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Alvin knew the moment Jude walked through the door of their shared apartment that today had been one of those days: a frustrating day at the research lab with more setbacks than progress. Jude had then lost himself in a maze of thoughts the whole way home. It was clear in the way Jude kicked off his sneakers and didn’t bother to set them neatly beside each other. The way he shuffled into the kitchen and opened the fridge, but stared into it for a minute without taking anything out.
“Welcome home, kid,” Alvin said from his spot on the couch where he’d been looking over some financial records for his business.
Jude jumped, and only then seemed to notice he wasn’t alone.
“Alvin! You scared me. I didn’t see you there.”
“Rough day at work, huh?”
“Yeah,” Jude said, closing the refrigerator door and leaning back against it. “Mary accidentally set a spirit fossil on fire, and we lost an entire week’s research.”
“Ouch,” Alvin said with a sympathetic wince. “That sounds rough.”
“Yeah…” Jude heaved a deep sigh and closed his eyes. Exhaustion practically rolled off him in waves, and he swayed on his feet.
“C’mere,” Alvin said, his voice rough.
He extended his left arm to Jude, who didn’t hesitate for a second and made his way over to the corner of the couch where Alvin was sitting. He sank down next to Alvin, tugged his legs underneath him and immediately leaned his full weight into Alvin’s left side. Alvin wrapped his arm around Jude’s shoulder to gather him closer.
Jude felt so small in his half-embrace and, as usual, Alvin’s pang of longing was hard to push down. Jude almost immediately closed his eyes, making himself comfortable. Alvin knew from experience that Jude wouldn’t fall asleep just yet, but maybe he’d be able to get some much-needed rest like this.
“You should take the weekend off,” Alvin said softly, his thumb rubbing gentle circles across Jude’s upper arm.
To Alvin’s surprise, Jude mumbled something that sounded like an agreement. He curled one fist into Alvin’s shirt, and let out a shuddery exhale.
“We can do something fun together,” Alvin offered.
“Like a date?”
“Jude…”
Jude chuckled. “Sorry. It was worth a shot.”
From the moment Jude moved from Rieze Maxia to Elympios for his research ten months ago, he had been working too hard. Even when he wasn’t working in the research facility, he was still thinking about spyrites and spirits and hypotheses. He never took a break. Milla had given them this extra time after dispelling the schism to make the spyrites work, and Jude knew the stakes better than anyone. But the pressure of wanting to succeed was too much responsibility for anyone by themselves, let alone a sixteen-year-old kid.
Alvin had tried multiple times to reason with Jude that he needed to pace himself, but Jude was determined and threw himself into his research with almost reckless abandon, the way he threw himself into battle with little care for his personal safety.
So six months ago, instead of arguing with Jude further, Alvin had done the next best thing. He’d rented a two-bedroom apartment in Trigleph with the first money he and Yurgen had made. And he’d asked—or maybe it was more like demanded—Jude to move in with him.
Jude, who had until then mostly been sleeping on the floor of his research lab and in hotel rooms on the weekend, looked at him with soft, wide eyes, too overcome with emotion to reply.
“You mean?” he’d stammered eventually, cheeks red and eyes hopeful, and Alvin had swallowed thickly, a spark of familiar guilt running down his spine.
“Sorry, kid.” Alvin shook his head. “My answer about that hasn’t changed. So as friends.”
That hadn’t stopped the radiant smile from overtaking Jude’s entire face. “Okay. I’d love to.”
Living together with Jude was a lot easier than Alvin had expected it would be. Jude went to the Helioborg Research Station almost every day, and Alvin had his business to set up. Their lives fit around each other’s seamlessly.
Alvin made sure to keep the fridge stocked with Rieze Maxian fruits and vegetables, so Jude would eat something other than the protein bars he lived on during his workdays. When Jude came home from work, exhausted and often overwhelmed or frustrated, they’d make dinner together. Sometimes they’d watch a movie. (Jude would fall asleep on Alvin’s shoulder not ten minutes in, but Alvin never minded. He was glad for the rest Jude got like that.) Sometimes Alvin coaxed Jude into talking through his hypotheses and theories, even though he barely understood a quarter of them.
It was the least Alvin could do. There were so many things he had to make up for to Jude…
Jude only brought up the relationship thing a handful of times, and Alvin had been able to say “Not yet, kid,” every time.
