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Sitting by one of the many tables and benches placed around campus, with his head in his hands and notes a blur of white and black around him, all Sapnap can think about is how he didn’t ask for this.
Why had he decided to come to college again? Finals are in ten days, his grades are damn near dogshit, and he has little to no idea where to start getting them up.
Dream was right when he’d said I couldn’t run away from this forever, he groans internally, shifting to fist his fingers in his hair. So maybe not listening to the man acing all his tests had been a bad idea — Sapnap’s had plenty of those, and this isn’t about to be the last one.
Sighing, he sits upright. His eyes run over the seemingly infinite study material surrounding him, and his mind swirls to grasp the magnitude of it all.
Nothing to do but accept fate, he guesses.
Sapnap flips open his first stack of notes, picks up his pen, and–
As if to add to his already Everest-high mountain of problems, gold and green flashes in the corner of his eyes.
Sapnap is this close to giving up.
“Go away, Dream,” he laments, letting his face flop onto his paper, “I really don’t need one of your lectures right now.”
Dream climbs into the seat opposite him anyway, uncaring. “Lecture? Why would I– oh .”
The disapproval in his voice is unmistakable. Sapnap has only felt anything akin to this level of guilt around his mother.
“This is your own fault, dumbass,” Dream sighs, “I’ve done my part — the rest is up to you.”
Sapnap knows this. Doesn’t mean he has to like it, though. He keeps his face flat against his worksheets.
“Anyway,” Dream starts again, “I didn’t come here to mother you. There’s something else that I wanted to talk to you about.”
Sapnap perks up immediately. His eyes widened in surprise, he peers up at his friend. “Really?”
Dream’s smile immediately turns into something that Sapnap can only describe as devilish. The glint in those green eyes makes him wish he’d grabbed his things and bolted as far away from the other as soon as they’d come within ten feet of each other.
“Yes,” Dream says, voice deceptively sweet, “it’s about the May Ball.”
“The May Ball,” Sapnap says slowly, tentatively, “what about it?”
Dream’s grin widens. “You’ll be going, won’t you?”
“Uh.” Sapnap hesitates. “Depends, I guess, probably–”
“You’ll be taking Karl, right?”
And Sapnap promptly chokes on his own spit.
“What?!” He sputters, “What? Karl?!”
Karl, his roommate, his best friend, the most amazing person Sapnap thinks he’s ever met. (Something in him responds eagerly to that — old emotions trying to break free from the chains he’d put on them months back, but he stomps them down.)
“Yes,” Dream confirms, the fucker taking joy from the mortification Sapnap is feeling right now, “Karl.”
“My– Our Karl?!” He curses himself the moment the slip-up leaves his mouth. Please don’t let him have heard that, please, please, please–
The sudden glint in Dream’s eyes tells Sapnap everything he needs to know. Fuck.
“Yes, Sapnap,” laughter trembles in Dream’s voice, “your Karl.”
Sapnap flushes hotly. “Fuck you, you know that’s not what I meant– whatever. We aren’t like that, what even makes you think–”
The image flashes before him: Karl, in his arms, honey-eyes gazing up at him like they’re the only two people in the universe; Karl, with one hand on his shoulder and the other clasped against his, mouth curving upwards as they sway to the soft rhythm of the music; Karl, leaning in, lashes fluttering and lips parting–
His mouth snaps shut. Dream looks smug.
“So,” the blond bastard prompts, “you’ll be asking him, right?”
Sapnap doesn’t answer. The emotions stirring in his chest aren’t unfamiliar, but are still heavy and almost magnified, even, spreading effervescence from the tips of his fingers to the ends of his toes. He’s supposed to be over this. He’s supposed to have buried these feelings and complications a long, long time ago — none of this should be happening.
“I’m,” he breathes in and speaks, despite himself, “I don’t know.”
God damn it, Sapnap. Get a grip.
Dream raises a suggestive eyebrow that twists a nervous knot in his throat. “That’s not a ‘no’.”
“Fuck, Dream,” Sapnap straightens, pushes aside the tangle of confusion and denial within himself, and grasps at straws. It's by sheer luck he picks the logical one. “Finals are in ten days. I don’t have time to be doing this right now.”
Dream’s brows go higher. “Since when were you one to care about studies?”
“Since now, okay?” Sapnap bites. The playful sheen to Dream’s eyes disappears in an instant. Sapnap can’t help but feel a fleeting sense of satisfaction and relief.
“Sorry,” he says, running a hand through his hair. Dream’s lips are sealed shut and his shoulders have drooped with what seems to be guilt. “I’m just… stressed.” And confused. And kind-of infatuated with the guy you’re teasing me about.
Dream gives him a long look. When he gives this look, Sapnap always feels bare — it’s like he knows more than Sapnap thinks he does, like he can see straight through Sapnap’s soul, like he can peel away all of Sapnap’s walls and read all the truths Sapnap has tried so very painstakingly to hide.
“It was my bad, too.” The blond says finally, “I shouldn’t have brought it up, especially during this time.” Sapnap is studied for another quick moment, and then: “You really do have the tendency to do this, huh?”
“Do what?” Sapnap asks.
“Run away.”
