Young Writers Society

IVY UNIVERSITY is located in central Boston, not far off from Harvard and MIT. With its prestigious class and top-of-the-line teachers, only the best of the best attend this university. From liberal arts to hard sciences, Ivy University caters to all students and offers the best education in the world. Admission is extremely competitive, but the payoff is rewarding, as the students who attend are the brightest, smartest, and most successful across the nation.

Everyone knows about Ivy University. After all, it is here that the term "Ivy League" is coined. Outside of world class education, however - what do people really know about this school?

Something sinister awaits under the ivy, waiting to be revealed.

Junior year!

This was going to be the year for Mel. She had finalized moving into a nicer apartment with Niko (their last place had ugly wallpaper), and they were both going to turn 21 this year. Finally, she didn't have to use her fake ID to get drinks. College was going to be so much more exciting.

Bouncing her way back from class, Mel was still brimming with excitement over the new year's possibilities despite finishing her second week of class. She had plans to keep her top stop as the best fashionista of the school while also being involved in the long list of clubs she was a part of. She was a solid member of the Tea Club, the Fashion Club, the Progressives of America Club, the LGBTQ Alliance Club, and the Tree Hugger Club.

Although, she hadn't really hugged any trees. Or planted any. At least, not yet. But she thought it'd be good to join 'cause climate change and stuff.

And the friends!

And the boys!

There was so much potential this year. It was so delicious.

Finally making it her way to her apartment building, Mel tapped her foot as she waited patiently for the elevator to take her up to the tenth floor. She and Niko had finished moving in to their new place a couple days ago, finally throwing out the last box away. Niko kept saying that he didn't mind their last place, which was small and modest and cheaper and closer to campus, but Mel wanted to live in the city.

"We're turning twenty-one this year, Niko!" she would scold every time he'd feel uncertain about the decision.

And Niko would eventually agree, and by now, he seemed to take a liking to this place anyways. At least, that was what Mel thought since he was sitting outside on the balcony, the doors staying open so the curtains could capture the light breeze going past it. He had set up a canvas and easel in front of him, painting and deeply concentrating.

"Hey Niko!" Mel chirped as she stood by the doorway, placing her backpack on the floor. "Whatcha painting?"

Niko nearly dropped his paintbrush off the balcony, fumbling with it for a few moments until he could turn and laugh. "Nothing, if you keep sneaking up on me and put me to death with a heart attack."

"I didn't sneak up to you, silly," Mel said with a scrunched nose. "I think you're just jumpy."

Niko paused. "...Fair enough." He waved her over to the canvas.

"So? Whatcha painting?" Mel asked again, but she stepped behind him to look anyways.

"Admittedly, I'm not sure yet," Niko confessed. "I think it's a bird. Last time I said that, though, it turned into a very abstract tree. We'll just have to see."

Mel let out a long hum as she sat at on the beige egg chair hammock, swiveling around in a circle as she mulled over his words. "What's up with you and birds?" she asked. "I feel like you're always painting birds."

"Well, they're pretty," Niko said. "In most places. Boston has too many pigeons."

"Eugh. Please don't paint any pigeons. They're rats of the sky," Mel said with playful disgust.

"I wasn't planning on it." Niko set down his brush with a faint smile. "Do you have an idea for what I should paint? It's not too late to turn this out of a bird."

On the canvas, there were small brushstrokes of brown, white, and black between gray lines of pencil sketchings. It was definitely starting to look like a bird's plumage, dappled and textured, but the shape hadn't taken form yet. Niko hadn't committed to his subject.

"Sunflowers," Mel said with grin, quick to answer. "Yeah, that's what this apartment needs. A touch of color! I think hanging up a painted canvas of sunflowers would be cute. I know just where to put it."

"Sunflowers," Niko repeated. "That works." He eagerly set to mixing yellow paint on his palette.

"Wait, wait, wait," Mel said with a laugh as she then stopped swiveling, facing him squarely as she sat at the edge of her seat. She grinned wide with a glint in her eye. "It's Friday! You're not going to spend your Friday night painting, are you? We should do something fun instead."

Niko frowned. "The evening light is really nice to paint in!"

"Come onnnnnn, Nikooooo," Mel groaned. "There's a new evening every night!"

Mel then got up to her feet, still smiling as she then poked him once, twice, three times. He pretended not to notice, staring at the splashes of paint on the canvas.

"Come onnnnn. Let's go get food! Let's get those Russian pancakes you like! There's a cafe a ten minute walk away, and we haven't even gone yet! Your Russian ancestors are shaming you," she said, still poking him. "You know you wanna."

"They're called blini, not Russian pancakes," Niko said with a heavy sigh. A few moments passed before he admitted, "Yeah, that sounds nice."

"Yes!" Mel chirped victoriously, then giggled. "Okay, let's go!"

Mel thought of changing out of her outfit before leaving, but she figured the cheetah printed halter top with flutter sleeves and open shoulders was already cute enough with her A-line black skirt. But who knows where the night could take them! Maybe she should be dressed for bars? Although, if they did, she'd have to glam up Niko from his usual jeans and a tee.

They slipped on their shoes and went off, Mel skipping and assuring Niko she knew the way there. The walk was pleasant since the weather was nice and the sun was setting. Office workers were commuting back home, and nearby college students were either coming back from a late day of classes or just starting their night with happy hour drinks.

Finally, they stopped by the international bakery store. It was a cute, small place with tons of different bakery items from all over the world. They had a couple cute tables and chairs and free Wi-Fi, although there weren't that many people in there right now.

"Have you ever had blini before?" Niko asked. "I'm not sure it's that popular in LA."

"We went to that food fair festival that one time and you bought me some, remember?" Mel said as she bent down to oogle the counters, her eye on some cute patisseries, and Niko nodded. "I said it was like a crepe. Then you said it's a Russian pancake. So hah."

"I'm not sure it counts if you mistook it for a crepe," Niko said. "You have to feel the difference in your heart. Or whatever it was that my mom said." He pointed to the pastries. "What are you getting?"

Mel glanced back at Niko, smiling. Sometimes he said adorable stuff like that.

"I dunno. I kind of want those cute little bunny-shaped pastries," she said as she pointed down at the glass. "But also, maybe I should get something healthier. Like carrot cake. That's gotta be healthier, right? Or maybe I should get something new. Like bilinis, or whatever they're called."

Niko grinned. "Don't feel like you have to get a blini for me. I would be happy if you called it the right name, though." He cleared his throat dramatically, exaggerating his Russian accent. "Bli-ni."

Mel stood up straighter, also clearing her throat dramatically as she mustered her best posh voice. "Bli-ni," she repeated with a flourish of her hand, and Niko beamed.

"Perfect! I feel so proud right now."

"Do you have any questions about anything?" the bakery cashier suddenly asked with a strained smile, ruining the moment.

Mel giggled anyways, nodding as she went closer to the counter. She finally said her order - a small tres leches cake, a blini, and the cute bunny patisserie. She also offered to pay for Niko, who ordered four blinis for himself but graciously turned down her offer. He got some with different toppings from hers that she'd been curious to try-- he'd probably share a bite if she asked.

They sat down and oogled the blini, taking small bites and savoring every bite. It was so good, it was gone so quick. Mel offered some of her tres leches cake in return for another blini, though, and Niko even exclaimed that it was better. Quietly. She wasn't sure if he was keeping his voice low out of respect for the cafe or that ancestral shame she'd threatened him with.

People came in and out of the store, but Mel paid no mind - that was, until she was drawn towards a familiar voice ordering at the counter. Niko was going on about other Russian flavors, but Mel was staring at the man ordering the food.

Dressed in all black. Shaggy, messy hair. A baseball cap. Mumbling, looking away.

"Wait, I think I know that guy," Mel said with a hushed voice to Niko, her eyes flicking between the two of them, waiting for the right moment to pounce. "I keep randomly running into him. I think it's a sign."

Niko tried-- and mostly failed-- to sneakily peer over at him. "Him? Who is he?"

"This is so random," she said with a quiet laugh. "He works at the admissions office, I think. There was issue or whatever before I became a student, so I had to keep harassing him. Then I realized he also works at the coffee shop I went to a lot freshman year. Now we're friends." She paused. "Kind of."

Niko nodded. "I was thinking he didn't look like one of your--" He paused, as if unsure he was using the word correctly.

"Your what?" Mel said with narrowed eyes. "Cool trendy friends?"

"Hunks," Niko said reluctantly. "Nothing about that."

Mel blinked then scoffed. "Niko!" she scolded, and he laughed quietly, but she didn't have time to say anymore since the man ordering food at the counter finally turned around to leave.

Quickly, Mel played it off by placing one elbow on the table and one elbow on her hip, leaning away from the table. She realized a second later that she looked like an idiot, but she was not prepared for this moment as he stared right at them with a bag of pastries to go.

"Heeeeeey, Alistair," Mel drew out casually. "How's it going? Funny that we keep running into each other, huh?"

Alistair seemed to stare blankly at her for a moment, his eyes flitting over to Niko for a second before he shook his head. "My god," he muttered, ignoring them and resuming his walk back to the exit.

"Wait!" she said quickly, jumping to her feet so she could run in front of him, stopping him. "Come onnnnn. How long has it been? We should catch up!"

"Uh--" he began, but Mel already took his hand and forcefully led him to the table, forcing him to sit down next to her and across from Niko, who helped out by smiling widely.

Alistair seemed hesitant and not at all wanting to participate, seeming stiff and awkward until he slowly relented, sitting down.

"This is so weird," he muttered.

"Niko, Alistair. Alistair, Niko," Mel said cheerfully, gesturing between the two of them as introductions. "Now we're all friends!"

Niko looked about half as awkward as Alistair did, but he kept up his friendly smile. "Any friend of Mel's is my friend."

"Oh. We're not really friends," Alistair said.

Mel playfully elbowed him, but he winced since it turned more aggressive than she intended it to be. "Yes, we are, silly," she said enthusiastically.

Alistair glanced between her and the door. "Are you stalking me?" he asked bluntly.

"Ew, no, why would I stalk you? Your life is boring," Mel said, scrunching her nose.

"Alright," he said with a sigh, getting back up and holding the paper bag up for them to see. "I need to deliver this. Unlike you, I have a job."

Niko's gaze flitted between her and Alistair uncertainly with what might have been a warning look for her. She wasn't very good at reading those.

"Ooh, what job?" Mel asked even though he was already leaving.

"Doordash," was all Alistair said as he left the store.

"Bye," Niko called out half-heartedly, but the bell on the door was already ringing as it swung shut.

In the windows, Mel saw him unlocking his bike and placing the paper bag on his bike basket. He must be delivering to local places if he was delivering food by bike.

"Niko," Mel said brightly with a grin. "I know what we should do tonight."

Niko inhaled deeply, visibly preparing himself. "Do not say stalking him through his job."

"We're going to order food through Doordash!" Mel announced.

She did kind of forget about Alistair. The last time she saw him was when she went back to the cafe last semester. Any time she did see him, they would chat for a while, but he seemed tired of her. Mel was determined to crack him, though. No one was this grumpy, plus if he hated her that much, why did she get the vibe that he liked the attention?

Junior year was going to be the year that she would have Alistair say they were actually friends. This was her new goal.

Niko closed his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe you," he said in a tone that suggested he had fully been expecting it.

"I need to think of a fake name. He'd never accept the order if I went by Mel. And now he knows your name too. What should we do when he knocks at the door? Would it be considered kidnapping if I pulled him in?" she asked, brimming with questions and ideas.

"Yes, it would!" Niko exclaimed. "Well. Maybe. I strongly doubt he'd appreciate it, at least."

"Hmmm. What do you think, then? I don't want to go to jail for kidnapping," Mel teased.

Niko leaned across the table, dropping his voice like he was sharing a secret. "It's easy when you don't lure people to your door with the intention to hold them hostage in a conversation."

Mel sighed, exasperated. "But Niko!" she moaned. "Otherwise he'd never come in. How else am I supposed to force a grumpy person to be my friend?"

"Well, how did you make me your friend?" Niko asked, before he paused. "No, I'm not grumpy, just anti-social. He's both. Still, I imagine it must have been a bit of work."

Mel slowly smiled as she remembered when they became friends. It was the first weekend before their freshman classes during orientation - at least, that was where they were supposed to go. They both made the mistake of being in a different building and then went on the adventure of finding the actual place, being an hour late. Niko was super awkward at first, but it only made Mel laugh since he always sounded like a confused mouse. It was refreshing to see how much more comfortable he was around her now, though.

"Well, we became friends because we were lost together. So it sounds like we should put him in a situation he can't escape," Mel said with an obvious flourish of her hand.

Niko pondered for a moment. "Okay," he said. "We could order Doordash, but no hostage situations. Maybe we should... play a game until he shows up and invite him in? But not pull him through the door."

Mel playfully scoffed. "Niko!" she scolded. "That's no fun! Why do you have to introduce logic and reason into my plans?"

Niko shrugged helplessly. "It'll keep us out of jail?"

Mel grinned. "For now."

Shane wondered if the smile on his face was wide enough to fool everyone into thinking his heart wasn't racing. Luckily, he wasn't expected to do much more than smile wide on stage, and he felt like his face was splitting at the sides while he was still in his chair. It was going to be a glorious moment, holding what he'd poured his heart and soul into for all to see, and he'd get to look at the award for the rest of his life.

The amphitheater was alive with chatter behind him, excitement buzzing in the air. Shane folded his hands in his lap, resisting the urge to turn around. He could see the other award recipients in the front row in the corner of his eye, all frozen still or trembling with excitement.

At the top of the hour, the amphitheater went dark and quiet as the vice president of the university and dean of liberal arts took the stage.

"Thank you all for attending today. Tonight marks our fiftieth anniversary of comemorating our students and their amazing contributions..." the vice president started.

The vice president went on for at least ten minutes, highlighting the importance of congratulating those that maintain their academic rigor and go above and beyond expectations. Every year, the professors of each of the four disciplines in humanities, social sciences, natural sciences, and arts came together to pick one student to represent the face of their studies. There were four disciplines in the liberal arts college, and so four students were selected based on their merit, projects, curiosity, and contributions to the field.

Shane was recognized this year to represent the social sciences.

He wasn't completely sure what had gotten him the award. He'd written countless papers as an honors student, gone above and beyond. He'd gotten familiar with the professors, and dedicated himself to studying. Did that make him better at history than his fellow students? He wasn't sure, but he was honored to have been recognized for whatever he'd done.

The vice president left the stage, and Shane snapped back to attention for the reading of the names by the dean, Thomas V. Goodheart. They were going down the list of each of the different departments in the college, and Shane watched as each of them went up one-by-one, leaving the seats on his right until there was one person in front of him.

"From the Fine Arts Department, we recognize Alan Alvaro."

The student— Alan— left his seat to walk up the stage and be with the others, but during his short walk there, a strange glugging sound was heard. It reverbrated around the theater, sounding like someone was slurping water through the microphone. Confused murmurs washed over the hall as Alan went up to the stage, standing next to the dean and president.

"Would someone please tell the vice president to turn off his microphone on his water break?" the dean said through a stifled laugh after a few moments, and the murmurs turned to laughter.

There was some more loud (but panicked) shuffling, but it seemed that the vice president quickly got the message since it then went silent.

“Thank you, Marcus,” the dean chuckled.

"It's part of the theater's new sound effects," Alan said with a smile, loud enough to be captured on the microphone.

Shane smiled, feeling the anxiety that had risen up in his chest during the mishap ease again. There was some more light chuckling across the audience, and the dean smiled.

"Seems so. Sorry about that, folks. Resuming our program, we'd like to recognize Alan for his contributions to the music department," the dean resumed, then went on to name a long list of accomplishments, detailing how Alan was an active member of various orchestras, bands, quartets, clubs, and volunteering organizations, all the while being this year's new solo winner. He placed the golden plaque in Alan's hands, and the audience clapped.

When finished, Alan went to stand behind the dean, and Shane knew it was only a moment before his name was called.

"From the Social Sciences Department, we recognize Shane Hawking."

His smile was wider than ever as he left his seat and stepped onto the stage, shaking hands with the dean as he stood beside them, keeping his posture straight and tall.

"Shane has been an exemplary student of history," the dean began. "With his passion for ancient history, his skill for writing historical essays and arguments, and his commitment to careful researching, he has shown that he has the true makings of a historian..."

Shane smiled through the dean’s list of his accomplishments, losing track of time as the words blurred together in his ears. All eyes were on him. How long had they been watching? How long was this to go on? The look stayed frozen on his face, and he clung to his pride to get him through the anxiety of being so on display.

"...and for all this, we hope to welcome Shane back to our graduate school in a couple years," the dean said at last. "Right, Shane?"

Shane grinned. "Of course."

The dean handed him the award with a congratulatory smile, and the room burst into applause. Shane took it carefully. It was a little heavier than he expected, and he tried not to get his fingerprints on the gold surface. He gave the dean a nod of thanks as he joined the others in the line.

"From the Humanities Department, we recognize..."

Shane leaned closer to Alan and whispered, very quietly so that his lips were barely moving, "Sorry about the unexpected sound effect testing. You handled it very well."

Alan glanced at him, but he seemed to be painfully aware that they were still on stage under the spotlight, holding their heavy golden plaques. He only offered a nod and a slightly wider smile in return.

The students who had won the humanities and natural sciences stood on Shane's other side within a few minutes, smiling and holding their awards like they couldn't quite believe it. Shane made his smile more encouraging for them.

"Ivy University is honored and proud to host these awards," the dean said, addressing the audience. "As we educate the next generation of the world's greatest students, we look for those to lift up as examples. We have seen many fine students on this stage, and we know there will be many more, as Ivy continues to welcome great minds..."

Shane tightened his grip on the plaque as the dean droned on for a while longer. The sound of applause as the dean lowered the microphone came as a huge relief.

Keeping his grin bright as he moved, Shane took the steps down the stage, moving back to his seat.

"Thanks, by the way. And congratulations," Alan said next to him as the audience applauded.

"You too," Shane said, laughing. "And of course. I'm sure you either know all about stage fright as a musician or got over it entirely, but that can be pretty nerve-wracking, and I wasn't sure how you were doing."

Alan laughed through his nose, letting out a puff of air. "Ah, yeah. You get used to it. I didn't think much of it, though."

At that, the applause died down, and the dean said another short speech before thanking everyone again and ending the ceremony.

Shane and the others got up from their seats, but Alan grabbed his attention before he could step away.

"You're also a recipient of the Delphine Thompson Scholarship, right?" he asked, standing next to Shane. "I think I remember seeing you around."

Now that it was no longer dark and they were both standing off the stage, Shane realized that he also recognized Alan from other various academic ceremonies and receptions. Alan stood about his height, wearing navy-colored pants and a white dress shirt. His most distinguishable feature was his glasses: wooden-rimmed and round - complementing his neat, brushed-back dark brown hair. Alan offered a polite smile, still holding the plaque between both hands.

Shane nodded. "And you earned the E. E. Fitzgerald Award for solo violin, yeah? Your performances are really great."

"Ah," Alan said as he briefly looked up with a smile, like he was thinking of something. "It's coming back to me now. You won the Community Engagement Award for your paper on the local history of the city and university, didn't you? I referenced your work on Delphine Thompson to honor her in the scholarship." He smiled. "Thanks for that."

Shane laughed. "I'm sure reading it wasn't as great or fun as a performance, but I didn't know that anyone besides my professors and such found it helpful. Thanks for telling me."

"Credit is given where credit is due," Alan said with a smile. He paused, studying Shane for a moment. "Do you have any plans tonight?"

Shane shook his head, now listening closely. "I don't think so."

