24: AIDEN

The next morning, despite the fact he was still weak, Aiden permitted Harvard to drag him out of bed and even suggested that they should sit with the rest of the fencing team. This was partly to make Harvard smile, and partly because Aiden was eager to get the lowdown.

“Good news, freshmen, we’re gracing you with our presence,” Aiden announced, dumping his tray on the table surrounded by fencers and two unfortunates who had apparently given up on life and decided to be Nicholas Cox’s friends.

“Lucky,” murmured one of the Bens—or was it Bins? Bons? Ben seemed more likely—passing by the table and casting Aiden a look of yearning.

Aiden gave the Ben a little wave so he would go off happy.

A tall junior named Petrarch or Boccaccio or something like that sighed: “More fencers.”

“I’m like fine art, Rossetti,” Aiden told the junior. “No need to comment on me. Just admire.”

A muscle-bound individual lumbered by, stopping to say “My man!” and hit Seiji hard on the back. Seiji made the face of someone who’d just bitten down on his spoon. Aiden and Harvard tried not to smile. Harvard hid his grin better, because he was the kind one.

“A surprise before breakfast,” observed Aiden. “You know people not on the fencing team, Seiji? And these people are willing to acknowledge you in public?”

Seiji shrugged.

Nicholas bristled in Seiji’s defense. “Seiji’s extremely popular,” he claimed.

“I assume you’re making some sort of joke,” said Aiden. “Anyway! Who would like to talk to me about the crime spree in Kings Row?”

Eugene made a sound suggesting the moans of the damned. There was a gray tone to his typically golden skin and circles under his usually twinkling eyes, as though he hadn’t slept. Aiden eyed him with sudden wild suspicion. Could Eugene Labao be the master criminal, the news of whose exploits were ringing through Kings Row?

“I think Eugene would like to spread a rumor about these notorious crimes,” Seiji announced.

Eugene began to explain the full story about Kings Row students dropping in on Weirs Fine Jewelers and smuggling a huge array of watches, and the report that some concerned citizen had seen the criminals hiding their stash in their own room, in a weary voice.

Aiden had never seen Eugene more dispirited about spreading gossip. Aiden was also personally disappointed there were no gold bars.

“It’s definitely watches. I have no idea where people came up with gold bars.” Eugene made a helpless gesture. “Rumors get so out of hand.”

“So these people are hiding stolen goods in their room?” asked Aiden. “Uh, devilish cunning, I don’t think. The reputation of these people as master criminals may be somewhat exaggerated, that’s all I’m saying.”

Harvard nodded. “I’d hide the stolen goods in someone else’s room.” Eugene started, and Harvard frowned. “If I were a master criminal, which I’m not. It’s hard to believe anyone at Kings Row would do anything this awful.”

Eugene gave a strange bubbling laugh. “I know, right?”

Aiden decided that Eugene couldn’t be the master criminal. The guy choked during fencing matches and appeared to be having a nervous breakdown right now for no reason. Master criminals needed nerves of steel.

The entire dining hall was buzzing with whispered tales of criminal exploits. Only Seiji, sitting across the table and instructing Nicholas on nutrition, seemed wholly unconcerned.

“If someone saw the cache of stolen goods,” Aiden said, leaning across the table, “then someone knows who these people are. Everybody’s room has been searched! Why has the stash not been discovered? Did they move the stolen goods?”

“Not everyone’s room has been searched yet,” Seiji said in disapproving tones. “I don’t know why.”

“Some of the guys with rich dads and lousy tempers must have made it clear they’d put up a stink about being searched,” Polidori commented.

The little sparkly junior looked impressed by his friend’s intelligence. The tall junior didn’t talk a lot, but he wasn’t stupid. Aiden appreciated this.

“That is very wrong, Dante,” Seiji announced flatly.

“Wow,” said Aiden at the same time. “I have a rich dad and a lousy temper. Why didn’t I think of forbidding them to search my room?”

There were two types of people in the world, Aiden guessed.

“I wouldn’t let you do that,” Harvard told Aiden. “And you’re not as nasty as you like to think.”