Before Sapnap can ask Dream what exactly his green-wearing ass means by that, he’s gone. His hand waves carelessly in the air as a gesture of his goodbye, and Sapnap can only sit there, surrounded by things he knows next to nothing about, and stew in his unsettlement.
Sapnap has a thing for Karl Jacobs.
It’s been a ‘thing’ for months now, and a part of him hopes it’ll always just stay that — a ‘thing’.
He’s not sure as to when it had first started, if he’s being honest. When he’d discovered it, it had already felt like a part of him, like it was nature’s decree that he’d feel these things for Karl — that his heart would pound like a sledgehammer around him, that his senses would go on overdrive around him, that his brain would turn to absolute mush and he’d sometimes forget how to speak around him.
So, yeah. It’s just a thing.
And while he’s at it, an unrealistic thing.
He’d been through this a while ago — he’d sat down in his room for a straight two hours and thought about everything: what it meant, the upsides and downsides of coming clean about this ‘thing’, the changes that would come with it. And his verdict had been that it wasn’t worth it.
Sapnap would call Karl the friendliest, and most charismatic man in the entire college compound, but maybe he’s biased. (Sue him.) Karl is well-known, well-connected, fun-loving, generous, and it had only been by pure chance that they’d formed a friendship and become as close as they are now.
Sapnap had initially been drawn to him by his kindness and his loudness, and now, he’s stuck on the endearing way Karl loops their arms together when they walk down corridors, the way he laughs whenever Sapnap makes a joke, the way he smiles whenever Sapnap brings home Subway cookies– the list goes on.
And really, they’d be fine, if Karl wasn’t so far out of his league.
He’s so far out out of his league that it hurts, sometimes — Sapnap keeps blindly reaching and reaching and reaching, but he never quite seems to be able to reach him, and when he opens his eyes he’s always struck by how far apart they seem to be.
So he gives up.
Because even if he ignores the gap between their standards and decides to shoot his shot, their friendship is worth so much more than this ‘thing’, and if Sapnap were to lose it, because of his idiot heart and his lack of self-control, he thinks he’d lose himself, too.
This is why he’d spent so long shoving down his feelings, shutting down any notion of him and Karl being more than what they are down as soon as it crosses his mind, telling himself that it isn’t worth it .
Evidently, it hadn’t worked.
And it’s funny, really: how only a few words from Dream was all it took to tear down the fortresses of resistance he’d built up, how all Dream had to do was shove an opportunity straight into his face and it was as if everything he’d tried to convince himself for the past few months meant nothing.
He’s weak. He’s weak and a fool and a coward, and he has no idea what to do about it.
He escapes the topic for a while, altogether. He ignores the bright, colourful posters that scream "May Ball" in big, bolded font, grits his teeth and tunes out the whispers of dance, who are you asking? when he passes through the hallways, quickly makes up an excuse about studying and leaving the conversation whenever someone brings it up.
The only confrontation he can't peel himself away from is the confrontation with George.
(Of course it's George — a good eighty percent of his problems are caused by that man.)
It's when they're having lunch together, of all things. Sapnap likes to consider lunch as a safe timing — it's the time he gets his belly filled, the time he replenishes his energy and motivation to get through the day.
The last thing he's expecting is for George to broach the subject he's been so desperately trying to avoid.
"You really should ask him, you know?" The brunet muses, eyes dragging lazily over his phone screen.
Sapnap freezes in the midst of taking a sip of water, the glass in his hand barely touching his lips as he blinks at the man sitting opposite him. There's a quick, cold rush of dread that rolls over his spine, accompanied by a looming sense of doom.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he says simply, stiffly downing his water. He knows exactly what George is talking about.
"Don't play stupid, Sapnap," George rolls his eyes, and Sapnap keeps his gaze firmly on the plastic of the McDonald's table. "You know that doesn't work on me."
He does. Sometimes he regrets how close the both of them are.
Sighing, he relents. "Did Dream fucking put you up to this?"
George grins, sly. Unease squirms beneath Sapnap's skin. "Yes and no."
Sapnap leans back, rests his back on the chair, and lets loose a slow exhale. "I hate you both."
George smiles, and they both know he doesn't mean it. "Whatever you say, Sappy Nappy."
There's silence for a bit. George waits for a response to the prompt that had started this whole thing, while Sapnap waits for their food. He knows George only means well, and that he's avoiding his problems – like Dream always says he does – but he can't help it. He'd face physical problems anytime, anywhere — head-on confrontation in a fight is nothing new to him, but emotional problems? He'd rather not.
"I'm serious," George says again. His phone lies face-down on the table, and his attention seems to be fully on Sapnap now. "Ask him to the Dance."
Sapnap's jaw sets. Where the fuck is their food? "No."
George seems exasperated and taken aback all at once. "Why not?"
"Because," Sapnap sits back up, stumbling over the sour taste of a lie on his tongue, "there's nothing going on between the two of us–"
"Bullshit." George deadpans, and Sapnap hates him.
"It's not bullshit, it's the tru–"
"What's true is the disgusting lovesick-puppy look in your eyes whenever you're around him," George retorts.
