Chapter Text
Jesper tells himself this is fine.
Fine. Easy. Casual.
All of them carefully stacked on top of one another strong enough to hold what’s happening between him and Wylan. They aren’t. But Jesper keeps using them anyway. Because if he stops and looks too long he’s not sure where it would fall apart first.
It started simple. It was simple. That’s the lie he keeps running to.
Late nights. Shared jokes. Wylan looking at him like he was worth paying attention to, and Jesper — being stupid — let himself lean into it.
“Don’t overthink it,” Jesper had said at the beginning, because he always says things like that when he’s the one overthinking everything.
And Wylan nodded. “Okay,” he’d said.
And Jesper had thought — good. Easy. Solved.
Except nothing about Wylan was ever easy once Jesper started paying more attention. Now it’s just routine; he shows up, Wylan lets him in, they talk, they don’t talk. They orbit each other like something gravitational is pulling them into the same space no matter how often Jesper tells himself it’s not supposed to mean anything.
Jesper doesn’t sleep over.
Except when he does.
Jesper doesn’t stay too long.
Except when he does.
Jesper doesn’t—
Yeah. That list has stopped being useful.
Tonight he doesn’t text. He never really does anymore. It feels wrong, sometimes, like he;s skipping a step in the process that only works because they both agreed not to address it. He knocks anyway. Two quick hits. A familiar rhythm. The door opens almost immediately.
Wylan.
Oversized sweater. Slightly messy hair. That look on his face that Jesper has started associating with quiet attention — like Wylan was already thinking about something and Jesper has just interrupted it.
Jesper leans against the door. “You always this eager to see me?”
Wylan sighs, but there's a hint of warmth to it. “You always this full of yourself?”
“Only when I’m right.”
“That would imply you’re right a lot.”
Jesper grins. “I am.”
Wylan steps aside.
He always does.
Inside it’s warm. Familiar. That’s the problem. Jesper drops his jacket somewhere he’ll forget later and walks further in, like he belongs here. Like this place has started absorbing him without permission. Jesper ignores the feeling. He’s good at ignoring things.
Wylan sits at his desk for a while, pretending to focus on something. Jesper sprawls out on the bed like it’s his own. Watching him instead of whatever's on his phone. He’s noticed he does that now. Watch Wylan more than anything else. He doesn’t do it on purpose. That’s another lie, he definitely does.
Wylan’s pen taps lightly against his lip as he watches something on his screen. His brow furrows slightly, Jesper likes that look. That’s… new. Or maybe it’s always been there and Jesper is just noticing things he shouldn’t.
“You’re staring,” Wylan says without looking back.
Jesper smiles immediately. “You like it.”
There's a pause, then Wylan turns slightly in his chair.
“Do I?”
Jesper shrugs. “You keep letting me do it.”
Wylan’s gaze holds his for a second too long. Something shifts. It always does. Jesper feels it in his chest like a change in pressure. “Come here,” he says, softer now.
Wylan doesn’t move immediately. He rarely does when Jesper says things like that. It’s always a choice. That’s something Jesper notices too. Too late, usually.
Then Wylan stands, crosses the room, and stops in front of him. Too close. Always too close. Jesper tilts his head up slightly. “You’re thinking again.”
Wylan hums. “So are you.”
“Yeah, but mine's entertaining.”
Wylan huffs a quiet laugh. “Debatable.”
Jesper reaches up, fingers brushing lightly at the edge of Wylan’s sleeve. “C’mere.”
This time Wylan doesn’t hesitate.
It starts slow, it usually does.
Wylan's hand comes up first, resting lightly at Jesper’s jaw like he’s checking he’s real. Like he’s still getting used to the fact he’s close enough to touch. Jesper leans into it before he can think better of it. That’s the problem, he never thinks better of it.
Their mouths meet like it’s something they’ve done a hundred times — because it is, because it’s been happening for months — but there’s still the pause before it settles, that moment where everything feels like it could tip one way or another.
Jesper pulls Wylan closer by the front of his shirt.
Wylan makes a quiet sound against his mouth.
Jesper pretends not to hear it. They move together with muscle memory. Jesper drags them atop the bed without breaking contact. Wylan follows like he always does. Jesper's hands are everywhere and nowhere at once, like he can’t quite tell what he’s allowed to hold on to. Wylan’s fingers tighten at his waist. That’s the cue where Jesper should say something smart, something to lighten the mood, something that keeps this from becoming more serious than what it already is.
