Dirt on your heels, you've made a mess
Down by the carpark, high off your head
Honey, don't worry, nobody's angry at any of this
Darling be patient, stare into the vacancy, take a deep breath
Anyway // Noah Kahan
Jens thinks Lucas has a crush on Moyo.
It almost makes Lucas laugh.
It's logical, he supposes, when he looks at the situation from Jens's point of view, but from his own...
Moyo is nice. And he's cute. And funny. He's a sweetheart, when he texts Lucas and asks what he's up to (and if he has answers to an assignment from the only class they share, physics. Lucas is gradually becoming more sure that both of them are going to fail). He's very interested in Lucas's art, gushing about every drawing and sketch and painting Lucas sends him a picture of, no matter how half-assed or messy it is, no matter how much Lucas hates the piece. Moyo tells him he has to go to art school, and if he doesn't, Moyo will sue him, which Lucas laughs at.
"Have you met Jens's little sister?" Moyo asks one day while they talk on the phone, and Lucas's face, for some fucking reason, heats up, and he's glad they aren't Facetiming.
"Uh, no, but he talks about her a lot." He pauses, looking at his drawing. It's messy, abstract, and he doesn't really know what he's actually doing. "Lotte, right?"
"Yeah," Moyo says. He's playing a video game, and Lucas can hear the clicking of the controller. "She likes to draw."
"Yeah, Jens said. He's sent me a few pictures of her work."
"You make it sound so professional."
"All artists are professional," Lucas says lightly. "All art is real."
Moyo is quiet for a second.
"You have a beautiful brain," he says finally.
"...That's the best compliment I've ever gotten."
But Jens happens to beat it two days later.
If Lucas is honest, it's a bit pathetic that it so easily beats Moyo's compliment as number one, but... It's Jens.
It happens when they're talking on the phone, late at night, as Lucas stares up at the ceiling that he can just manage to see in the pale moonlight streaming through his blinds. Jens can't see Lucas's cheek light up red, like every freckle is burning like the sun.
"I think I just like the idea of humans," Lucas is saying softly, thinking back to every sketch, every drawing, every painting he's ever done. "Like the diversity. Expressions. Little details like the way their eyes shine. I think it's beautiful."
Jens is silent, and Lucas waits.
And waits.
And waits.
"You still there?" he asks quietly, in case Jens has fallen asleep, but Jens finally says,
"God, you're so cute."
Lucas inhales slowly, squeezing his eyes shut, his face set alight.
"Being an artist sounds so cool, but I don't have the patience to learn," Jens continues, oblivious. "I thought about learning when Lotte started drawing, but it never went anywhere."
Lucas's mouth moves silently for a second, his eyes still shut, trying to find words.
"I— I don't really think there's a wrong way to do art."
"No?"
Lucas can hear Jens's smile in his voice, and it makes Lucas grow warmer.
"No," he says. "It's just self expression. There's no good or bad."
"Hm."
"Hm," Lucas repeats, biting his lip. He'd forgotten what it feels like to crush on someone like this, to feel his heart pound away in his chest, to feel his stomach drop at the sound of someone's voice.
"You're so nice," Jens says after a second. His voice is almost rough, low and rumbling his throat, scratching at Lucas's brain. He sounds beautiful.
Lucas scoffs.
"You've only known me a few weeks," he points out. "How do you know I'm not tricking you?"
"Tricking me into thinking you're nice?"
"Mmhmm." His eyes fall shut.
"Mm. Feel like you would have slipped up by now."
"Slipped up how?"
Jens hums in a way that sounds like he's shrugging, and Lucas wishes he could see him.
"Said something dick-ish. I don't know."
"So you believe that I'm nice?" Lucas asks, and Jens hums in affirmation. "Perfect. Just what I wanted."
Jens snorts childishly, and there's a rustling sound.
"You're ridiculous."
Lucas smiles at the ceiling, turning his head so his phone presses closer to his ear.
"You actually think I'm nice?" he asks quietly, the late night getting to him, phasing through his filter. He wouldn't usually ask, wouldn't usually let anyone see this part of him, this... vulnerable, disbelieving part of him. The part of him that just can't seem to think of himself the way others seem to think of him.
"Mmhmm." Jens sighs. "I think you have a soft soul."
Lucas exhales sharply, his lips quirking into a smile.
"What makes you think that?" he asks. "I'm a badass, Jens."
Jens snickers.
"I'll also believe that. But it's the way you talk."
"The way I talk."
"Mmhmm. You have a soft voice. You talk about things like they're beautiful, no matter what you're talking about. You make everything sound perfect."
Lucas blinks at the ceiling.
"Oh."
"Like when you say my name," Jens says, and his voice sounds different. Softer. Realer.
"What do you mean?" Lucas asks quietly.
"You say my name differently than anyone else. People usually say it, and I don't think anything of it, but when you say it, it's... I don't know."
"How do I say it?"
"Dunno," Jens mumbles. "Like..." He's quiet for a second, taking a breath. "Like it's beautiful."
"It is," Lucas says.
"You think?"
"Mmhmm. I—" He stops himself, his face flushing again.
"You what?"
"Nothing."
"What is it?"
"Nothing, it was gonna make me sound crazy."
"I don't mind crazy," Jens says softly, and Lucas's chest aches.
He sighs, ceding.
"I researched your name, like the meaning. It's something I do a lot, it's just... I think it's cool. Names and their meanings."
"What does it mean?" Jens asks brightly.
"It's derived from Yochanan. Hebrew. Means 'Yahweh is great.'"
"Huh." Jens takes a breath. "That's cool."
"Mm."
"What's yours mean?"
"Uh." He closes his eyes again. A car drives past his building loudly, and he pauses until it's gone. "Bringer of light, or something. Latin, I think."
"That's accurate."
Lucas snorts, and opens his eyes just to roll them.
"You're such a flirt," he teases.
"Only with you, darling," Jens says sweetly, and Lucas scoffs, laughing quietly as his whole body is set alight.
"Stupid."
"What other names have you looked up? Who else?"
"Mm. I looked up Moyo's, but I don't remember its origin exactly. It's a surname in some tribe in Africa, I don't remember their name." He pauses. "It starts with an L, I think. Anyway, Moyo means like... life. I think."
