kiss?"
Wylan rolled his eyes and politely closed the door as he left, plunging Jesper into darkness. The little light he had left came from outside his still-open window. Jesper rolled over on his side, and sleepily admired the picturesque backdrop. He fell asleep counting the stars.
The rest of the month followed a very similar pattern. Jesper would always wake up before Wylan and find something to make for breakfast. He'd brew tea or coffee and it would cool down just enough for Wylan when he tiredly came downstairs to the kitchen.
After they ate, they'd split paths to go work on whatever they needed to. Often times this was Jesper pulling weeds and tidying up the garden while Wylan fixed the water heater through trial and error. It ended up taking much longer than he had anticipated, but by the end of their second week in Novyi Zem, it was finally fixed. Jesper happily celebrated with a long, hot shower.
Once the sun hit high noon, Jesper would go back inside to make something for both of them to eat. They'd reconvene, talk about their days, then wash up and begin cleaning the house. Jesper worked on the second floor, dusting and looking for valuable things to sell if they needed to; Wylan did repairs to the kitchen and the living room.
Soon Jesper stopped referring to it as "the house" or "Ira's house", but as his home. He learned which floorboards to avoid when Wylan was asleep and when to shower so Wylan could get some hot water later. He knew the spice shelves by heart and the best crannies to hide things. By the end of their third week, he no longer felt like a guest in his now fairly tidy home.
Eventually their list shortened, and their objectives changed. No longer did they need to dust every room or fix the leaky pipes. Instead they both found themselves cleaning up the garden in the mornings, a pastime Jesper enjoyed immensely. (He especially liked how flustered Wylan would get when Jesper stripped off his shirt in the middle of the day. He tried to hide his grin as he said, "What? It's too hot out!" or something as equally dumb.)
Jesper liked watching Wylan work not only to see the healthy pink in his cheeks and the stupid way he refused to take off his sweater vest outside, but also because of how content Wylan looked. He seemed to enjoy working out in the garden, even asking Jesper if they planned on planting more things in the spring.
Jesper had just laughed and ruffled Wylan's sweaty hair. "Let's make it through the winter first," he had said. What he hadn't admitted was that thinking long-term scared him.
Another new item on their agenda was laundry. It was a new concept for Wylan, who had always had a servant to rely on. He was amazed to learn that they would, in fact, need to use the clothesline outside, and that clothes needed to be scrubbed in a special type of soap to stay soft. Something about Wylan's strange naïveté towards something so simple as this made Jesper smile. He pulled Wylan onto the front porch with him at noon on a pleasantly warm Sunday to teach him how to wash clothes in a basin.
It took Wylan a few tries to get it, but soon he began to fall into a easy rhythm as he scrubbed the soaked clothes. He refused to let Jesper help, determined to do this all on his own. When Jesper tried to pull the basin away, Wylan splashed warm suds at Jesper, sticking his tongue out maliciously.
Jesper played with the dirty laundry beside Wylan. As he checked the pockets for loose change, he found something heavy stuck to the inside of one of his trousers. He pulled it out, and inspected the heavy paper parcel. Jesper vaguely recalled Inej handing it to him before he had left Ketterdam for good. Jesper weighed it in his hands, decided it was suspiciously heavy, and tore open the top.
The bag sunk into its newfound weight. Jesper peered inside and almost dropped the bag immediately. Wylan looked over at him curiously, a small smile on his lips.
"Whatcha got there, Fahey?" Wylan asked.
"If I'm not wrong, it looks to be a shit ton of kruge," Jesper said.
He pulled out a purple slip of paper from the middle of the stack. He recognized Inej's handwriting on it immediately: 'This was all I could get from Flemming's office without getting caught. Kaz promises to look into Flemming's death and Hardee's involvement until you can get the rest of your money back. Good luck.'
"Inej, you beautiful Saint!" Jesper said. He looked up at Wylan with a bright grin. "How would you feel about going to the market today?"
"Do they even take Kerch money?" Wylan asked, working another shirt through the washboard.