Two months after Milla had moved to the Spirit Realm, Jude showed up at Alvin’s tiny one-bedroom apartment in Trigleph one evening. Alvin invited him in, and Jude was jittery as he sat down on the couch, nervous in a way Alvin hadn’t seen him for a long time.
“Alvin…” Jude sat stiff as a board, spine straight and looking at the wall opposite the couch, hands together in his lap. “I’ve never done this before, but you said— You told me to express my feelings before it’s too late, so…”
Jude’s breath hitched as he trailed off.
Oh. Oh no…
Alvin’s heart sank the second he realised what was happening. Then it started racing uncontrollably, uncomfortably in his chest, so fast he could feel it in his throat. The way Jude wouldn’t meet his eyes, the way he wrenched his hands, the mention of feelings. There was only one thing that would make Jude look like this.
Alvin sat paralysed as Jude inhaled deeply, clenched his hands into fists as Jude’s next words came out in a rush, tumbling all over each other. “IthinkIhavefeelingsforyou.”
“Jude,” Alvin whispered hoarsely.
Jude leaned forward and buried his burning face in his hands.
“I’m sorry, kid,” Alvin said tightly. “But—”
“Oh,” Jude said, and it looked like he wanted to sink into the ground, make himself small enough to disappear. He looked so young, so vulnerable. Alvin could practically hear the sound of Jude’s heart shattering.
Again.
Alvin didn’t think he’d ever felt like a worse human being than right at this moment.
“You don’t feel the same,” Jude muttered. “I thought… Because you said— And you were always… Nevermind. I’m sorry.”
He moved to stand, but Alvin was faster, reaching out to pull him back to sit down again. Jude immediately curled into himself.
Alvin had messed up. Big time. Who would have known that pointing a gun at Jude had not been the worst thing he’d done to the kid?
He’d touched Jude every time they were close enough, teased him and flirted with him mindlessly whenever he had the chance. He’d never thought about the consequences. He’d done it because it was amusing to watch Jude blush and falter. And later, he’d done it because he genuinely liked being close to Jude.
Jude made him feel…alive. Jude just made him feel, after so many years of hiding his cracked and broken heart behind a facade of bravado. Jude cared so much, and he’d made Alvin care in return.
That hadn’t been part of the plan at all. But he’d thought those feelings would go away. Nothing in his life had ever stayed, everything and everyone eventually went away. Jude would be no different.
But Jude stayed. Time and again, he reached out to Alvin. And Alvin’s feelings only grew stronger, every time Jude forgave him. Every time Jude remained by his side. Jude must’ve noticed. How could he not; he was one of the most empathic people Alvin had ever known.
But now Jude had confessed to him, and Alvin’s love for this do-gooder boy had never hurt more, guilt and misery running through him in equal amounts.
Jude was sixteen. There was no way they could… Alvin shouldn’t.
He should lie. He was basically a professional liar at this point; it should’ve come easy to him. Just one sentence would’ve done it: Sorry kid, I don’t feel the same.
But Alvin looked at Jude’s slumped shoulders, the way Jude shook just a little as he was holding back his tears, and he wasn’t able to say it.
“Kid… Jude, we can’t.” Alvin was barely able to keep the desperation he felt, too, out of his voice. It took all of his acting skills to breathe normally, to speak normally.
Jude looked up, his eyes tired and red-rimmed, and so sad. Alvin’s resolve all but crumbled right then and there, but no, he had to be strong here, he had to be the adult here, the way he’d failed to do in the past. He owed that much to Jude.
“I like you, too, kid,” Alvin said with as much honesty as he’d ever expressed. “But you’re sixteen, and I’ve… I’ve hurt you enough.”
Jude started crying for real then, and Alvin felt his throat close up hotly as well. He could barely begin to understand Jude’s sadness. First Milla had left him, and now Alvin was rejecting him…
“Hey,” Alvin started, then coughed when his voice came out too high-pitched. “Don’t cry, kid.”
“But if you like me, then why not?” Jude asked, trying so hard to sit up straight, wiping frustratedly at the tears running down his cheeks. “I don’t understand.”
Of course he wouldn’t. Jude had no idea of the walls Alvin had built around himself to hide the fact that he was miserable and alone and guilty over the things he’d done to people who called themselves his friends. And for what…
“Alvin?”