"That's cool."
"I did Sander's, it was something about fighting. Or something. I don't remember."
"I wonder what Lotte's is."
"Oh, I should find that sometime. I bet it's something pretty."
"You're pretty," Jens mumbles.
Lucas snorts.
"Are you drunk or something?"
"I wish."
A laugh bursts out of Lucas.
"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asks, rolling onto his side, looking at his window, through the white blinds at the world. A bird flutters past outside.
"School. Then I might just... I don't know, go on a walk with Lotte. Maybe cook something."
"We can finish our essay."
"Mm, good idea." Jens sighs. "Ms Peeters is gonna love us."
"She is."
Jens takes a long deep breath, and Lucas curls in on himself, tucking his hand under his chin, listening intently to Jens's silence.
"Lucas," Jens says finally.
"Jens."
Jens is quiet again, and Lucas grins.
"Are you still alive?" he asks.
"Barely," Jens whispers.
"Jens..." Lucas whispers back.
He falls asleep with Jens's breath in his ear, and Jens's smile in his head.
- - -
Lucas is tired of adrenaline.
He's tired of his hands shaking, of his heart pounding, of his eyes stinging with unshed tears. God, he's tired of his stinging eyes. He's tired of being angry, of slamming doors and throwing things around his room. He's tired of white walls. And white sheets and the one, white blanket his father provided for him. He's tired of the smell of cigarette smoke. (And the smell of weed, though he supposes he can't complain much about that since it's his own. He tries to air his room out when he smokes, but it lingers.)
He's tired of searching boxes every time he needs something.
He's tired, and so fucking bored.
Of his days spent in classes, then on Youtube or Tumblr, his days spent staring out his window, wondering what it might be like if he knew Antwerp, if he were friends with it. If he knew it well enough to wander comfortably, to explore without worry.
He finds a few places, with the help of a map app on his phone, including a park, and the post office.
Which is where he drops a letter off, a letter he hides in his shirt when he leaves so his father doesn't see it, a letter addressed to his mother, lovingly decorated with doodled flowers, the I's dotted with little hearts, a small i love you on the flap of the envelope. There's a pit in his stomach when he goes back to his father's apartment, like his father is going to know what he's done, like he's going to be in trouble, but he doesn't care, doesn't care, doesn't care.
His father doesn't say anything when he comes back, just glances up from where he sits on the sofa, on the peeling fake leather that makes Lucas's skin crawl, the glow of his laptop lighting his face up. And Lucas walks right past him, wordlessly, shutting his bedroom door quietly.
He falls onto his bed, arms outstretched by his sides, staring at the ceiling again. (He wishes he could paint it, or find those cute glow-in-the-dark stars he's always loved. He wishes he could hang plants from the ceiling, or those rotating models of the planets. Anything.) He follows the cracks in the paint with his eyes, pretending they're constellations.
He plays his mother's voice in his head, closing his eyes. The last things she said before he left, her hand on his cheek as he cried.
Have patience, my love. It's not forever.
It already feels like it's been forever.
Lucas sleeps through his morning class one day, waking up to the chirping of birds and the sun coming through his window. The light isn't as bright as it usually is in the morning, and he blinks blearily before he hears his alarm, that fucking infernal musical chiming that drives him crazy, and he throws his hand to his phone, turning it off while he squeezes his eyes shut. He groans when he sits up, twisting his back and reaching for his phone again to check the time.
"Shit," he curses quietly, checking again. His heart pounds in his chest anxiously, and he grabs his laptop from where it's laying on the ground next to his bed, fumbling with it before he drops it in front of himself, opening it and rushing, clicking, scrolling, until the cursor hovers over JOIN MEETING.
He stops, staring at the little hand, at the letters that lose their meaning as he stares. And stares. Until his lips pursed and he slides the cursor away, to the red X in the top right corner.
Then he pushes his laptop away, to the foot of his bed, and he falls back asleep.
- - -
"Hey."
"Hey. What's up?"
"Mm. Skipped today."
"All your classes?"
"Mmhmm."
"Okay, power move. Won't you get in trouble or something?"
"I emailed all my teachers that my internet wasn't working."
"Oh, smart."
"Yeah, I'm a genius."
"Humble."
"Mmhmm."
"Hey, did Peeters send you an email about our essay?"
"Uh, yeah, but I didn't read it. I just saw it in my inbox. Why?"
"She loved it."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Don't know how to tell her that you really wrote everything and I was just... moral support."
"Don't tell her. The essay was your idea anyway, we had equal parts."
"Mm, I'm not sure if that's fair."
"I think it's fair. It's fair."
"Yessir."
"How's Lotte?"
"Good. Lotte, say hi."
"Hiiiii!"
"Hi, Lotte!"
"Lucas says hi. ...Yeah, that Lucas."
"Which Lucas am I?"
"The one that draws. You're the only Lucas, actually, but she's not good with names."
"Ah."
"Anyway. The essay was good, Lucas."
"Mm."
"I know you don't think it was."
"...Mm."
"But it was."
"I guess I'll believe you."
"You guess. What else is going on?"
"...Sent my mom a letter."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah. My dad doesn't know."
"That's good, right?"
"Yeah, I just need to make sure that he doesn't see the letter if Mom writes back."
"Hm."
"Hm."
"She could write them to my address."
"...What?"
"If you're worried about your dad seeing them, she can send them here, and I can keep them and give them to you. Especially because we're gonna be able to actually see each other pretty soon."
"...Oh."
"If that's cool with you."
"Yeah, no, I just– Thank you."
"'Course."
"So."
"So."
"What are we doing when we meet up in person?"
"I think some, like, chip shops might be open. And there are some places we can just walk."
"..."
"Okay?"
"Yeah, I'm just... I'm excited."
"...Me too."
- - -
The front door shuts loudly and Lucas huffs, inhaling deeply and exhaling sharply as his father walks into the living room, a plastic bag in his hand, his button down shirt looking rumpled and disheveled. Lucas raises an eyebrow, and his father makes a face, seemingly without meaning too, the subtle curl of his lip so slight that Lucas almost doesn't notice it. Lucas reaches to shut his laptop just as his father reaches into the plastic bag, pulling out a bag of crisps and tossing them to Lucas, who manages to catch them before they can land on the sofa.