Jesper smirked. "You've obviously never been to a Zemini market before. Come on, let's go!"
He grabbed Wylan's sudsy hands and pulled him up. Wylan tried to go back to the washbasin, but Jesper simply kicked it over and watched it spill out onto the porch. Wylan looked absolutely appalled, which caused Jesper to laugh. He promised Wylan they'd get to it later as he dragged him to the Long Road. They'd have a long journey ahead of them, after all, and they'd need to get there before it closed for the day.
Ketterdam may have been the country of trade or whatever, but there was no place better for bartering than a Zemini farmer's market. Jesper and Wylan found one a mile away from the farmhouse, Jesper's pockets full of Kerch bills and Wylan's satchel luckily full of trinkets from around the house already. Wylan seemed nervous, which was normal for someone who was going into this whole ordeal blind. It excited Jesper to show him his little corner of the world.
The markets were busy today, which was normal for a Sunday. There were colorful tents dyed in rich pinks, purples, and blues lining the town square as people tried to sell their wares to each other. Jesper hadn't heard this much Zemini being used in years. It was thrilling to say the least.
Wylan, bless him, was absolutely terrified. He looked so small compared to the other Zemini patrons at the market, and kept apologizing profusely to whomever he bumped into. Jesper just shook his head and led Wylan through the markets with their arms laced together.
Jesper eyed a flower vendor and pulled Wylan towards it. He leaned down low enough to reach Wylan's ear, and murmured, "Watch this!"
He let go momentarily and strutted over to the vendor. The man was currently rearranging a bouquet with agile fingers, only turning to Jesper once he was satisfied with how the roses were placed.
"Adi anyene?" The man said, his Zemini thick and lazy.
Jesper pointed at the daffodils behind him. "Ond, por ez."
The florist nodded, and pulled out one of the flowers from the bouquet. He held it at arms length away from Jesper and waited for his payment. Jesper pulled out a pair of pearl earrings from his pocket, holding them out dramatically so Wylan could see. They glimmered in the light.
The florist eyed them hungrily, and accepted the trade. Jesper grinned as he brought the flower to Wylan.
"One aggressively orange flower to another," Jesper said.
Wylan plucked it from Jesper's hand and shook his head. "Your complimenting's gotten a bit rusty."
"Your beauty's too distracting," Jesper said with a wink.
"Sure. That's totally the reason for your lack of creativity."
Jesper shoved him playfully, but they both laughed anyway. They continued to tease each other as they walked through the market, occasionally stopping to buy something here or there. Jesper didn't want to use up all of his money of course, but he recognized a good trade when he saw one. They bought milk, cheese, bread, coffee, jam, a new blanket for the living room, and a better toolset for Wylan to use around the house.
Jesper stopped in the middle of the market. A sign had caught his eye, and he stared at the man waving a bag of Zemini coin in the air. It was a small booth in deep purple with a several card games going on underneath it. Jesper could smell the silver in the coins and feel the rough edges of those playing cards already.
"You there!" The man shouted at Jesper, a big showcase smile on his face. "Are ya feeling lucky?"
Yes. Yes, he was. He wanted to tell the man so — he needed to tell the man so. The cards were calling to him now as that familiar itch settled across his fingers and his arms. He felt himself step closer to the table, his mind woozy and soft with the idea of a good game.
"Jesper! Jesper, no!" Wylan cut him off, standing in front of Jesper and squeezing his arms. "Jes, look at me, you're better than them."
Wylan cupped Jesper's jaw with his hand. Apparently this was all it took to bring Jesper back into reality. He looked down at Wylan, meeting his worried blue eyes. Wylan let out a breathy laugh, his thumb stroking Jesper's cheek. It sent a familiar jolt of energy up Jesper's stomach.
"You okay there?" Wylan asked.
"Yeah," Jesper said. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me."
Wylan bit his bottom lip. "Me neither." He dropped his hand from Jesper's face, putting on a nervous smile. "I think I'm ready to go home."