He reached for Aiden’s hand, which was swinging by the side of Aiden’s chair in a convenient location for Harvard to grab in case Harvard might want to. Harvard not only laced their fingers together, but also brought Aiden’s hand to his lips and kissed the back. Then he let their joined hands rest on the lapel of his uniform blazer, against the golden crown over crossed swords of his captain’s pin… and his heart. Harvard did it all absentmindedly, as though he didn’t have to think about his actions because it came so naturally.

Aiden lifted a coffee cup to his lips purely in order to make a Can you believe this? face behind it.

There went Harvard again, raising the ideal boyfriend bar to the sky. Could the man not be stopped?

“Aw, are you having faith in me, sweetheart?” Aiden murmured. “That’s so nice. And so misplaced.”

Harvard murmured, a lovely little sound, patently unconvinced. This is the last time, Aiden thought, and held on.

The others ignored Aiden and Harvard’s romantic moment in order to focus on crime.

Seiji’s eyebrows looked as though they had been drawn on with a fat black marker and a ruler. “Why should the rules not apply to some students? People shouldn’t use their privileges in order to escape punishment.”

Apparently, Seiji had been too preoccupied with fencing to notice all the rules of the society he lived in up until now.

“Wow,” Aiden remarked. “It’s almost as if this cruelly unjust world is set up in such a way to favor those who already got lucky with riches, good looks, or, not to point fingers at myself, both.”

Seiji frowned. “That’s exactly what it’s like. Well put, Aiden. In any case, it must be stopped.”

Aiden blinked. “Capitalism must be stopped?”

Seiji nodded, his face even sterner than usual. “I have an idea.”

“Oh Jesus, bro!” exclaimed Eugene, and banged his own forehead against the table. When he righted himself, there was a red mark on his brow.

Aiden sympathized to a certain extent. Seiji Katayama was a lot to deal with. However, Eugene was the one who chose to hang around Seiji, which nobody could possibly enjoy, except for Nicholas Cox, who was obviously mentally deranged. Eugene could deal with the misery thereof.

“How sad life must be for anyone who’s not rich and hot,” Aiden murmured. “Personally, I wouldn’t know. Nicholas, tell me how it feels. Not now, some time when I’m in the mood to hear a sob story.”

“What?” said Nicholas.

Aiden shrugged. “The wealthy and unkind only see the poor as entertainment.”

“No, like, what are you saying, dude?” asked Nicholas. “I have problems focusing when you talk.”

Nicholas didn’t catch Seiji’s faint smirk, but Aiden did. So did Eugene, who fixed Seiji with a betrayed stare.

Eugene was acting as if he knew who the real thief was. Actually, with the way Eugene was twitching and eyeing him, Eugene was acting as though Seiji Katayama was the true criminal. Though that would be a hilarious twist, Aiden couldn’t imagine Seiji actually doing anything illegal.

He glanced around the table to see if this behavior was exciting anyone else’s suspicions. Harvard was looking sympathetically at Eugene, because of his beautiful heart. Nicholas was staring around vacantly, because he was a simpleton.

Aiden felt he could figure out the riddle, but this was his last day with Harvard, and he refused to waste it on the freshmen. If the mystery was still ongoing tomorrow, Aiden would unravel it. He guessed after he’d finished the process of crushing his own heart to powder, he could become a cynical, world-weary, impossibly attractive detective.

Aiden brightened. Finally, an upside to this whole horrifying business.

“Here’s my idea,” proposed Seiji. “I will report the names to the authorities.”

Nicholas’s brow knitted. “Do you know the names? Why haven’t you told me?”

“Bro, don’t tell the cops!” Eugene exclaimed.

Seiji ignored Nicholas in favor of Eugene. “I meant I would report the names to the school authorities, not the legal authorities.”

“I don’t think you should report to anyone!” snapped Eugene. “Oh wow, I wish this wasn’t happening to me. But since it is, here’s the thing about gossip: The more gossip people hear about something, the more it starts to sound like fact. Once the gossip is started, bro, all you have to do is wait. Other people will do the rest. By tomorrow, someone else is gonna report seeing those guys hiding the watches. Bet on it.”

Matters were truly sad for the freshmen when they were looking to Eugene Labao for wisdom and guidance.

On the other hand, it wasn’t as if Aiden were planning to provide any.