Sapnap's face prickles with embarrassment at that, heat rising to his cheeks and gathering around his ears. "Shut the fuck up, you are so wrong–"
"Tell that to the fucking judge," George folds his arms over his chest and leans back on his chair, a smug look in his eyes. Sapnap thinks he looks like an idiot.
"It's just," Sapnap tangles his fingers in his hair, shuts his eyes, thinks of Karl with his pretty laughter and pretty smile, "he doesn't think of me like that, okay?"
George's voice is softer now. "And how would you know?"
Sapnap shifts. "What do you mean, how would I know? There's just no way–"
"But you never asked," George says, firm. "You can't be sure of anything if you haven't even tried."
Sapnap doesn't say anything. A potluck of emotions stew in his empty stomach.
George sighs. "If you like him, then give it a go. There's no harm in trying."
Except there is, Sapnap thinks bitterly, and the consequences are more than what I can afford.
"Hypocrite," he scoffs instead, giving George a pointed look. It's his turn to be the smug one.
"That's different," George protests. There are hints of pink splattered over his cheeks.
Sapnap grins, and throws the other's own words back at him. "Whatever you say, Gogy Wogy."
George reaches over the table to give him a sharp smack at that, and they laugh.
“We’re both such idiots, aren’t we,” Sapnap remarks. George snorts in agreement, and the conversation is over.
(Throughout lunch, Sapnap tries – and fails – to get thoughts of dancing with a certain caramel-haired, starry-eyed boy out of his mind.)
Sapnap doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything more like peace than when he’s around Karl.
He finds it ironic, sometimes — Karl is anything but peaceful. He’s a physical manifestation of jubilance, of brightness and wonder and every single beautiful thing there is to live for in life. He is every good thing combined into one, every speck of happiness and every little giggle; every uninhibited grin and every breath-stealing hug.
When the two of them are put together, the energy they create is a supernova of chaos and untameable laughter — when they’re together, Sapnap always feels like he’s about to burst into flames.
But it’s the quiet moments that he likes the most, he thinks.
It’s the groggy mornings when they’re both too sleep-ridden to have intelligent conversations, it’s the drowsy eleven-at-night’s when they’re too tired to properly acknowledge each other’s existence, it’s the silent weekends where they curl up on the couch, a thick blanket pulled up to their chins as they watch a movie, it’s the instances where they don’t talk — where they just enjoy each other’s presence and revel in the knowledge that they aren’t alone.
This is one such quiet moment.
They’re in their apartment, of course. Finals are drawing closer and the anxiety that has built up in Sapnap’s stomach is piling up by the day, but all his stress and worries seem to melt away whenever he glances over at the man opposite him.
Karl has his head down on one of his open textbooks, his left ear flattened against the page as he drums an idle beat into the table.
Sapnap can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth as he watches the other’s fingers do a little tap dance, an affectionate sigh working its way out his mouth while he lets his focus drift away for a moment.
He’s expecting the break in the silence when it happens.
“I’m bored,” Karl complains, drawing out the ‘o’ sound.
Sapnap huffs fondly. “Keep studying, then.”
“But studying sucks,” Karl protests. His hand flattens against the table’s surface. “I’m so sick of reading all this… bull.”
“Me too,” Sapnap agrees, “but it’s not like we can just stop, or anything–”
“Let’s take a break,” Karl decides suddenly, sitting upright. His eyes gleam, and Sapnap tries so hard to resist the sudden tug at his heart that tells him to listen to him, do what he says, you can take a break and spend some time together–
“I don’t think,” Sapnap forces out, “that would be a very good idea–”
“Have you heard about the May Ball?”
And the world stops.
Sapnap’s heart is pounding unbelievably fast in his chest, there’s cold sweat gathering at the back of his neck, and his mind is nothing but a jumbled mess of oh god, oh fuck, and this cannot be happening right now. Did Dream and George say anything to Karl? He’s going to kick their asses so fucking hard if they did.
“Yes,” he says, slowly, struggling to recollect his composure, “yes I have.”
Karl’s gaze dips to the table and lingers on his textbooks. Apprehension seizes Sapnap’s heart and squeezes. “Are you… planning on taking anyone?”
Is it just him, or is Karl refusing to make eye contact? Not that Sapnap can say anything, he has his own eyes glued to the wall behind Karl.
“No,” he replies. His gaze flits to Karl momentarily, and as if caught by some kind of spell, he starts rambling. “Not really– not yet, I guess. I don’t know. Haven’t really decided yet.”
“Oh.” Karl says. The air solidifies with tension. “Cool.”
Sapnap doesn’t know what demon is possessing him at this moment when he speaks, but he’ll swear on his life that Dream and George had summoned it for him. “What about… you? Do you have anyone you’re planning on taking to the ball?”
If anyone ever asked him, he'd deny it until hell freezes over, but privately, Sapnap thinks there’s a small part of him that genuinely wants to know the answer to this question. And not in the polite, you-ask-me-a-question, I-ask-you-that-same-question way too.
Karl inhales audibly. Sapnap awaits his answer with bated breath. “Yes.”
The word hits him like a freight train.
Yes? Sapnap’s head spins. Who? Why? How long have you known them for? Do I know them? Do you like them? Have you liked them for a while? Did you like them before you met me? Is it me– oh, what am I thinking, of course it’s not, who is it? Who?