"Got that for you," his dad says, his voice rough, and he tosses his car keys onto the kitchen counter loudly.
"Thanks," Lucas grumbles begrudgingly, getting up from where he's sitting on the floor.
"What are you doing?"
Lucas pauses on his way to his room, clutching the crisps in the same hand that holds his laptop, his other hand on the doorknob of the living room. Anger flashes in his chest at his father's tone, so light and normal. What a fucking liar.
"Was gonna Skype my friends," he says. "I finished my homework and everything."
He just waves his hand dismissively, already looking down at his phone like Lucas isn't there at all. There it is.
Lucas nods, swinging the door open.
He looks down at the crisps as he makes his way to his room (his box). Salt and vinegar. He wonders if his father knows they're his favourite or if he just grabbed them randomly.
He has to wait a few minutes before Kes calls.
"Hey," he says, sitting with his legs crossed, trying to open the bag of crisps quietly.
"HEY."
Lucas laughs, startled, and he leans forward to turn down the volume of his laptop, already glancing up at the door.
"How are you?" he asks politely, the bag finally opening, and he reaches in and stuffs a crisp in his mouth ignoring the crumbs that fall.
"I'm so sick of online school, bro. It's ridiculous, how the fuck am I expected to focus the whole time?"
Lucas shrugs, looking him over in his screen. There's a glare from the sun hiding part of his face, and Lucas shifts the laptop, crunching.
"I actually don't mind online school that much," he says lightly, looking at him. His hair is longer, hanging down near his shoulders, and it looks like he hasn't shaved in a while. "Are you growing a beard?"
"You're insane. And no, I just got lazy, I'll shave later."
"It's nice to not have to be around people all day," Lucas says, shrugging again. "I do kind of miss people, but..."
"Well, damn, I miss you too, I guess," Kes says sarcastically, and Lucas laughs again.
"Where's Jayden? I thought he was joining us."
"He probably forgot his password or something," Kes says, lifting his phone. "So you make any new best friends?"
Lucas sighs heavily.
"You're dramatic."
"Please tell me you have friends," Kes says, dropping his phone and looking at him. "You need friends."
"I have friends," Lucas says, eating another crisp. "I swear."
"Who?"
"Jens," Lucas answers too quickly, willing his face not to burn. "Uh, Moyo. Sander."
"Well, you're just a little social butterfly, aren't you?"
"Uh, I met everyone through Jens. So no, not really."
Before Kes can say anything, Jayden appears next to him, his screen moving like he's carrying his laptop as he walks, and Lucas realises he is when Jayden appears to toss his laptop onto his bed before jumping next to it.
"Boys," he says curtly.
"Jayden."
"What's up?" Jayden asks, grinning, and Lucas feels his heart swell, missing the two of them so much he aches.
"We're talking about Lucas's friends," Kes says.
"You made friends?"
Maybe he doesn't miss them as much as he thought.
Lucas tosses a hand, rolling his eyes.
"Yes."
"What about girls?" Jayden asks. (Of course. It was expected, Lucas supposes as he sighs and looks past the screen.) "You got a girlfriend yet?"
"It's only been a few weeks," Kes says. "Give him time."
Lucas just rolls his eyes.
"Got your eyes on anyone, Luc?" Jayden asks, making a face at him, his his brows raised, his eyes wide.
Lucas inhales deeply, considering.
He could tell them.
About Jens. And about how he's gay and how he always has been, in spite of all the girls he's kissed at parties, the girls he's made out with even in school (just so people would see him: Perfect, Straight Lucas, who had girls wrapped around his finger even though he wanted nothing to do with them.). He could tell them about how Jens makes him feel, about how Jens calls him Lu even though no one else ever has. How Jens talks quietly to him and always asks if he's okay. How Jens makes promises that make the weights on Lucas's shoulders feel lighter.
"No."
"That... was a long hesitation."
"No, it wasn't."
"Oh my god, you totally do," Jayden says excitedly. "Who is it?"
"It's no one," Lucas says, his face burning as Jens's face flashes in his mind.
"You're a shit liar," Kes says dryly, a shit-eating grin already crawling across his face. "Who is she? Is she cute?"
she
Lucas's chest tightens.
And he cedes, deciding to prove how good of a liar he is. How good of a liar he's always been.
"Of course she's cute."
They both coo at him, and he burns.
"And?"
"And it just..." He takes a breath, shrugging. "It wouldn't work."
"Why not?" Jayden asks.
Lucas hesitates again, shrugging, speechless.
"I..." He stops thinking. "Her name's Luca."
There's a pause, and then they both erupt in laughter, so loud and carefree that it manages to make Lucas laugh, too, even with the tight coil in his chest.
"Oh my god."
"Only you would fall for someone with your name," Kes says, still laughing so hard his eyes are closed.
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know," Kes says as Jayden continues to laugh. "It just feels on brand for you."
"...Fuck you."
"What do you like about her?" Jayden asks, finally sobering up enough to speak.
"I..." He shrugs, thinking hard, wondering if he's talking about Luca, actually Luca, or Jens. "She's funny."
"You're so boring."
"She is," Lucas says defensively. "She's actually fun to talk to, unlike you people."
"You're not crushing on us, Luc," Kes says, and Lucas almost wants to laugh at the crushing irony of it.
"Whatever, man," he mutters, looking at the crisp in his hand before he tosses it back into the bag, his appetite gone.
"Aw, Luc, don't be mad at us," Jayden whines. The nickname sends something down his spine, something that's almost a chill but not quite, and he gets even more mad. Mostly at himself. There's no way for Jayden to know what Lucas's own name makes him feel. But Luc feels wrong. "Tell us about her."
Lucas sighs again, trying to tamper down the anger in his chest.
"There's nothing to tell," he says, shrugging. "I just think she's cute, is all."
"And funny," Jayden says.
"And funny."
Kes lets out an annoyed, "Ugh," and he shifts where he's sitting at his desk, setting his feet up on it.
"Fine," he says. "Nothing to say about Luca. Tell us about your friends. Who's Jens?"