He doesn’t.
Because Wylan is looking at him like that again.
Jesper feels exposed in his own skin.
“Hey,” Jesper breathes, softer than he really meant to.
Wylan hums in response.
Jesper swallows. “You ever think this is–”
He stops. Bad idea. Terrible idea.
Wylan pulls back slightly. “Is what?”
Jesper forces a grin. ‘Nothing.”
Wylan doesn’t look convinced. But he doesn’t push. They fall back into it easily. Hands, mouths, breaths catching in ways Jesper won’t read into right now. The kind of closeness that makes his thoughts start to blur at the edges.
At some point the room changes. Not physically. Just… everything narrows. Jesper’s pulse is too loud. The bed beneath them is suddenly too real, too solid, too much like something that means something.
Jesper kisses him harder.
Wylan answers immediately.
There’s no hesitation, that should mean something.
Jesper refuses to let it.
Wylan’s name almost leaves Jesper’s mouth. It catches somewhere behind his teeth, dissolves before it can become sound. Because talking would take this too far. So he doesn’t. Instead he leans in again — closer, moving so neither of them have to think this through. Wylan barely has the chance to react before Jesper’s taking control again. Deeper this time, more intent. Whatever pause had been there disappears under the press of it, under the way Jesper’s hand slides up along his jaw, anchoring him there.
Wylan exhales against his mouth – soft, surprised — and then he’s there, fully there, responding without hesitation.
That’s all Jesper needs.
He pulls him closer, fingers tightening in the fabric of Wylan’s shirt, grounding himself in something tangible instead of the thoughts threatening to catch up with him. Wylan follows the movement with him easily, like he always does, like there’s no question about it.
There never is.
Their rhythm finds itself again quickly, slipping back into something familiar. Jesper can feel the slight edge to it, the way it’s not quite as effortless as he pretends it is. Wylan’s hand slides to his wrist, stilling him for half a second. Jesper’s pulse jumps under his fingers.
He kisses him harder, chasing something he can’t name, something sitting just out of reach no matter how close Wylan is. Wylan shifts with him, steady and certain, hands moving like he knows exactly where to be, exactly how to hold on. It’s careful.
It’s always careful.
Jesper hates that he notices.
—
When it really hits him, it’s not during anything intense.
That would be easier.
Jesper could write that off – say it’s the adrenaline, the closeness, the way everything feels safer in those moments. He could pretend it doesn’t count.
But this?
This is worse.
It’s late afternoon. Which already makes things different. Jesper doesn’t usually come over this early – not on purpose. Their whole thing exists in the kind of hours where it’s easier to pretend nothing has consequences. Night makes everything quieter. Less real.
Daylight is… less forgiving.
He hadn’t planned to come. He’d been in the area, restless in that familiar way, thoughts moving too fast. His phone had been in his hand longer than he wanted to admit before he just— showed up.
Like always.
Wylan answers the door slower than usual. Jesper almost leaves. It’s stupid, the way his brain jumps there immediately – he’s busy, he doesn’t want you here, this isn’t part of the deal — all those thoughts stacking on top of each other before the door even opens.
Then it does.
Wylan blinks at him, clearly not expecting him, hair messier than usual, glasses slipping down his nose. ‘Jes–” He stops himself.
Jesper notices that. He notices everything lately.
He leans against the door frame, ignoring the way his chest just tightened.
“Miss me?” he says.
Wylan exhales something he hopes was a laugh. “It’s three in the afternoon.”
“And?”
“And you never show up this early, I’m shocked.”
Jesper shrugs. “Thought I’d try keeping things interesting.”
Wylan studies him a moment, before stepping aside. Jesper pretends the relief that just washed over him is normal. Inside, everything feels… quieter. There's no dim lights, no late night haze. Just sunlight creeping through the window, catching on dust in the air, settling across Wylan’s desk in soft lines. Jesper feels out of place in it.
“What were you doing?” Jesper asks.
Wylan gestures vaguely at the desk. ‘Work.”
“Thrilling.”
Wylan settles back into his chair, but he’s not really working anymore. Jesper can tell. HIs focus is off, attention drifting, like always seems to when Jesper’s around. Jesper really shouldn’t like that as much as he does.
He sticks his head over Wylan’s shoulder, “Hi.”