Alan hummed. "What's your favorite song with lyrics?"

With lyrics. Well, Shane wasn't going to get to impress Alan immediately with his knowledge of classical pieces. Hopefully he wouldn't say the wrong thing. "I like Everlong by the Foo Fighters," he said after giving it some thought. "What's yours?"

Alan grinned, nodding like he was approving of his song choice. "You can find out if you want to hear another performance tonight. Well— performance is an exaggeration. I play at the Dueling Piano bar down by Broadway tonight, if you want to sit in. It could be a good change of pace, considering you're a man of the arts."

Shane grinned as well. "That sounds great, actually. I've been looking at paying that place a visit."

"Cool. I play..." Alan glanced at his watch and weakly laughed. "In forty-five minutes. I have to run to get ready now, but I'll be there at seven o'clock and get done at ten." He paused, offering another small smile. "See you there?"

Shane matched his smile. "See you there," he promised.

Exiting the Uber vehicle, Shane had to zoom into Google Maps to figure out where exactly this bar was, but he followed the moving blue dot until he stumbled in a wide alley with string lights hung overhead, casting a glow along the artistic graffiti painted against the brick walls. A hot dog stand was setting up as young adults dressed for the night walked up and down the alley, tipsy and laughing.

Shane walked down the alley, glancing at the establishment logos as he looked for "Dueling Pianos." He had to walk back and forth a few times, but finally landed at the right spot (at least, according to Google Maps), which was hidden and tucked away between a karaoke bar and a craft beer pub.

A bouncer checked his ID and took the cover charge, but upon seeing that he was under twenty-one, he placed a pink wristband around his wrist before letting him through. He entered into a long, narrow hallway. For a moment there, Shane was skeptical that this was a bar at all since the hallway was dark and quiet, but his anxieties were relieved after several more steps in when he heard the faint sounds of pianos playing.

Pushing through a pair of double doors, Shane entered a big room of two dozen chairs and tables behind a small stage featuring two grand pianos. The room was about half full, with people across all ages sitting with beverages and food as they watched the pianists play. The two pianists on stage were playing Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline, riffing off one another. One pianist was playing the harmonies, and the other was singing and playing the main melody. He had wondered where the piano dueling came in, and it seemed he'd figured it out now, but it all seemed very friendly.

Alan was one of the pianists on stage, singing and playing the main melody as he smiled wide, getting really into the song. It was interesting to see him in a different light and environment. He was wearing a gray beanie, an unbuttoned plaid flannel over a white tee, blue skinny jeans, and black converse sneakers. He not only sang pretty well, but he gracefully ran his fingers up and down the piano, bopping his head to dance along with the tune. Shane knew he was invisible to him in this moment, but he smiled softly, watching Alan have a good time.

As the song was ending, a server came to help Shane find a seat. After he was led to a table, the waitress left him a menu and left a glass of water for him.

"Thank you, thank you - that one's a classic," Alan said as the song came to an end and the audience clapped, Shane a little louder than most of them. "If you'd like to request a song - any song, any song at all--"

He then jingled the tip jar in front of him.

"-- we'll make it work. Lucas and I are two poor college students. You know how it is. We're desperate to please you all, so give us your best, give us your worst."

The other pianist, Lucas, smiled and played a succession of very low chords. "We take Venmo."

"Bar code's on the table, folks. We also take cash, bribes, and food," Alan continued, and as he smiled and scanned through the audience, he made brief eye contact with Shane. "Alright. Since there aren't any requests right now, I'm feeling sad. How about a sad song to cheer everyone up?"

Lucas exchanged a glance with Alan, but he seemed to follow his lead as Alan sat up straighter and started a slow, minor progression of chords.



It took Shane a moment to recognize the melody, as he was so used to hearing it in guitar, but it soon hit him. It was the same song that he told Alan about. Although, at the time, he didn't know he would play it in front of an audience. A chill shot down Shane's spine as the melody built into the first verse and then the chorus, Alan swaying as he played. He could feel the piano notes' vibrations in the ground under his feet.

"And I wonder, when I sing along with you," Alan sang softly while Lucas played the supporting melody, "If everything could ever feel this real forever? If anything could ever feel this good again?"

An admirative smile slowly spread over Shane's face as the song went on, and Alan only looked more and more alive the more he played. He sang out the repeat of the chorus even more powerfully, and Shane saw Lucas look up from his playing with a surprised smile. It seemed like he had enchanted the whole bar with this one.

The song ended with a few soft, quiet notes before the audience clapped again. Shane couldn't keep his excitement and awe off his face.

"Thank you, thank you. That one goes out to a friend who I hope is not too sad. Lucas, why don't we play a song for a happy friend?" Alan asked, starting up his banter with Lucas again.

"You asked for it, so now we're not stopping until we get bribed," Lucas said with a smirk as he played a happy glissando up the piano, pausing before singing the first few words for for Pharrel Williams's Happy song.



The two of them then played the song together, keeping the melody slow at the beginning so Lucas could dramatically stretch out the opening lyrics while the audience chuckled as they realized what was upon them, but at the main refrain, the melody continued at an upbeat tempo. Lucas sang with a rich voice as Alan harmonized with him in both piano and vocals, frequently stretching out the word "happy" in various high harmonic tones.

They continued this until they reached the second part of the song mentioning clapping, in which they both made dramatic pauses, clapping on time together before starting back up. They must have practiced this song many times before if they were able to time that together will little effort.

They repeated the bridge and the second chorus again, and this pattern continued on and on again, stretching on for five minutes. A drummer also entered the stage, seemingly coming back from a brief break as he glanced at the two of them, timing his entrance perfectly to join at the refrain.

It looked like they were serious when Lucas said they weren't going to stop until they get bribed. It wasn't until someone from the audience came up with a five dollar bill and a slip of paper that Alan, Lucas, and the drummer switched gears, finally deciding to close out the song.

"Aw, well," Lucas said with a shrug and a harmonic slamming of keys. "I was honestly starting to get into it. Thanks for paying our rent."

"Hold your horses there, Lucas. Turn your happy energy into country energy, because we're going down south," Alan said with a grin, but then turned to the woman with the cowboy hat who gave him the song request, his grin fading as he sighed. "Seriously? I may be an Atlanta boy, but I'm not a Georgia boy. But just because you're helping with our rent..."

He then started to play the opening progression of a syncopated country song.

"For you, I'll be a Georgia boy," he said with an exaggerated country twang, shaking his head with a smile as he and Lucas played a country song together and then Alan started to sing about green tractors. Shane grinned, and as the waiter reappeared, he struggled to give her his order while shaking with a silent laugh.

This went on another hour as they both sang and played songs, bantering with one another in the guise of begging for tips. It seemed to be working even with a quiet audience since they had a trickle of song requests. One person gave them $30 to play Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. Enthusiastic over the tip amount, they both really into it, singing their heart out and standing up while fiercely slamming down on the keys.

At the end of the hour, Lucas started up another requested song, but Alan took off on a break, replaced by another pianist. He waved at a few people passing by and briefly chatted with a few others, but eventually, he snaked his way to Shane's table, inviting himself to the chair next to him.

"Is this what you expected?" Alan asked with an amused smile.

Shane grinned. "What I expected? Even better. This is definitely a performance in my book."

"Glad I can entertain," Alan said with a small laugh, slouching back on his chair. "You thought I'm used to the spotlight because of orchestra, but really, that's a small part of it. This is the real reason."

Shane saw the spark in his eyes and believed him. "It's really cool," he said in a voice slightly hushed with awe. "You seem to have a great time with it."

"Eh. I'd rather play in orchestra, but this pays the bills," he said as he watched the pianists played, but then paused before turning back to Shane. "Do you plan on staying the rest of the night?"

Shane glanced back at the piano he'd played at. "Would you like me to?" he asked.

Alan studied him for a moment before smiling. "Well, that's up to you. I don't get off until ten. They kick out everyone who's under twenty-one," he said as he gestured to the pink wristband around his wrist that Shane also wore. Alan sighed. "They don't make exceptions, even for the performers."

Shane shook his head amusedly. "Don't they expect you not to be drinking at the piano anyway?"

"You'd think so. But I guess they don't trust me," Alan said with a laugh.

Shane chuckled, looking between the musicians and Alan again. "Yeah," he said with a nod after a few moments. "I'll stay until ten."

Alan hummed. "Alright," he said, then paused again. "So. How's the rendering of your favorite song? I was googling the sheet music on the way over here."

Shane's jaw dropped. "You learned that on the spot for tonight?" He never would have guessed it.

Alan chuckled. "If this job has taught me anything, it's that anyone is capable of learning on the fly. It wasn't an exact translation since I didn't have time to print or completely study the music, but I took notes of the chords and its progression."

Shane was touched. He couldn't remember the last time someone had done something like that for him. "It was perfect," he told him. "Was that a ten dollar song? Twenty?"

"How much was your cover to come in? Ten?" Alan asked, then gestured loosely in front of him. "Consider it a ten dollar song."

Shane couldn't help but grin. "Don't let this song requesting power get to my head."

"And would that be a bad thing?" Alan said with a smirk.

"Maybe not, but I thought I should warn you. I do think I'll be coming back." Shane raised his eyebrows playfully at that.

"Oh, is that so?" he mused. "On all the days, or just the days that I'm here?"

Shane laughed as he took out a pen from a pocket of his flannel, writing his phone number on a napkin and passing it over. "Well, if you text me your schedule, I'll see when I can show up."

Alan seemed to mull this over as he scooped up the napkin, holding it loosely in his hand and then smiling playfully over to Shane. "I've been working here for the last year, and I've gotten small and large tips, classic and strange song requests - but I've never had a customer give their number to me on a napkin," he mused before placing the napkin in his pocket. "First time for everything."

"And I've never seen someone perform a song about green tractors so enthusiastically and sincerely," Shane joked. "Today has a few firsts, I guess."

Alan laughed, shaking his head. "You wouldn't believe how low Lucas and I are willing to stoop on stage to get more tips. What can I say? I'm a performer."

He let out another airy laugh, watching the musicians close out their song. Alan and Shane clapped along with the audience, but they were quick to resume their playing.

"So where are you from, Shane?" Alan asked after another short pause.

"I'm from Seattle," Shane said, before adding a few moments later, "Far cry from either Atlanta or Boston, I think."

Alan seemed to study him for another moment, tapping his finger along the table as if he were thinking of something deeply. "I've never been to Seattle. Is it true that the sun doesn't come out over there?" he asked.

"I know it does, but it doesn't feel like it," Shane said. "Between the rainy Novembers, the hazy wildfires in summer, and what we call Junuary-- January in June-- it's a miracle we get nice days."

Alan huffed out a laugh. "Wow. That sounds terrible."

"Well, no one goes to Seattle for its weather," Shane said, chuckling. "What's it like in Atlanta? It's hot, right?"

"Unbearably hot, yes. And humid. No one goes there for the weather either, but--" Alan stopped to look up at the ceiling for a moment, pursing his lips together before smiling and meeting Shane's eyes again. "It's home, so it's not so bad. Although, I rather like the Northeast, so I don't see myself returning to Atlanta unless I'm visiting family."

Shane nodded. "Have you got siblings?"

"One, yeah. I have a twin brother. He doesn't go to Ivy, but he did move here to Boston with me."

"Is he a musician too?" he guessed.

"Oh, no, that's not his thing, although I did pester him a lot to get him into it," Alan said with a chuckle. "Do you have any siblings?"

Shane shook his head. "I have a pretty small family." Smaller today, now that it was just him and his mom.

"Nothing wrong with that. Although, it does suck being so far from home away from family. Hopefully you get to see your folks often enough," Alan said.

Shane smiled as best as he could. "Over breaks, though I am busy," he said. "I pretty much turned my old room into a study. Seattle's pretty scenic, so it's a nice place to work on projects between seeing people."

"That sounds really lovely. Do you seethe view of Mount Rainier?" Alan asked.

Shane nodded enthusiastically. "It's visible most parts of the city. It's way larger than anyone expects."

Alan nodded, smiling. "Have you ever climbed it?"

Shane winced in amusement. "I confess to not being that outdoorsy."

"That's not very Seattleite of you," Alan said with a smirk.

Shane groaned. "I know, I know." He shook his head with a smile. "Have you got any Atlanta habits?"

"I confess, I'm still trying to get used to the snow. It does snow in Atlanta, but when it does, it becomes the snowpocalypse. Everything shuts down and bunkers down as if a hurricane is passing through. I've never understood it." Alan paused, then chuckled while shaking his head. "But yes, that habit's followed me to Boston."

Shane laughed softly. "Ever built a snowman?"

"Uh..." Alan laughed as well. "No, actually. Maybe someday, when I've stopped hunkering down in the winter."

Shane grinned. "I could teach you when we get our first blizzard, if you wanted."

"During the blizzard?" Alan said with a laugh. "That sounds so cold."

Shane pondered that. "Maybe we could wait until it's actually stopped snowing."

Alan eyed him for a moment, his grin lingering. "We'll have to wait until it snows, first."

Shane matched his grin. "I'll clear my schedule around our first average frost."

The song came to another end, the audience applauding again. Shane clapped as well, but Alan got up to his feet, briefly setting his hand on his shoulder.

"I have to get back on stage, but I'll be back in an hour, yeah?" he said with a friendly smile, but quickly scurried off before Shane could respond.

It seemed that the pianists were all rotating with one another so they could get hourly breaks, and so Alan switched off with Lucas, who said one last joke before stepping away. Alan returned to his stage presence, exaggerating stretching his arms, fingers, and neck before he played a dramatic up-and-down glissando, setting the opening to the next song request.

He had two more hours of playing, but Shane meant it when he said he would stay the whole time.

Cyrin supposed they should have expected the last box of their belongings to weigh the heaviest. It contained most of their life, after all. They'd sold their couch, desk and eventually their bedframe to pay off the last month's rent, and so they'd only kept what actually mattered to them. A few rare books, a print of an impressionist painting, and some gymnastics medals mixed among other important things were sealed up in a cardboard box that seemed far too small for all it meant to them. They set it down on Clarity's floor with a final-sounding thud.

"That's it," they said. "I hope it won't take up too much room."

Clarity shook her head, pushing it under the frame of her bed. "You're fine," she promised. "You know, I was expecting you to bring more. There would be space for it."

Cyrin smiled thinly. "I'm traveling light, I guess."

"So it seems," Clarity muttered. "I should have known you'd joke about it when this day came."

Cyrin laughed, but he knew it sounded weak. It had been a strange day to wait for. He'd done the math when he'd gotten back to Boston, cut his expenses, spent the summer selling what he could on online marketplaces, and he'd figured out what date his luck would run out on. It hadn't felt real, not even when his room had turned into a mattress on the floor, or when even that had gone too. Staring at barren walls hadn't been staring at what would soon be reality. At least there had still been walls.

"Humor's free," he said, walking over to Clarity's windowsill. "It's a cheap way to cope."

"Cheaper than a lot of worse things," Clarity said, before she paused. "I wish I could have gotten you off a few more of them before this."

Cyrin turned around. "You're not one to express regret. Besides, you did get me to quit smoking. That's pretty good, no?"

"Only because you were a walking explosion hazard whenever you waltzed into the lab full of chemicals." Clarity picked up a 3D structure of an ethanol molecule from her desk and jabbed it at him. "Without ever knocking, too, which is a habit nearly as bad as cigarettes."

"And because you're very good at shouting," Cyrin joked. "I think I'll miss that."

"Oh, no, you're reminiscing." Clarity buried her face in her hands. "It's bad."

Cyrin watched her, and while she couldn't see them, they let the carefree look on their face slip for a moment. They would miss her, and they knew she knew that, even if they hadn't shared it before just now. They'd miss a lot about Ivy, but maybe this the most.

"Just don't do anything stupid," Clarity blurted before they could say anything. "Promise?"

Cyrin huffed. "Me? Not doing anything stupid? Ask for literally anything else and I'll do it better."

She didn't laugh. "Then try to keep enough money on you for a payphone. They still have a few of those downtown, I think. I want you to call me if you have a problem, or..." She paused. "You know."

"How much is that?"

"Maybe two dollars for a decently long conversation."

Cyrin didn't know how thin they could stretch two dollars, but they were sure they'd be learning soon. "I can try."

Again, Clarity hesitated. "I've been looking for a roommate who can pay, but if you think you just need a little longer, I can wait another month or even--"

"Clarity, the help's not coming," Cyrin said, gently but firmly. "You've already done more than enough, and I don't know how to repay you, literally or figuratively. We've known this was happening for a while now, and there's no delaying it any longer. I'm grateful for anything you've been able to do up to now."

She sniffed. "Don't start saying anything sentimental. Just hug me."

Cyrin cracked a sad smile as she joined him by the window, and they hugged for a few moments before breaking apart. "You'll see me," he promised. "I never announce my visits, and I'm not planning to start now, so I hope I don't scare whoever that new roommate of yours will be."

"If they say anything mean about you, I will evict them," Clarity said. "Sorry. Can I say the e-word?"

Cyrin rolled his eyes amusedly as he turned back towards the window. "You can, but don't start acting like a landlord. I will get bitter."

Outside the apartments Ivy leased to students, the green campus lawn sprawled out, speckled with people enjoying the summer sun. Cyrin wasn't really a lawn person, but the students all looked so serene, so happy to be there. He could have taken a picture from her second floor view and used it for a brochure. Maybe added a helpful warning caption like However expensive you think this place is, it's more.

"Can I leave the traditional way?" he asked. "It's more fun."

Clarity laughed. "Like I could really stop you."

Cyrin grinned, pushing the window open and clambering through, holding his weight on the other side before he dropped himself. He flipped and rolled smoothly before he landed on the soft grass, cushioning his fall with his shoulder. He got to his feet quickly, in time to see Clarity smirk, leaning out of the window.

"You always look so silly doing that," she mused. "Like someone fleeing a crime scene, or a really bad date."

"Shame. I was going for impressive and cool." Cyrin brushed himself off, smiling up at her. "I'll get another try."

"You better. Hopefully soon."

Cyrin gave her a wave, and she returned it before they started walking across the quad, but they noticed it was a long time until they heard the click of her window sliding shut behind them.

"No way," a feminine and agonizingly familiar voice said behind him. "It's true then, isn't it? You no longer have your daddy's money? Aw, poor baby."

Cyrin didn't need to turn around to know that it was Maeve speaking. He knew she'd have her arms folded over her chest, a smug look on her face, and he didn't want to turn around, so he stopped in his tracks. "No thanks to you."

Maeve scoffed. "You did this to yourself, you know. I'm the victim here."

Cyrin hated that he was taking the bait, but he whirled around. "Yeah, you seem very upset right now."

Maeve's mocking smirk widened, her catty eyes now sizing him up and down. She was clearly trying cherishing this moment, reveling in his lowest point. "I can start crying if you want. If you beg me, I can even ask your daddy to give you another month's rent."

"You can do whatever you want as long as it doesn't involve me."

"Oh, I know. That's why it's a glorious moment watching you leave," she said with grin, holding up her palms outward and curling her fingers to mockingly wave at him. "Bye bye, ex-fiance. Don't go around breaking any more hearts. I'll so miss you." She faked an exaggerated pout.

Cyrin wasn't sure why his composure was slipping now and not earlier. Maeve's words meant a lot less to him than Clarity's did. "Sorry you can't find anyone who tolerates you, let alone likes you. Have you figured out why yet?"

"Yes, it's you, obviously. Are you done standing here? I thought you had somewhere to be." Maeve fake laughed. "Oh, right. You're homeless."

Cyrin looked her over. "And you're heartless, so I'm still coming out ahead. Sad."