The questions threaten to tip over his tongue and spill out into open air, and it takes all of him to swallow them back down, to ball them up into a squirming mass of nastiness and shove it out of sight.
“That’s–” Sapnap says tightly, “that’s great. Awesome.”
The lie scalds his throat. (He’s been doing that a lot lately, hasn’t he? Lying.)
Karl’s head shoots back up. His eyes search for Sapnap’s in what seems to be curiosity, but Sapnap is adamant on keeping them down, keeping them burning holes through his papers. (He can’t guarantee that if his gaze meets Karl’s, he won’t fall apart at the seams and let all his thoughts and feelings tumble off his traitorous, traitorous tongue.)
Karl looks away. Sapnap doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed by that.
The college library is busier than he’d thought it would be, at midnight.
There are students all around, some yawning into their hands and some furiously typing on their laptops, some scrolling lazily through their phones and others flipping through books with urgency. The people here are searching for a place of peace and quiet — a place where they can be alone, in the personal sense. A place where they don’t have to talk.
Sapnap is here for reasons much more selfish than that.
Being in the apartment with Karl has been stifling, lately. The air between them is always laid thick with things Sapnap wants to say but can never bring himself to, and Karl always fixes him with that soul-searching, caring look, and Sapnap just finds it so… hard.
It’s so hard not to just say fuck it and tell him, so hard not to pull him closer and kiss the living daylights out of him, so hard not to want more than what they have.
(For fuck’s sake , Sapnap. The man has another love interest. He wants to take someone else to the ball. Get a hold of yourself, will you?)
The library is an escape. He’s trying to avoid being in the same room as Karl, for now, until he gets his mess of emotions under control.
Karl doesn't make it easy for him, of course. He's constantly trying to steal a moment where they can talk, and the despondent slump of his shoulders whenever Sapnap brushes him off hits Sapnap right where it hurts, every single time.
It's all Sapnap's fault that they're like this now. If it wasn't for his stupid heart and his stupid feelings, none of this would have happened. They'd be content with where they're standing now, with none of this complicated emotions bullshit.
If there was a way to make these feelings disappear, Sapnap would find it and do it in a heartbeat. (Anything would be better than having to do this, having to avoid his best friend even while it tears the both of them up from the inside.) But there isn't, so Sapnap can only fall back on the traditional methods — running away and pretending that they don't exist.
It’s hard for him to do that when they’re at home, though — all Karl has to do is walk into the room and Sapnap will just start noticing things, like the way he smells, or the the way his hair curls around his ear, or the little doodle he’d done with pen ink on his hand.
He is so much. He is everything in the best way possible, and Sapnap wants all of him.
(That’s his problem, you see: he wants too much.)
So he is here now, in this library with all strangers and no Karl, and though he feels a bit lonely, he thinks it’s better like this.
It’s better like this, he tells himself, as he begins flipping through his notes with only the smell of old paper and air freshener for company.
It’s better like this, he repeats, when his eyelids begin drooping shut and there’s no one to offer him a coffee or convince him to go to bed.
It’s better like this, he thinks, unconvincingly, as his heavy head rests on the table and Karl’s smiling image forms behind his closed eyes.
He wakes up to gentle patting and a soft voice.
“Sap?” The voice is warm, soothing. Sapnap likes this voice. “Come on, get up. It’s time to go home.”
“‘Ome?” He mumbles. The outside is bright. He doesn’t want to open his eyes.
“Yes, Sappy,” the voice says again. It sounds familiar. “Home. You don’t wanna spend the night here.” A laugh. “Trust me, you’ll be really uncomfortable in the morning when you wake up.”
Then it hits him: home. Karl. It’s Karl’s voice that’s telling him to get up.
It’s like cold water down to his bones. He jerks awake, squinting and blinking incessantly to get rid of the blurriness in his eyes.
“Karl?” He says thickly, “what are you doing here? It’s…” his gaze shifts to the clock on the wall, “two in the morning. Why aren’t you asleep?”
Karl huffs. There’s concern in his eyes, mellow and tender. “I came to get you, silly. You didn’t come home, and I got worried.”
“Oh.” Guilt pokes at his heart. He didn’t mean to do that. The last thing he wants is for Karl to be upset. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“It’s okay,” Karl says, reaching down and pushing Sapnap’s hair out of his eyes. His hand pauses on Sapnap’s forehead for a while, and Sapnap revels in those few extra seconds where their skin is in contact. “I’m just glad you’re fine.”
Sapnap stares at him, eyes still adjusting to the blinding white lights of the library, and wonders how a man can be so kind, so gentle, so welcoming, and yet so untouchable, all at once. The sudden yearning chokes him — wraps around his lungs like vines and constricts.
Karl locks eyes with him, honeyed gaze filled with something unspeakably soft, and when he looks like that, like there's a deep part of him that's pining, too, Sapnap can't help but let himself think that there might be more to this — to everything.
He daydreams that there's more between the exchanged glances and shared smiles, little touches and platonic "I love you"s, that there's more between their late-night talks and frequent, friendly shoulder-bumps, that Karl wants him. In the exact same way that Sapnap does.