Lucas's chest tightens again, and he feels ready to burst, a fist squeezing his blanket tightly, clearing his throat.
"He, uh— He was my first friend."
"How'd you meet him?" Jayden asks, lighting a cigarette.
"We have literature together, and our teacher sent me a list of my classmates' emails. I recognised him from class and tried my luck."
"Is he cool?" Kes asks.
"Yeah," Lucas says, annoyed with how soft his own voice is. "Yeah, he's cool," he says, hardening his voice. "I met some of his friends, they're cool too. I think you'd like them."
He wants to stop thinking about him. He wants to stop worrying about how hot his face is, if the guys can tell. He wishes he actually did have a crush on Luca.
Fuck, Luca.
A knot forms in his stomach, and he flips his phone over next to him, like he's expecting a text from her, like she already knows how he's using her to keep up his façade of Perfect, Straight Lucas.
He'll tell her after they hang up. He has to. Or the knot will stay.
"What's going on with you guys?" he asks, looking away from his phone. Jayden blows out smoke, hiding his face for a second, and Kes gives him a shrug.
"Not much at all, really," he says. "School. Homework. Projects and shit."
"I miss parties," Jayden says.
Kes sighs in agreement, like he's swooning.
"Yeah," Lucas mutters, lying again. "The world feels so quiet now."
The tone shifts, and Kes's face falls as Jayden nods sombrely, taking a drag off his cigarette.
"When are you gonna be able to go out?" Kes asks after a quiet second.
"Two weeks," Lucas answers quickly. "Counting down the minutes."
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know. Jens is taking me to some park or something so we can stay distanced."
"Jens..." Jayden repeats. "Is he your new best friend? Are you replacing us with him?"
"If you keep acting like this, yes."
"Wow."
Lucas longs to tell them. Everything.
I have an agonising, debilitating crush on Jens. He's the prettiest person I've ever seen in my life, and I could spend the rest of my life putting his face on paper and canvases. I've fallen asleep listening to him breathe, and I'd do it every night for the rest of my life if I could. Lucas's chest tightens again, and he feels ready to burst, a fist squeezing his blanket tightly, clearing his throat.
But he doesn't. Maybe eventually. But not now.
Not soon.
- - -
He opens Luca's Instagram almost as soon as he and the guys hang up, his laughter at their obnoxious goodbyes almost dying in his throat. He scrolls for a second, through the memes and silly selfies she's posted, wishing and wishing and wishing he could just like her. The way he's supposed to. He wishes he could like anyone the way he's supposed to.
He opens a direct message to her and hesitates, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard aimlessly.
He types hello, before deleting it, furrowing his brows. They're friends, not colleagues.
hey
He stops, staring at the blinking blue cursor, lifting his hand and biting the skin around the nail of his thumb, not even noticing how it hurts.
Fuck it.
He huffs and drops his hands, moving so his back is to the wall, his legs bent in front of him before he starts to type.
hey this is really random but i felt like i had to tell you
i was skyping some friends from utrecht and they started pestering me about whether or not i had a girlfriend or liked any girls and i started making shit up because i'm not ready to tell them i'm gay
but i told them it wouldn't work out (obviously) and they asked why and i panicked and said it's because her name is luca
so if you get some random guys following you on instagram i apologise in advance
He hits send before he can change his mind, turning his phone off and tossing it to the other side of his bed. Leaning back against the wall, he pulls his knees up to his chest, wrapping an arm around them as he bites around his nail again anxiously.
That's two people now. Already. Of all the people he knows, of all the people that were never supposed to know. (Not counting the boys he'd met online, the boys who only knew him by his middle name, the boys that just gave him a Look, that murmured their names for confirmation, that made him moan and come, that he never saw again. The boys he never wanted to see again.)
Two.
Jens, who Lucas doesn't really mind knowing, surprisingly. Had Kes found out when Lucas was gay while Lucas was in love with him (not that Lucas is in love with Jens. Yet.), Lucas would have run away and changed his name. But Jens...
Lucas would tell him anything.
Except the obvious.
And Luca.
Lucas takes a deep, shaking breath, blinking his stinging eyes.
He's scared to pick his phone back up, even just to scroll through memes or turn some music on. (With headphones, of course. Can't risk bothering his father.) He stays there, against the wall, biting his nails, picking the skin of his lips until he tastes blood. He curses softly, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth over and over until it stops coming away spotted with red.
He only works up the nerve to finally pick up his phone, crawling far enough to get it before falling back against the wall, when the sunlight dims, the light in his room a faint gray. He scims the few notifications he missed, some texts from Jens that make his heart flutter, one from Sander, a notification from Twitter, until he finally opens Instagram.
There are three new messages from Luca, and Lucas drops his phone, rubbing his face harshly, groaning quietly. He takes another deep breath before opening them.
HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH
Lucas blinks.
this is the best thing that's ever happened to me
Lucas's mouth starts to curve into a confused smile, his brows furrowing.
don't even worry about it luc
He drops his phone again when the words start to blur, his eyes stinging. He swallows thickly, pressing off his lips together and rubbing a hand over his face. It's fine. He types his response with shaking fingers.
oh my god thank you so much i'm so sorry
He wipes under his eyes while she types, waiting, until a keyboard smash appears, soon followed by it's totally okay i understand. As he's contemplating how to respond, she texts again.
so no one else knows??
which is fine
Lucas scoffs lightly, smiling, leaning back.
jens does
but other than the two of you no
Two.