"Are you though?" she said with a skeptic high-pitched voice. "You didn't even finish your degree. And now you'll never finish, and you'll always be poor." Maeve laughed again, crossing her arms with a glint in her eye. "Honestly, you were better off dying. At least you had some dignity back then."

Cyrin set their jaw and spun around, walking across the lawn as fast as he could without breaking into a sprint.

"Too much of a coward to say goodbye, huh? Well, fuck you too! I never want to see your ugly face again!" Maeve shouted as he turned away.

They only went faster, until they were far enough away that they wouldn't hear if she hollered again. They reached the pavement outside the gate, and it was as they paused to breathe when it hit them. That had been their last time standing on campus for what would be a while.

Boston in the summers was nice. The winters... not so much. Elias learned that the hard way last winter. But maybe he should start to migrate every winter and move down south? Yeah. He'd be like a migrating bird. Or a butterfly. That seemed like an okay way to live.

Elias had been living in Boston for just about a year now, but as he stared up at the dusky sky, he wondered if he should move. Perhaps back to Missouri, although he couldn't bring himself to go back. Maybe he should reconnect with Elise, but he knew that she would ask too many questions. He didn't even know where she was, although for some reason, he thought she was in Boston.

She did go to school here, right? Or maybe he was confusing Boston with another area. Austin? Houston? Hoston?

Elias shook his head, ending that train of thought as he walked down the alleyway, tossing the free apple he got from the food bank up in the air. He didn't toss it very high, but he still focused on catching it, not wanting it to splat against the sidewalk and then go to waste.

Boston hadn't been too bad, though. He heard that a lot of history happened here. Something about the Declaration of Independence -- or maybe he was thinking of National Treasure. That was a dope movie. His friends thought so, too.

"Hey, Winston. Looking good. Catch!" Elias said as he passed one of his friends, tossing him the apple.

Winston, who was still waking up from his opiate-ridden nap, got bonked on the head by the apple. But that thankfully seemed to truly wake him up, which was good, because if he slept, he'd, one -- be angry that he slept through his high, and two -- possibly wake up dead.

"Dang. I really thought you'd catch that," Elias murmured as he watched the apple roll away towards the piles of garbage. He bent down to shake his old friend. "Are you doing alright, buddy?"

Winston grumbled and let out a, "Mmhmph," scratching the scabby scrubble on his face before leaning back against the brick wall, lost in thought with his eyes open.

Elias considered this a win and a loss. A win because Winston let out a conscious grumble, but also a loss because now neither of them could eat an apple. For a second, Elias considered eating the apple anyways, but it had rolled into old vomit.

He has had some pretty low moments in his life, but man. He wasn't that desperate.

With a sigh, Elias patted Winston's head and then trudged forward, hands in his pockets as he idly strolled down the alley, looking for other people he could help out. With the schools back in session again, his friends have been more successful panhandling more money from wealthy families visiting. That, combined with overall summer tourism, resulted in more cash in their pockets, which meant more dope in their veins.

Not that that wasn't a bad thing. Elias understood and empathized with their stories, knowing that it was the highlight of their day and maybe even their life. But he didn't want to see another person he cared about overdose.

Not again.

Whistling, he kicked a can as he walked down the alley, pretending it was a soccer ball. Just as he lost it to another pile of garbage, a person caught his eye.

Not a friend, though. A stranger. And not any stranger -- this was someone who really stuck out, wearing nice clothes that reminded him of those wealthy families most of his friends target for money. The man seemed to be around his age too, walking his way.

Elias stopped to glance behind him, but he didn't see anyone else around. "Hey man, are you lost?" he asked.

The stranger looked up from the pavement, a faint look of surprise on his face before it turned into a slightly woeful smile. "Not lost," he said, almost absent-mindedly. "Just somewhere new."

"Oh, okay." Elias paused, but then gestured to the direction he came from. "Most of Boston is that way."

The stranger glanced over his shoulder, seeming to give it a long look. "I miss it already."

Elias chuckled. "Well, it's really not that far. You could probably hit downtown in thirty minutes if you walk."

The man nodded, his lips settling into a line. The look in his eyes was distant, even when he turned back to Elias. "Do you know this place?" he asked suddenly, changing the subject.

"What, Boston? I think I know a thing or two, yeah," Elias said with a smile.

The stranger -- Elias didn't know his name, but for the time being, he was going to call him Fred -- laughed, but the sound of it was weak. Not insincere or disingenuous, just dampened. "I meant slightly more locally, but you're welcome to share."

Elias didn't really know how much more local he could get since they were already in Boston, but he hummed anyways, crossing his arms to think. "I think the Declaration of Independence is locked away somewhere in the city," he thought out loud, saying the first thing to come to mind about the city.

Fred raised an eyebrow. "It does have its treasures."

Elias grinned. "National treasures."

Fred laughed, but it was difficult to tell what about it he was laughing at.

"So what's your name, Fred?" Elias asked, still grinning.

Fred blinked in surprise. "It's... not Fred," he said, looking like he was about to laugh again but was too confused to.

"Oh." Elias had to pause to think, just now realizing that he had voiced his fake name out loud. Oops. "So what's your name, not-Fred?" he asked again.

Not-Fred looked stunned for a moment before he chuckled and shook his head. "My name's Cyrin," he said. "Yours is...?"

"Ooh, that's a cool name. Do loud sirens ever bother you?" Elias asked.

"I'm not immune to them." Cyrin seemed amused.

"Right, right, right." Elias nodded, following along, but then thought back to his last question. "So, uh. Are you lost?"

Cyrin looked back at the road he'd been walking along. "Not lost," he said, just as he had the first time he'd been asked. He hardly seemed to be speaking to Elias at all.

Elias hummed, following his gaze. "Alright. Are you headed somewhere in particular?"

"I guess not," Cyrin admitted. "I'm not sure I would have tried to go here. I..." He blinked, shaking his head as he trailed off.

Elias squinted at him for a moment, trying to get a better read on this guy. He didn't say he was lost, but it sounded like he was aimlessly wandering. Maybe he didn't have a home?

"Are you hungry?" he asked with a smile.

Cyrin hesitated, like he wasn't sure. "A little, maybe."

"Well, if you want an apple that rolled in vomit, you can find it over there," Elias said with a vague gesture behind him. "But if you want non-vomited food, the food bank is handing out baggies a little ways over there. I can take you there if you'd like."

"I'll take the food bank." There was no hesitation in Cyrin's reply this time, but he softened its suddenness with a smile. "Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem. And wise choice. You'd probably get the plague if you ate that." Elias grinned but then gestured with his head for Cyrin to follow him as he turned around and walked back. "Do you have some place to stay tonight?"

"For the first time, no." Cyrin kicked at the ground slightly as he followed, black hair falling in his face as he looked down. "I got evicted, actually."

"Oh man, I'm sorry. That sucks. Landlords are the worst. Someone should evict them instead," Elias said, resisting the urge to kick the apple as they walked past it.

Cyrin sighed heavily in agreement. "It would be nice to see that happen." He paused. "I didn't get your name...?"

"Oh, my bad. It's Elias," he said with a smile.

"Elias," Cyrin repeated. "It's a nice name, though I can't think of a pun to go with it."

"Yeah, real shame, huh? I dunno, it's kind of formal. But I think my parents liked old people names, so it's whatever. I like that your name is named after a word, though. I wish I was named after a word. But if my parents named me a word, they'd probably name me an old person word. Like Spoon."

Cyrin laughed before clearing his throat. "No relation to a siren, actually. It's Cyrin, C-Y-R-I-N--" He paused. "Though I guess it's not really important."

"Ooooh," Elias drew out, but then paused to think, furrowing his brows deep in thought. "Wait, doesn't that spell cryin'?"

"Pretty sure I spelled it that way before I learned too. The Y and R are swapped."

"Well, that sucks. I wouldn't like to cry over my own name," Elias said.

Cyrin huffed amusedly. "It was mildly frustrating at first."

"Maybe you should change it to Happi. Like happy, but with an 'I'," Elias said as he waggled his brows at him.

Cyrin smirked. "Good suggestion, but I think I'll keep it."

"Probably a smart decision." Elias paused as they neared Winston. "Oh, don't mind my friend over there. He's sleeping with his eyes open." Cyrin nodded silently, seemingly leaving him to it, but Elias decided to keep talking anyways since he knew that Winston wasn't going to wake up any time soon. "So you said you needed a place to stay tonight, right? Just tonight? Or all the days?"

"For... the foreseeable future," Cyrin said.

"Got it. Well, I can take you to the shelter, but beds go by pretty fast, so it might be booked for the night," Elias said, then paused with another grin. "But I can also take you to another place. It's real fancy, called Tent City."

"The one by I-90?" Cyrin asked.

"Oh, you know of it? Cool, we're on the map," Elias said with a laugh.

Cyrin chuckled. "It is a fair size. Pretty much a city in its own right." He paused. "Though that's not really a good thing."

"I guess so. Though, it's nice to see a lot of familiar places. Plus there's strength in numbers. I'm sure you could find someone to tent with." Elias pursed his lips, pausing to more clearly think. "Well. Maybe you could use mine. It's not really mine, though. I kind of inherited it. But for tonight, it could be yours... unless you wanted to snuggle with someone tonight."

Cyrin paused. "I guess it's... cozy?" He cleared his throat. "I can share."

"Might get kind of hot, though. Especially with your fancy shirt," Elias said.

"Not in the winters," Cyrin remarked.

"Oh, you're going to stay at Tent City til winter? Nice."

"For the foreseeable future, right?" Cyrin sighed. "How'd you end up here, Elias?"

"Right, right. Foreseeable future," Elias murmured, but then pursed his lips again, squinting as he continued to idly walk, turning a corner when they reached the end of the alley. "I wanted to live somewhere different, so I took the next cheapest bus traveling cross-country. It's been an adventure ever since, I'd say."

Cyrin nodded. "Where did you come from?"

"I'm from Missouri," he said. "What about you?"

"Denver." Cyrin looked around. "So we're both from somewhere pretty different than here, yeah? But in different ways."

"Oooh, yeah, Denver," Elias said as he tried to think about everything he knew about Denver. Only two words came to mind: mountains and weed. "Lotta mountains out there, huh?"

"Plenty of mountains," Cyrin confirmed. "And... weed."

"Yo, I bet the weed there is potent. And fresh. Is it true that it grows everywhere in Colorado, like a weed?" Elias asked.

"Not really," Cyrin said, chuckling. "But a lot of people keep it around."

"Oh, is that what you were? A weed farmer? That's cool."

That seemed funny to Cyrin. "I was not."

"Oh... then... a normal farmer?" Elias guessed instead.

Cyrin deliberated for a moment. "A normal weed addict, honestly."

Elias chuckled. "Oh, nice. That's a cool job. That's my job too. What a coincidence."

Cyrin laughed. "We'll get along great."

With a smirk, Oliver tapped his fingers along the table as he watched Clarity pick up the wrong solution. He knew she was going to mess up. She always messed up. He knew that, but she never did. Not until it was too late, anyways.

"Wrong," he said again, voice tired that he had to keep telling her this, but amused nonetheless.

"Shut the fuck up," Clarity snapped, but he saw the confidence on her face waver, and she slowly reached for a different one while glaring the whole time.

It was late Friday evening at the lab, and it was just the two of them. Again. Hard at work. Again.

Why was the supercomputer room right next to a chemistry lab? Oliver had no clue. If anyone asked him, he'd say it was a fire hazard. That combined with being with this bumbling idiot, staying here was such a chore.

But alas. He had to run his models. He was always on the verge of discovery, so close to predicting valuable information. He was running hundreds of machine learning algorithms predicting hundreds of different scenarios, from tomorrow's stock exchange prices to how likely the average 17 year-old would buy into the latest fashion trend.

That was much more important than Clarity's experiments, which was useless. Chemistry was such a useless chore. Discovery science usually entailed seeing what happens when you mix one thing with another, but there was no practical aspect to it.

It was too bad that this university was too backwards to recognize that. Such a shame. The world was advancing far faster than Ivy University was able to catch up. The students were no different.

"Wrong again," he said boredly when Clarity was mixing her solution with a magnetic stir plate.

She didn't look at him this time. "Now you're just making that up."

"You'd yield much better results if you used a stir bar instead, letting it sit for at least ten minutes. But you're the scientist. You know best," Oliver said with a feigned smile.

"I'd yield much better results if I didn't have some guy who thinks he's smart because he sits behind a computer screen all day like a twelve-year-old video game addict hovering around and being an unwanted distraction at best." Clarity's voice was light, but her glance held venom.

Oliver laughed and shook his head, resuming to clicking away on his mouse since his model finished loading. He typed a few lines of code that he had written many times before, so he was able to talk distractedly at the same time.

"That's nice, how long did it take for you to think of that?" he said with a smirk.

"How long did it take you to understand it?" Clarity pulled on some latex gloves.

"Good question. How about this: I run that as a factor in my model, and then I'll get you the answer to your question. I'll also be able to predict all the other mistakes you'll make, and all the other mistakes you've already made. How does that sound?" Oliver said, pressing enter to run his code before swiveling around to face her again, this time with a bigger smirk.

She never took him seriously on this. In fact, he probably became a little crazy in her eyes whenever he said it. "Has it figured out the mistake of your existence yet? I've been dying to know." Clarity turned to another table, and he barely caught her rolling her eyes.

"Good one. Wait, I can do you three better."

Oliver quickly pulled up his model file called "clarity_being_stupid.py" and ran the file. Because of the computer's quick processing speed, the relatively small data set, and the quick API plug-in from the LLM, it ran within seconds.

He grinned, using his best imitation voice of her to mock her. "Will it predict the time I finally throw some acid your way?" he said with a higher pitched voice, reading the first three lines of the generated 100-line output. "How about you use it to help you get a life if it has all the impossible answers? I hope I get the pleasure of embalming you."

Clarity didn't move, but he heard her slam a bottle down on the table with slightly more force than was necessary.

"I have ninety-seven more. Want me to read them?" he said with a smile.

Clarity raised an eyebrow, hardly looking up from her work. "No, but I hope you take them to heart."

"According to the sixty-seventh output, you say that I'm heartless since my brain is made out of code. So according to you, I'm unable to take your own advice," Oliver mused, quickly scanning over the rest of the output. It amused him every time.

"I wouldn't say that. The jury's out on you having a brain."

"That's a great data point. Let me write that down," Oliver murmured as he typed away, adding this to his data set along with the other quips Clarity had already said. A model was only as good as its training set data, after all.

Oliver quickly added those lines in before pressing enter triumphantly, saving his file to use for another rainy day. He went back to running his original model again, but glanced back at Clarity.

"How's that metal plate doing? Has the heat ruined your solution yet?" he asked as he continued to code.

"Getting warm over there?" She took out a test strip. "You can get out of the kitchen whenever you'd like."

"Deflecting, hm? Is it because you don't want to admit that I'm right?" Oliver asked playfully.

"Could be because I still know what I'm doing." Clarity's movements were slow, unhurried. She'd stopped caring about the conversation.

Oliver knew she was simply trying to save face. It was normal for people to stand by their pride when they were losing their dignity, after all.

"Riiiiight," he drew out. "Forgive me for helping you. I suppose not everyone wants to learn from their mistakes. But that's understandable. Ignorance is--"

The sharp pop of an explosion and the crashing of glass interrupted him, and in a panicked frenzy, Oliver immediately curled up and placed his arms out in front of him, desperately shielding himself from any glass that may have came his way.

Thankfully, none did -- but it was scattered all over the floor, and his ears were still ringing.

"Fils de pute!" he cursed with irritation, clenching his jaw as he slowly dropped his arms and glared at Clarity. "What is wrong with you?! This lab is a shared space!"

Clarity hadn't budged, or even bothered to face him. "Sorry, did something surprise you?"

"I told you your experiment would fail. Don't you ever listen to me? Now you have to file a safety incident report," Oliver growled, still seething.

"Oh, I knew about that. I'll do it happily." Clarity took off her gloves, scanning the space before she threw them in the trash and made her way to the exit, presumably to grab a broom. "I'm tempted to say that I missed." The fire door banged behind her.

Oliver was fuming. God, what a mess. That bitch really knew how to fuck everything up. Since he witnessed this shitshow, he had to stay behind and record this safety incident report as a witness. He could bail, but if he did that, then Clarity may sweep this under the rug. And if he had to choose between saving himself a few hours or seeing her fall on her own sword, he'd pick the latter every time.

With a sigh, he shook his head and examined the floor. Small shards and bits of glass was strewn throughout the lab, and even though there were no pieces near him, he was still hesitant to walk on the floor and potentially ruin his good shoes.

His watch didn't predict this.

Oliver stared down at the gold mechanical watch that was gifted to him at the beginning of the school year. It was peculiar. It was gifted to him by the president of the university, saying it was a gift from his parents donating a large sum of money. But something about it called to him, because if he wore it, it was like he was able to see the future.

True, he could have probably made a model detailing all of Clarity's fuck ups and predict when her experiments went wrong. But to be honest, she was not worth his time, outside of the stupid bantering file he made. He was far too busy to give her any more of his coding time.

No. He knew she would mess up because he saw her, minutes from now, sighing and starting over.

He didn't see an explosion happen, though. Oliver did not predict that.

He recalled the back of the watch, etched in French. When angled to the left, it read, "seul le temps," and when angled to the right, it read, "nous le dira." Translated roughly, it meant "time alone will tell it to us"-- or the closest French rendition of "only time will tell".

Something about this watch gave him the ability to perceive the events of the future, but not all the time. It was strange, but Oliver wasn't going to tell anyone else about this. He'd not only appear crazy, but that meant he'd have to share the watch's magic as well.

Clarity then came back into the lab, broom in hand. Oliver glared at her.

Never mind the watch. He was going to give her hell.

The end of the month was always so annoying. Rent was coming up, and although Alan said they were fine, Alistair had a feeling that something was bound to come up. He had a normal desk job and also worked at a cafe on the weekends, but for Boston, the pay was not great.

He did always find that ironic, though. He worked at Ivy so that other students can go on to make insane wages, yet it wasn't like they prioritized paying the admin much. Whatever. It was probably fine considering he only had a high school education.

It didn't help that Andrea was so demanding. God, whatever he brought back, it was never enough. And she was so high maintenance. He and Alan split everything 50-50, but Alistair knew that he had to pull in his weight more considering that he hadn't been paying everything on time.

So Doordash it was. Or maybe he could find another job on top of the other two he had, although he didn't know what that could be. It didn't help that Alistair didn't have much marketable skills.

Finishing off his cigarette break, Alistair threw the butt on the ground and swiped through his phone, picking up the next big order. It was already late, but drunk college kids would be going home late wanting a snack. The people in this area had more money, so maybe they'd tip higher.

There was one order two blocks away, and they wanted a pizza. No problem. Alistair was about to accept the order, but then another notification popped up: a different customer a little further out wanted a pizza as well, and they were willing to tip the price of the pizza for it? It seemed odd, but he quickly accepted the order, only questioning it for another brief second before shaking away the thought.

He'd do this for two more hours, maybe. Or maybe he could finish earlier if he kept finding customers who would waste more money on this app.

Biking away, Alistair zipped down the streets, turning the corners needed to get to the pizza parlor. He had done this many times, and although it would be a brief pick up order, he still securely locked up his bike, not trusting downtown Boston.

It only took a minute to get both orders. The first one was a smaller box with instructions to leave at the front desk of the apartment lobby, and the second box was larger with instructions to go up the elevator and hand deliver it. Well, that explained the larger tip.