“But they won’t have seen the guys hiding the watches,” said Seiji.

“They’ll have heard about it so much, they’ll feel like they did,” promised Eugene.

“So, eventually, someone who hasn’t seen the stash will believe they did see it, because they’ve heard about other people seeing the stash often enough?” Seiji’s nose wrinkled judgmentally. “Then they will report it? That makes no sense.”

Eugene shrugged. “Don’t know what to tell you, bro. That’s how gossip works.”

Seiji seemed to accept his words. “I will leave this matter in your expert hands, Eugene. That’s what teamwork is about. I look forward to seeing results.”

Horror visibly descended on Eugene, just as the bell rang for the start of classes and everybody rose from the breakfast table. Only Aiden noticed that Eugene was in the grip of a nameless dread. Eugene looked up to find Aiden’s amused gaze upon him.

Eugene mouthed Help me, bro. Aiden gave him a little shrug, a little smile, and a little wave. Then he waltzed off and left Eugene to his fate.

Classes were tedious, as usual, but Aiden was cheered by the fact that Harvard stopped in after each one to check up on him. When in class, Aiden amused himself by contributing to the gossip about gold bars and stolen watches. He noticed there were two students in his and Harvard’s grade who were starting to wilt under intense collective looks of suspicion. He’d always thought those boys were worms and felt this pair deserved whatever the inexorable wrath of Seiji Katayama—aided by master of whispers Eugene Labao—had in store for them, then decided to forget all about it. He headed to his and Harvard’s room for their last night.

There wouldn’t ever be another night. He wanted to make the most of this one. If Harvard wanted to, as well. After the kiss on fair night, Aiden thought Harvard might be open to taking things a little further.

He wouldn’t go too far. Just as much as Harvard wanted and no more.

The sun was low in the sky, spilling across the floor and half across their beds, like a gold sheet turned down and ready for someone to climb in. Aiden stretched out across the beds and waited for the door to open.

“Hey,” said Harvard when it did. “Were you okay being in class today? Are you feeling sick again?”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Aiden told him. “I’m feeling all better.”

Harvard’s brow was furrowed in concern as he put down his bag, shrugging off his jacket and loosening his tie. “That’s why you’re lying down at five thirty in the afternoon?”

“Mmm.”

It was a noncommittal, but calculated sound. Aiden made another, a long, drawn-out sigh as he lifted his arms over his head. His uniform shirt was already mostly unbuttoned, rumpled enough so that it might be accidental. He saw that Harvard noticed.

Then Harvard looked out the window. “The rules said this stops at the door of our room.”

“I was thinking,” said Aiden. “It’s time to break the rules.”

Harvard glanced back at him, almost involuntarily, then out the window again. “Why?”

He sounded as if he wanted to be convinced.

“It’s time for a lesson progression,” Aiden informed him. “At first, dating is going out places together. But there comes the time when you stay in… together. What do you do on the first night he asks you to watch a movie at his place?”

Harvard swallowed, looking almost helpless.

“Uh, what do I do?”

“Say yes, for a start,” murmured Aiden. “Come over here.”

“We’ve watched movies together, like, a million times,” Harvard pointed out. “Is it that different?”

“Come over here and find out.” Aiden hesitated. “If you want to.”

He watched Harvard carefully for any sign of reluctance, telling himself that if he saw even a trace, he’d stop. He’d stop right now; he’d tell Harvard it was done.

Harvard nodded, bit his lip, and smiled. Shy, but eager.

Aiden had seen this expression on boys’ faces a thousand times, but never on Harvard, so it was like seeing that look for the first time. Like seeing a sunrise for the first time after learning the word sun, wonder given bright new meaning.

Harvard put on one of their favorite movies and came over to the bed. Aiden felt the give of the mattress under his body as Harvard crawled over to be next to him.

Initially, it wasn’t that different. They had watched movies together a million times before. Aiden had always possessed a buzzing, constant awareness of Harvard, where Harvard was in relation to him, where they were touching and where they weren’t.

The awareness was magnified; now Aiden could hope it was—to some degree—mutual.

They laughed and joked through the opening credits and romance in the sunset, then watched with more focus as a Spaniard and a masked man in black had a duel on the edge of a cliff.