The farm had been the perfect safe haven for Jesper in many ways. It had hidden him from Hardee, of course, but it also meant he had gotten away from the money sharks, the violence, and Jan Van Eck. He got to rekindle his relationship with Wylan again, even if he half-suspected the merchling of distancing himself from Jesper.
Life in Novyi Zem had been freeing in so many ways, but it was by no means perfect. Thus the nightmares found him that very night.
He had been doing so well at avoiding them, too. He was always relaxed and calm when he went to bed, and always in complete and total control of his emotions. He had seen four whole weeks of peaceful sleep, and thought he was safe. He was a fool, of course, because they came back with a vengeance.
Jesper tossed and turned in his sleep that night. He was playing a game with Millian Flemming, though looking at his concaved head made him queasy. He could smell the dried brown blood and taste the copper of it in his mouth, so Jesper stared at the cards in his hands instead. He recognized none of the symbols on the cards, and yet he knew he had no way of winning.
Worst of all was that damn purple tent above them. It was slowly sinking into the soft ground, threatening to suffocate them both the longer they played. Jesper tried to get up or at least look at his surroundings, but everything just looked wrong. It all felt wrong.
Jesper swore and threw his cards down on the table. As he did so, he heard Flemming yelp. Jesper looked up at him, but it wasn't Flemming's face. No, he recognized that face, even with half his skull gone and his red hair matted in blood.
"Wylan!" Jesper screamed.
He tried to run towards Wylan, but something pushed against him. His chin dipped and he watched the crushed velvet curtain wrap around his body. It yanked him into the sand, slowly and effortlessly pulling him down under. He screamed and thrashed, trying to get to Wylan, but the tent's curtains made it impossible. He was sinking and he had nowhere to go and—
"JESPER!"
Jesper jolted up from his bed, nearly smacking Wylan in the process. His back was sticky from perspiration and his nerves were high and jittery. For half a moment he didn't recognized the room, and he began to panic. But he could hear Wylan's soft hushing, and he focused on it until he regained full consciousness.
"You're okay now," Wylan said, rubbing his thumb on Jesper's sweaty hand. "Everything's going to be okay. Do you want some water?"
Jesper nodded, though it took all his willpower to do so. He couldn't stop shaking, no matter how hard he tried.
Wylan twisted over Jesper and grabbed a glass of water from his nightstand.
"Thanks," Jesper said as he took it. He raised it to his lips and nearly dribbled as he drained it in one swallow. It wasn't cold anymore, but he didn't care; it was exactly what he needed.
"Bad dream?" Wylan asked as he took the glass back and put it on the nightstand.
"You could say that," Jesper tried to joke.
"Well... do you want to talk about it?"
Jesper leaned against the head rest. He'd finally been able to calm his nerves, despite the adrenaline boost still coursing through his body. Even then he felt absolutely exhausted.
"No," Jesper answered.
"Oh." Wylan looked disappointed. He stood up, and stuck his thumb out at the door. "Guess I'll go then—"
"Wait!"
Jesper grabbed Wylan's wrist, stopping him mid-step. Wylan seemed just as surprised as Jesper did, and his blue eyes looked down at their touching skin. Jesper dropped his hand immediately.
"Sorry," Jesper said. "I just... I don't want to be alone right now. But I also don't want to talk about the dream."
"Okay," said Wylan. He sat on the foot of Jesper's bed and pulled his legs up to his chest. "I'll stay, then."
Neither of them were entirely sure what to do after that. Wylan offered to sit and wait for Jesper to fall back asleep, but Jesper simply blushed and gave him a sharp no. He asked Wylan if he wanted to play a quick game of chess, but neither of them wanted to leave the room. Instead, they decided to just talk. Not of the dream, of course, or anything of real importance. It was mostly Jesper talking, really. He talked about whatever came to mind: Kaz, dinner outings with Nina, his old pets he kept with his Da way back when, and lots of Inej stories.