Delivering the first one was a blur. It took some time since he had to find a spot to park the bike and then couldn't figure out how to go in, so he had to walk around until he found the right door. Even then, he had to wait around to be let in, which was growing to be a pain, even after he texted the customer letting them know he was here. In the minute or so he waited, Alistair also glanced through his messages with Andrea, but they were mostly the same. Where was he, what was he doing, who was he with, whatever. It wasn't like she had his location or anything. She could wait.

Finally, Alistair was able to drop it off and return back to his bike. The next building was only a few blocks away, and he recognized the name to be the apartment complex that had more of the trust fund and other privileged Ivy League students. It was always hit or miss in terms of tips with them. It was either a strangely high amount or a low ball, probably because they didn't know any better.

Delivering this one was easier since they had bike parking and someone was able to let him in. The customers lived on the fifteenth floor, so he went up the elevator and waited before he exited and wandered down the hallway. Alistair double checked that he was standing in front of the right door then knocked.

He noticed that the customer checked the "hand the order to me" as an option, but considering that he had to go all the way to their apartment door, this was close enough. He placed the pizza on the floor in front of the door, stepping back to take a picture proving that it got delivered. As he did so, the door then opened and someone peeked out.

It was a little awkward since Alistair was still here, but he sent the blurry photo anyways and forced a half-smile as he picked the pizza back up to hand it off to them.

"Hey, thank you!" the man said in a Russian accent, beaming as he took it. "Wow, it's still warm."

Hmmm. He looked and sounded a little familiar, but Alistair thought nothing of it as he nodded and turned away.

"Yup, have a good rest of the night," he said as he turned back down into the hallway, off to chase his next order.

"Wait, hold on," the man said, laughing in a slightly awkward way. "Alistair, is that you?"

Alistair slowly turned back around, narrowing his eyes at him as suspicion pooled in. Well, this man did have access to his name on the app. But he made it sound like he knew him. He did seem a little familiar as well, though. Perhaps they did meet.

"Yeah?" he said slowly.

"Sorry, this is a really strange coincidence," the man said. "I think I was introduced to you while you were picking another order today? At a bakery, maybe?"

Oh, right. It was coming back to him now. Although Alistair hardly had time to digest what this man looked like, that information combined with the Russian accent gave it away: they did meet earlier today.

"Right, yeah," he murmured. "You're Mel's friend, right?"

The man glanced behind him. "And roommate," he said with a nod.

"Oh. How nice," Alistair said flatly, everything making sense now. Ordering the pizza must have been Mel's idea in the first place. She successfully lured him in here, didn't she?

"I guess we got the idea to order Doordash because you placed it in our heads," the man said, smiling a little nervously as he read Alistair's face. "Didn't think this would come of it."

"Niko! Ask him if he wants to come in!" Mel loudly whispered, sounding close to the door. Alistair almost wanted to laugh about how absurd all of this was.

Niko's gaze darted to the side. "Uh, what she said. We were going to just play some games over pizza, but if you wanted to join us, three people would be more fun. Are you busy?"

Alistair hesitated, following Niko's earlier gaze to where Mel must be -- although, he was only looking at a blank wall since he wasn't inside to see. "If you wanted to ask a person to hang out, you could have just texted me. You know, like a normal person, not a psycho?" Alistair said sarcastically.

Niko winced. "That's what I told her, actually."

Mel quickly shuffled in, huffing and puffing and pouting as she then stood in Niko's way. "Okay, first off, you would say no. Tell me I'm wrong! And second, I don't even have your number. How else am I supposed to communicate that I think you're cool and we should hang out?"

Well, alright. She was both right and wrong. Right that he would have said no, but wrong that she didn't have his number. Alistair distinctly remembered her two years ago pressing him to hang out with her again, and just because she wouldn't stop harassing him, he let her have his number and they went to get cookies at midnight. It was such a random day, but she must have forgotten about that, because she never texted again. Honestly, she probably didn't even save his number. And now that he thought about it, he wondered if she was even sober that whole night.

"You're not wrong," he said instead matter-of-factly.

"Come on, take a break. Hang out and play games with us! And eat the pizza that you worked so hard to deliver," Mel pleaded, beckoning for him to come in. "You know you wanna."

Alistair hesitated again. This felt kind of weird, but then again, it was always weird whenever he had chance or random encounters with Mel like this.

"I don't know, I should probably get back and, uh... you know. Work," he said.

"Seriously? It's almost midnight! Take a break," Mel scolded, making Alistair sigh as he glanced down the hall again.

"It's free food," Niko added. "And it would be more fun with you. Mel and I both suck at Mario Kart, so it's not all that exciting to have two-player games. If you play a round and still want to leave, that's okay, but we're happy to have you here."

Alistair thought it was so odd that they would do all this work just so they could have a third person join their Mario Kart game. Didn't Mel have a million other friends? And if Niko was her friend, he probably had his fair share of friends too. Hell, they were probably friends with all of their neighbors. What'd they want with him?

"Alright, well..." Alistair hesitated again, slightly squinting as he flitted his eyes between the two of them. "Are you sure?"

Mel giggled and then pulled him in, almost making him trip over his own feet. "Yes! Welcome in!" she chirped as he yanked his hand away so he could stand by himself.

As expected, their apartment was nice. It had the latest appliances and everything looked... homey. There were a surprising amount of paintings on the wall as well.

"Oh, yeah, I paint a bit," Niko said, following his gaze to them. "A lot of these I couldn't find anything to do with, so." He shrugged with a smile. "They brighten the walls."

"Yeah, I see that," Alistair said with a weak laugh. He stared at the one closest to him, which was a watercolor painting of a brown bird. "They look nice."

"Boys! Are you coming or what?" Mel yelled from the living room.

"The princess calls," Alistair said flatly under his breath as he then motioned for Niko to go on ahead first since he lived here and all.

Niko smiled slightly, moving on, but he heard him say a quiet, touched "Thank you." It took Alistair a moment to realize that he was thanking him in response to the painting compliments rather than him letting him go first.

Mel was on the couch, grinning when she saw them finally coming in away from the door. The pizza box was open on the table, as well as three plates. Niko sat on the couch next to Mel, but Alistair opted for the single-person sofa off to the side as he stared at the TV, noticing that they were playing one of the older Mario Kart games.

"Feel free to have a slice. You did do all the work to get it here, ya know," Mel said with a smile as she took a slice of pizza on her own, placing it on her plate.

Alistair was tempted to say that he did the work because he was paid to do it, but decided it'd be better to keep that to himself. He let out a half-smile as he took her up on her offer, taking a slice for himself.

This was weird. Out of the hundred orders he delivered, he had never gotten an invite from a customer to come into their home and eat their food.

"So what's new with you?" Mel asked out of the blue. "Are you still dating that one girl?"

"Yup," Alistair said, not challenging it even though she provided no detail to her question.

Mel scrunched her nose in dissatisfaction. "Aw, man. You can do so much better. She's so controlling!" she whined.

"You never even met her," Alistair said with a raised brow.

Niko blinked. "Mel, it's a little weird to trash talk people's partners in front of them."

"It's alright. I'm used to her saying the same stuff over and over again," Alistair said.

"Fine. But just saying. Blink twice if you need help," Mel said as she squinted at him, staring at him closely.

Alistair decided to ignore her, eating his pizza instead.

Niko's gaze flicked between the two of them, smiling nervously as he passed out Nintendo controllers and started setting up the game. "So," he said brightly after a bite of pizza. "What Mario Kart characters is everyone playing as?"

"Ooh! I always go for Peach. Are you going to pick Yoshi again?" Mel asked to Niko.

Niko shrugged. "Unless Alistair would."

"I usually go for Bowser. So you're in the clear," Alistair said before another bite.

Niko beamed, selecting his character on the screen. "Perfect."

They all picked their preferred characters, and Alistair listened in as Mel pondered over which map to pick. She seemed indecisive, but ended up picking Rainbow Road because she liked that it was bright and colorful. He wondered if she was aware that this was the hardest map, but if it was true that they weren't very good at this game, maybe she didn't really care.

When the countdown began, Alistair placed his plate back on the table then sat on the edge of his chair, leaning forward so that his elbows were propped against his knees. He held the controller firmly in his hands, readying himself for this virtual race. It wasn't like he was amazing at this game, but he did admit that it would bring him great satisfaction at coming in first with this game.

Turns out, that was not a hard task. Like, at all. Niko wasn't kidding when he said they were bad at this game. It was like Mel didn't even know how to steer, continually zigzagging across the road and somehow fumbling her best power-ups, wasting them. Mel complained and Niko laughed along with her, trying to help her out by showing her the way whenever she got lost, but then getting lost himself since he kept falling off the path. The flying bee character mercilessly took his coins whenever he needed a rescue.

Alistair had no idea that someone could be this bad at this game. He easily won first, and he was a whole lap ahead of them. He waited with amusement for them to catch up, having enough time to finish his slice of pizza before they finished.

"What? You won first? How'd you manage that? This game is so hard!" Mel huffed when the game drew to an end.

"Yeah, it's a mystery," Alistair said, suppressing a smirk.

Niko grinned. "Nice job, Alistair! You can pick the next map."

"We don't have to play this game if you don't want to. Especially if you, you know. Don't know how to play," he said with a little laugh, shaking his head.

"Ooh, you want to play a different game, then? Let's see. We have some board games, other games on the Switch, and -- oh! We can play Jackbox games. I like that one tee shirt drawing game," Mel said with a smile.

"I don't think I've played that one before, but sure," Alistair said with a shrug.

"Ooh, or we can play the other ones too. There's a lot of good ones."

Mel went on to describe the different kinds of games as Niko readied it, but Alistair wasn't really following along, yet nodded anyways.

Niko caught his eye, smiling slightly. "We'll do whatever you feel like playing."

Mel gave him some options, but Alistair didn't really know any of them. "It doesn't matter to me. I'm not very good at drawing, though," he said.

"Oh, really? Hm. Maybe we'll do all of them and get those out of the way first then," she said as she went on to select a game called Drawful. Alistair did wonder if what she said was true or if she wanted to play the drawing ones because she knew he was bad at them.

The game was basically pictionary, except the prompts were random, and the premise was that you had to fool other people into thinking it was a different word. Alistair's prompt was "solid gold tent" and so he had to draw that on the website on his phone. He didn't know how anyone could draw anything details since the screen was so small and he was constantly flubbing it.

Apparently, it was possible, because Niko took the game way too seriously. Alistair finished early and noticed that, instead of his finger, he was using a stylus so he could draw in greater detail. He was the last one to finish, but his drawing was up first.

It was most definitely of a camel, that Alistair knew, and a realistic one too for line art. Niko had added a few touches, however, because the camel was wearing sunglasses and was drinking from a glass with a striped straw. The glass was levitating below the camel's mouth, almost comically, with nothing holding it.

"Wow," Alistair said as he stared at the screen, amazed that he could draw that much with so little space and so little time. Niko let out a shy laugh.

"Oh my gosh, that is so cute! It's like a camel on vacation," Mel said with a laugh. "That's my guess."

Alistair shook his head with a slight smile, typing in "camel drinking" since that was what it seemed to be.

"Leave it up to Niko to go above and beyond over a silly prompt, huh?" Mel teased, playfully elbowing him.

Niko huffed amusedly. "Well, you don't know the prompt. Maybe I fulfilled it exactly."

Turns out, the prompt was "thirsty camel." Alistair's was closest, and Mel laughed but continued to tease him.

"Why's it wearing sunglasses and drinking from a fancy cup, then? Clearly the camel's on vacation!" she said with a teasing smile.

Niko grinned, holding up his hands in mock offense. "I think the term for it is artistic choices."

Alistair shifted a little uncomfortably when he saw that his drawing was next. He knew that what he drew was so simple and it was almost laughable compared to Niko's. On the screen was his name, and it only showed a big yellow triangle.

There was a long silence in the room as they all stared at the screen.

"Alistair, did you just draw a yellow triangle?" Mel asked with a giggle.

"It's called minimalism and abstractism," Niko said, typing in his guess. "I like it. The interpretation truly is up to us."

"Yeeeaaaah," he drew out with a nod. "That's what I was going for."

Mel giggled again. "Clearly!"

Their guesses were revealed. Mel unsurprisingly guessed "yellow triangle" and Niko guessed "duckling wing", apparently with birds on the mind. Afterwards, the real prompt was revealed to be "solid gold tent."

Mel hummed. "Huh. I guess a yellow triangle makes sense then, huh?" She turned to Niko with a grin. "It's too bad it's not a duckling wing though."

"It's art, so technically my interpretation can't be wrong," he joked.

"Oooh, okay. I didn't know there were so many meaning to big yellow triangles," Mel said, still grinning.

"I'm honestly surprised no one guessed yield sign," Alistair said.

"Were you trying to fool us into thinking that?" Mel asked. "Smart."

Alistair shrugged. "Not really. It came to me after I submitted. But also this prompt is weird."

"Imagine this as one of those inkblot personality tests," Niko said as Mel's drawing popped up.

She drew a bunch of smiling colorful fish with long legs, wearing heels. Honestly, it was a little disturbing.

"Uh. Wow," Alistair said as he stared at the drawing.

"It's my best masterpiece," Mel said with a grin and flourish of her hand.

Niko seemed to take a while to come up with a compliment for it, but he took to it with a smile that barely suppressed a laugh. "The colors really pop. This is what I'd recommend to a minimalist mansion that's in all white if I were an interior designer, because I hate that style."

Mel beamed, smiling wide. "Oh yeah? Imagine these fishies painted along the wall. It'd make those boring mansions so much more chic."

Alistair pried his eyes away from the screen to type his guess into the box. "I'm going to go to sleep tonight, and instead of seeing darkness, I'm going to see this drawing, haunting me," he said blandly.

Mel snorted. "Fabulous. I love that you'll dream of my trendy fish."

The guesses then came in. Alistair guessed "fish legs" and Niko guessed "fashionable fish." The real prompt was "walking fish", which seemed obvious enough now.

That brought the game to an end, and Mel and Niko continued to chat saying how fun that was, but Mel then excused herself from the group to go to the restroom, leaving Alistair by himself with Niko. As she left, Alistair suddenly felt very awkward being in their place without Mel, since he knew her better than he did Niko. Instinctively, he peeked through his phone during the short silence that followed, realizing that he missed a few calls from Andrea. He probably should be leaving soon.

"So, Alistair," Niko said after a few moments of silence, sounding a little awkward as well. "Mel said she met you at the admissions office?"

Alistair turned his phone screen off and placed it back in his pocket, turning his attention back to Niko. "Yeah, I work there. I basically put a bunch of data on paper into their databases. I also work the desks during the summer when there's higher demand. That's how I met Mel."

Niko smiled. "Probably the most energetic person you've had to meet for your job, I'm guessing." Alistair noticed his accent came through stronger in the words with more syllables, like energetic.

"Yeah. I wouldn't limit that to just my job," he said.

Niko nodded. "Makes sense," he said with a laugh.

"How did you meet her?" Alistair asked before the ensuing silence could feel too long again.

"Freshman year orientation," Niko explained. "We both showed up late and to the wrong place. I probably would've stayed there forever for a tour that never came, but she dragged me around on a wild chase until we found the group. Her energy was very helpful in that moment."

"That sounds like something she'd do. Sounds like you both are good friends now," Alistair said, barely nodding.

"Yeah." Niko smiled faintly. "Kind of surprising how it happened. As you can tell, it seems like she'd choose--" He waved his hand around. "--more animated people to hang around."

"Animated people," Alistair echoed. "You mean, other people who would befriend office clerks and then convince them to play games by luring them with pizza delivery tips?"

Niko laughed softly. "I'm not sure how many people like that there are, but basically, yeah."

"Well, hopefully none. Because if there are any more, I think the world wouldn't be able to handle that," Alistair distractedly said as his eyes naturally wandered wandered around the room, landing on the various paintings and lighting fixtures placed around the room. There was a surprising amount of lamps here.

"One's perfect, I think. No more, no less."

There was another short silence, and Alistair wondered what was taking Mel a while. Then again, he didn't want to know.

"Are you from Russia?" Alistair asked, but regretted as soon as the question left his mouth. "I just-- you know. Accent. I assume you're not from..." He gestured vaguely in front of him, "...Boston."

Niko grinned. "You're fine, I get it a lot. I actually am, yeah. St. Petersburg."

Alistair nodded slowly. "Seems cold up there. Do you miss it?"

Niko tilted his head to the side as he considered. "Yeah, though I've lived a lot of other places. Boston is just one of them." He looked Alistair over. "I'm assuming you're not from here either? It's also the accent, or the lack of, I guess."

Alistair huffed an amused puff of air through his nose. "Yeah, no Boston accent from me. I'm from Atlanta. I moved here two years ago."

"That's cool," Niko remarked. "So do you--?"

"Back!" Mel interrupted as she bounced back in the room, hand through her hair. She sat back on the couch with a smile. "Whatcha talking about?"

Niko shrugged lightheartedly. "Random things."

"And that I should probably leave," Alistair said as he took this upon himself as an invitation to leave, standing up. He knew Mel would pout and convince him to stay, so he also added, "I have to get back and help my brother with something, so not work related."

That wasn't really true, but he had a feeling using work or Andrea as an excuse to leave wouldn't work. Or at the very least, he wouldn't hear the end of it.

"Wait, whaaaaat? You have a brother? And he's in Boston too? Ooh, does he also work at your job?" Mel asked, smiling wide.

"Yeah, no," Alistair said simply.

"Maybe we can meet him sometime!" Mel went on anyways.

"Yeah, maybe," Alistair said as he glanced as his phone again, but then back at the door. "This has been fun. Thanks for the invite. It's uh... weird, but... thanks."

Mel beamed, looking pleased as she also stood up so she could follow him to the door. "Yeah, no problem! Would you want to do this again?" She took out her phone, quickly swiping and before handing it to him so that he could put in his number. "Give me your number so I don't have to be a creep and order pizza next time."

Alistair laughed through his nose, shaking his head as he then typed in his number in the contact she had open. He put his full name in this time in case she did actually save his number last time. "Sure," he said as he handed her phone back to her.

"Yay!"

The three of them walked over to the door, and Mel happily opened for him and waved him off. "Bye, Alistair! Don't work yourself to death! Say hi to your totally real brother for me!"

Alistair shot her an odd look, but didn't comment further. "Yeah, okay."

Niko gave him a friendly smile. "It's been good meeting you. We should try this again."

"Yeah... nice to meet you too. I'll, uh... yeah. We can do that," Alistair said as he stepped out and glanced down the hall. "Alright. I really should be going. Have a good rest of the night."

He gave them a weak wave and proceeded down the hall. Half a minute in, his phone buzzed. It was from Mel, greeting him with a lot of sparkly emojis along with another number with a Boston area code he didn't recognize that must have been Niko's. It was a group message between the three of them.

As Alistair left the building, he wondered if they really would do this again. Mel had a habit of wanting to be friends with everyone, although he always thought that was unsustainable. Niko seemed to balance her out, though, and he seemed nice.

Their friendship started from unlikely means. Who was to say that this potential new friendship couldn't stop from unlikely means as well?

The next two hours felt long.

Whenever Alan played in the piano bar, it usually went by fast. Today was slower than usual which didn't help, and he was being unchallenged by the usual song requests, so he found struggling to not stay in auto-pilot, trying to keep the charm and charisma since Shane was watching him. Alan was used to an audience, but he found it especially endearing that Shane was listening by himself with full focus the whole time.

Alan was also generally more distracted than usual, juggling several different thoughts at once, all the while trying to play piano, sing, and make an audience laugh. It was a lot to think through at the same time, and so he did his best to not let his focus slip.