Then the Spaniard revealed that he wasn’t actually left-handed.

He switched his sword to his right hand and swung into the fight with renewed vigor. The duel at the cliff’s edge recommenced, steel swinging and slicing bright in the sun’s rays.

Harvard pointed. “You know, right there is when the stuntman catches the sword out of frame.”

“I know.”

Aiden did know. Harvard always told him this fact at this precise moment. Aiden had watched this movie without Harvard once—on a date. Seeing the sword fly without the familiar murmur had upset Aiden enough to turn off the movie.

Tonight, Harvard was here with him. They were both lying on their stomachs with their legs kicked up and their hands cupped in their chins, as though they were six years old.

They weren’t.

Aiden tangled their legs together slightly, deliberately. It felt far more dangerous than crossing swords. Aiden couldn’t imagine a match with so much at stake.

“During a date when you stay in,” Aiden said, teaching, “you should try to see if the other person is receptive to you getting closer.”

Harvard gave Aiden a look out of the corner of his eye, and let their legs stay tangled, resting with light pressure against one another. Love was a delusion, nothing but an electrical impulse in the brain, but there were many impulses running electric under Aiden’s skin right now.

The man in black smiled beneath his mask and switched his sword to his right hand. The clash of swords rang over the sound of the sea.

Aiden sneaked another look at Harvard, the shine of his dark eyes and white teeth in the silvery glow from the screen. Harvard caught him looking, but he returned Aiden’s look with a look of his own, warmly affectionate and never suspicious at all. Harvard never suspected a thing.

Because Aiden was his best friend, and Harvard trusted him. And Harvard could trust him. Aiden would never do anything to hurt Harvard, not anything at all.

Aiden moved in still closer, his arm set against Harvard’s, solid muscle under the thin material of his shirtsleeve. He could put his arm around Harvard’s shoulders or slip an arm around his waist or lean in. He was allowed, just for tonight.

“Why are you smiling?” Harvard asked, teasing.

“Because I know something you don’t know,” Aiden teased back.

Harvard raised an eyebrow. “And what is that?”

“You’re really cute,” murmured Aiden, and leaned in.

His lean was arrested when Harvard laughed. “Ha! That’s such a line. These things really work on your guys?”

Overcome by the magnitude of this insult, Aiden snapped, “Invariably!”

Harvard rolled his eyes. “I hate to tell you this, buddy, but I think they’re letting you get away with substandard lines because you’re cute.”

Aiden paused, torn between being deeply offended and ridiculously flattered.

Harvard bit his lip, seeming to think this over.

“I guess if you guys both know you’re just playing around, what you say doesn’t really count,” he offered. “That’s why people call them lines, like the things you say in a play. I know this isn’t real, but…”

Aiden tried to keep his voice soft, to be understanding. “But it’s practice for being real.” His mouth twisted on the name, but he forced it out. “For Neil.”

Harvard winced. Aiden supposed it might feel a little weird, to hear the name of the boy he actually liked, while tangled up with another. For Harvard, who was so good, it might feel close to cheating.

Aiden didn’t want to say the name or hear it or think it. Harvard seemed to be struggling with a thought, and Aiden waited to hear Harvard tell him what he wanted. That was all Aiden wished to know or to do. What Harvard wanted.

“Have you ever… liked anyone for real?” Harvard asked in a voice that started low and sank with every word, until it almost disappeared on the word real.

Aiden didn’t trust himself to speak, so he only nodded.

“What did you say to him?”

“I never said anything to him,” Aiden answered slowly. “But there were things I wanted to say.”

“Like what?” murmured Harvard, then shut his eyes, lashes black silk fans against his cheekbones. “You don’t have to say. Not if it hurts. You don’t have to.”

It hurt, but this would be Aiden’s only chance to say all the things he wanted to say. He wouldn’t get another.

Life always hurt, but Harvard was the only one who could ever make it feel better.

Aiden leaned in toward Harvard as close as he could get, so close that every breath was like a storm in the tiny space between them. The blood beneath his skin seemed like thunder, every faint electric impulse turned to dangerous lightning, and every whisper to a desperate shout.

Aiden whispered: “Listen.”