#phpm

“I don’t know what to do,” Elliot almost-moaned as he slumped into his seat. Almost-moaned, because as Elliot would insist, Nightrays did not moan, so it was an almost-moan.

Leo eyed his exhausted expression with a slightly raised eyebrow. Only first period, and it looked like Elliot had probably shattered his previous record for number of prospective dates sent away disappointed, and knowing him, possibly crying. Well, what else was new?

This was an inevitable conversation, and Leo had learned from the first time around that the correct response was not to collect all the books on the intricacies of romance within reach and dump them on Elliot. Nor was it to offer up any shambling suggestions, because Leo knew even less about such affairs than Elliot, and it’d probably only make things worse. Much, much more worse.

Instead, it was to patiently wait out the ensuing venting, and then cautiously redirect the topic, with as much conversational finesse as Leo could muster. Which was admittedly meager, but it had worked for the past several years, so he saw no reason why it wouldn’t suffice for this year as well.

Except then Elliot made another drawn-out noise that sounded somewhat like a dying elephant instead of launching into an agitated rant, and fell silent with a look of sullen contemplation.

“I never knew you had such capacity for thought,” Leo teased, and then more seriously: “What’s wrong?”

“Today. Me. Life.” Elliot flapped his arms about in a vague gesture. “Everything.” With a huff, he deflated and slouched across his desk.

Today would be quite the Valentine’s Day if Elliot had been reduced to this in just two hours. Leo leaned over and patted his head. Absently, he noted that his hair was much softer than its spiky shape suggested. “There, there.”

Elliot went red to the tips of his ears and swatted Leo’s hand away. “What are you doing?”

“I like your hair.”

It was just a simple, honest remark. But to Leo’s confusion, Elliot buried his even-redder face in his hands with a muffled groan. According to the several years’ worth of observations of Elliot’s (admittedly convoluted) behavioral patterns, he would usually preen himself on such a compliment, but now this was an exception. Leo frowned. He didn’t like exceptions. But before he could bring it up, the first bell rang, signaling the start of class.

The teacher launched into an avid spiel about some Japanese author that Leo probably would’ve paid attention to, if he wasn’t too occupied trying to puzzle out this new reaction. It couldn’t have been embarrassment, since Elliot was always particular about his appearance, and if anything, he would’ve been flattered… Though Leo had genuinely meant it, because Elliot’s meticulousness paid off. Everything from his outfit to his hair and even his face was immaculate. Sometimes Leo wondered if Elliot used makeup, because no natural face could be that--

A sudden burst of chatter around him jarred Leo out of his reverie, and his last train of thought slipped from his grasp. What had he been--?

“--eo! Leo, are you listening?”

“Muh?” was his intelligent response.

“I said,” Elliot repeated with exaggerated emphasis, “we have to do a conversation with this lesson’s vocab words, as a warm up. Since you obviously weren’t paying attention to the teacher.” Leo let out an automatic “oh” and Elliot rolled his eyes with a slight smile. “Anyway, I’ll start.”

In the somewhat choppy exchange, Elliot somehow managed to slip in six references to four different books in not even a dozen lines of conversation, while Leo fumbled his words a couple times and couldn’t be more relieved when they finally got through all the vocabulary. Foreign language was not his strong suit--he’d stick to his piano and non-Japanese books, thank you very much. And maybe also Victorian flower language, though he didn’t think that qualified as a language, per se.

A hand waved in front of his face and he blinked.

“Oi, Leo! You zoned out again.”

“Well, I’m sorry I happen to use my brain.”

Elliot snorted, but instead of firing back, he fidgeted with the collar of his shirt, glanced around, and finally blurted out in a rushed jumble of Japanese, “The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

The complete non-sequitur threw Leo for a loop. “What?”

For a moment, Elliot looked almost disappointed before he turned away and fixed his eyes to his desk. “Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

Something was definitely up with Elliot, but… Maybe he was just feeling off today. Not enough sleep? Frazzled from having to deal with the complexities of Valentine’s Day? Or some other unfathomable Elliot reasons, because people just didn’t make sense. In the best interests of his sanity, Leo decided he would just chalk it up to that and stop trying to figure out this baffling mystery, or it would just keep on itching at him.

Except it still did. Out of the corner of his eye, he would catch a glimpse of Elliot sending a glance at him. It lingered just long enough for something in Leo’s chest to give an odd flutter, before Elliot snapped his focus to the board.

