the pleasure and the agony's all mine

Chapter 1: Blaine

Sebastian’s thumb taps against his knee again, then stills when Blaine slides his hand over it, threading their fingers together. Blaine squeezes once, gentle. “You’re the smartest person I know,” he says softly. “And it’s obvious you care about this stuff. Maybe not the way he wants you to all the time, but…” He shakes his head, lets out a quiet laugh. “I don’t know. You’re going to be so fucking good at it.”  Sebastian looks at him then, really looks at him, eyes still glassy but bright. “Yeah, well. He didn’t say that part. But he did ask if I wanted him to look over my class schedule before we leave for Europe. Said he might be able to help me out with early internship applications for next summer.”  Blaine’s eyebrows lift. “That’s huge.”  Sebastian shrugs again but doesn’t let go of Blaine’s hand. “He’s probably just trying to keep me out of Ibiza next year, but yeah.”  “Maybe,” Blaine says, leaning in until their foreheads brush. “Maybe he can do both. And hopefully without lecturing you at dinner.”  Sebastian exhales, the corner of his mouth twitching up. He presses his nose to Blaine’s cheek, lets his eyes flutter shut for a second. “Hopefully. I still want to go to yours, though. I think your dad misses me.” 

Chapter 2: Trent

James leans over to nudge him gently with his elbow. “You’re staring.”  “I’m not!” Trent insists, half embarrassed. James gives him a knowing look, and Trent rolls his eyes. “Okay, I am. But not like that. I mean, who isn’t?”  James grins. “I had a crush on him once, too, remember?”  They share a laugh, soft and private, and Trent’s hand curls loosely around James’s where it rests on his wrist. It’s strange to feel so seen and so safe all at once, like the two things aren’t mutually exclusive anymore.  “I think it was envy a little bit, too,” Trent explains while they walk. “He’s so, like, embraced by everyone. He makes it look easy.”  “So do you sometimes,” James replies.  Trent scoffs. “Nothing about anything in my life ever feels easy.”  James hums. “Probably doesn’t feel easy for Blaine either.”  “I heard my name,” Blaine interrupts, wrapping one around Trent’s shoulders even though he has to reach up to do so. He has glitter smudged on one cheek and a bead of sweat running down his temple, but he looks like he’s never been more at home.  “You look like you’re having fun,” James says, probably to avoid explaining what they were really talking about.  Blaine grins. “Did you see they’re doing drag karaoke at Scandals tonight?”  “Oh, so we’re going, right?” Trent asks, and Blaine’s already nodding before he’s finished speaking. He wanders back toward Sebastian, still radiant with joy.  Trent squeezes James’s hand, and James squeezes back. “He is kinda magical. The power to make anyone within a mile fall madly in love with him.”  James laughs. “All the Warblers are like that though. Like celebrities. You all have that same magic. I just like your magic the best out of all of them.” 

Chapter 3: Nick

“My parents want to come with to move me into school, and I’m scared they’ll do something to embarrass me that will ruin any chance I have of making friends,” Jeff says passively, one hand in the popcorn and brushing against Nick’s while the other holds the grape soda.  Nick swallows, even though he doesn’t have any popcorn or soda in his mouth. “When are you moving in?”  “August 24th,” Jeff replies. He doesn’t even seem scared or nervous or like he’s dreading it, not like Nick who has to immediately find something to distract him every time he thinks of school next year. “My roommate is moving in the day before me for some program he got into. I was hoping I’d avoid my parents meeting him.”  Nick nearly chokes on his own saliva. It never occurred to him that Jeff would have a new roommate. Sure, he knew Jeff would be at Princeton next year without him, but he never let himself wonder what it would be like, who he would live with and whether he’d be friends with him. Nick and Jeff have been roommates since they were fourteen; Nick literally cannot imagine living with anyone else, even though he’s making plans to dorm with Meatbox. He should’ve known Jeff would be making plans of his own.  “Have you talked to your roommate?” Nick asks, even though he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.  “A little bit. Had to figure out who’s bringing the microwave and mini fridge and stuff.”  Nick hates this. He hates this so much. He hates this more than watching Jeff make out with Sebastian at New Year’s. He hates this more than church with his family. He hates this more than he’s sure he’ll hate dorming with Meatbox.  Next year, Jeff is going to be eating in the dining hall with someone else. He’s going to be walking to class with someone else. He’s going to be talking until morning with someone else. He’s going to have a new best friend, someone smart who got into Princeton.  “Are you okay?” Jeff asks, snapping Nick out of a daze he didn’t realize he was in.  Nick shakes it off. “Is there more popcorn?”  Jeff stares at him, but Nick doesn’t stare back. Instead, he reaches for the popcorn bucket and pulls it closer, grabbing a handful and stuffing it into his mouth. Jeff snorts out a laugh, and Jeff smiles, and Nick prays he never brings up this new best friend again. 