Wylan pauses. It’s less of a performance than usual. Jesper feels it – that moment of decision, that space where maybe Wylan might say no. He never does. But the thought he might scares him. It always has.
There’s something different about this, in daylight. Less like it’s habit, more like it’s a choice. Jesper reaches for him first, because that’s easier. Because this way he won’t have to think about it. Think about the way his hand catches at Wylan’s sleeve, or the way Wylan’s tugging him closer until there's no space left between them.
It’s all softer, slower. Jesper feels it. Wylan exhaling against him, not hesitating. Just softer. There’s less momentum than usual. Jesper tilts his head, pressing closer, and Wylan responds immediately, like he always does — but there’s something gentler in it, something that makes Jesper tighten up inside.
This isn’t rushed. It isn’t forced, or desperate. It’s… warm.
Jesper doesn’t know what to do with that.
Wylan moves to rest his hand lightly at the back of his neck. Not pulling, just there. Jesper leans into it before he can stop himself. They don’t rush straight to the bed like usual. That’s new too. They just stay there, far too close, crowding around Wylan’s desk. Kissing like nothing else could matter. Jesper slides his fingers from Wylan’s sleeve to his wrist, tracing lightly over the pulse. Checking for a moment that this is real.
He pulls back just slightly. Not enough to break it completely. Just enough to look at him, really, look at him. Wylan’s eyes are still half-lidded, unfocused in that way that makes him look softer, less guarded. Jesper feels something dangerous settle low in his chest.
This isn’t supposed to feel like this.
Because this – this quiet, this ease, this wanting to stay – this isn’t part of their system. This isn’t casual. Casual doesn’t look like Wylan standing here in the middle of the afternoon, not pulling away, not rushing, just–
Choosing this.
Choosing him.
No.
He shuts it down immediately. Because there's an easier explanation for this. There has to be. Wylan is like this with everything he cares about. Careful. Attentive. Present.
It doesn’t mean anything more than that.
Jesper leans in again like the thought never even happened. Wylan lets him. Of course he does. The kiss deepens, but the softness remains. That’s what makes it so hard. He can’t even pretend this is just heat, just physical, just something fleeting.
It lingers, and settles, and stays burying itself deep inside his chest.
They end up on the bed eventually. Slower than usual, but still. Jesper’s hands are steadier, more deliberate, like he’s trying to prove something – to himself, to Wylan, he doesn’t know. Wylan follows his lead. Not passively, never passively. He knows what he wants. Jesper notices that. He notices everything.
The sun had set. The room was quieter. Softer. Jesper lies there, one arm thrown over his eyes, trying desperately to ignore the way his chest feels like it’s been split open in the most inconvenient way possible. Wylan’s beside him. They aren’t touching, but Jesper can feel the heat of him.
This is fine.
Jesper repeats like a mantra.
This is what Wylan wants.
Because Wylan hasn’t asked for more. He hasn’t said a thing, he hasn’t pushed it. He would say something if he didn’t want this, or wanted something more. Right? He turns his head slightly, Wylan’s watching the ceiling, expression unreadable. And he’s scared, he’s missing something important.
He doesn’t want something more.
The thought settles in, solid and unmoving.
If he did, he would say so.
Wylan isn’t subtle about these things. He’s quiet, yes — but not unclear. So this? It has to be enough for him. Jesper tries to settle himself, but it doesn’t quite stick. Because beneath everything that quiet gnawing, it’s impossible to ignore now. Jesper never let himself name it.
He moves slightly, his hand brushing against Wylan’s where it rests between them. Wylan’s fingers move instinctively, lacing with his without hesitation. Like it’s nothing. Like it doesn’t mean a thing at all.
And in that moment everything lands into place, certain and completely unwelcome. Jesper stares at their hands. At the way, Wylan's grip is steady, absentminded, like he does this without thinking. Jesper wishes he could do that. Not thinking. Because thinking leads here. To this. To this permanent realisation sitting in his chest.
I love him.
Jesper tightens the grip on Wylan’s hand just slightly. Wylan squeezes back without looking. And that– That almost makes it worse.
This is fine. He can do this. He’s good at this.
He can want something and not reach for it.
He’s been doing that his whole life.
So he turns his head back toward the ceiling, keeps his hand where it is, and lets the moment settle into something that looks, from the outside, exactly the way it always has.