He only had one more break until his shift ended, and he again spent it with Shane. He had ordered fries and offered to split the basket, which Alan did appreciate because he had focused so much on the music and audience, he nearly forgotten how hungry he was. But he found himself still distracted, hardly eating since he was talking to Shane the whole time. He learned more about Seattle, his love of history, his past papers, his favorite subjects, and his current classes. Time flew by, and by the end of the break, Alan was itching for the last hour to finish.

When it finally did, he gathered his tips, said goodbye to Lucas, waved goodbye to the manager, chatted with an aspiring musician who wanted to talk to him, and then finally flagged down Shane so they could leave. The bar was getting louder and more packed, so Alan led him down the narrow hall until they were out back into the alley.

Night had fallen and the string lights were above them, casting a warm glow. The alley was lively with people and chatter, but Alan pulled Shane aside so they wouldn't get lost in the crowd.

He smiled at him, meeting his soft green eyes. "Hopefully you've been enjoying the night so far."

Shane returned the smile. "It's been great, and I'm so glad you invited me, but I never did get your favorite song."

Alan grinned. He was wondering if he'd remember that. He briefly looked up towards the lights, pushing up his glasses as he weighed some options through his head. "Why don't you follow me and find out?" he said as he beckoned for Shane to follow him out of the alley.

Shane grinned, walking by his side. "Why not? Sounds like fun."

"Are you hungry?" Alan asked.

"A bit. I did share some fries with someone else who was hungry," Shane said with a joking eyebrow raise.

Alan laughed. "I suppose I owe you late night dinner then, don't I?"

Shane gave him a long, curious look, a faint smile floating over his lips before it grew again. "I can't say no to that."

"I'm glad, because that's exactly where we're going," he said with another faint laugh. "Have you ever been to the waterfront at night?"

Shane nodded eagerly. "A couple times, on my own."

Alan hummed as they neared an intersection, slowing to a stop at the crosswalk. "Night walks?"

"Night walks," Shane confirmed. "Seattle has a few great waterfronts, and I always liked the way the lights reflect on the water. It looks a little different here, but nearly as pretty."

"That's poetic, isn't it? You're thousands of miles from home, but the waters and the skies are the same." Alan paused. "Well, maybe not exactly the same. Boston could use a Mount Rainier."

"It could." The light turned, and Shane's shoulder brushed his accidentally as they started walking again. "But, you know, doesn't show up in only one place or one way. Not to get too poetic."

"Right. I'd like to think we take a little bit of home with us everywhere," Alan said as he glanced at Shane, but mostly focused on finishing crossing the street. "Do you travel a lot?"

Shane paused. "What's your idea of a lot?"

Alan smiled as they reached the end of the street and then took a turn, pausing to make sure Shane could walk beside him. "That's subjective, but since we are students, I'd consider 'a lot' to be more than just seeing family every year, or in the past."

Shane laughed. "I guess a fair bit, then. A few cities on either coast of the US and Canada, a few more in Europe, especially Greece, and then I've been to Egypt and Australia too. I'm hoping to see more, though."

Alan nodded, impressed. "That's a fair bit. Do you have a favorite country?"

Shane considered for a moment, his eyes gleaming. "It's a three way tie between Italy, Greece and Egypt. They may or not have influenced my decision on what region and period of history I should study."

Alan smiled, studying Shane for a moment. "I can see that. Those countries are rich with history and culture. Were you most inspired by the historical landmarks? I can also see you as a child absorbing all information in a museum."

"Oh, yes. I think I remember my parents extending our trips a day or two because there were so many places I still wanted to see. Even then it was hard to choose." Shane's voice was a crescendo of excitement. "There is so much to learn from them--" He paused suddenly, laughing. "Sorry. I was about to get carried away."

"So get carried away. Don't apologize for that. I think it's lovely how excited you were -- and still are -- about learning," Alan said sincerely with a smile, glancing up ahead and knowing that they weren't too far off now. "Keep going. I want to hear."

Smiling wider, Shane told him all about a temple of Poseidon in Greece, hardly pausing for breath but swiftly answering any questions about it, as the two of them got closer to where Alan was thinking of: the Peruvian food truck, not far off from the waterfront. There was a short line, but even when they approached and waited, Shane was happily still going through his story while Alan listened intently. He was giving Shane his full attention, watching and listening to him talk expressively with full passion.

"...and even among the other greatest temples, it's an especially significant one," Shane finished.

"I can tell. It's also significant for you," Alan said, but then gestured at the food truck in front of them, noticing that it was almost their turn in line. "Also, I don't want to interrupt, but do you know what you'd like to order?" He paused. "I can also surprise you, if you'd like. Just let me know if you have any allergies or preferences."

"Food. That's right." Shane glanced at the menu, but then looked at Alan with a smile. "You know what? I think I'll take the surprise."

"Sure thing. Hang tight."

Alan glanced at the menu, but he already knew what he had in mind to order. Going up to the truck, he noticed that an abuelita was the one taking the orders, so he ordered in Spanish, asking for lomo saltado, tacu tacu, and ceviche. He pulled out some cash from the tips he had placed in his wallet, leaving the leftover change in the tip jar. He'd gone to this food truck before, so he knew it would be good, and hopefully enjoyable for Shane as well.

"Apparently, all potatoes apparently originate from Peru. So consider the fries we had earlier today as an appetizer to this cuisine," Alan said to Shane as he stepped to the side to wait for the food to arrive.

Shane chuckled. "That's true. From the way my Irish dad talks about potatoes, I did not know that for a long time, though." He shook his head slightly, quickly changing the topic. "So, you speak Spanish?"

"Ah, yeah. I'm Argentinian," Alan said simply.

Shane nodded. "That's cool. Have you ever been there or lived there, if I can ask you that?"

"Yeah, of course," Alan said with a small smile. "I was born there, but I don't have much memory of it since we moved to the US not long after that. I've visited only once again since then, back when I was a teenager. It'd be nice to go back again someday. I mostly visited extended family, but I'd love to see more of the Andes."

"Yeah, that would be a really interesting trip," Shane said, smiling as he nodded again. "It's a bit of a strange experience seeing distant family in person only occasionally too, isn't it? I've done that before and it was strange how everyone seemed to know more about me than I did about them."

"Yes, that's exactly it," Alan said with a small laugh. "I think being the American one of the family made us minor celebrities to all our cousins I never met until that moment." With a lingering smile, he shook away the thought and glanced back at Shane. "You said your dad is Irish, right? So I assume you're famous with your distant family there?"

"Actually, not as much as it seems," Shane said with a chuckle. "I have been to Ireland and met relatives there, but everyone there knows a family that moved away at some point, even if their ancestors last saw each other in the 1840s, so being the American relative doesn't mean much there. My mom is Greek, though-- you might have guessed Greece was special to me-- and that's where I'm a celebrity among relatives."

Alan nodded slowly. "I can definitely see how Greece holds a special place in your heart. How did your parents meet?"

"College," Shane said. "My dad went to Ivy, my mom went to Harvard. They kept meeting at rivalry events and, well, I guess they stopped being rivals."

Alan smiled again. "Alright, that's actually a very cute story. And I also find it funny that you chose to go to Ivy. I imagine your parents giving you a sales pitch for both schools."

Shane laughed. "I applied to both, and I was hoping one of them would turn me down. But no, I got into both, so I had to flip a coin in front of my parents."

Alan stared at him incredulously with a raised brow, letting out a laugh from the absurdity of it. "That's why you're here right now? Because of a coin flip?"

Shane grinned, wider than ever. "Because of a 50 percent chance, yes."

Alan hummed. "Lucky me."

Perfectly timed, his number got called to pick up the food, so Alan went up to the window to pick up the bag, thanking them before scurrying off towards the ocean walkway, beckoning for Shane to follow.

The walkway consisted of a boardwalk usually reserved for boats, but during the day, it was lined with tourists and people fishing. It was peaceful at night and no one else was around, so they had the whole dock to themselves.

They walked to the end and took a spot on the edge, sitting down with the food between them. Alan passed out the takeout forks, and Shane took his with a grateful smile.

Alan took out the three containers, trying to open them at the same time as if it were a grand reveal since his choice was supposed to be a surprise.

"Ta-da," he drew out. "Feel free to take your pick."



Shane had a bite of the ceviche first, his eyes widening slightly. "Wow," he said with a laugh afterwards, going back for another bite. "Consider me pleasantly surprised."

"You like it? I thought ceviche would be a good choice since we're, you know." Alan gestured around them. "Around ocean right now."

"Great choice," Shane agreed, meeting his gaze with a soft smile.

Alan returned the smile, but he tore it away to eat away at the lomo saltado. He fully intended on sharing all the food with Shane, but he could easily eat all of it if Shane wasn't hungry.

"Alright. Let's eat. I am so hungry," Alan said with a weak laugh.

Shane went on to praise the food, and Alan admitted that although Peru and Argentina had strong rivalries, Peru did have amazing cuisine. There was something about how they managed to make the food so light yet so tasty that he wasn't able to figure out. There was often little spices as well. Perhaps it was all the acidity from the limes.

They chatted and ate, but Alan was fine with some silences since they could also admire the city skyline from afar. Eventually, they both finished eating, and Alan put away the containers back in the bag.

"Consider your late night dinner repaid for," he said with a smile.

"Next time it's on me," Shane said. He then tilted his head to the side, thinking as he smiled. "If there is a next time?"

Alan studied Shane for a moment, the same repeating thoughts he had been thinking about today buzzing in his head, but he felt like now was not the time to deeply reflect yet. "Well, I am texting you my schedule, aren't I? I'll make the time for you."

He saw the slightest shift in Shane's smile, the tiniest glimpse of what might have been relief. "I'm excited for it," he said, turning towards him a little more. "But also, I'm excited to hear that favorite song of yours that I keep getting promised."

"You really want to know, huh?" Alan said with a laugh as he pulled his wired earbuds out from his back pocket. "Are you going to surprise me with a piano arrangement of it as well?"

"I could, but you wouldn't like it very much because I can't really play," Shane said with a playful grin. "I don't think I should assault your ears with that."

"Please. You can play Hot Cross Buns and I'd be floored, because it comes from you. I think that's all that matters, at the end of the day," Alan said as he plugged the earbuds into his phone then offered the right side of it to Shane. Shane met his gaze for a moment, still grinning, before he took it and placed it in his ear. Alan pursed his lips as he placed the other earbud in his ear, opening Spotify and thinking through options. "A song with lyrics or without?" he asked as he scrolled through his songs.

"Maybe with lyrics for tonight, since that's what you asked me for," Shane said.

"Alright. I know just the one."

Alan searched for the song he had in mind, placing the phone down and leaning back as he listened while gazing over the water.



The song started in Pulaar, and although Alan didn't know the exact translation, he had listened and looked this song up enough times to know what the general gist of the lyrics were saying. This song was about unconditionally loving and appreciating someone for who they were, being with them through the light and the dark.

In the cold light I live, to love and adore you.
It's all that I am, it's all that I have.

Some would say this was cliche, but Alan did resonate with this message. People were born to create and make art, but to do that, creativity had to be fueled. Whether that was passion, or love, or lust, or another strong emotion -- art was bound to be created. What were they without art? Without love? Without sharing the art and love with someone?

The song went on to repeat lyrics in Pulaar and as well as the main refrain, and as it went on, Alan finally allowed himself to think of his current situation, just a little.

Love was so entrenched in cultures. It was everywhere, from music to literature and from towns to countries, there were always people holding hands, being intimate, and holding one another fondly. Alan knew this was all he ever wanted, so why did he find this so difficult?

Maybe he needed to explore more. Maybe he had been thinking about love through the wrong perspective. Maybe he hadn't met the right person yet.

There were a lot of maybes, but sometimes, love didn't feel right. Sometimes there was no easy solution. It was just a feeling, after all. And if Alan was going to be guided by feelings, he'd rather let his heart do the talking when it came to situations like these.

And his heart was saying to share this song with Shane.

The song ended with the same lines, and Alan repeated it over and over in his head as well.

Why do I keep falling?

The song ended, and Alan paused it before it could play the next song, removing the earbud from his ear as he curiously turned his head towards Shane, gauging his reaction. Shane was nodding with a smile, turning away from the lights gleaming on the waterfront and towards Alan as he took out the earbud.

"That is a great song," he admitted. "You have good taste."

"You do as well," Alan reminded him. "I came across this song one day and couldn't stop thinking about it."

"Every so often, a good song just haunts you for a bit," Shane said, nodding. "A good kind of haunting, I mean."

"Yeah, I understand that. Although, sometimes I'm kept awake at night by certain songs, so I'm not sure if that's a good or bad haunting," Alan said with a chuckle.

Shane pursed his lips thoughtfully. "You know, I'm not sure what would determine that, whether it's a good or bad haunting. You're the music expert."

Alan briefly squinted up towards the sky, in thought. "It depends. Sometimes, it could be a complex piece of the song. It could be a difficult syncopated rhythm, or have a complicated finger pattern, or involve difficult shift changes at a rapid pace. That can keep me up at night, just because I'm not getting it right away. I'd consider that a bad haunting. A good haunting would be in situations of favorite songs, or moving pieces -- parts that give you goosebumps, or a melody you associate to a certain memory, or a person, or a feeling. It's one you always remember, haunting you in the best of ways."

Shane had been listening closely to his words with a look of intrigue and interest. "I really like that answer. You put a lot of thought into that."

Alan weakly laughed, feeling a little embarrassed. Not because Shane was saying that he was putting a lot of thought into that, but because he felt like it was the opposite. He spent only twenty seconds on this, ever, only thinking about this on the spot. He'd hardly consider that "a lot of thought" but he was too embarrassed to admit that.

"Perks of being a musician. You overthink everything and look for deep meaning in all songs," he said with a smile.

Shane laughed. "Is this song a good haunting?"

"I'd say so." Alan paused, stealing another glance to him. "Now that you've listened to it as well... would you say it's a good haunting?"

"I'd have to wait to see how it lingers with me," Shane said. "But yes, right now I think it is."

Alan mulled this over, smiling but then glancing down at this phone and seeing the time. It was getting late, and he knew he should be heading back soon if he wanted to get a reasonable number of hours to sleep tonight.

"I know it's getting late. Do you need to get back at a certain time?" he asked.

Shane shook his head. "No time in particular, no." He drummed his fingers on the dock, thinking. "I got an Uber here, and I was thinking of taking one back too. Do you live near campus?"

"Yeah, I live on the south end," Alan said, leaving it at that. He was fine with taking the train by himself, but if Shane offered to split a fare, he'd be fine with that -- although he'd be a little cautious about it.

Shane nodded, giving him a faint smile. "Well, if you wanted, I could call one and we could share it. I could also send it to my address and let you walk back if you're most comfortable with that."

"That works. I don't mind." Alan paused. "Thank you, by the way."

Shane laughed quietly. "For this, or something else?"

"For tonight," Alan clarified with a smile. "I didn't think this night would come from a scholarly ceremony, but life is full of surprises."

"I never expected it either." Shane smiled too as he called the Uber, then turned off his phone and paused. "I should be thanking you, honestly. I haven't had a night this fun in a while. So, thank you for tonight."

"Is that so?" Alan mused. "Then in that case, you're very welcome. But it's only the beginning. I'd like to think it only goes up from here."

Shane smiled wider. "I hope it does."

Alan matched his smile, getting up on his feet and offering a hand to Shane. "Come on, let's head back to civilization. Our carriage awaits."

With a laugh, Shane took his hand and stood. "I guess we can't keep it waiting when you put it that way."

They backtracked, walking back inland. Alan carried the bag of empty food containers but threw it away at the nearest trash can. They chatted some more, and Alan swooped in with a clever remark if he found it appropriate, but for the most part, it sounded like both of them enjoyed their time together tonight. They waited on the street, and it didn't take long for the Uber to arrive.

The ride back over the bridge towards campus was more quiet, but Alan didn't mind as he stared out the window, lost in thought.

It wasn't a long drive back to campus at all, especially since the streets were fairly empty at night. Shane lived on a older, historic street lined with cafes, boutiques, and a book store, and it took some moments for Alan to realize that he must have lived in a residential area above the stores.

They exited the vehicle and the car then drove off. Alan glanced at the area where Shane likely lived, but then glanced around their surroundings, trying to gauge where he was. It felt a little disorienting since he didn't go to this side of town often, so he'd likely have to double check directions back anyways, but he was pretty sure he only needed to walk through campus to get home.

"Alright, I'm that way," Alan said as he pointed towards the green space of campus, now more confident in his answer. "Thanks again for the ride."

Shane nodded, smiling before he laughed. "Alright. Until the next time, then?"

"Until next time," Alan said with a grin, walking backwards for few steps and -- out of habit -- waved his goodbye like a salute, forefinger facing up as he waved from his temple to the air. With a small grin, Shane did his best at imitating the gesture in return. Alan laughed, not expecting that at all. "I'll keep in touch. Have a good rest of the night, Shane."

"Thanks," Shane said, waving and smiling brightly as he backed up, pushing the door to his apartment building open behind him. "You too, Alan."

With that, Alan turned and resumed his walk across the street, briskly walking back towards campus with his hands in his pockets. He glanced up at the dark sky, admiring the moon from afar. It cast a soft moonlight glow over campus, making it feel peaceful and innocent.

Or maybe that was just the state of his mind.

The walk back was quiet, but his mind was loud.

Finally, he was by himself, and he felt like he had enough room and space to properly think. So many thoughts had been swimming in his head, but throughout the night, Alan kept burying them and locking them up, knowing now was not the time to deeply reflect. It had swollen to a great pressure, and now that he was by himself, it was like everything came out at once.

It wasn't anxiety, per se. They were only burning questions.

Do I even want this? What am I even doing? Is this going to lead anywhere? Am I being cruel? Should I let him know? Do I feel anything different? Will this be any different?

With a sigh, Alan zigzagged through greenspace sidewalks as he thought back to his dates with the trumpet player that ended just last weekend. He had gone on a few dates with her, and things were going well, but she had attacked him with her own anxiety and insecurities when he went to her apartment, and eventually, her bedroom.

"What is it? Do you not like me? I thought you wanted this," she said to him when he couldn't give her what she wanted. But before he could give in, she also asked: "Are you gay?"

That question had been ringing in his head the past week.

Honestly, maybe he was. Maybe that was true. He had never considered it because he couldn't name a single instance of being attracted to a man, but then again, his attraction towards most women were slim as well. Maybe he just hadn't met the right person. Maybe the person was a man. He didn't know.

A part of him was hoping that it was true. That he had been gay all along and that was why he had so much trouble making any of his past relationships or dates work. Alan was still skeptical -- that was, until tonight.

It wasn't like he was immediately drawn to Shane. If he hadn't engaged with him first, perhaps they never would have talked at all. But Shane had this air about him him; he had an energy and a mindset that Alan admired. And Alan felt comfortable with him. He felt comfortable sharing more personal things, and flirting, and being a bit closer to him than normal. It didn't feel foreign or strange, so was this a sign? Was this good?

Alan thought so. He didn't really gain any answers today, but these things took time. The heart didn't always know what it wanted. Sometimes answers come slowly, and that was okay.

It was obvious that Shane was interested and liked him back. Alan was showing signs that he was interested too, although he knew he could only stay like this for a short while before the truth starts to hurt for both of them. Alan didn't know if whatever may come with Shane was doomed to fail like all the other women he had seen, or if he was different. If it succeeded, it was hard to tell if it was because he was a man, or if he was different from the others, or both.

Alan knew that love had no easy solution, but he wished he did know. He wished things were obvious, at least for a short while.

But it never was, was it?