Go to the May Ball with me, he barely holds back, forget about that other guy. Teach me how to love you right.
Karl smiles a smile that means nothing. He feels like a fool for thinking that he'd do anything else.
Sapnap, tired and cold and the teensiest bit lonely in this library, gives up, this time.
"Let's," he stands up, stretches, yawns, and ignores the resolute aching in his chest. "Let's go home."
Dream brings it up again one night, when they’re at his and George’s apartment playing video games. It’s Friday Night Tradition — them being in the middle of finals doesn’t change shit.
“So… when are you going to ask him?” Dream throws out, casually.
Sapnap had seen this coming way beforehand — he keeps his attention on the game and doesn’t let Dream’s statement throw him off.
“If you’re trying to distract me,” he murmurs, as he maneuvers his character to jump on a floating platform, “it’s not going to work.”
Dream laughs. “I’m not trying to distract you, I’m serious! When are you going to ask him?”
The slightest amounts of irritation froth in his chest. “When are you going to drop this?”
Sapnap has his eyes on the screen, but he can feel the way Dream frowns. Dream’s character lands on the floating platform next to him and deals his character a quick punch.
“I’ll drop it when you ask him, doofus,” Dream answers. “You really should get to it. The Ball is soon, and I’ve seen a bunch of people come up to him in the middle of hallways now. If you don’t show them up, well…”
Sapnap’s jaw clenches. The idea of Karl going to the May Ball with someone else, as it always does, doesn’t sit right with him. Still, he shoves his own feelings aside.
“It’s not my place to dictate who goes to the Ball with him,” he says carefully, “if he wants to go with someone else,” he swallows the acrid bitterness on his tongue, “I’m okay with it.”
It’s a blatant lie, and Dream knows it too. Sapnap will probably spend the night in his room, blasting bass-boosted breakup songs as he stares into the darkness of his ceiling.
They’re quiet for a moment, with the only sounds in the room being the clacks of their joysticks and pressed buttons. Sapnap makes his character do a little parkour around the map in an attempt to get away from Dream.
He can practically hear the cogs in Dream’s mind turning as he searches for something to say. It’s probably going to be some sappy advice, or whatever. His best friend likes to mother him like that.
“What are you,” Dream says, and the words seem to pierce right through Sapnap’s soul. “What are you so afraid of?”
“Afraid?” Sapnap echoes. “I’m not afraid of anything, what are you–”
“Cut the crap.” Dream’s voice leaves no room for argument. “Be honest with yourself for once.”
Afraid, Sapnap thinks. He reaches into the deepest parts of his heart, into the little crevice where he shoves all his unwanted, unrequited feelings, goes past the jealousy that comes with Karl’s firm answer of yes, there is someone he’d like to take to the Ball , goes past the acres and acres of longing, goes past the hurt that had come with knowing that he’ll never be the one Karl wants, and reaches for the answer.
“Dunno.” He breathes. “Losing him, probably.”
Dream sighs, gentle. “You’re not going to lose him, you know?”
“But you don’t know that,” Sapnap counters, his fears spilling from his lips like a waterfall, “I could fuck everything up by asking him to the Ball. I could ask him and he could reject me and then everything would be awkward and at the end of it all we won’t even be friends anymore.” His voice cracks, just a little. “I could lose everything by doing this.”
“But he could also say yes,” Dream points out, “and none of that would happen. You guys would be happy.”
Sapnap places his controller on the floor, and the clatter it makes is louder than expected. “That’s not going to happen, Dream–”
“For fuck’s sake, Sapnap,” Dream snaps, “so what do you want to do? Hide your feelings for the rest of your life? Avoid him until your feelings go away?” He laughs humorlessly. “I know you. You’re going to run away forever and the both of you are going to drift and in the end you’ll be too scared to even talk to him anymore.”
Sapnap feels like he’s on the edge of a crumbling cliff.
“Don’t be stupid, Sap,” Dream finishes, “you can ruin everything by staying quiet too. You might as well take the road that gives you more closure.”
Sapnap lets loose a breath, sits back, shuts his eyes, and thinks.
Karl, smiling widely up at him as he offers his hand for a dance. Karl, his hand over his mouth as he tips his head back in his trademark bright, all-out laughter. Karl, in a sharp tuxedo and his eyes sparkling beautifully under vibrant, flashing lights.
Sapnap gives in.
“Okay,” he says, in surrender. Nervousness buzzes in his chest. “I’ll ask him. I’ll ask him after finals.”
Dream smiles. The television screen bursts into an explosion of colour and celebratory animation, with Dream’s character right in the middle of all of it. “That’s the Sapnap I know.”
He’s going to do it.
He’s really going to do it.
At long last, finals are over. Everything in Sapnap’s life seems to have built up to this very moment, built up to this sweet taste of victory and freedom. As of right now, with his very last exam having ended about fifteen minutes ago, Sapnap feels unstoppable. Like he can do anything.
Including asking Karl Jacobs to the May Ball, which will be happening in a mere five days.
The only problem being that he currently has no idea where said Karl Jacobs is.
do you, he pulls out his phone and sends a message to George shakily, do you know where karl is?
His phone starts ringing with an incoming call from George. Shaking his head fondly, he picks it up.