Leo told himself the heat in his cheeks was just because of the stuffy room, and he was never more glad to bolt out into the cool hallway with the next bell. And when his chest tightened as he and Elliot parted, it was nothing more than a shortness of breath from hurrying to his classroom halfway across the school.

Though he did find himself wishing for Elliot’s familiar presence next to him, and he found himself struggling to concentrate on the lesson. Because even though history was interesting sometimes, he really couldn’t care less that some noble dueled another noble because he kicked one of his cats. That just proved there were plenty of idiots throughout the ages, complete morons like Elliot…

Now that he thought about it, Elliot would totally do something like that: blow up over anyone hurting a cat, even just a random cat on the street. Hell, he probably would’ve adopted every single cat he came across if not for his family being full of dog-lovers. For all his brusqueness, Elliot was really a huge naive softie underneath, and it made Leo alternately want to throw furniture at him and wrap him in fluffy blankets.

On reflex, his phone was already in his hands and his fingers swiped across the keyboard. Are you there?

When a full minute passed without a reply, Leo concluded--much to his chagrin--that Elliot was not there. In most circles, when someone wasn’t available to respond to your texts, you wouldn’t bother and would just put your phone away. But in a spell of irrationality, he typed out another message. Did you know a feud between two families started because a guy kicked another guy’s cat?

Not sure whether to feel amused, confused, or to have my faith in humanity slowly crumble away.

I could imagine you doing that, though.

You’re stupid enough to.

And probably crazy enough.

Remember that one time you tried to pet that alley cat? It bit you.

That incident was one of the worst scares Leo had ever gotten in his life, and it was probably the only time he and the rest of the Nightrays ever shared a sentiment--they had rushed Elliot to the hospital and made him get a thousand different tests and checkups to make sure he was, as he insisted, perfectly fine. In a surge of anger, he found himself degenerating into all caps.

And you were SUCH AN IDIOT. I mean you DON’T PET WILD DIRTY POSSIBLY INFECTED ANIMALS. You could’ve gotten RABIES.

RABIES. Which is 99.999% FATAL.

Elliot, you IDIOT, I SWEAR I’ll end up with gray hairs at 16 because of you.

And you’re not even LISTENING.

Dimly, as he typed out another message, Leo wondered if his brain had decided to take an impromptu vacation. All he’d wanted to do was talk to Elliot for a bit, just to get away from the horrible substitute’s monotone lecture, not take a turn into this. But his fingers kept on moving.

It’s

All this amounted to was shouting into the void. Elliot probably didn’t even have his phone on. Apparently idiocy was contagious. He forced himself to close the chat and jammed his phone back into his pocket.

It’s lonely without you.

If he’d left his phone on a bit longer, he would’ve seen the eleven new messages.

Okay, maybe I might do that, but I am NOT stupid, or crazy, or an idiot!

That was once!

ONCE.

It was a cat, Leo! A cat!

A poor injured hungry cat.

And it definitely didn’t have rabies.

It was just scared, anyway!

And now YOU’RE not listening!

Seriously, you flood me with angry messages and complain about me not listening and then you don’t listen to me.

I didn’t know I worried you that much.

I’m sorry.

When Leo wrenched open the cafeteria doors, he was buffeted by an explosion of horrendous hot pink that burned his eyes, and with mild horror, he gazed upon the room that was now the stereotypical embodiment of Valentine’s Day. Whoever was in charge of decorations seemed to think that tasteful interior design meant swathing every inch of available space with the same cringe-worthy shades of magenta. For a moment he was tempted to backpedal out of there and just eat his lunch in the bathroom or something, but that’d probably be marked as cutting class, so he would just have to suck it up.

Leo finally managed to maneuver across the flower-strewn floor, and Elliot was already at their table with a thick book open and propped up in front of him. It didn’t seem to be an effective arrangement for reading, what with his nose practically touching the pages, but before Leo could open his mouth to ask what the hell was he doing? Elliot shushed him and planted his face back into the book.

It wasn’t until Leo spotted the people milling about holding chocolates, roses, and even whole bouquets with fancy expensive ribbons that he made the connection. With a sly grin, he leaned in towards Elliot. “Hiding from your admirers, hm?”

“Not hiding!”

“That is so hiding.” Oz plopped down on the bench across from them with a cheery “Hi Elliot, hi Leo!”

Elliot peeked over his book, and scowled as he assessed Oz’s wide smile. “You’re too happy. That can’t be natural.”

Unfazed, Oz continued to beam. “Of course I’m happy! There’s so much love in the air and it’s great!”