Alan could understand heartache he had read about in many stories in the past, not because he had his heart broken, but because it longed so dearly for something he couldn't have. And his heart ached for someone to want and love him back in a way that wouldn't hurt for either person. It didn't feel like an impossible request, but after the last two years, it did start to feel that way.

Perhaps he was being melodramatic. He often was when it came to strong emotions. But people were emotional creatures, and Alan didn't want to hold too much of himself back.

Alan knew he should be going to sleep. He had to get up at six to practice before the morning rehearsal. Then he had to study for his classes because he was already behind. Then he had to help Alistair with a few errands he already committed to. Then he had to get groceries, then go back to the piano bar for work. It was a full day and he knew he had to rest, especially since he hardly even considered other essential activities like eating or cleaning or spending more time with his brother -- but his mind was alive and it could not rest. Not when he had a burning unanswered question in his heart.

Instead of turning south to go home, Alan continued to follow the sidewalk that would lead him into the music hall. His violin always lived there since he couldn't play at the apartment anyways, and since he was passing the building, he might as well practice early. This was the best time to practice: when it was dark and he was bursting with unsolved emotions.

The napkin with Shane's number felt heavy in his pocket, weighing him down. But Alan persevered, letting it weigh him down so he could become stronger.

He did genuinely enjoy his time with Shane tonight, and he did genuinely look forward to more days with him. He was clever, ambitious, and kind. He was someone that made him want to become a better person, and that was love was about, in the end. That was what Alan would like to think, anyways.

He just didn't want either of them to end up disappointed. He didn't know how much more his heart could take of this, but he was still willing to try.

Badging himself in, Alan opened the heavy doors of the music hall, wondering how many hours of music would consume him and haunt him tonight.

Cyrin followed Elias to the food bank, occasionally checking over his shoulder. He didn't feel like he was being followed-- why would someone follow him here?-- but every step in this direction led him somewhere a little more unfamiliar. He'd hardly explored Boston far beyond campus except for the occasional special destination, hadn't gotten a feel on the character of each neighborhood. To be fair, he hadn't done that much with Denver either. No wonder he always felt a bit trapped and restless.

They walked past more tents in alleys, and he saw Elias checking them as they passed. He wondered if he knew the people inside. How much of a community was a place like Tent City, as Elias called it? He was coming up with a few questions, and he was reasonably sure that Elias would be able to answer, but he didn't want to seem clueless. He was out of his depth, but he didn't want to look the part.

The food bank had put out meals in paper bags-- an apple like the one Elias had spoken of but more sanitary, and a sandwich with ham and cheese between plain white bread. Cyrin was hungry, so he didn't care much that it was plain. After thanking the workers, he rejoined Elias, taking a bite from his apple.

"Are you a vegan or vegetarian? I don't know why you strike me as one. Maybe it's because you're from Denver. But yeah, sadly I don't think food banks accomodate for that," Elias said as he continued to lead the way, presumably to the tented area.

"I'm neither," Cyrin said, with a shake of their head. "I guess it's lucky I'm not."

"Hmm, yeah. Lucky. I feel like being a vegan homeless person would be hard. Then again, it's not like bacon grows on trees." Elias paused. "It'd be cool if it did, though. And also probably gross."

Cyrin laughed. "I think mostly gross." He was very amused with the trains of thought Elias seemed to go on.

"Not that gross, though. Like, I'd probably still eat it. I think I've just seen a lot of gross things. Bacon on trees sounds delicious the more I talk about it. And how would it grow? Would you plant bacon? That's an initiative I can get behind," Elias continued, still thinking this over.

Cyrin chewed on a bite of their apple, wondering how to indulge Elias' thoughts. "Linearly, you would plant a pig, I guess. You don't usually plant tomatoes to get more tomatoes, it's more convenient to plant the seeds."

Elias snickered. "That's true. That's like planting tomatoes to get ketchup. But then wouldn't planting pigs get you more pigs?"

Cyrin surprised himself by giving that proper thought. "I don't think so, if tomatoes come from seeds, and bacon comes from pigs. But pigs also come from... other pigs." This had really been a day, for him to say those sentences.

Elias hummed. "So... what you're saying is there are bacon seeds we can plant."

"No," Cyrin corrected quickly. "Let's not bury any pigs and hope for bacon."

"Ooh, that sounded so wise. You must be full of wisdom," Elias said with a grin. "What else ya got?"

They blinked. "Uh... Well, it would be a good idea to not step in that broken glass a few feet ahead, I guess." Wise indeed.

Elias glanced ahead, swerving around the broken glass. "Smart. Imagine if that glass pierced through my toes. I'd have to get new shoes."

Cyrin skirted around it carefully. Elias' shoes looked rather worn already. "Do you go to Goodwill when you need something new? Sorry, just wondering." He'd taken a fair amount of things he couldn't keep there.

"Oh, these sweet kicks?" Elias said with a grin as he lifted his leg up to better show his shoes. "Hmmm. Yeah, sure, basically."

They nodded, unsure about that answer, but they shrugged it off as none of their business. "Got it."

"Why, do you wanna do a shopping trip?" Elias said with waggly brows.

Cyrin gave him a slightly curious look. "If you mean what I think you mean, I'm not nearly good enough at shoplifting for your idea. Sorry, sounds exciting though."

Elias nodded slowly, slightly squinting ahead as he slowly processed their words. "Riiiiight. Okay, my bad. I didn't mean to invite you on a burglary trip, but we could totally do that if you're broke. We can also be law abiding citizens and get matching Hawaiian shirts at Goodwill though."

Cyrin couldn't help but chuckle. "We'll see how long I can be law-abiding."

"Ooh, ominous. Have you ever gone to jail?" Elias asked out of the blue.

Cyrin glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, considering. Well, it couldn't hurt them much to say. "Once, actually, when I was a bit mistaken on what Colorado allowed and didn't."

"Oh, so like a drug possession charge?" Elias asked.

They nodded, a little absently. "Exactly that. I didn't spend that long there, at least."

Elias grinned. "Oh, sick. You broke out of jail, Shawshank Redemption style?"

"I wish. No, I got bailed out." It had been a lot less epic than that. They'd panicked and dislocated their shoulder against the lock before they realized it was a better idea to wait.

"That's good. You know, I've always thought drug possession charges are so dumb. Like why put a bunch of nonviolent folks with violent people? I don't get it. Good that you got out though," Elias said idly with a nod.

"You're right, you know," Cyrin said with a soft sigh. For a moment, they felt like sharing that their white friends had gotten off the hook, but they had little way of knowing how Elias would react. "Well, thank you. Have you ever gone?"

"Nah. I think I'm invisible to the police. That or I run very fast. Must be 'cause of the shoes," he said with a snicker.

Cyrin smirked faintly. "Try to stay that way."

Elias glanced at him, growing his own smirk. "Oh yeah? Will do. Can you keep up, though?"

"Are you about to break into a run, or in general?" Cyrin asked. "Either way, maybe."

Elias seemed to stare at him in confusion, clearly his question not at all being directed to the present moment. But now that Cyrin had planted the seed in his head, Elias grinned and suddenly bolted ahead.

"Gotta keep up!" he yelled as he sprinted, only lifting a hand up briefly to wave for him to follow.

Cyrin shrugged. "Well, okay," he said, stretching out his back leg behind him and then sprinting after him.

Elias was fast, but Cyrin caught up to him by the end of the block. They kept running, though, perhaps just to save daylight, until they reached the interstate. The cluster of tents here was no city, but it was unmistakably a community that had formed around it. It seemed that Elias was well known as well, since he was saying hello to people they passed despite many of them seeming to be unconscious or otherwise unresponsive.

The tents were tucked away under highway exit ramps, or sitting in the greenery between them. Elias pointed to one of the sheltered spaces underneath a ramp, indicating a bright, solid yellow tent.

"That one's mine. Now you'll always know since it matches my hair." He paused, hand on his head as he ruffled his shaggy sandy-colored hair. "Well. It's not that bright, but close enough."

The tent was a bit more golden, Cyrin thought, but never mind that. "That's a good way to remember it."

"Yeah." Elias smiled, dropping his hand. "Are you tired?"

He wasn't sure, honestly. It had been a long day, and he probably was weary from it, but there was a restless feeling in his mind. If he tried to settle down, everything that he'd been avoiding thinking about over the day might finally hit him. Still, there wasn't enough daylight to do anything more. "I guess I am."

Elias hummed, staring at him as he mulled over those four words. "Well, if you're tired, you're welcome to get cozy in the tent. I'll probably sit and stare up at the three stars we can see from the city sky. You know, being real relaxing and serene. But I'd be happy to stay up and chat too, if you'd like."

Cyrin slowly nodded. Maybe a talk would be enough to distract him, and Elias was pretty fun anyway. "I'm happy to chat too."

"Cool. Let's go over there, then." Elias pointed towards a grassy clearing a little further away from the area and interstate underpass.

As he walked, he pulled out an older phone with a cracked screen out of his pocket, using it as a flashlight so they could see where they were walking. He seemed focused in making sure they were going in the right direction, so they walked in silence for a minute, but then Elias stopped walking and put away his phone, suddenly laying on his back, sprawled against the field. He wasn't kidding when he said he was going to stare up at the sky.

"On second thought, maybe it's not the best idea to lie down like this. We both might fall asleep and someone will steal our shoes," Elias said, though he didn't make any move to get up.

Cyrin smiled faintly, lying down but staying propped up on their elbows. "You like your shoes, huh?"

Elias chuckled. "Nah. But they're the joke of the day, apparently." He glanced at Cyrin. "So, Cyrin. What's your story? Are you in any trouble?"

Cyrin stared distantly at the three stars Elias had mentioned for a few moments as they thought. They made a nearly perfect triangle in the sky. "I guess I am," they said, playing with the grass under their hand. "I should probably be writing a 5000 word paper for a class at Ivy right now, but I'm not. That should be my problem, but it's really more like I'm not a student there anymore right now."

Elias was silent for a moment, still staring up at the sky. "Ivy, huh?" he finally said. "That's the school near Harvard, right? Is it really just called Ivy? What's the difference between that and Ivy League?"

"It actually is," Cyrin confirmed. "It's the first Ivy League school, so all the others took after it and that's why there's an Ivy League as well as an Ivy University."

"Oh. Hm. Makes sense." Elias paused. "Man. You must be pretty damn smart to go to that school. What are you studying?"

"I think I was just lucky," Cyrin said with a laugh, but then cleared their throat and accepted the compliment. "Thank you. I was going to get a major in Sociology and a minor in Classics, but, well." They shrugged. "It's not looking likely."

Elias was silent for another moment again. "Alright, you're going to have to help me out here," he finally said. "What even is sociology and classics?"

"Sociology is... well, it's like studying society and culture and similar stuff," Cyrin said. "And the classics are about Ancient Greek and Roman literature mostly, but there's other ancient world stuff too."

"Ooh, okay, okay. I'm following now. That's some fancy stuff." Elias paused. "What would that paper be about, anyways? Indulge me."

Cyrin sighed softly. "I don't know. Something about why the demographic transition model is a flawed measure of development in many countries, or whatever." They honestly wouldn't mind writing that, if it meant getting their degree.

"Mmm. Yeah. Good stuff. And you can't go on to write this paper, because...?" Elias asked, trailing off.

"I couldn't pay for tuition anymore, or much else." Cyrin laughed, without much humor. "So, that's the end of it."

"Damn. What year are you in?" Elias asked.

"Senior year. Worst year for it to happen, if you ask me."

Elias whistled lowly. "Yeah. Man, that sucks. But is that really it? It's really just the cost of tuition that's preventing you from graduating?"

"Well, there's the cost of living too, but--" Cyrin nodded. "Pretty much that. That's the main obstacle."

"Well, how much could that even be? Several thousand? I'm sure we could find that money for you."

"It's more like several ten thousand," Cyrin chuckled, but then paused. "What do you mean by finding it?"

"Goddamn. Is school really that expensive? No wonder students are so frugal," Elias muttered instead.

Cyrin just nodded, giving him a slightly meaningful and curious look without any impatience.

"Well. That's kind of... a lot. But hey, you're smart. And I'm feeling generous. I think we could find that money if we put our heads together," Elias went on with a smile, leaning up on his elbows as well so he could better clearly see Cyrin. "It'd suck for you to never finish your senior year, right?"

"Well, I'm taking ideas," Cyrin said, raising his eyebrows amusedly. "Are you thinking of anything for that?"

"Hmm. Well, maybe we can start by selling your fancy shirt. Maybe we can get fifty bucks off that, leaving us with 99% of funds left to raise," Elias said with a silly grin.

"It'd be more like 99.9% of it left," Cyrin said with a laugh. "It might take more, since I don't have another thousand of these."

"Damn. Too bad. That'd be a lot of shirts, yeah." Elias hummed again, pondering. "We could... stand by a street corner and hold up signs saying: 'Help me. I'm a poor Ivy League student.'"

"Most students at Ivy Leagues are poor because of them," Cyrin remarked. "Not sure I'd stand out much."

"Alright. What if the sign instead says: 'Help. I have cancer and my last wish is to graduate'?"

"I'd feel bad about faking cancer." It was a silly answer, but the idea was also a little silly. Cyrin let their head fall back, their dark hair brushing against the grass.

Elias also slumped back to the ground with a soft thud. "Alright then. What if we scam grouchy old rich people? They have too much money, anyways."

"Tempting," Cyrin mused.

"Or we could scam rich trust fund kids, selling cocaine, but it's actually mostly flour," Elias went on.

Cyrin snorted with laughter. He was starting to think Elias didn't have a real idea, but they were fun to hear. "Perhaps even more tempting."

"Ooh, you know what. Rich people always find a way to win anyways. So we could also just steal from the biggest crimeboss in Boston. Not like the police could get involved. So I'm sure that'll go real well," Elias said with a smile in his voice.

Cyrin slowly looked over at him. "There's one of those?"

"In Boston? Oh, yeah. Other drug cartels don't even mess with the drug trade here since the gang cornered the market. They have a monopoly on everything illegal and stolen. Did you really not know that?"

Cyrin shook his head. "I don't think so. I mean, I'm aware there's crime here, I just didn't think it would be that organized."

"Fair enough. I guess it is pretty organized, but it's low key, so unless you buy from a guy who knows a guy, I guess you'd never know," Elias mused.

Cyrin stared up at the sky for a moment again. "How serious were you about stealing from them?"

"Huh?" Elias turned his head to the side to stare at Cyrin and then weakly laughed. "You actually wanna do that?"

Cyrin let out a puff of laughter. "No, I do not," he said, but the thought was weirdly stuck in his head. He pursed his lips.

"Probably for the best. They may be billionaires hoarding piles of cash and drugs and ultra rare items, but we'd probably not make it out alive of there. Maybe," Elias went on, like he was now considering the idea.

Cyrin blew out a long sigh. "Unlikely. But hey, you are fast. And I can do some cool acrobatic stuff."

Elias grinned. "Oh yeah? And you're smart. You're like a man of many talents."

Cyrin wasn't exactly a man, but that was too off-topic for this moment. "It sounds like you're good at getting away with stuff, too."

Elias laughed. "Maaaybe." He stared at Cyrin some more, amused before tearing his gaze away. "Of all the ideas I said, you think stealing from the gang would be our best shot? Man, my money was selling fake cocaine."

"As tempting as that is," Cyrin said, "for some reason, that idea is the only one sticking in my head."

"Hm. Well like I said, you are smart. So ideas being stuck in your head is probably a good sign. Right?"

"Maybe, but if it is, you still get the credit," Cyrin said with a small grin.

"Ooh, does that mean I'll get enough for my tuition too?" Elias said with a growing grin as well.

"Of course you'd get your fair share if we did that," Cyrin said, before shaking his head amusedly. "If we did that. Wow. It's kind of unthinkable, but it did occur to you."

Elias laughed, suddenly sitting up. "You're kind of funny. Sure. I'm down. Why not? You gotta graduate one way or another, anyways."

Cyrin paused, giving him a careful look. "For real?"

"I mean, I think we're going to have to scale up to that. Ya know, start small. It might take a few months, who knows. But hey, maybe we can start off by selling your shirt, then make our way to a literal boss fight."

"Well. Starting small would be wise." He sat up too, throwing up his hands. "Ah, what the hell. I'm in, too."



Elias grinned, offering his hand. "Shake on it?"

Cyrin took it with a smile, shaking it firmly. "It's a plan."

Clarity felt Oliver's glare burning into her as she started to sweep the floor clean of broken glass, but she could care less. She'd never seen a pleasant expression from him that was genuine, and he'd hated her well before this, so it didn't matter very much. She'd kind of hoped he would leave by the time she came back with the broom, but he seemed intent on staying for the aftermath and the report. Well, that was fine. There was no harm done, but she'd annoyed him enough for him to inconvenience himself. It was about all she was looking for.

She'd probably made some promise to Cyrin that she wouldn't be doing anything foolish to spite Oliver and Maeve, which was her only real regret. He would have shaken his head at her if he knew, but probably would've also wanted to see it. Then again, it was the siblings' faults that he couldn't be around to witness anything here.

Oliver didn't bother to help with the cleanup, instead taking pictures of the damage and printing out the safety report sheets that were to be filed after every incident. He left the lab shortly after, taking the desk right outside the lab door so that he could watch her closely. He was working with his laptop in front of him as well as many sheets of papers of forms he had printed out.

Although he appeared to be helping her, Clarity knew that he always worked to his own benefit. Oliver was petty, and she angered him. He was going to file a seething report and blow everything out of proportion so that she would get punished.

Oliver muttered in French a couple of times as the minutes went by while they sorted out the aftermath outside the lab together, but eventually, he passed her a form and then went back to his computer, uploading all the pictures he took of the mess.

"You're lucky that nothing was damaged. If you had damaged my computer, you'd have been in much bigger trouble," he said with a shake of his head.

"Yeah, that would have been bad. Wouldn't want to ruin your favorite toy." Clarity clicked the pen, writing the date and time on the paper.

"Fill out the form," Oliver ordered anyways. "Do you remember the chemical you used and the mistakes you made?"

Her mistake was working in the same lab as him. "Obviously."

"You write your story. I'll write mine." He shot her an obviously feigned smile. "We'll see what the safety officer thinks."

Clarity raised an eyebrow at him before she glanced back at the form. There was a large section for details of the event, the problem, the damage-- if any-- and another, optional one for witnesses. She had to think about how to spin this. She was far more trusted by her personal instructor than Oliver was, and he might even be known for his dislike of her and general unpleasantness. However, if she was too dismissive and he was too condemning, the investigation would get more in depth. She could make up a legitimate-sounding reason for her mistake, own up to it, get a slap on the wrist and maybe a stern talk. If Oliver accused her of more, his exaggeration of the events might show itself clearly.

During a synthesis of nitroglycerin, the solution was left on magnetic stir plate for approximately a minute too long as a result of lab distractions, resulting in a small explosion, she wrote. The vial shattered, and cleanup was required for broken glass. No damages to the lab or lab equipment (save for the glass vial involved) occurred, and Oliver Trieu, the only other person in the lab, was unharmed. The mess was thoroughly and rapidly cleaned. For the repeat of the experiment, further steps will be taken to monitor the nitroglycerin reaction and reduce distractions in the lab.

Reduce distractions. She would love to kick out Oliver, but she had to hand him the form instead. Oliver then handed her his, and Clarity gave it a read.

Clarity Sable was synthesizing nitroglycerin for medicinal research purposes, but due to her lack of planning and foresight, she had inadvertently created a form of dynamite, dangering lab equipment and the researchers in the lab. She had left the beaker on the heated magnetic stir plate for far too long despite repeated warnings. She refused to listen to the warnings, purposefully letting the vial explode and sending shards of glass and solution across the room. No safety precautions were followed after the incident.