“Sappitus!” George near-yells through the phone. Sapnap thinks his excitement is contagious, because all of a sudden he can’t stop smiling. “Are you doing it? Right now? Are you really?”
He can’t help the breathless chuckle that slips from his throat. “Yes, George, right now. My last exam just ended. Do you know where he is?”
“His last Snapchat status showed the water fountain, so I’m guessing that he’s somewhere around the courtyard.” George says, “You can try your luck there.”
Sapnap breathes in, begins heading in the direction of the courtyard, and tries to suppress his racing heart. “Thanks, George.”
“You’re welcome.” The other man quips. “You can just add this favour onto to the list that you owe me.”
“You son of a bitch,” Sapnap laughs, “that list doesn’t exist and you know it.”
George giggles, too, and Sapnap is comforted, for a moment.
“Hey, man,” George begins, “seriously? Good luck. You can do this.”
Heartened by the weight of George’s trust, Sapnap grins. “Yeah. Thank you.” And he means it, surprisingly. “Bye, now.”
George says his own goodbye, and Sapnap hangs up.
He’s already nearing the courtyard, and his eyes sweep over his surroundings in search of a familiar mop of caramel brown hair.
It doesn’t take very long for him to find Karl under one of the huge pine trees. If anything, the block-coloured hoodie is a dead giveaway and an instant stand-out from the crowd. A sudden burst of energy spreads through his veins, and then he’s running, head filled with a single-mindedness of Karl, May Ball, and come with me? And he’s halfway there before he realises he doesn’t know what to say , and God, what the fuck is he supposed to do now–?
He’s closer now — Karl is a mere five meters or so away, and it’s then that Sapnap notices the other man next to him. He’s tall, dark-haired and blue-eyed, and Sapnap slows down as he moves in.
Who is that? He questions, a bad feeling settling in the pits of his stomach, what are they talking abo–
“–and I just wanted to ask you, will you be my date to the May Ball?”
Oh.
All of a sudden, Sapnap feels like he’s drowning. The rest of the world sounds muffled, like it always is when he’s underwater, and he’s having a really hard time breathing–
“Yeah, sure. Of course! I don’t mind.”
And reality crashes to pieces around him.
There’s no way. There’s simply no way. It has to be some kind of mistake, somehow. There’s no way that Karl just– right in front of him–
“Sapnap?” Karl calls out.
Sapnap whips his head up, like a pathetic dog heeding the call of its master, and meets his eyes. Something flashes in Karl’s eyes, something that Sapnap knows with a sinking intuition that he’ll never be able to decipher, and God, is his heart supposed to hurt like this?
“Karl.” He swallows the lump of garbled words in his throat. “Hi.”
His gaze darts back to the floor. He can’t look at him right now.
“What are you doing here?” Karl says, his voice sounding delicate. He’s never been this careful with his words around Sapnap, but fuck, things are going to change around here, now, aren’t they? Karl has a date now. Soon they’re going to be boyfriends and Sapnap will be thrown aside like last week’s garbage.
“I was just–” he manages, “just… passing by. Nothing important.” He feels like shit. “I’ll be going now, so…”
“Oh,” Karl pauses. Maybe Sapnap’s thinking too much into his silence, but it’s as if he has more to say. “See you later, then?”
“Yeah.” Sapnap licks his lips and nods jerkily. He ducks his head, movements stiff as he power-walks away from the scene.
Huh, he thinks numbly, when he’s far, far away, with his heart burning in his chest and his soul stinging with unspoken rejection, guess I was right, after all.
I’m not the one he wants.
“So?” Karl drags out, spinning in a circle in their living room, “How do I look?”
Sapnap lets his gaze wander over Karl’s image — from the curls of his hair to the dark purple bow resting around his neck, past his black tuxedo and long black pants to his shined leather shoes. Karl had pulled out all the stops for the May Ball, and Sapnap can’t help but allow his eyes to linger on the way his white collar contrasts against the pale skin of his neck for a moment longer before replying.
“You look good.” Honest. Simple. Any best friend would say that. He hopes he didn’t leak too much genuinity into it.
Karl brightens up immediately, a sunny smile growing on his face at the compliment. “Thank you.”
“Don’t get too drunk,” Sapnap says, a funny, out-of-place feeling settling under his skin. “You know you don’t take hangovers well.”
Karl huffs, rolling his eyes lightheartedly. “Yes, sir. Swear to God, you become more and more like my mom every single day.”
Sapnap laughs at that. “I picked it up from Dream, probably.”
“Yeah,” Karl says through a smile, “can see how that happened.”
They stare at each other for a bit. Sapnap takes one long look at him, at this beautiful being of royal violet and black and white, with the prettiest eyes and the prettiest smile he’s ever encountered before, and grieves, with a twinge of hurt erupting in his chsst, for all the things he can’t have.
“Are you sure you’re not coming?” Karl asks, quietly. “It would be a lot more fun with you around.”
“Nah,” Sapnap says. His heart throbs. “I’m better off here.” Where I’m far away from you. Where I can’t see you laughing and dancing and talking with someone that isn’t me.
“I can stay here, though,” Karl suggests, “I can stay here and keep you company, if you’d like.”