Two people know the thing that Lucas kept so carefully hidden for years, the thing he kept locked away until he was completely alone, until he could open the apps he kept hidden in his phone, until he could let himself do what he wanted, even though he always felt guilty. Wrong. Dirty. And now two people know, and the world isn't ending. He isn't dying.
this is going to sound so sarcastic but i actually mean this completely
i am so honoured you trust me
He reads over the words again, smiling and smiling and smiling, and he barely even notices when a door shuts loudly in the hallway.
and obv i won't tell anyone ever
unless you want me to but i'm assuming you don't want me to so my lips are 🤐
He laughs lightly when he responds.
currently don't want you to but i'll let you know if that changes
She responds with a few smiling emojis, and then so do you have a boyfriend 👀.
i absolutely do not
He doesn't say anything about how much he longs to say yes. (God, it would be amazing. Especially if it was Jens. Lucas could die happy.)
why don't i believe you, she responds, along with a gif of a person narrowing his eyes, and Lucas laughs again.
you may just be a distrustful person
that i absolutely am not i just think you're lying
Lucas stretches out onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows as he responds with a screenshot of the definition of distrustful.
ok fair enough maybe so
but luc this means we can gush about boys together
oh my god you're right
you start
He turns around to face the wall, pulling the bag of vinegar crisps closer and opening them while she types, and he has to pause to laugh before he can shove one in his mouth.
uhhhhh
men
i agree, he types with one hand. Five minutes later, she's sending him pictures of celebrities, some men he recognises and some he doesn't, and asking him to rate them on scales of one to ten. There are many sevens, and she tells him his standards are too high. (He doesn't tell her that his standards are so low that he fell for Jens after he was nice.)
- - -
He does actually count down the minutes.
If he had a calendar in his room he'd cross each day off one by one, every night before he goes to lay in bed (he doesn't sleep much). He'd have The Day circled with a red marker, over and over until a spiral forms around the box. Maybe he'd mark The Day with a heart.
He's Facetiming Jens when Jens tells him the plan, and Lucas almost has to turn his phone away from his face to hide how unbearably excited he is.
"Noon," Jens is saying. "I'll send you the location. Be there."
Lucas is already beaming, but he shivers at Jens's tone.
Be there.
Lucas would rather walk barefoot across broken glass than miss it.
"I'll be there," he says, and Jens is smiling at him.
"Are you excited?"
Lucas breaks.
"I'm so excited, Jens, I'm so fucking excited," he says quickly, watching as Jens's smile grows. "I'm so ready to get out of this apartment and actually go places, I'm so ready to actually see your face."
"I'm so ready to see your face too."
"Where are we gonna go?" Lucas asks. "What are we gonna do?"
Jens pauses, still smiling, and Lucas thinks for a second that the connection is bad, that he's frozen, but then Jens blinks and licks his lips, looking away from his phone. (Lucas aches.)
"Uh, I found some place that's open, a local sandwich place. Their seating isn't open obviously, but it's close to a park we can eat at."
"Like a picnic?"
"Yeah, exactly."
"Okay, that sounds good." Anything would sound good right now. Jens could suggest sitting on a dumpster for an hour and Lucas would still be so excited he's nearly vibrating out of his skin. "What else?"
"A safely socially distanced walk to a skate park," Jens says like he's reading off a roster. "And," he continues, his voice softening. "We can stay out as long as you want."
Lucas's throat tightens.
"Okay."
His eyes sting and he swallows, looking away and hoping no tears spill over.
"What is Lotte going to do?" he asks.
"Uh, I'm taking her to our dad's place," Jens says, smiling and looking across the room. "She's gonna have a sleepover with our stepmom."
Lucas grins.
"Is she excited?"
"God, so excited. I thought about not telling her until the night before because I knew she'd be excited, and I should have done that. She won't shut up about it."
Lucas laughs when he hears her high voice say, "Don't be mean!"
"Hi, Lotte!" he calls, beaming when she calls, "Hi-i-i!" in response.
"I'm not being mean," Jens says, and the camera drops slightly, just so Lucas can see the line of his jaw. "It's just facts. You won't shut up about it."
"I'm excited," she defends, and Jens makes a face at her, but Lucas can see the fond shine in his eyes.
"She's excited, Jens," Lucas agrees sassily. "Leave her alone."
Jens just turns the face to him, and Lucas giggles.
"Lotte, what are you doing with your stepmom?" Lucas asks loudly, and Jens looks up, smiling softly, his eyes following Lotte until Lucas can see her, pushing Jens and taking her place in his lap as she takes the phone from him. Lucas wants to melt with how precious they look, Lotte in Jens's lap, her hair tied up in messy pigtails, Jens's hand carefully moving strands out of her face. She doesn't seem to notice.
"She's going to paint my nails, because Jens can't paint my nails," she says, and Jens's jaw drops in an offended expression.
"I can paint your—"
"Shush," she interrupts, holding a hand up, and Lucas can see the resemblance in her sassy expression and gesture, in the way she furrows her brows. "Jens can't paint my nails."
"I believe you."
"Wow," Jens says loudly from behind Lotte's head.
"And we're going to watch movies, and eat popcorn," Lotte continues. "She makes the best popcorn. Do you like popcorn?"
"I do," Lucas says, and his cheeks are beginning to hurt with how much he's smiling.
"You should have popcorn."
"I don't have any," Lucas says, exaggerating his sadness. "Especially not your stepmom's popcorn."
"Jens, you have to make Lucas popcorn," Lotte demands, turning to face Jens, who leans around to look at Lucas, raising his hand.
"I swear I'll make you popcorn one of these days," he says. "I'll get her recipe."
"Lucas, can we draw together?" Lotte asks, and Lucas wants to cry. "When you can come over?"
Lucas sees Jens's face soften behind her, sees his smile fade as his eyes shine, like he's feeling exactly what Lucas is feeling.
"Yeah," Lucas says lightly, trying not to let his voice break. "Yeah, that sounds fun."
He doesn't let himself cry until he and Jens hang up with soft I'll talk to you laters and a nearly instinctive love you that Lucas manages to hold back. His face burns while he presses the hang up button, and then his eyes widen as he drops his phone and runs his hands across his face, squishing his cheeks as he looks up at the ceiling.
Noon.
Be there.
I'll be there.
- - -
Jens's voice is a safe place.
Lucas find himself closing his eyes when he listens to him, especially late at night, when his voice is the only sound that he can hear, over the quiet rushing sounds of cars in the distance, when Jens's voice is right in his ear like he's right next to Lucas, whispering to him. It's the only thing that's real at times like these, when Lucas is so far away from home, from everything and everywhere he's ever known. And he believes it's real; there's not a part of his mind that doubts it, that questions it.
It's a beautiful voice, Lucas thinks. Always perfectly soft, perfectly gentle. Low in his throat, rumbling and steady.
Beautiful.
"You still there?"