Talking to Wylan came easily, and the Kerch boy never looked bored by Jesper. He listened intently and laughing at Jesper's jokes. He never moved closer to Jesper, nor did he move farther away. He stayed all night and listened to Jesper ramble just as the sun began to come up.
"Oh no," Jesper said, looking out the window, "I kept you up all night! I am so sorry, Wy."
"No no, it's not your fault," Wylan said. "I enjoyed this. I... I like listening to you talk. You're a great storyteller."
"You really think so?"
"Really really."
Wylan tried to stifle a yawn, but failed. Jesper just tutted and kicked his legs to the side of the bed. It was his turn to take care of Wylan now. He hoisted Wylan up to his feet, and helped him to his room. Wylan didn't fight it, and simply slipped into the tiny twin sized bed. He fell asleep instantly, much to Jesper's relief. He went to bed in his own room shortly after, and slept through the rest of the morning without a fight.
The days continued on with the secret agreement that neither of them spoke about that night. It came to a relief to Jesper that Wylan never inquired about his nightmare any further. He couldn't pinpoint what felt so embarrassing about it other than the fact that Wylan had been in it. Dreams were a personal matter, after all, and dreaming about the person you're living (and definitely in love) with wasn't exactly a great conversation starter.
Unfortunately, the nightmares didn't stop then. He had a similar dream two weeks later, and two others that very next week. Each one ended with Wylan dead, Wylan hurt, Wylan in harm's way because of Jesper. He always woke up in a cold sweat, but thanking the Saints that Wylan slept through it. He couldn't dare bother Wylan about something like that again.
Three months passed in the farmhouse. It didn't hit Jesper how long it had been until the first signs of snow landed on the garden. When he craned his neck out the window to look at it, he saw that it wasn't some strange fluke, and gray clouds were slowly coming in.
"You've never been in a Zemini storm before, have you?" Jesper asked that morning at breakfast.
"No, but I've seen some bad snowstorms in Ketterdam," Wylan said.
Jesper shook his head. "My sweet, sweet Wylan, you innocent little thing."
Wylan pointed his butter knife at Jesper. "Oi, who are you calling innocent?"
"The person who just tried to compare Kerch to Novyi Zem." Jesper stood up and stretched. "We're gonna need to go to the market and buy some firewood. Zemini storms happen only once a year, but they're a pain in the ass."
"They can't possibly be that bad."
"I wouldn't say that just yet. Wait until tomorrow." Jesper walked over and snatched the piece of buttered toast from Wylan's hand. "Now come on. We've got a storm to fight."
The storm was just as bad as Jesper had predicted, and it came without any real warning. Jesper sat in bed and listened to the storm wail and rattle the old house. He probably should have barred the windows, but it was too late for that now. He hopped out of bed and cheerily got to his morning routine.
"Good morning!" He sung to Wylan when he came down for breakfast.
"There's no way this is normal," Wylan said, gesturing wide as he came down the stairs. "I think I saw three different sets of lightning strike at the same time."
"I missed the Triple Strike?" Jesper sighed. "That's too bad."
He set a plate of eggs (over easy just as Wylan preferred) on the table before throwing Wylan a thick coat he had found in one of the closets yesterday. Wylan caught it with ease, looking at it suspiciously.
"We're not going outside, are we?" he asked.
"Oh Saints no!" Jesper said. "You'll want to wear that inside though. Temperature's gonna drop to below freezing soon."
"You're joking."
"Not about Zemini weather. Never about Zemini weather." Jesper grabbed the fur coat from his chair and slipped it on with a bright smile. "You should eat before your eggs get cold."
Wylan did so begrudgingly. It was amusing to see him get so worked up about the storm. He'd jump every time the house would shake, or let out half a sob when the water heater stopped working. Wylan wanted to go back down to repair it, but Jesper just shook his head.
"It'll be back to normal tomorrow, don't worry. For now we just gotta boil everything the good old fashioned way."