Sapnap is ashamed of how he pauses, then. Of how he stops for a moment and actually, genuinely, considers .
Tell him, a voice in his head swells up and roars, tell him everything. Take the gamble. You can gain so much if you just be honest with him.
The chance — it taunts him, pulsing brightly just within reach.
You can have it all if you tell him, another voice says, tell him not to go to the Ball with that other guy. Tell him. Tell him.
He's swayed. He opens his mouth slowly, reaches for that chance–
But he looks happy, a quiet part of him protests. He shuts his mouth. The other voices in his head fizzle out. Does anything else matter, really? If he's happy?
Sapnap stares at him for a while, remembers, from just minutes ago, the dimples in his cheeks and the high arch of his brows, the crinkles around his eyes and the sparkling excitement in his gaze and thinks, No.
Especially not himself.
"Just go, Karl," he says, at last. The words taste bittersweet. "As tempting as that offer might be, you have a," he stops, swallows, "date waiting for you, after all."
Karl furrows his brows. "Are you sure? Because–"
Sapnap stands up from his seat on the couch and steers him towards the front door. "Blah, blah, blah," he chants, brushing aside the tightness in his chest. He opens the door, pushes Karl through the gap, and meets the other's amused gaze.
He stops there, throat suddenly choked up with all the things he wishes he could say, and tries to sort through the mess that is his mind to find something appropriate, something that isn't along the lines of don't go or please stay or I love you.
"Have fun for me, okay?" Is what he settles on. Only he will know that his voice trembles while he speaks the words.
Karl grins, a grin that will never, truly, be just for him. "I will, Sap."
Sapnap shuts the door. Takes a breath, leans his forehead against it, and allows himself to fall apart, for a moment — become jumbled pieces of loss and longing and cowardice. He'd had a chance, and he let it go. He let it go.
He feels like the biggest fool in the world.
Karl's happy, though, the part of his brain that apparently never shuts up speaks again. It's better like this.
It's better like this, Sapnap repeats, even as his eyes begin to sting, it's better like this.
(It's not, really.)
A mere half an hour later, Dream and George break into his apartment.
One moment, Sapnap’s in his room, blasting bass-boosted breakup music while staring into the dark nothingness of his ceiling, and the next moment, there’s a loud crash coming from his living room, and when he goes out to check who the fuck has dared to break into his house when he’s in this terrible mood, all he sees is his two best friends, with a toppled-over chair in between the two of them.
“What the fuck, guys,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance, “why are you here?”
George scoffs and rolls his eyes. Sapnap thinks back to the affectionate way Karl had done that, earlier, and feels a sharp pang hit his heart.
“Why we’re here?” George jerks a thumb at the blond next to him. “You should ask Dream that question.”
Dream makes an affronted noise, shoots George an accusatory glare that has no real heat in it, and turns his eyes on Sapnap. “We’re here because we want to help you, Sap.”
Sapnap’s stomach twists. “Help me? There’s nothing to help.” He runs a hand through his hair, stressed. “Look, guys, I appreciate you coming over, but I really, really don’t need this right now.”
“So, what,” Dream stares at him, “you’re chasing us out?”
Sapnap inhales a deep breath of air, reminds himself that these are his two best friends and he loves them so very much, and seethes, “Yes, I am politely asking you to get the fuck out of my house.”
George narrows his eyes. “What’s wrong with you? We came all the way over here to offer our wisdom and emotional support and this is how you treat us?”
“In case you can’t tell, George,” Sapnap snaps, “I’m not in a very good mood right now.”
“Trust me, we know.” George counters, “We heard you blasting Quadeca’s Alone Together from two blocks down, you idiot.”
Sapnap grits his teeth. “If you knew that, then why are you still here?!”
“Sapnap, listen,” Dream cuts in, but George beats him to it.
“Because we care about you, you fuck,” George spits, “and seeing you like this– moping around like some sort of– I don’t know, but you’re just plain pathetic right now.” He inhales and exhales, loudly. “And it’s sad to watch.”
Sapnap doesn’t speak. George is right, and they all know it.
“You’re being a coward, Sapnap,” Dream says, taking a step forward and placing his hand on Sapnap’s shoulder, “you have to stop running away.”
Sapnap sighs. He feels small. “But what can I do? There’s nothing to do. Karl is happy. And if he’s happy, then I shouldn’t do anything.”
“Holy shit,” George snarks, “you think he’s happy like this? I thought I was supposed to be the partially blind one.”
Dream laughs, loud and wheezing, and all the tension diffuses from the room with that sound. It’s a familiar sound, one that’s associated with happy times and good memories, and Sapnap can’t help but let the warmth of that friendship smoothen the edges of his soul.
“So you’re really going to just,” Dream says, when he’s caught his breath, “stay at home and sulk like an emotionally unstable fourteen year-old while the love of your life is out dancing with some complete idiot?”
Sapnap sputters. “Love of my–? Look, I didn’t want this, okay–?”
“Then do something about it,” Dream throws his hands up in the air, exasperated. “Sitting on your ass isn’t going to help you get him back.”
“All I’m saying is,” George adds, “you put on your nicest hoodie or whatever, run to that stupid May Ball, and get your man.”