Elliot’s background mutter of “I’m going to vomit” went ignored as Oz continued. “And you know what’s even greater? We get to take photos!”

“Oh, another photography club project?” Although Leo personally didn’t care much for Valentine’s Day--it was just that candy and card companies made a huge deal about it to rack up more sales, though the discount chocolates were tempting--the photography club’s work was always skillful and polished. “What’s it about?”

Oz swelled, always eager to talk about photography. “We’re doing a photo-book about the four types of love, you know--agape, phileo, storge, and eros. And since it’s Valentine’s Day, it’s the perfect opportunity to get photos for eros!” He paused to wolf the rest of his lunch down, and swallowed. “Say, I think you two’d make great subjects!”

“Uh, why?” Maybe he’d had a brief lapse of memory, because Leo was the complete opposite of photogenic. He never paid any more than maybe two seconds of attention to his appearance, so his hair was always a shaggy mess, and his glasses were plain and worn. Not only that, but he’d probably die of shame if asked to pose in front of a camera. So whatever reasoning justified that statement, Leo would be very interested in hearing.  

“‘Cos Elliot has light hair and light eyes, and Leo has dark hair and dark eyes, and I bet if you two wore coordinated outfits...” Oz nodded seriously to himself. “Yeah, I think you two are perfect for each other!”

A choking sound came from behind the book, followed by a protesting “Shut up!” as Elliot gripped its edges tighter.

Realization--though of what, Leo had no clue--dawned over Oz’s face, and he covered his mouth. “Ohhhhh!” With a mischievous shine in his eyes, his voice lowered a pitch and a smirk stretched across his face. “Ohhh… Well, good luck, Elliot!” Oz patted Elliot on the shoulder, infuriatingly smug with some knowledge that eluded Leo, and sauntered out of the cafeteria as the bell rang.

“Come back here, brat!”

Evil laughter trailed in Oz’s wake.

It would probably be better for Leo’s peace of mind to not linger on Oz’s antics because Oz was, well, Oz. He gathered up his books, but then Elliot dropped another one onto the pile and he staggered under the sudden weight. Leo squinted at the spine. “‘The collected works of Soseki Natsume’?”

“We talked about him in class, but you weren’t listening, right? Anyway, I think you’d like his writing. It’s really interesting and well-done, from what I’ve read so far, so I think you should try it.”

Well, the only time Elliot had ever failed with his literary taste was with those awful, ridiculous Holy Knight books that he still stubbornly insisted were good. Leo had almost torn his hair out five pages in, and in the aftermath of the ensuing argument, the Nightrays had to get several new chairs and tables. But that was only once, so he supposed it was safe enough to assume that this would be actual quality content. “If you say so.”

“Really?” A trembling, yet relieved grin spread over Elliot’s face. “Great! A-anyway, we’d better hurry. See you later!”

It wasn’t until study hall that Leo finally cracked the book open. Now that he thought about it, he distantly recalled their teacher mentioning Soseki Natsume a couple times, how he was one of the greatest Japanese novelists of all time. So Elliot was, thankfully, on spot with his recommendation.

Leo traced a finger down the table of contents. A preface, then poems, short stories, and full novels, and...an odd lump. Had Elliot left something in there? A bookmark, most likely, though why Elliot would lend it to Leo before finishing it was beyond him. He checked the top of the book and pried it open to where something that at least looked like a bookmark had been wedged in.

Except it wasn’t quite a bookmark. A stiff slip of canvas, decorated with elegant floral patterns, rested in between the pages, and Leo’s breath caught in his throat. Underneath a layer of plastic was a single pressed rose, its petals still suffused with a lush red as though it hadn’t been picked more than an hour ago. He turned it over in his hands as a thousand questions buzzed in his head. Why would Elliot have something like this? Leo knew he was fond of flowers, but why a rose, of everything? Did Elliot make this, and why? And why would he use it as a bookmark, no less?

But then he remembered: their teacher had said something about how Soseki Natsume had famously translated an English phrase… Leo’s heart skipped a beat. In Victorian flower language, one thornless red rose had a distinct meaning, and then there was also… Could it be? Shakily, he ran his fingers across the paper and scanned the words.

Right there, on the page in front of him, was the line he’d been looking for.

Soseki Natsume taught his students to use “The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” as a translation for “I love you”.

And suddenly it all clicked into place. The evidence had been staring him straight in the face all this time. Even Oz had figured it out after just one conversation. Blood rushed to Leo’s face, and his heartbeat rang in his ears. How could he have missed it?