Chapter 4: Ethan

They end up in the kitchen, Emma pouring vodka into a cup, then adding lemonade to the top. Ethan doesn’t even know why he came back here with her; he definitely can’t have any more to drink before he’s in charge of the fireworks display. She slides the bottle back into the freezer and leans her hip against the counter, taking a slow sip. “All little siblings are assholes. I know this because I am one.”  Ethan snorts. “You do not act like that with Caroline.”  “Sure I do.” She tips her head, studying him over the rim of her cup. “Just not in front of other people.”  He shrugs, grabbing a water from the fridge and twisting the cap off. He doesn’t say anything, just focuses on the sound of fireworks cracking faintly somewhere elsewhere on the lake, early and impatient.  Emma watches him drink, then says, almost offhand, “You and Jeff’s sister look pretty cozy.”  Ethan chokes a little on the water. “What?”  She laughs, holding up a hand. “I don’t mean it any sort of way. Just…” She gestures vaguely, like she’s describing a vibe more than a fact. “It’s a look. Very All-American. Golden boy, girl-next-door. Ken and Little Miss Malibu Barbie, fresh out of the box.”  Ethan frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Chapter 5: Meatbox

Meatbox swallows, the thought landing heavier than he expects. He nods again, simpler this time. “You’ll be back next summer, right?” She hums and takes a sip from her drink, then sets it down next to her sandwich. “I don’t know. Depends on internships, I guess. Most of the students in the honors program I’m in end up with summer internships right away.”  Meatbox feels a slight hitch in his chest, the kind of subtle ache that usually only comes from a hard tackle or a long conditioning run. He focuses on the Ohio State logo between them, the bright red fabric a stark contrast to the green of the meadow.  “Internships,” he repeats, the word tasting like dry cardboard. “Right. Big brain stuff.”  Hattie notices the shift in his voice. She turns fully toward him, pulling one knee up to her chest. “It’s not like I’m trying to get away. It’s just how the program works. If I want to get into the journalism track I want, I have to keep the momentum up.”  “I get it,” he says, and he actually does. He’s always known she’d leave at the end of the summer, and that maybe she’d never come back. He reaches into the bag of chips, the plastic crinkling sharply in the quiet air. “Just seems like a long time to go without a decent picnic.” 

Chapter 6: Jeff

“Hi,” Jeff says, and his voice cracks immediately, betraying him.  “Hey,” Nick replies, softer than usual, like he’s already clocked it. “Are you—”  “I’m fine,” Jeff lies, wiping at his eyes even though there’s no one to see him. “What’s up?”  There’s a beat. Jeff can hear background noise on Nick’s end—something clanking, maybe a drawer, Meatbox swearing faintly in the distance. Jeff checks the time again. It’s almost one in the morning.  “So,” Nick starts, dragging the word out. “Hypothetical question.”  Jeff snorts wetly. “I love hypotheticals.”  “If,” Nick says carefully, “someone were moving into a new dorm in, say, four days. And that someone’s parents were going to be out of town on a last-minute business trip. And that someone’s best friend—who is also, hypothetically, his boyfriend—were very far away…”  Jeff closes his eyes.  “…Would it be insane,” Nick finishes, “…to ask that person to come back and help? Because otherwise it’s going to be a complete disaster. Like. A real, actual mess. Meatbox thinks we should just figure it out as we go, which I’m totally down for, except that we haven’t bought any of the shit we need and have bought three things we don’t.”  Jeff laughs. It slips out of him before he can stop it, thin and watery and a little hysterical. And then he’s laughing harder, shoulders shaking, tears spilling down his face.  “Oh my god,” Nick says immediately. “I didn’t mean to—”  “No,” Jeff manages, breathless. “No, it’s…sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I just…” He wipes his face with the heel of his hand. “You sound so stressed.”  “I am stressed,” Nick admits. “I tried to make a list and then I lost the list. And then I remembered how organized you always were with packing and stuff, and I was like, oh. Right. Jeff has his shit together.”  Jeff glances around the room at the stack of packed and repacked boxes. “When is move-in?”  “Tuesday,” Nick says. “I know it’s short notice. And I know you’re doing…like, smart people, Princeton stuff. And obviously you can’t come. But I really wish you could just—”  “I’ll come,” Jeff says immediately.  Nick goes quiet.  “I’ll come,” Jeff repeats, steadier now, even though he barely believes his own words. “I’ll help you move in. I’ll boss you around. I’ll make sure you don’t forget sheets or whatever other dumb thing you’d absolutely forget.” 

Chapter 7: Sebastian

“Are you okay?” Sebastian asks under his breath. He barely hears his own words.  Blaine hesitates, and Sebastian swallows back something. He can’t tell if it’s vomit or a sob. “Are you?”  Sebastian doesn’t reply. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”  He has no idea what he’s trying to say. He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. What exactly did he do? Which part of it didn’t he mean?  Blaine takes a long, shaky breath, and Sebastian leans his head back, staring at the ceiling in contemplation and wishing he had something he could stab himself wish.  “I’m open to, like…trying things…”  Sebastian swallows as his heart sinks in his chest. “B—”  “But I don’t know, don’t you think we should…don’t you think there are things we should talk about first?”   Sebastian closes his eyes, the pressure behind them intensifying. He understands. Blaine isn’t hurt by the fact that Sebastian went for something rougher, something more controlling; he’s hurt by the fact that Sebastian didn’t ask. That he used Blaine as a vehicle for his own panic instead of a partner.  “Yes,” Sebastian manages, his voice thick and rough. The single word is an admission of guilt, of error, and of sudden, terrifying clarity. “Yes, we should have.”  He turns his head slowly, finding Blaine’s profile in the dim light. Blaine is staring straight ahead, his expression unreadable, his jaw clenched just slightly.  “I’m sorry,” he says again, forcing the words out. They are inadequate, pitiful, but they are all he has.  Blaine finally turns, meeting Sebastian’s gaze. The hurt is still there, deep in his brown eyes, but it’s tempered with a profound exhaustion.