Sapnap looks at the two of them, at this short, spunky brunet and abnormally tall blonde, and wonders about what good things he’d done in his past life, to be able to have them as his best friends now.
“Thank you guys,” and the words come from the bottom of his heart. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Regress back into your emo teen years, probably.” George mutters.
Heartfelt moment over. Without a second thought, Sapnap flips him the bird.
The first thing Sapnap notices when he slips into the venue of the May Ball is that it is loud.
There are people everywhere, filling up every single empty space imaginable and chatting their fucking heads off, apparently. He's in the courtyard, now, where the heat of the festivities seem to be. There's a wide open area that has become a makeshift dance floor — it's packed, of course, by swaying couples and friends that just want to have a good laugh, but Sapnap thinks it's cool.
It's déjà vu, really. He's standing in the middle of the college courtyard with one objective and no plan whatsoever. At this point, he's starting to wonder if he'll even be able to find Karl, by the time the night ends.
Oddly enough, he spots Karl's date before he spots Karl.
The son of a bitch is on the dance floor, dancing with some random blonde girl in a red dress that is certainly not Karl Jacobs. What the fuck? He can't help but think, mentally noting to find out everything about him to get back at him somehow.
And then he sees Karl.
He's beautiful, standing by the food table with a cup of God-knows-what in hand. The colourful lights flash over him and illuminate his figure ethereally. He's beautiful, and alone.
Sapnap intends to change that.
Carefully, he maneuvers himself so that he'll be walking behind the food tables instead of in front of them. When he finally slides in next to Karl, he gives the other a quick shoulder-bump.
"Guess what," he announces, entranced by the way Karl's face seems to light up, "your favourite person is here to join the party!"
"Sap!" Karl blinks once, twice, then pokes him in the shoulder blade as if to check how real he is. When satisfied, he immediately launches into the questions. "What are you doing here? I thought you said you weren't coming! Did you even buy tickets?"
"Tickets?" It's Sapnap's turn to blink.
"God," Karl laughs, his voice a melting pot of sweet, creamy affection, "you nimrod."
"Aren't you glad I came, though?" Sapnap gestures to him, to the empty space around him, "I saved you from a lifetime of loneliness."
Karl's smile dims a little at that. Sapnap tries not to think about yes, I have someone I want to take to the May Ball.
"Of course I'm happy you came, chucklehead." Karl sighs, fondness creeping back into his tone. Sapnap doesn't need a lie detector to know the raw truth behind his words. "I'm always happier when I'm with you."
Sapnap is suddenly acutely aware of the distance between them, of the light flush to Karl's cheeks and the tantalising sheen to his lips.
He tears his eyes away. "Sorry about your date, by the way. He was a dick." No biases there.
Karl hums. "I don't really care, to be honest. But I can't disagree with you on that one."
Sapnap keeps his eyes on the crowd before them, but his heart still thumps loudly beneath his ribs. "You didn't deserve that." Telling the truth is scarier than he'd thought — maybe that's why he kept avoiding it.
"Screw him," Karl says, downing the rest of whatever is in his drink, "I have you now, don't I? Don't need anyone else."
Sapnap thinks he melts into a little puddle on the floor at that. "Damn right."
"You know," Karl starts, stops, stares into the distance just like Sapnap is doing right now, and says eleven words that Sapnap never would have expected to hear in ten thousand different lives. "I was actually hoping that… you'd ask me to the dance."
Sapnap stills. "Oh."
What does he do now? Cry? Laugh? Kiss Karl? God, can he do that last one? Is that allowed?
"So you mean," he blurts, in an effort to keep his mouth from doing… other things, "when you said you had someone in mind as your May Ball date, you meant–"
"You?" Karl breathes. "Yeah."
"Oh." Sapnap is the world's biggest fool.
Silence settles between them, for a while, as Sapnap tries to process the sudden bomb of information dropped onto him, tries to find ways to use the English lexicon to verbalise his emotions, tries to come to terms with the fact that the things he'd been telling himself to believe in, all his life, had been wrong.
In the best way possible.
"You know what?" Karl begins again, voice stiff, "nevermind. I shouldn't have said that. It was stupid, and if we could just forg–"
"I was going to ask you." Sapnap confesses. He feels like he's been stripped bare. "But when I finally worked up the courage to, you were agreeing to be someone else's date."
"I did it because I thought you weren't interested," Karl admits slowly, turning to face him, "I thought I needed to start getting over you."
They lock eyes, and Sapnap allows himself to bask in Karl's gaze, for a moment. He's always loved the other's eyes, always loved how the whole universe seems to be reflected in them.
"Well," Sapnap clears his throat and swallows, "if it's not too late…"
He stretches out his hand, an offering. Karl's eyes shine like the stars stretching overhead.
"Will you, Karl Jacobs, do me the honour of being my date to the May Ball?"
Karl laughs. It's his Karl Laugh, the one that always makes Sapnap believe he can do anything he sets out to do, the one that always makes an explosion happen within Sapnap's chest.
"You dorky nimrod," he chides, but he's smiling, so hard that Sapnap can feel the ache in his own cheeks, "of course."
Finally, finally, Karl takes his hand, intertwines their fingers, and they dance.