Elliot was in love with him.

As soon as it coalesced into words, Leo felt like the whole world had been flipped upside down, and at the same time, a murky veil over his eyes had been lifted. Disoriented and scrambling for footing, but now everything was so much more clear--all those blushes and looks and oh my god, was I really so dense to have not noticed it until now?

And he thought Elliot was the king of density, but now he might just have a challenger for that title. Excluding the most reclusive of hermits, everyone knew blushes indicated either embarrassment or love, and frequent blushes, especially in the vicinity of one particular person, usually had some sort of romantic meaning. And given that it was Elliot, who was prone to shouting rather than blushing when embarrassed, it should’ve been obvious, but nope, Leo was such a blockhead.

As the final bell rang and Leo mechanically steered through the hallways, the bubble of disbelieving giddiness soon gave way to panic. He was completely out of his element in this sort of situation--books didn’t prepare you for something like that! It wasn’t like some cliche story where some convenient plot device would swoop in and save the day and the two would kiss and--no, no, not kissing, think about something else!

Leo shook his head and breathed in. At least he wouldn’t have to face Elliot so soon after, since he had a student council meeting. Then Leo would get some time to organize himself--or was that a bad thing? He needed some sort of resolution to this, as soon as possible, because otherwise…

It didn’t even register to him that he’d arrived at his locker, being so absorbed in his confused disarray of thoughts. When someone tapped him on the shoulder, he nearly jumped out of his skin, and whipped around. Was it Elliot? What would he say? What would Leo say? Oh hell, he wasn’t prepared at all, he--

But there was no Elliot there, only Oz, who gave him a wave. An acute disappointment jabbed at Leo, and he tried to keep it off his face. “Oh, Oz. You startled me.”

“Ah, sorry! I didn’t mean to...” Oz rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “It’s just, you didn’t hear me when I called you. Anyway, are you still walking home? ‘Cos it started raining.”

“Yes, I have an umbrella. Why?”

“Could I see it for a sec?”

And for what reason, Leo couldn’t possibly imagine. But he’d already exhausted all his patience for trying to decipher peculiar behavior, so why the hell not? It wasn’t like it’d do any harm just to let Oz take a look at his umbrella.

But Oz took it with a smile that was far too innocent, and dread pooled in Leo’s stomach as he realized this was a bad idea. “I think I’m going to borrow this for a bit! Thanks, Leo!”

And then he vanished into the flood of leaving students. With Leo’s umbrella.

The gravity of the situation hit him full-force and he wilted in despair. It was raining buckets out there, and on top of that, Oz had stolen his umbrella! Whatever logic backed up that bizarre decision was lost on Leo.

Mournfully, he eyed his thin jacket, now a pathetic sight as it became his sole defense against the cruelties of weather. Oh well, better something than nothing. And he’d be sure to demand an explanation from Oz tomorrow. Preferably with the aid of heavy, throwable furniture. Leo sent up a silent prayer to whatever deities there might be, and with his jacket draped over his head, stepped out the school doors.

As soon as he did, water poured onto him, and he cringed. Already he could feel some soaking into his clothes, and he shivered. Scratch that, definitely with the aid of heavy throwable furniture. Or, well, he was sure the school strongly disapproved of furniture being used for such purposes, so then he might just settle for a very big book.

Speaking of big books…

The reminder of what he’d found in there sent a jolt through him, and he slapped his cheeks. Was he seriously all over the place just because of something that might just be a complete coincidence, that might just be him over-thinking things? Maybe Elliot--Leo’s stomach tumbled through a whole gymnastics routine at the thought of him--was just agitated because it was Valentine’s Day. Maybe he’d just mispronounced something, and meant to say an entirely different thing, since they were still learning Japanese, after all. And it wasn’t like Leo knew anything about romance, so he was the last person to try and make conclusions about it.

Another chill made him sneeze. Well, he at least knew it was cold out here. Oz had better have a good explanation ready the next time Leo saw him, because if he got sick--

“Hey, Leo!”

Leo froze and wondered briefly if he was already sick. Because that dunce was supposed to be in a meeting that wouldn’t end for another hour--yes, that made more sense. Maybe Leo was just seeing things. Did colds cause hallucinations? He had no idea.

But when a shadow fell over him and the rain was cut off, Leo decided that was definitely not an illusion, and as he turned around, his heart began to hammer against his chest.