A fire was made shortly after breakfast, and stayed lit the entire day. Jesper had brought down as many pillows and blankets as he could to the living room so he could stay close to the fire.
"What are you doing?" Wylan asked.
"Setting up camp," Jesper answered. "Thinking about making a pillow fort if you'd like to join."
Wylan did like the join. And he was brilliant at it, too. Soon the living room was reshaped into a pillow heaven. No longer were bookshelves and boring out-of-tune pianos acceptable. Now everything had to be covered by blankets. The best part about it all was that it helped insulate the room too, and by the end of their construction the two boys were finally able to shed some of their winter apparel.
It took until late afternoon for them to finish their project. They ate their soup and boiled their tea by kettle in front of the fire, both boys comfortably wrapped up in their own blankets. The world outside still shook and the walls still groaned, but in there they were safe. Even Wylan had begun to ease up. He snorted at Jesper's lame jokes and even offered his own stories to the table.
Two more cups of tea and a coffee cake later, they were laying on their stomachs to play a game Jesper liked to call "Chess or Dare." He had originally introduced it as a joke, but was pleasantly surprised when Wylan agreed to it.
They grabbed a lantern and made their way up to the attic, neither of them acknowledging the storm outside. (That was the key to surviving Zemini winter storms; never acknowledge them unless you absolutely have to.) He explained the game to Wylan as they pulled out the blue and white bone chess set from its corner of the attic.
Now they sat downstairs, both of them too far into the game to back out now. The worst part was that Jesper was winning, leaving a slaughter of dead chess pieces behind him. He tried not to act too proud, but he secretly enjoyed how exasperated Wylan looked. Jesper wouldn't have been surprised if the only reason Wylan agreed to the game in the first place was because he had assumed he'd win. He obviously didn't know that Jesper had learned a trick or two from Inej.
Wylan's eyes widened the moment he set his pawn down. He looked up at Jesper, his face as white as a sheet. But mercy wasn't a word Jesper knew. He grabbed his white rook, raising it slowly and dramatically in the air.
"No, please!" Wylan said.
"I'm sorry," Jesper lied.
"Think about my kingdom!" said Wylan, shaking his clasped hands at Jesper. "Think... think about my kingdom's children!"
Jesper used his rook to fling Wylan's piece across the room, much to Wylan's despair. Wylan groaned and buried his face in his hands.
"Truth or dare?" Jesper asked.
"Not again," Wylan groaned.
"You lose a pawn, you lose your dignity," said Jesper cheekily. "Truth or dare?"
Wylan pushed his hair out of his face and gave Jesper a rather nasty look. "Truth."
Damn. What sucked about Wylan losing so horrifically was that Jesper had to come up with a lot of questions from the top of his head. He now knew a lot about Wylan's worst memory (his mother's death), the last time he cried ("last night, actually, but that's all you're hearing about it."), and his guilty pleasure (being mean to small children). Those were just basic questions, of course, but that was just how Jesper was. He tried to think of something creative, but came up with nothing good.
"First kiss?" Jesper asked.
The moment it slipped out of his mouth, he wanted to slap himself. Why the hell would he ask that? Maybe if it was Nina or Inej or — oh, he didn't know — maybe someone he wasn't attracted to? Could he not be an idiot for at least one second in his life?
"Never mind," Jesper said, trying to smile it off like it was nothing. "That was a dumb question. You don't have to answer it."
"No, I'd love to answer that," Wylan said.
He pushed himself off the ground and sat cross legged instead, a wistful smile on his face. Jesper had to crane his neck up just to look at Wylan.
"His name was Micah," he said matter-of-factly.
Wylan hugged his legs, peering over at the fire. He looked the way a Saint should, and Jesper had the sudden urge to get on his knees and pray to him. Jesper had never seen someone so beautiful before in his entire life.
"He was the son of some other merchant in the area, though Ghezen knew I didn't care which one back then," Wylan said. "Micah had been my age — thirteen back then — and we just so happened to both hate the merchant dinner parties we were both forced to go to.