"Yeah, I'm not signing off on this," Oliver said before just as she finished. "You're downplaying your negligent actions."

"And you're exaggerating them," Clarity said with a shrug. "You can meet me in the middle, or you can place your word against mine. For your information, my instructor doesn't care for reading dramas."

Oliver faked another condescending smile. "Sometimes, the truth can be dramatic. Will you be signing mine?"

"Don't see why I would, unless you're signing mine."

Oliver sighed. "It appears we have reached an impasse, haven't we?"

It took a long time of back-and-forth arguing, during which Oliver distractedly wrote out a text message to his girlfriend and Clarity checked her watch no less than 20 times, but eventually they agreed to sign them together at the same time. When they did, they barely had their eyes on the form they were signing, too busy making sure that the other was really signing it and not faking or stopping in the middle. They weren't even trying to hide their glaring. God, it was annoying to be up against someone just as petty as her.

Oliver then sat up, placing the two forms on top of one another and straightening out the papers. "Great. I'll make copies of these and put them on the safety officer's front desk," he said tiredly, already making his way out of the room.

As he opened the door, his girlfriend, Evaline, was standing on the other side, her fist up like she was about to knock. She was holding a plastic bag, likely of takeout food since Clarity had glanced at his phone and noticed that he had mentioned being hungry in their texts.

"Hey, babe. Stay here, I'll be right back," he said, sneaking past her to make his way to the office on the other side of the building.

Evaline watched him leave, first confused, but she then stepped into the room and let the door close behind her. For a moment, she made eye contact with Clarity, but then looked away as she wordlessly placed the food on the desk nearest to her.

Clarity had seen her a few times on nights at the lab such as this one, or walking side-by-side with Oliver around the Ivy campus, but she couldn't remember ever really talking to her. She didn't think she disliked her, except that everytime she saw her, Oliver was around, and she disliked him. She felt a bit sorry for Evaline, honestly. Oliver didn't seem to be any better of a boyfriend than he was of a person, and she never looked happy. She didn't know her at all, but she wouldn't wish Oliver on anyone.

"So," Clarity said after a long pause. "What'd he tell you?" She hadn't read that far into Oliver's message, but from the length of it, it had to have held at least a small rant.

Evaline was quiet for a moment, watching Clarity as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Just that there was a safety incident at the lab. Is that not what happened?"

"Just about," Clarity said. She doubted those had been Oliver's words. "There was an incident, but everyone was safe."

"What was the incident?" Evaline asked, sounding more curious than anything.

"I was synthesizing nitroglycerin," Clarity explained, realizing that she was still wearing her white lab coat as she shrugged it off. "It's not always dangerous, but it does explode if heated too much, and I got... a bit aggravated. Turned my attention away for a bit." It was weird, debating in her head whether to explain her actual intentions to Evaline, to share if that lapse in attention was deliberate or not, so she left it a little vague.

"So... your experiment exploded," Evaline said slowly.

Clarity nodded evenly. "It did, yeah. I dealt with it." She folded the coat, draping it over her arm. "Your boyfriend's fine, just pissed. Don't let him take it out on you." She didn't feel like taking her annoyance out on Evaline, so that was a win. She'd been petty enough for tonight.

"He -- he doesn't," Evaline said quickly, her brows furrowed together. "But I know he's mad. He'll get over it. He always does."

Clarity frowned skeptically. "I don't think I've seen that from him. Anyway, he can stay mad. I'm not exactly forgiving of him."

"What did you even do to him to make him dislike you so much?" Evaline asked.

"He hasn't told you?" She would've thought Oliver would have complained about her, but maybe his grudge was lighter than hers.

"Is it that severe?" Evaline said instead.

Clarity shrugged. "I take it seriously. He might be learning to." She didn't feel like talking about Cyrin today, not when the box under her bed hadn't even gathered dust yet.

Evaline didn't seem to comment further at that, instead asking, "Your name is Clarity, right?"

Clarity nodded slowly, wondering what else she'd heard about her. "Yeah."

"I'm Evaline. Nice to formally meet you."

The nice part surprised Clarity, but it hadn't been bad, so maybe it was nice. "It's nice to meet you too."

There was another longer pause, but it was interrupted when the door opened again, and Oliver stood on the other side, impatient. "Done. C'mon, babe, let's go."

Evaline nodded, grabbing the food and only giving Clarity a quick glance as her silent goodbye before she followed Oliver out. Oliver hovered by the door for a moment, staring at Clarity and shaking his head before leaving without saying goodbye.

Clarity breathed in and out deeply in what was almost a sigh as she tore her gaze away from the doorway and back to the lab. She would have to redo that experiment while exhausted. Oliver would still be smug next time she was unfortunate enough to cross paths with him. Cyrin would still be... hell, she didn't even know where they would be. She just had to hope it was treating them right, as slim as that chance was.

She put her lab coat back on as she returned to the lab, hoping she wouldn't fall asleep in the middle of waiting for the synthesis. She'd had enough of explosions.

A few days had passed, and it was now September.

As usual, Alan was kept up awake at night, thinking. He sat upside-down on the sofa, his legs stretching up on the wall with his head upside-down. He held out the napkin that Shane left him all those days ago, staring at it for far too long that he had memorized the number.

Alan was thinking of what he should do next. He felt both intrigue and confusion, and he had been so busy the last few days, he hardly had time to fully think this through. It was quiet nights like tonight that he could sit still and think.

Alan had simple answers to simple questions, but not simple answers to complex questions. And love and sexuality was never a simple subject.

Perhaps this was all a sign. Perhaps he was meant to meet Shane at a time when Alan happened to be questioning his sexuality. After all, it couldn't have been a coincidence that the timing of his curiosity intersected with Shane, a curious man with a reputable background, who also showed interest in another man -- him.

It wasn't like other men had flirted with Alan before. He was no stranger to this, considering he was a music major with a love of theater, art, and performances. But in the few times he was approached by a man, he would laugh and then apologize, gently letting him down.

Perhaps this time he would refrain from doing that. This time, Alan wanted to know if anything would come from this. He wanted to know if this time would be any different. Sexuality was fluid, after all, so perhaps his desires and attraction would change as time progressed.

Maybe he hadn't met the right person yet. Maybe he needed to experiment. Maybe, then, his heart could finally experience the explosion of emotions associated with the longing of physical intimacy and closeness with another person.

The door opened and closed, but Alan didn't move. He knew without moving and looking over that his brother was coming in late.

Alistair moved across the room, placing bags on the kitchen counter. He stood still for a moment as he stared at Alan, still upside-down and staring at the napkin.

"Must be an interesting napkin," Alistair finally said as he moved to put items away. He must have done a late grocery run.

Alan sighed, finally swinging his legs back to the ground as he sat up straight. "Someone gave me their number on a napkin last weekend."

"Wow," Alistair scoffed with a laugh, shaking his head.

"What? You don't approve?" Alan teased.

"It's just cliche, is all. So are you going to text her?" Alistair asked.

Alan hummed, folding the napkin neatly as he placed it back on his pocket, amused and slumping back on the sofa as he watched his brother chew on some grapes. "Maybe."

Alistair hummed, plopping another grape in his mouth. "Next time, try picking up a sugar momma. We could use one."

Alan rolled his eyes with a smile. "Alright, what if it was a rich old man? Would you approve of me having a sugar daddy?"

Alistair stared at him, not breaking a smile even though Alan knew he wanted to. He plopped another grape in his mouth then began to walk down the hall towards his room.

"Hey, whatever, as long as we're paying rent, right? It's the twenty-first century."

Well, glad to hear that his brother would approve if he was gay. Although, Alan was pretty sure if he used this as proof to Alistair that he had already came out to him, he was sure he would never hear the end of it from him.

Alistair had already gone to his room for the night, leaving Alan to be by himself again. Taking out his phone, he finally went to put in Shane's number and full name in his contacts page, referencing the number on the napkin again even though he was sure he already memorized it.

The next minute went by slowly as Alan went to his texting app and prepared his first text to him.

Hey, stranger. Miss me?

No. Way too forward. Delete.

I've been thinking of what a good haunting means outside of music. Are you sure you're not a ghost?

Alan cringed, deleting that as soon as he wrote it. He quietly groaned, lifting his glasses to rub his eyes.

Alright. Take three.

Shane's phone buzzed, automatically dimming the sound of his study music as a pleasant chime rang on his speaker.

He looked up from his textbook, searching the desk until he saw his phone, flipped over to reveal the case. A glance at his open laptop told him that it was about 9:30. His small but cozy one-bedroom apartment was always calm, but especially in the evenings when he was studying. He had a window open to let in some air and a desk lamp shining warm light on his work, as well as music playing to add to the ambience. Usually, not much could distract him from this, but he'd been anticipating texts more the last few days. With intrigue, Shane pulled his phone over the desk towards him, flipping it over. The screen turned on, revealing a text from a number with an area code he didn't recognize, but it wasn't the one for Boston or the Seattle area.

As he read it, Shane found himself smiling softly.

I promised to send you my schedule, didn't I?

It was a screenshot of a very full month in Google Calendars. There were chunks of time blocked out for nearly every hour between 6am to 10pm everyday. The descriptions of the events varied between classes, studying, violin practices, band practices, rehearsals, lessons, work, performances, weddings, and errands. There were some exceptions, like some days starting later and some days ending later, but the biggest exception seemed to be this upcoming Friday, with the day ending at 4pm.

His phone then buzzed with another text.

I also promised that I would make time for you. Check out the open block this Friday. Are you free during that time?

Shane quickly opened up his calendar on his laptop, scanning it for the Friday later this week. Classes in the morning, a call to his mom after lunch, studying in the afternoon. He technically had studying until six that day, but he moved it to the next day, deleting it from that evening and replacing it with Alan.

Wait. He had yet to respond to Alan's text.

Shane stared down at the message until the screen dimmed and he had to tap it to wake it up. He was aware that even how long he spent thinking about responding could be a part of how Alan interpreted it-- he could seem too hasty, or he could look uninterested-- never mind the language of what he actually said.

He was going to take just long enough to think.

Shane had been thinking about Alan ever since that night, wondering if he would get a text, and now that he had one he wasn't sure what to do with it. His mind had been buzzing when he'd walked back up to his apartment after saying goodbye-- really, ever since then-- and it was hard to capture a single thought and pin it down to examine when his thoughts were fluttering around like the butterflies in his stomach. He'd found himself smiling at random moments whenever he drifted off into those thoughts.

He was really interested in Alan, but the surprise was that Alan might be interested in him as well. Might. He'd noticed it that night in the banter, the glances, the smiles, some sign that Alan was reciprocating his flirting. In the moment, Shane had hardly realized he was shooting his shot, and now he was thinking over everything he'd done that evening. Whatever he'd done, at least some of it must have been successful.

It had just felt so natural to fall into conversation with Alan in that way. Maybe his head had known then how his heart would feel tonight.

Shane saved the number as a contact, keeping it casual as just Alan, before he pulled up the message for real.

Shane wrote:I promised you I'd cover a dinner next time, too. Friday evening sounds like a great time to make good on that.

He reread the message he'd typed for entirely too long, or so it felt, first checking for typos and then for any unintentional meaning. If he erased any part of it, he knew he'd spend ages rewriting it. With a deep breath, Shane sent it.

A minute later, he saw that Alan began typing, and a new text was delivered a few seconds later.

Alan wrote:We sure made a lot of promises, didn't we? I'll add dinner plans for Friday. I have an idea for plans afterwards. I hope you still like surprises.

Shane let out a soft laugh of shaky relief as he quickly typed back.

Shane wrote:I'd love a surprise. You've had a few of those, all of them good.

He added another message soon after.

Shane wrote:Just like that song's haunting. I said I'd wait to see how it lingers with me, and I've officially decided it was a good one.

Like last time, Alan sent another text about a minute later.

Alan wrote:Finally, I can now rest easy. I was losing sleep over this question.

Then another message was sent a few seconds later:

Alan wrote:I'll probably still lose sleep until Friday, though. It must be a symptom of a good haunting.

Shane grinned, closing his notebook and laptop as he sent another message.

Shane wrote:Whatever it is, I think it's contagious, because I've got it too now.

Alan was quick to respond.

Alan wrote:You are really tempting me to make our first date be a hospital visit.

Shane's heart skipped a beat. There. It was officially a date.

Shane wrote:It wouldn't be a surprise anymore, sadly. It would probably also be the most expensive dinner of my life. I promise whatever other surprise you think of will haunt me in a good way, though.

Alan wrote:Making another promise, are we? Well then, I promise to hold you to it.

Another picture was sent, and it was an updated screenshot of Alan's schedule for the month. It was the same, except for this upcoming Friday, in which 5-10pm was blocked off with an event titled "Evening with Shane".

Alan wrote:Here's the updated schedule for the month. I'm going to attempt to follow through with it tonight, so I'm going to go to bed now. I'll let you know the plans later this week. In the mean time, I hope you're able to get some sleep tonight. Sweet dreams, Shane!

Shane laughed softly, looking at the screen like he couldn't quite believe it.

Shane wrote:For another promise, I promise I'll do my best at it. Sweet dreams, Alan!

He turned off his phone, holding it in his hand for a moment. He was going to try to sleep, as promised, but right now, he felt so alive and excited.

This was looking to be the perfect haunting.

Alan was usually always focused when practicing, but he kept messing up the finger pattern in a particularly challenging and fast part of the concerto the symphony was playing. He knew that the conductor will hammer the first violins with this part during their upcoming rehearsal, so he wanted to be extra prepared. He didn't usually hit a dead end like this, but today was an exception.

Frustrated, Alan stepped out of the practice room and put away his violin, sitting on the swivel chairs nearby. Maybe he needed a break.

For a minute, Alan gazed over the window, watching students walk across the campus as quiet thoughts swam around his head. With a silent sigh, he then pulled out his phone and opened up his string of messages he wrote to Shane last night. He needed to figure out what and where they would go on Friday, but Alan felt like he was still missing information for the ideal date he had in mind, and it bothered him.

He had some time right now to figure it out, so he decided to ask Shane another question.

Alan wrote:I know it's a three-way tie, but I must know: which country would you prefer if you had to pick between Greece, Italy, and Egypt?

Shane's reply was faster than expected, near-immediate.

Shane wrote:This is a very painful question, Alan. I can't believe you.

Alan let out a puff of amused air. He saw Shane type a follow-up message, however, so it seemed it was a question he could answer.

Shane wrote:Gun to my head, I'd have to say Greece. But my answer might change within the next few minutes. If you need a determining answer, ignore any indecisiveness after this message.

Alan read the message a few times, not realizing he was smiling until he tore his gaze away from his phone to think. He had always found it endearing whenever someone was clearly passionate about their work or hobbies, and this was no different. He didn't think an innocent question would lead to this much thought and reflection, though.

Alan wrote:Noted. Regardless, it's not going to change in the next ten minutes, is it? I may or may not need your full commitment on this... without any guns involved.

Shane wrote:It might change in the next twelve. Is that far out enough?

Alan wrote:What's the unit here? Minutes, hours, days, months, or years?

Shane wrote:I meant minutes, but it could also be different yet again in twelve hours. I could hope to reach an unchanging answer within twelve years.

Alan set a timer on his phone for twelve minutes then leaned back on his chair, staring up at the ceiling for a while before he took out his music theory homework. He only had a few minutes to mark up the first problem before his phone alarm went off. Alan quickly turned it off and then composed his next text to Shane.

Alan wrote:Has it changed yet?

Shane wrote:By some miracle, no, but I want you to know that I am dying of laughter over here that you actually waited for exactly twelve minutes. I appreciate that.

Alan was leaning his hand against his cheek, smiling down as he let out another puff of amused air through his nose. He supposed it was comedic, although it didn't occur to him until now.

Alan wrote:What can I say? I'm a man of patience.

He quickly sent another message afterwards.

Alan wrote:I'll check back in 12 hours.

Shane wrote:That's a long time for me to wait. Guess I'll try to be a man of patience too.

Alan smiled again, but then clicked off his phone and slumped back on his chair. His music theory book and homework sheet was still sprawled on his lap, but after some moments of reflecting, he closed the book then scoured the internet on his phone, looking up various dinner reservations that he thought Shane would enjoy the most.

He booked a place thirty minutes later. Feeling more energized, Alan put away his book and then took out his violin again, feeling more inspired to practice the section again.

The rest of the day went by fast. He attended his classes, his lesson, went home to eat, then got ready for a band showing later today. The band didn't play as often as it used to now, but whenever they did, it often went by later -- which worked in Alan's favor today.

By the time his day ended, it was nearly midnight. He had sent his last text as 12:18pm, so Alan quickly rushed home. He was still walking back with his violin case as his backpack as he looked at the time, now saying 12:18am. He quickly composed a new message to Shane.

He didn't know if Shane would still be awake, but he wanted to follow through on his promise anyways.

Alan wrote:I'm back twelve hours later, this time with a new question. Pick one: European history, or natural history?

Thankfully, Shane did answer quickly.

Shane wrote:I hope you're reconsidering a hospital visit, because you are killing me with these questions.

Shane wrote:I know more about European history, but natural history does interest me. It's well outside of my expertise, though.

Alan hummed, channeling his thoughts back into his next message to Shane.

Alan wrote:New question: do you prefer to learn new subjects or be exposed to subjects you're already familiar with?

Shane wrote:There's a time and place for both, but generally new subjects. It's always exciting to discover more.

Alan liked that answer. He felt the same way, although this wasn't particularly surprising to him considering how they met in the first place.

Alan wrote:Couldn't agree more.

Alan wrote:I'll save my other questions for this Friday. Thanks for indulging me, but I'll sleep soundly after getting to know you better.

Shane wrote:I will, too. Until then, it's a good haunting.

Alan walked back in a good mood the rest of the way, simultaneously feeling tired but energized. He was only able to go to sleep when he realized he once again had to get up so early, but he was happy to start the day again.

It was Thursday, one day before their date.

Before his afternoon class for the day, Alan decided to shoot Shane another text, mostly from a logistical viewpoint.

Alan wrote:Tomorrow's plans have been finalized. Do you want to meet on campus at 5pm? I'm thinking in front of the library.

Shane, as usual, didn't waste time in getting back to him.

Shane wrote:That's perfect, actually, because I was planning to be studying there until then. Do you know the table by the rare books section, the one with the brightest window? That's where I always go.

Alan actually didn't know which spot he was referring to, but he had a general idea since he knew where the rare books were. There was something about finding someone by looking for rare books by a bright window that felt refreshingly poetic, though, that Alan would rather take it upon himself to look rather than ask for more specific directions.

Alan wrote:I'll find you. Mind if I come early? We may have to drop your bag off before we leave.

Shane wrote:No problem! I would hate to accidentally lose track of time while studying, which is usually what happens, so you're not only gifting me with your presence but also doing me a huge favor.

Alan drummed his fingers along the desk, thinking about his next reply, but then class started, so he put away his phone. Ironically enough, the class he was taking was about early music history, and Alan was sure that Shane would have loved to be here and listen in.

The rest of the day melted by, and finally Friday morning rolled around. Alan inadvertently got up later than usual, so he had to rush his morning, which felt nonstop since he had morning lessons and rehearsal afterwards. He meant to send a text to Shane earlier, but he didn't get around to it until around 12:30pm when he was eating lunch.

Alan wrote:See you in 4ish hours?

This time, it took Shane longer to answer-- close to a half hour. Alan figured he was busy, not thinking much of it as he got ready to leave for his last two classes of the day. His phone buzzed as he walked across campus.

Shane wrote:Hey, sorry, I was calling my mom! You can count on it.