Lucas opens his eyes, looking out at the city. He's sitting in front of his window, on the creaky wooden floor, his forehead pressed to the cold glass.
"Yeah," he breathes, half-asleep. "I like listening to you."
He's too tired to even be embarrassed about it, listening intently as Jens sighs softly.
"I like listening to you too," he whispers.
"When I say your name," Lucas thinks, saying it out loud, deliriously smiling at the window, his breath fogging the glass.
"...Yeah."
"Jens."
Jens is quiet for a second, and Lucas smiles softly at the window.
"...Yeah," Jens breathes.
"Do you have any nicknames?" Lucas asks curiously, his eyes raising above the city rooftops. He wonders if Jens is looking at the same sky. He doesn't ask.
"No," Jens says. "My name's not really a nick-nameable one."
Lucas exhales sharply, too sleepy to actually laugh.
"Bet we could come up with one."
"Many have tried," Jens says. "But you're welcome to."
"Hm." He thinks, his brows furrowing slightly, but his sleep-drunk mind is useless, and he gives up easily. "Nevermind, you're right."
Jens snickers childishly.
"Told you."
"I like what you call me."
"Lu?" He whispers it.
"Mmhmm. No one else calls me that."
"Do people call you Luc?"
"Yeah." He sighs softly. "Think it'd be weird if anyone else called me Lu."
"I don't... I don't think anyone can say my name the way you say my name."
"I'm gonna develop a superiority complex if you keep this up."
Jena laughs lightly, his breath huffing into his microphone, and Lucas's nose scrunches as he smiles.
"You deserve a superiority complex," Jens says. "You're, like... the best."
Lucas's brows furrow and he opens his eyes, looking at the sky.
"You're the only person ever," Jens continues, and Lucas snorts.
"You need to go to sleep," he says softly. "You're delirious."
"Mm-mm," Jens argues. "I'm always right."
"You thought George was Daisy's husband."
"I— Listen."
Lucas doesn't listen, giggling and squeezing his eyes shut as Jens defends himself. ("That was one time!")
"You need to go to sleep," Jens grumbles when Lucas's giggles subside.
"Mm. Probably."
"Can I call you after class tomorrow?" Jens asks quietly. Lucas bites his lip.
"Yeah, of course," he says. "Please."
"You know what I realised today?" Jens asks, changing the subject, and Lucas smiles again, in no hurry to hang up, even if Jens is borderline delirious, even if Lucas feels minutes away from falling asleep against his window.
"Hm?"
"We've never met in person."
"...Uh-huh."
"Like, I've never— I've never seen your actual face. Just a digital, pixelated version."
"Yeah, I... forgot about that." Even though he thinks about it every day, the countdown.
"Mmhmm. I feel like I've known you my whole life," Jens says smoothly, so easily Lucas wonders if they have known each other all this time. So easily Lucas knows Jens doesn't know how Lucas feels.
"Maybe we've met before," Lucas mumbles, his forehead to the window "And we just don't remember."
"No," Jens says softly. "I'd remember you."
"You think?"
"Mm. Those fuckin' eyes."
Lucas's face heats, and he suppresses a smile, snorting again.
"That sounds like you hate my eyes."
"I love your eyes. Fucking gorgeous."
Lucas covers his face with his free hand, pressing against his hot cheeks and pinching the bridge of his nose as he grins.
"Can't wait to see them in person," Jens adds, a smile in his voice like he knows what Lucas's face looks like right now. "Six feet away, of course."
"Of course," Lucas repeats. "Gotta be safe."
Even though he wishes they didn't have to. He wishes he could greet Jens with a hug that lasts long enough that Lucas stops aching. (He also wishes he could kiss him. But he pushes that down down down so it doesn't bubble over.)
"Maybe we met in another life," Jens says, his voice followed by a rustling sound.
"Like a past life?"
"Yeah, that."
"Yeah, that could make sense," Lucas says. "Who were we?"
Jens hums thoughtfully, quietly.
"You were a painter," he says, like it's obvious. "You've always been an artist."
It makes Lucas's throat tighten, and he swallows, furrowing his brows, trying not to make a noise. Listening. As intently as he possibly can.
"We met by accident," Jens continues. "Not because of a pandemic, but because... Because we bumped into each other in town."
"Literally?"
"Yeah, I walked directly into you."
Lucas scoffs, scrunching his nose as he laughs.
"Of course you did."
"And you were carrying some sketchbooks, and you dropped them, so I helped you pick them up."
"Nice of you."
"Mmhmm. And I got distracted by how good your art was, so..." He trails off.
"So..." Lucas prompts, smiling.
"Hold on, I'm thinking," Jens says, his voice smiling again. "So I... asked if you like coffee. And you said..."
"...Yes."
"Great, you know your lines," Jens says, moving on even as Lucas giggles lightly. "So we got coffee, and... there we go. Best friends."
Lucas rolls his eyes to the ceiling, shaking his head and smiling. (Still smiling. Always smiling with Jens.) It doesn't seem to even occur to Jens how painfully romantic he is, and Lucas aches with how painfully oblivious he is.
"What year was this?" Lucas asks, listening to Jens's Uhhh....
"Seven— No, uh—"
"Seventeen? Seventeen what?" Lucas asks, laughing as Jens defends himself.
"No, not that long ago. I don't know," he says, and Lucas can almost imagine him shrugging. "Let's say... early nineteen hundreds. You sharpened your pencils with a knife," he adds. "You looked badass."
Lucas snickers, imagining it.
"So it's been about a hundred years," he says, and Jens sighs.
"Yeah, give or take." Jens is quiet for a second and Lucas sits up straight, stretching his back and looking at the sky. He can't see the stars from here. He doesn't mind. "I missed you."
Lucas aches.
"Kinda sad," he says. "If we haven't seen each other in a century."
"Maybe we hung out sometime in the eighties," Jens suggests. "Got high in the locker room at school. I did look out while you vandalised something."
"That sounds fun."
"Mm."
"What about, like... alternate universes," Lucas asks softly.
"Like the multiverse theory?"
"Mmhmm."
"What about it?"
"I don't know," Lucas says, shrugging even though Jens can't see him. His cheeks flush. "Maybe in another universe we're hanging out in person."