"I was always great at slipping off when my father wasn't paying attention. Usually I'd go find an empty room or hallway to wait out the rest of the party or until I was caught. That particular dinner party, however, was held by Micah's dad, though. I sat down with the other families, making sure to look as unappealing as possible so people didn't ask me any questions. I did whatever I could to hide in plain sight, but Micah just kept staring at me. I didn't know whether to be offended or not — whenever I looked back at him he would blush and quickly look away — and of course I didn't know what that had meant at the time. I honestly just thought he hated me, which would have been such a shame because he was so pretty — blue eyes, fair skin, sleek black hair — you know the type.
"I managed to sneak off after dessert, finding a quiet library on the second floor to hide in. I found a nice chair near the window and went people watching. I thought I had been alone at the time, but then I saw his reflection in the window.
"Micah tried to back away, but it was too late. He was intriguing to me — no one had ever paid me any attention before — so I asked for him to stay. He was embarrased, of course, but then we ended up talking."
"And then he kissed you?" Jesper guessed.
"No, not then," Wylan said. "We just talked until I had to leave. But we met again that next week at another boring party. We found a broom closet to squeeze into; Micah had made the excuse that the other rooms had been locked, though I knew this wasn't true. But I just went with it, you know? So what if the broom closet was cramped? We were both small, both young, and it seemed like a fun adventure at the time.
"Somehow we went from complaining to our parents to books. I obviously didn't know a thing I was saying, but luckily Micah loved to talk. He especially liked talking about romance novels, and then we were talking about kissing of all things.
"'Have you ever kissed someone?' Micah had asked me.
"I just snorted. ''Course not. Have you met me? I'd have more luck ending global poverty than have someone like me.'
"Micah didn't laugh though; he just looked nervous, really. And then he said, 'Would you like to be kissed?'"
"Real smooth," Jesper said.
Wylan shook his head and laughed. "We were thirteen! And, I mean, it hadn't been bad. It had just been a peck, but something inside my head just clicked. It had just felt right, you know? Romance stories were never intriguing to me — girls were never intriguing to me — but this? It felt like hearing a live symphony for the first time when all you've ever heard was silence. Which was probably why we ended up doing it again every time we saw each other until his family moved to the Southern Colonies a year later."
Jesper put a hand to his chest. "Heartbreaking."
Wylan just flicked one of the chess pawns at Jesper, hitting him in the chest. Jesper just laughed it off. So much for finishing their game.
"What about you?" Wylan asked. "Who was your first kiss?"
"Melanie Havi," Jesper said. "It was my eleventh birthday party, and our friends had apparently bribed her to do it for a pack of gum. They were all assholes for it, too, because everyone knew I had a crush on her twin sister, Malia."
"Oh, you poor thing," Wylan teased.
"As for my first kiss with a boy," Jesper continued, "that wasn't until I was sixteen. It had been with a roommate at school. Grant Something-or-Other. Can't recall now, but he was really cute."
Wylan seemed satisfied with this answer. He picked up his teacup from their makeshift table of books beside them, and raised it up.
"To all the hearts we've broken," he said.
Jesper raised his cup, too. "And to the hundred more that will come."
Their glasses clinked with finality, and they drank their now-cold beverages. They tried to restart the game, but neither one of them had the energy to finish it. The storm had died down to whispers and sighs so they took their blankets and brought them back upstairs. They wished each other a good night, Jesper watching hopelessly as Wylan trudged off to his own room across the hall.
He wondered why he had even asked that question. It certainly could have gone much worse, but he still felt like an idiot for asking it in the first place.
Wylan was being cold with him — he was certain of it, even if that night had been a strange exception. He'd have to fix that somehow so they could... so they...
Jesper rubbed his face and sighed. What was even the use of trying? Wylan clearly wasn't interested in him anymore; that boat has definitely sailed, and Jesper had ruined it. The least he could do now was be a good friend to Wylan.
He watched the last of the snow softly dance outside his window, and fell asleep counting them late into the night.