In all his idiotic glory, there was Elliot, red-faced and short of breath. His knuckles were almost white as he gripped the umbrella, and he kept his gaze averted. But--Leo’s brain froze. He was so close--Elliot was right there, next to him, almost touching and Leo couldn’t breathe--

“I thought you had student council?” he blurted out, and wanted to smack himself. That was not what he’d wanted to say--damn it brain, way to go. “I-I mean, thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver, but--”

“Missing one meeting’s fine. More importantly, what happened to your umbrella? Oz told me you were going to walk all the way home, out in this weather, without one! You could’ve caught a cold, or pneumonia--”

“Wait, Oz told you? He was the one who stole my umbrella!” Slowly, a faint inkling of suspicion crept over Leo. Was Oz trying to set them up? The very notion made Leo’s face redden, and he cast about for a topic change. “A-anyway, it doesn’t matter. So, uh...”

Nothing came to him, his panicked mind flew into a scattershot flurry of activity. His glasses were askew just a bit, how had he not noticed that before? His jacket was hopelessly sopping wet, he’d have to dry it out as soon as he got home, or it might grow mold or something. Mold--ugh, he hated studying mold back in biology, and his back hurt. What was in his backpack? It was so heavy! Oh, right--the book Elliot had lent him. The book! Elliot! And the rose, and Elliot--!

Before Leo even managed to process his train of thought, he had pulled the book out and handed it back to Elliot with a straight face. “Here, I almost forgot this.” The steadiness in Leo’s voice was surprising, even to himself. Excellent job, self, maintaining a composed demeanor when confronted with the earth-shattering revelation that oh hell my best friend’s in love with me, maybe possibly. Leo risked a glance at Elliot’s face, and gauged his expression as he took the book.

“How was it?” Elliot sounded strangely breathy and rushed.

“Interesting.” With an undercurrent that he hoped Elliot would pick up on, Leo added, “It wasn’t like there was anything too shocking, though.”

“Oh.”

But when Elliot said nothing more, Leo’s heart sank. Of all the times for Elliot to prove his--his--infuriating density! There were some stronger things he could’ve said that might’ve suited it better, but honestly, he shouldn’t have expected too much. And...that was fine, he supposed. Maybe it really was all just in Leo’s head, and if he pressed any further, it’d only make things unnecessarily awkward. So he plastered on a casual smile. “About the physics essay…”

As they passed the time with trivial talk about homework and tests, Leo could almost forget all about that tangle of romance. But every time they pushed through a throng of people, or one of them walked too fast and the other too slow, he could feel Elliot brush against him--just a tiny bit, but enough to send his heart into feverish frenzy. And Leo was keenly aware of how Elliot’s warmth softened the bite of the late winter cold.

He couldn’t help but wish they would never reach his house, so this dreamlike moment would last forever. But when its shape emerged through the curtain of water, more distinct by the second, their chatter faded and no longer masked the ache in his chest. Afraid he would do something foolish if he looked at Elliot anymore, Leo tore his eyes away and fished out his house keys. “Thanks for the umbrella, I--”

“Wait, Leo!” A hand caught his own in a strong grip, and Leo whirled around, eyes wide. Elliot’s was face aflame with a raging blush, and his eyes were squeezed shut. “I--you--I, uh...”

His hand was so warm, and--no, brain, focus! Leo ignored the pounding of his heart and forced the waver out of his voice. “Could you actually finish a coherent sentence?”

“Damn it, I...” Elliot sucked in a deep breath and burst out, “I like you, okay? I think I have, for a while.” At this point, he seemed to be barreling on without any thought, and Leo felt his face grow hotter with every word. “A-and, well, I don’t know how you feel, but even if you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine, because I’ll still always be your friend! S-so...”

This...complete moron…was just unbelievable. Before Leo could stop it, a snort escaped him, and he laughed, a messy trembling laugh filled with amusement and relief and nerves, and everything in between. “Did you get that line from some cheesy romance novel? You’re such an idiot!”

Honestly, if someone had told him a couple years ago that he would end up with this well-intentioned disaster of a human being, he wouldn’t have believed them. But, well, as they said: you fell slowly, and then all at once.

Elliot’s indignant sputtering died off as Leo wrapped his arms around him and leaned in. As he pressed his face into Elliot’s chest, he could hear his heartbeat, every bit as frenetic as his own.

“Well, I happen to like you too. So I suppose you’re going to be stuck with me forever.”

It was an amateur hug, and Elliot’s was equally clumsy. But that was all right, because the warmth of Elliot’s arms soaked into Leo’s skin, and that was all he needed.

“Hypocrite. That was even cheesier...”