Alan did find it nice that this implied he was close to his mother. He wondered what their family dynamics were like, but that was a question he would have to ask in person later. Possibly tomorrow, maybe, if it felt right.

Alan wrote:Alright. See you then!

He left it at that, going through the rest of the day. The next two hours of class went by fast, and Alan had to meet up with colleagues at the music hall to pass over notes and sheet music. He never liked to leave a good conversation early, so that took longer than expected, but he was able to make it back to his place by 3:30.

He went through his usual routine to freshen up. A quick shower, some new hair product, a new spray of cologne. Alan wore a nicer shirt and a silver watch, but otherwise kept it more casual, especially since he knew that Shane was coming from the library. Then again, Alan tried to dress nice on most days (with the exception of working at the piano bar, anyways), so he didn't look too different. Although, he supposed Shane wouldn't know what his "usual" would look like, yet.

Alan knew that Alistair would be back by 5pm, so they would just be missing each other. Instead, he left a note on the small whiteboard on the fridge: Left to go on a hot date. I can't promise it's with a sugar momma, though. -A

Smirking, Alan left it at that, knowing Alistair would probably leave an equally sarcastic note later, and they would keep going back and forth and probably never talk about this again.

Taking a deep breath, Alan left his apartment, looking forward to see where the rest of the day and night would take him.

Shane hummed softly to himself as he flipped through a historian's book, checking the index for Ancient Sparta. There-- a cluster of references in the same chapter. He turned to the middle of the book, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table to the rhythm of Everlong, which was playing in his headphones. He'd found himself listening to it more the last week, but he'd also thrown Alan's song onto several of his study playlists. He couldn't get either of them out of his head, not even when he needed to focus his thoughts on military training and city-state citizenship of the ancient world.

It was rare that anything could distract him away from studying, because normally he would be zoned out well into the evening over his books. But it was so hard to think about Ancient Greece, for once, which Alan's enigmatic questions and their first date coming up soon. It was all he could do to not close the book and think entirely about that instead.

He did manage to read for a few hours despite his racing thoughts, taking notes on passages so that he'd hopefully make sense of them later, because he definitely couldn't do that now.

Someone pulled out the chair next to him, and when Shane whirled around, he saw Alan sitting next to him, smiling.

"Found you," he said quietly, tearing his gaze away to glance at the rare books and the window nearby.

Shane laughed, pushing the book away. "I realized after I told you where I'd be that I was sending you on a bit of a scavenger hunt."

"I have no complaints. I thought it was fun." Alan paused. "It's a nice study spot, by the way. How often do you come here?"

"At least weekly," Shane said. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone else in this spot. Not sure if I accidentally seem territorial or if everyone just accepts that this is my table, but--" He gestured to Alan. "I can share."

Alan smiled at him, his gaze lingering on Shane for a few seconds. "Are you ready to go, or do you need some time to wrap up?" he asked instead.

Shane smiled back, closing the book. "I'll just put this back on the cart, and then I'm ready to be surprised."

"No problem. Take your time."

Shane stood up from their table, finding the cart and setting the book there to be reshelve, before he returned to Alan, picking up his canvas bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "So," he said, with a note of mischief in his voice. "Where are we headed?"

Alan grinned, already beginning to lead Shane out of the library. "Your place first. I don't think we can bring bags, so you'll need to place it down somewhere first. It's not too far away from here, right?"

"Not too far," Shane confirmed. "Just a five minute walk from campus. I'll take you there."

It was a short detour from their actual destination, and Shane was in and out in just a minute while Alan waited in the lobby. He'd thought about showing Alan his apartment, but he was sure they'd find a better time for it than ten seconds of dropping off a bag. He returned downstairs quickly, not wanting to leave Alan waiting.

"I think it's time for that surprise of yours," Shane said with a laugh as he joined him again.

Alan smiled and he opened the door for Shane to exit the lobby first, heading back towards campus, but on the west side.

"How often do you go to the cafe under your apartment?" Alan asked as they passed the cafe's doors.

"Often enough to know the baristas by name," Shane said, glancing at it over his shoulder. "I drink way too much coffee. Are you a coffee person? You seem like one."

Alan weakly laughed. "I wouldn't say I'm a coffee person. More like a caffeine person."

Shane nodded. "Your schedule's pretty busy, so I'm not surprised. I'm really glad you managed to make time for me."

Alan glanced at him. "Of course, Shane. I said I would, wouldn't I? With the exception of classes, rehearsals, and performances, I'm not fully committed to my schedule. I mean it when I say that I can find the time."

Shane smiled softly. "You are pretty good with the promises."

Alan swirled his left hand out in front of him, and Shane caught a quick glimpse of a faint curved scar running over the back of his hand, close to his thumb. "I try to be a man of my word. After all, words without meaning would only be noise. And I prefer music."

"Is your philosophy that music is noise with meaning?" Shane asked, genuinely curious. "If not, how do you think of it? Don't feel as if though you have to hold back on your answer."

Alan glanced at him with a raised brow and a smirk. "You really want to ask a music major what their philosophy is on music? Are you sure?"

Shane returned the smirk. "I am completely sure. You let me talk about history for ten minutes straight, and now I would love to hear what you think about music."

"Fair enough," Alan said with a quiet laugh, briefly squinting up at the sky as he continued to lead Shane past campus, now heading towards the downtown area. "Gun to my head, and being asked to describe this in one short sentence... sure. Music is noise with meaning. Take the gun away, though, and I'd argue it is much more nuanced and complex than that. I'd like to think that people were born to create. We all have a creative outlet. Whether it's music, or reading, or writing, or drawing, or dancing, or something else -- everyone needs the space to explore their imagination and creative side. It's what makes us human. To me, music is no different. It's our very essence, our very soul. Singing and playing songs brings us joy, but it is also a way to tell a story. However, I'd consider some songs to be pleasant noise. These songs may sound nice, but they lack soul and depth. Music that tells a story often comes with meaning, emotions, and hidden context that may otherwise be missed if you're not closely paying attention."

Alan shook his head, continuing to walk but pausing in his spiel to recollect his thoughts.

"In short, music can be noise with or without meaning. Songs with meaning and soul often seize our attention and make us emotional, because they capture something that cannot be easily described in simple language," he finished.

Shane could hardly look at where he was going, he was so caught up in Alan's answer and watching his face. "I'm very glad I asked," he told him with a smile. He really was at a loss for words-- he couldn't think of anything with the same kind of meaning Alan had just shared off the top of his head-- so he had to hope the smile said enough.

"I try to avoid giving speeches, but I just had to further elaborate on that. That's like me asking you if the fall of the Roman Empire happened because Julius Ceasar was stabbed," Alan said with a laugh. "The answer is always more nuanced than that."

Shane grinned. "That's a perfect example, actually. I can't say how many times I've responded to that idea with a well, actually. It's too hard to resist."

"Well, if I ever say anything that seems off to you -- feel free to well, actually me," Alan said with a smile.

Shane couldn't think of where he'd get the nerve to do that, but he chuckled and nodded anyway. "You can well, actually me too whenever you get the urge."

They bantered on for a while longer, moving through downtown. People were talking loudly around them, but Shane only had ears for Alan. He almost forgot they were on their way to dinner and that this wasn't just time to talk, but he felt like they could have gone without interruption for hours.

"Well, actually... we're here," Alan said as he stopped in front of a restaurant named Elysian, which was put lit in big cursive white letters at the front of the building. "Not sure if you've been here before, but since your favorite country is Greece, I figured we'd eat at a Greek restaurant." He smiled and opened the door for him, gesturing for him to go in first.

Shane entered, turning around on the other side of the doorway to face him with a smile. "You know, that felt like an impossible choice at the time, but I'm not even reconsidering my answer now. This was a great idea."

Alan stood in the short line in front of them, smiling as he studied Shane for a moment. "You may have picked between three options today, but that doesn't mean we'll only need to consider one of them. I'm sure Italy and Egypt will manifest in some other way in the future."

Shane raised his eyebrows, smiling a little wider. "More surprises with you? I can hardly wait."

The hostess was free, so Alan stepped up and confirmed the reservation. She took them around to the side of the restaurant by the open windows, placing two menus down on a small two-person table. This was a fairly nice restaurant with a cozy ambient feeling, with lighting hanging overhead casting a soft glow for each table. Their table had a small candle and fresh green carnation in a small vase in the middle. Each table were decorated the same, but the flowers slightly differed.

They both sat down across from one another and leafed through the menus.

"I admit, I haven't really eaten too much Greek food, so you may have to initiate the surprise for this one," Alan said with a small laugh as he read through the menu.

Shane laughed. "I'm happy to. I'll just ask what you asked me-- have you got allergies, or preferences of any kind?"

"I actually do have a food allergy of shellfish. So, shrimp, crab, lobster -- that type of seafood. But it's not severe. It's fine if you want that. I just can't eat it." Alan glanced back down at the menu. "And it looks like there are plenty of alternative options, anyways."

Shane hummed softly, scanning the menu. It wouldn't be an issue here, but he made a mental note of it anyways. "No problem. I've got plenty of different ideas."

When the waiter arrived, Shane ordered a few plates for them to share: pork soulvaki as an appetizer, then moussaka and kleptiko for some main courses. He hadn't picked up all that much Greek from his mom, and certainly couldn't order in it like Alan had ordered in Spanish at the food truck, but he knew he was pronouncing everything properly and he was proud enough of that much.

After taking in their order, the waiter returned not long after with water, breadsticks, and olive oil. Alan tore off a piece of the bread, holding it midair for a moment as he looked at Shane with intrigue.

"Do you know Greek?" he asked.

Shane shook his head, laughing regretfully. "A few phrases and words here and there from my mom using them around the home, and I can read it, but I wouldn't say I know it. I wish I did, though."

"That's still impressive and a lot more than most people know. I'm sure that you'd be able to easily pick up another language, if that's something you want to do," Alan said, dipping the bread in the olive oil before eating it.

Shane nodded, serving himself a breadstick as well. "If you don't mind me asking, do you speak Spanish at home? Either with your family in Atlanta, or with your brother here, I mean."

"Ehhh... it's more like... Spanglish," Alan said with a laugh. "At home, sometimes I go back and forth without realizing -- but that's mostly because the rest of my family does that too, for the most part. My brother and I mostly speak in English to one another." He paused, dipping the breadstick in the olive oil. "Though, I ought to speak more Spanish to him since I'm pretty sure his Spanish is deteriorating."

Shane laughed, tearing himself a piece from his bread. "That's really interesting about bilingual households. I hear that sometimes the people that were raised in them often don't feel like they have a first language and then another, just the two together."

"I suppose that's true. It was a bit confusing growing up, but it also wasn't a unique situation for me, my brother, or the school, for that matter." Alan briefly paused. "Do you know another language?"

"I took four years of Italian in high school. It didn't really lead me anywhere because I lost the habit of studying it in college, but..." Shane trailed off before he laughed. "It's made reading texts in Latin easier, which was an unforeseen advantage, but very helpful."

"Oh, do you read Latin texts as part of your studies?" Alan asked curiously.

"Sometimes I have to be able to. Nuance of original meaning is often lost in translation, so occasionally I'll be given an untranslated text so that I can read it from the way the author intended to be understood, and so I'm not missing anything of their perspective."

"Understandable, I can see how that would be helpful. Does that mean you're taking Latin classes? I didn't know universities were still teaching that," Alan said.

"I did take a couple of courses, although they were considered optional. I thought they were fun." Shane laughed. "Not the most useful language to learn for everyday life, though. I doubt I'll ever run into someone from Ancient Rome and think, wow, good thing I took Latin in college."

Alan laughed, shaking his head. "Learning doesn't always have to have tremendous value. Sometimes it's fun to learn for the sake of it. For instance, the other day I learned that in 2016, Mozart sold more CDs than Beyoncé. What am I going to do with this information? Not sure, but it makes for a fun fact to say to impress your date."

Shane grinned. "That is an incredibly interesting and random fun fact. Consider me impressed."

The waiter appeared at their table with a plate of soulvaki, and Shane was starving, but he smiled and gestured for Alan to take the first one. Alan happily did, hesitant but then picking up the skewer and taking the first bite.

"Oh, that's good," he said afterwards. "I can't believe I haven't eaten Greek food before."

Shane laughed, feeling slightly relieved it had gone well as he took a skewer for himself. "Oh, it's your first time entirely? I'm honored to introduce it to you."

"And I'm glad for it. But I have to ask: is Greek food even your favorite type of food?" Alan asked curiously before taking another bite.

Shane considered that for a moment. "It's definitely up there, but you're right, not my favorite type. That might be Thai food."

Alan nodded slowly, taking another bite before speaking again. "I'll be honest with you, I've only had Thai food once, and it ended in a hospital visit. It was the only hospital visit I've ever had to take that was related to food allergies, by the way. I didn't even know shrimp paste was a thing until a doctor told me that was the culprit. I haven't eaten Thai food again since then."

Shane winced in sympathy. "I see why you haven't been back for more. If you ever want to try it again, I should be able to help with that, but if not, well, we'll find something else to try, won't we?"

Alan chuckled. "It's fine. I'm willing to try again, if you accompany me. This time I'll actually do proper research beforehand... and bring an EpiPen. So I'm not worried about it."

Shane laughed. "In that case, let me know when you're feeling brave."

The moussaka and kleptiko arrived just as they finished with the soulvaki, and Shane let Alan sample both of them first again.

"I hope it tastes as good as it looks and smells," Alan said before taking a bite. He smiled as he chewed, nodding. "Mmhmm. It's even better."

"Victory," Shane said with joking triumph, taking his first bites of both. "I have to say, I like all these surprises. I haven't been disappointed once."

"No? That's good to hear. But..." Alan paused in his eating to meet Shane's eyes more sincerely. "We're human, and I'm not perfect. I'm sure there will be a day where you will feel disappointed, and vice versa, but it's inevitable -- especially since not all surprises are good. It really is fine if you don't like something I prefer, do, or say. You just have to communicate it to me, and I'll keep it in mind for the future. I'd like to think the process of getting to know one another is iterative, mostly with joyous moments for sure, but not always."

Shane nodded, more seriously. "Of course, Alan. I appreciate that. If there's anything I do that makes you uncomfortable, I'd like to know too. I'm sure we'll have our ups and downs during that process, but..." He raised his glass. "Maybe we can make a toast to hope for those joyous moments?"

Alan smiled, lifting his own water glass so it could clink with Shane's. "Of course. I'd drink to that, if I had ordered wine." Smile still lingering, he gently placed his glass back on the table. "I didn't mean to ruin the mood with that, but that did cross my mind, and I felt it was right to share. But we have plenty of time to discover this ourselves."

He picked up his fork to continue eating, but still paused, watching Shane curiously for a moment.

"The night is about getting to know one another, isn't it? I want to know everything about you. What's keeping you up these days? What classes are you taking? What does a typical evening look like for you?" he finished.

Shane laughed. "If I answer those one by one, can you answer them too?"

Alan laughed through his nose. "Sure. I accept."

Shane hummed softly, giving them all proper thought. "I've lost some sleep over this date the last few nights, but in a good way." Before that, he'd been losing sleep over his dad, but he wasn't going to be able to just mention that here. "What about you?"

Alan was studying him in amusement. "Oh, lots of things make me lose sleep. A haunting melody, or a difficult song, like we discussed last time. Guilt from ancient regrets. Stress from personal situations. A longing heart. You." He gestured loosely over to him. "Just to name a few examples."

Shane smiled softly. "You know, all of those apply to me too. Including you." He drummed his fingers on the edge of the table. "I'm mostly taking classes on ancient world history-- Greek history, of course, but also Roman and Babylonian-- and I'm getting some of my other required credits through whatever looks interesting."

"I feel like this is fairly obvious already, but is your discipline on Ancient History?" Alan asked.

"How'd you guess?" Shane joked.

"It was a complete shot in the dark," Alan said with a grin. "Since my discipline is on violin performance, most of my classes are related to practice. But I'm also taking a music theory and conducting class. I'm also required to take two music history classes, and I'm taking my first one this semester. It's on early music history. I think you'd find it interesting, actually."

"Oh, yes, I would," Shane said with an enthusiastic nod. "Feel free to tell me about anything from that class."

"I'll keep you updated," Alan said with a smile. "So, on to the last question. Tell me about your evenings."

"My evenings look like study sessions, sometimes at the library like how you found me until closing, sometimes at my apartment, and then dinner with music and a book. I'll sometimes make a call back home to my mom too, depending what time I get done, since it's earlier in Seattle than here."

"That sounds fairly pleasant," Alan commented. "Well, you have my schedule for this month, so you have an idea of what my evenings are like. I have three symphony rehearsals a week, two of them landing in the evenings. As you know, I usually work at the piano bar on the weekends, and I'm in a rotating quartet to play in weddings. It's still wedding season, so it's been happening weekly, but it'll start to level off to every other week soon, I'm sure. We don't play as often as we used to, but I'm also part of a band where we play and practice weekly in a bar. Those nights often end late for me. Other than that, I go between classes, lessons, violin practice, and studying whenever I can. Plus some other free time as needed, like today." He paused. "And other obligations. Like adulting. And also calling my mom. Things of that nature."

Shane was nodding along for all this. "You keep busy. Do you prefer it that way?"

Alan lightly shrugged. "It's an accident, really. I think things keep landing on my lap, and it accumulates over time. But I don't have any complaints. Performances are fairly competitive, especially against other Ivy students -- so I'm happy to find opportunities to practice and apply myself."

"Alright. Another question, then, if that's alright." Shane paused. "What does your free time look like, when you have it?"

Alan laughed through his nose again, taking a quick bite to allow himself time to think this through. "It depends. I usually have the most time at night, before I sleep. But I also have pockets of hours throughout the day. I usually spend unplanned hours doing errands, fulfilling obligations, or spending time with my family. Mostly calls to my mom, or time with my brother. If nothing naturally happens, I usually end up reading or going back to music. Listening to music, composing music, playing music... it depends on what I'm feeling."

Shane listened closely to all of it, but one part stuck out to him. "You compose music? That's awesome."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not the greatest at it," Alan said with another laugh. "I'm not advanced enough to compose whole orchestras. It's mostly related to lyrics and a piano accompaniment." He paused. "At least, those are the ones I've made myself. I've collaborated with others to make more complex pieces."

"I've seen how good you are at piano and singing," Shane said, smiling. "I bet they're all great."

"Thanks, although I'm not a professional vocalist or a pianist," Alan said with a smile. "I admit I don't really practice piano as much as I used to, but I blame it on the earth giving us so few hours in a day."

"Well, knowing that they're precious, I'm glad to have them with you," Shane said, laughing softly.

"Some people are worth making time for," Alan said with a smile. Shane really couldn't get enough of his smiles. "But what about you? You seem fairly busy as well. What does your free time look like?"

Shane paused, for just long enough that it didn't look too strange. He hadn't had a great time for a while, with the exception of that night with Alan at the piano bar and waterfront, or even really tried to have a good time, forcing him to think back. "I use it to read a lot," he said. "Sometimes it's history, because I'll often find something that I want to learn about outside of my studying, but I read a lot of poetry, too. I don't have a bookshelf exclusively for poetry yet, but I'm working on it."

Alan hummed. "What type of poetry do you like?"

"Nothing we would have learned in high school English class," Shane said with a laugh. "In fact, I prefer ones that aren't originally written in English and have a translation. They act as windows into another culture. I'm regularly looking for new poets from all over the world, but Arabic poetry is an old favorite of mine."

"You'll have to text me some of your favorite poems. I'd be interested in reading them," Alan said.

Shane nodded, already creating a list in his head. He had so much he wanted to show Alan. "I promise."