Jens sighs slowly.
"In another universe," he says finally, "we met in an actual classroom."
"Mm. We worked on our essay while sitting next to each other."
"We've already gotten drunk together."
Lucas grins.
"We've gotten high in the locker room at school."
A little laugh bursts out of Jens, with a "Yeah."
Lucas sighs.
In another universe, he's kissed Jens.
In another universe, Jens kissed him back.
"We should probably go to sleep, shouldn't we?" Jens says softly, and Lucas closes his eyes.
"Probably," he whispers back.
"I'll Facetime you tomorrow," Jens tells him, and Lucas nods before he remembers Jens isn't actually there.
"Yeah," he says. "Please."
"Good night," Jens whispers. "I'll miss you."
"You're ridiculous."
"You're not gonna miss me?" Jens asks playfully, his voice cracking, and Lucas scoffs, shaking his head again.
"Of course I am," he says truthfully. "But I know you're gonna be back to annoying me in a few hours."
"You know it, baby."
"You're a very annoying person."
"I am aware."
"Good night, Jens."
Jens sighs heavily, wistfully.
"Good night, Lu."
- - -
Lucas wakes to his bedroom door slamming open, hard enough that he could swear he hears the wall break under the doorknob before his startled Fuck!
He scrambles to sit up, pushing his hair out of his face as he looks at the door, where his father stands. It's colder outside his blanket, the early sunlight on his bare arms.
"What the hell." He pushes his blanket back angrily, breathing heavily, his heart pounding. He looks up at him, at his combed back hair and freckles that match Lucas's, at his ironed slacks and buttoned up shirt. At the white paper in his hand. "Why."
"What the hell is this?"
Lucas looks at the paper he's waving in his hand, squinting.
"I don't know?"
His dad holds it out in front of himself, and Lucas sees that it's an envelope. His stomach drops.
"Tess van der Heijden," he reads, and Lucas sits up, kneels on his mattress like he's about to snatch it from his hands. "Van der Hoeven Clin—"
"Stop—"
"I fucking told you not to talk to her."
"You told me I can't call her," Lucas says firmly, standing up, eye level with him. "You told me I could write her a letter, and you told me to wouldn't send it if I did."
"I didn't say that—"
"You didn't have to," Lucas says coldly. "Just because you hate her doesn't mean—"
"You disobeyed me—"
"Why the fuck should I obey you?" Lucas yells, his body running hot with adrenaline.
"I'm your father!"
His voice meets Lucas's in the air, red with anger, with rage.
"No, you're fucking not," Lucas shouts, pointing at him loosely like he's trying to shoot him with his fingers. "Fathers are present, at least. You fucking weren't." Lucas takes a shaky breath, his pulse in his ears. "I don't remember a single birthday you were there for," he says, softer, watching the envelope shake, tremble. "I don't remember a single gift I ever got from you that wasn't child support money."
Lucas stares at him, dropping his hand, taking a breath, trembling head to foot.
"I gave you a home."
Lucas almost laughs, scoffing dryly, and giving him a cold smile.
"No, you didn't." He lifts a hand, gesturing to the boxes, the stacks and stacks of cardboard, to the mattress on the floor, the bare walls. "Look. This isn't my home. You won't even let me put photos on the walls."
"You're so fucking dramatic."
"Yeah, I'm dramatic," Lucas says nodding, his throat tightening. "I'm dramatic, and you're not, right? You're not dramatic for losing your shit over me trying to maintain communication with my mother."
"I see another one of these—" He waves the envelope between them, but doesn't finish, shaking his head, his lips pursed, nostrils flared. (Lucas hopes he doesn't look like him when he's angry.) The envelope is thrown to the floor, and Lucas's eyes follow it, looking at the careful swoops of his mother's handwriting. Narrow and slanted, like it belongs in a journal in a fantasy movie.
He only looks up when his door slams shut, staring at the white, worn wood.
He's still shaking when he sits back down on his bed, against the wall, holding the envelope and looking at the way his mother writes his name. The swoop of the L underlines the rest of his first name, both the Ds taller than the rest of the letters, swirling like the ink is still fluid on the paper. The letters feel nostalgic, like home. Like they're his. This name belongs to him.
He texts Jens before he opens the letter.
are you awake yet
Jens responds a minute later with a selfie, his face covered by Lotte's hair, and despite his blood rushing too fast, despite his hands still shaking, Lucas smiles.
lotte woke me up by jumping on top of me
so yes what's up
He calls him, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes.
"Hey."
"Hey, you okay?"
"Yeah, I just..." He pauses, swallowing, lowering his voice. "Did you— Did you mean it? That I can use your address to write my mom?"
There's a pause, and a soft breath followed by a distant, high-pitched whine.
"Sorry, Lotte," Jens says gently. "Yeah, of course I did. Is everything okay?"
"My—My mom wrote back," Lucas says quietly. "My dad found it."
"Shit."
"Yeah."
"Yeah, of course," Jens says softly. (Softly, softly, softly.) "I'll text it to you," he adds. "And let my mom know so she doesn't question why we have some strange boy's mail."
Lucas laughs lightly, squeezing his eyes shut as they begin to sting.
"How would she know I'm strange?"
"Some kid's mail shows up at our house? Of course he's strange."
Lucas smiles at the envelope.
"Thanks, Jens."
"Of course, Lu. I got you."
Lucas opens the letter while he waits for his first class, knees pulled to his chest, reading and reading and reading, about her new friends, about the kind nurses that bring her her medication, about the therapist and her funny glasses (one frame is circular, the other square), about the kind, tattoo-covered man that prays with her. She misses coffee, but the herbal tea available is still nice. (Her favourite is the chamomile, but she also likes the decaf black tea. With lots of sugar.)
On his phone, he takes note of what he needs to tell her in his next letter: how his classes are going, what art he's done recently (and maybe he'll include a drawing or two), what else he's been up to (maybe he'll make something up), Jens. He'd mentioned him in the first letter, briefly. Just a casual I have a new friend, a short description of how nice Jens is. Maybe he'll tell her more next time. Maybe he'll tell her About Him.
He needs an envelope first. And maybe an actual card or something, some kind of paper that isn't torn from one of his sketchbooks.
He doesn't tell his father where he's going when he leaves, a white mask covering his face, a nearly empty book bag on his back, a lanyard with keys in his pocket. He finds a nice card in a stationary store, one with metallic constellations that she might like. (Maybe she'll set it up next to her bed. Maybe the sunlight will make the stars shine at her.) He fills the card out on the steps of the post office, using his knees to write as neatly as possible, slowly, ignoring every person that passes him, every eye that stares at him. The envelope is just white, and he stares at it for a second before setting it on his knee, carefully writing his mother's and Jens's addresses (both of which he has memorised) in a script font before he draws vines, swirling around the words with tiny flowers and leaves.
He looks over Jens's address one more time, eyes flicking back and forth between the envelope and his phone, before he sends it.
And then he sends Jens a cheesy selfie, complete with an awkward grin and a thumbs up, with letter sent god bless. (Jens responds with a blurry selfie with Lotte, her lunging across him to get in the shot.)
"I appreciate the selfie," Lucas tells him that night after Lotte is in bed, his phone to his ear, and he can almost sense Jens smile. "Quite lovely."
"You're a dick," Jens says, and Lucas grins, thinking about the face Jens is making in the picture, his wide, panicked eyes and grimace.
"I'm your favourite dick." He pauses, tilting his head, hearing a sharp laugh bursts out of Jens. "That was an odd sentence to say out loud, and I definitely didn't think it through, but I'm not gonna take it back."
"That's okay," Jens says. "You're definitely my favourite dick."
"Hm. Also an odd sentence to hear."
"Agreed."
"Anyway. What's up."
"Mm." Jens sighs. Lucas closes his eyes. "Submitted a chemistry assignment. Put Lotte to bed. I'm now staring at the ceiling."
"Sounds like a vibe."
"Wish I had weed."
"Mm." Lucas rolls onto his side, curling into a ball. "I ran out two weeks ago."
"Ugh. I haven't had any since before lockdown. I don't smoke at home."
"We'll get high together eventually."
"That'll be fun."
"Mmhmm."
"Anyway," Jens says lightly, like just thinking about it has him relaxed. "What's up with you?"
"Not much," he says softly.
"Your dad's been cool today?"
"Cool..." Lucas repeats. "Cool?"
"Okay, that's a no. Slightly better than usual?"
"He didn't talk to me. So yeah."
"Ah, wonderful."
"Do you like your dad?" Lucas asks curiously.
"Eh. He's not my best friend," Jens says. There's a distant click from his end and Lucas wonders if he's turned the
lights off. "He's not perfect. He tries, though."
"Is he nice?"
"Most of the time."
"What about your stepmom?"
"What about her?"
"Do you like her?"
"Yeah, she's cool."
"What's her name?" Lucas whispers, pulling his blanket up to his chin.
"Padma."
"Padma," Lucas says under his breath. "How long have they been together?"
"Uh, a while. They got together a little after Mom and Dad got divorced. It's actually, like..."
"Like..."
"I don't know, it's nice. Mom and Dad are like best friends. They basically just... established that they weren't in love anymore, and I think Dad and Padma fell in love before the divorce. We met Padma a little while after and she was... great."
"Great how?" Lucas asks, desperate for Jens to keep talking. His eyes have fallen shut, blocking what little light the window lets in. He doesn't exist.
"She was so nice. We met in a restaurant, and she'd brought little gifts for all of us. Earrings for Mom, which Dad helped pick out. A colouring book for Lotte. A phone case for me. It had smiley faces on it."
"That's actually adorable," Lucas says, giggling softly. "Oh my god."
"She talked with Lotte like it was the easiest thing in the world. When she and Dad moved in together they invited us over to watch a movie and Padma made popcorn."
"Ah," Lucas breathes. "The famous popcorn."
"Mmhmm."
"She and your mom like each other?"
"Mmhmm. Besties."
"Yeah?"
"Mm. Mom already liked her because Dad told her about her. They had a girls' day a while ago. Went and got their nails done together. They planned Lotte's birthday party together."
"That's so cute. Are they married?"
"No, not yet. Dad hasn't said anything about proposing yet, but I assume he'll do something cheesy with Lotte."
"I love your family."
"I'll share with you."
"Oh, thank you," Lucas murmurs, smiling to the darkness.
"What were you doing before I called?" Jens asks.
"Listening to music."
Pretending everything was fine, he doesn't add out loud, but Jens seems to get it anyway, because there's a silent pause before Jens asks gently—
"What's your favourite song?"
Lucas hums as he thinks, pressing his lips together.
"Don't really have one," he says finally. "I really like Mr Blue right now."
"Mr Blue," Jens repeats.
"Mhmm."
"Sing it for me."
Lucas snorts, rolling onto his back, almost shaking his head, his room is dark enough, and his mind is tired enough that he does.
"I'm Mr Blue," he sings softly, swaying his head in time with the music that isn't playing. "When you say you love me... Then prove it by going out on the sly...Proving your love isn't true." He pauses, listening as Jens takes a short breath like he's listening just as hard as Lucas is. "Call me Mr Blue," he finishes, singing almost under his breath, so softly he wonders if Jens can hear him at all.
"Sounds old," Jens says finally, and Lucas laughs, nodding even though Jens can't see him.
"Nineteen fifty-nine."
"Why do you know so many things?"
Lucas snorts, furrowing his brows.
"Just because I know more than you—"
"Woooooow."
"My brain is full of useless information," Lucas continues, ignoring him. "That's why I can't do math."
"Don't worry about it," Jens reassured him. "That's what I'm here for."
"And I'm here to write your essays."
"And yet we're both equally dumb."
"Yeah," Lucas agrees lightly. "Idiots in opposite directions." He basks in Jens's laughter like it's sunlight. (If he could hear sunlight, it would sound like Jens.)
"Two halves of the same brain cell," Jens adds, and Lucas rolls over, giggling into his pillow.
"Stupid," he mutters, still grinning, and Jens's laugh rings in his ear like a bell, rings in his head, echoing until Lucas doesn't think it'll ever fade away.
Jens is here to stay.
Lucas is okay with that.