It was a terrible idea, but Alvin couldn’t stand seeing Jude cry, and so he opened his arms. Jude looked up to him, eyes red-rimmed and mouth curved downward, and he only hesitated for a moment.
Then Jude wrapped his arms around Alvin’s chest, and Alvin hugged him tightly in return, bending to press his face in Jude’s soft, raven hair. Jude was trembling, his breath stuttering in his throat.
“I don’t understand,” Jude repeated, the words wet against Alvin’s shirt along with his tears, heartbroken.
And Alvin owed Jude his life, so even though talking about his feelings was one of the scariest things, he had to. He wanted to, for Jude. And so he started talking.
“I like you, kid, but… I can think of a hundred reasons why we shouldn’t be together. The most important one is the age difference between us.”
“But… But you flirted with me… Leia told me you did…”
Alvin wasn’t sure what was worse: Jude’s tears soaking into Alvin’s shirt, the apathy in his voice, or the way that Alvin had no words to comfort him. Despite himself, he tightened his arms around Jude.
“Yeah. Yeah, I did. I’m sorry, kid, I’ve been a fool.”
Abort, abort, Alvin’s mind screamed at him, but he still raised an arm so he could tangle his fingers in the soft hair at the back of Jude’s head.
“I never meant for you to develop feelings for me. I never thought about the consequences of my actions, even when I should have. This is all my fault. I’m the adult here, and I didn’t behave like one at all. Hell, you’ve been more of a grown-up than me, the way you always treated me with a healthy dosage of caution. The way you forgave me when I didn’t deserve it.”
“Alvin…”
Jude had stopped trembling now, leaning motionless against Alvin’s chest, still breathing too fast but a little calmer than a few moments ago.
When was the last time anyone had given this kid a hug?
Alvin wished he’d done it before. Not like this. Jude deserved so much better than this.
“We can still be friends,” Alvin offered, feeling his heart tighten with the feeling of loss, even though he didn’t deserve to feel bad about this at all. “If you want. But you should find someone else. Someone your own age. A boy or a girl you like.”
Alvin made a face that Jude wasn’t able to see. The idea of Jude dating someone else sent a chill crawling up his back. It had been hard enough seeing Jude follow Milla around like a lost little puppy, or even seeing Leia try time and again to get Jude’s attention. Alvin didn’t know if he could watch something like that again.
“I don’t want someone else,” Jude said, his voice breaking. “I like you.”
It would be so easy to give in, Alvin realised. So easy to kiss Jude, to taste the inside of his mouth, to learn just where Alvin could bite and lick to coax moans out of him. Jude would let him. He’d be the most caring boyfriend. He’d be sweet and attentive, and he’d fit into Alvin’s arms so perfectly—he already did.
And Alvin wanted. Oh, how he wanted… But that’s exactly why he shouldn’t.
“I still don’t understand. If you like me too?” Jude asked, his voice small. “Why can’t we try?”
Alvin sighed wistfully. It’s not like he didn’t know what it was like being sixteen and getting your heart broken. “Kid, you’re sixteen. And I’m well in my twenties.”
“I don’t care,” Jude said firmly.
And so Alvin had to take a breath and say, “But I do.”
Jude pulled back to look at him with wet eyes and a wobbling lower lip. He shook his head and said, resignation heavy in his voice, “But you like me…”
Alvin nodded. “I’m sorry. Sometimes that’s not enough. You’ll understand someday.”
That made Jude tear up again, and he wiped at his eyes and nose again, sniffling. Still, there was a frustrated sullenness in his voice when he said, “So what, now you’re just gonna go out and date someone else?”
Alvin let out a humourless laugh.
“What if,” Jude started. “Would it be… Would you be interested if I wasn’t sixteen?”
Alvin could suddenly see the honour student again, always figuring out answers to every problem that was placed in his way, no matter how hopeless it seemed.
“Jude…”
“Will you wait for me?” Jude asked suddenly, renewed hope in his voice.
And so Alvin, who had never made a promise in his life that he hadn’t broken, looked at Jude’s tear-streaked but determined face and nodded. “Okay, kid. I promise. I won’t date anyone until you’re eighteen. And if you still want to then, we can try.”
And Alvin resolved right then and there that if there was one promise in his life that he would keep, it was this one. He owed this to Jude.
And maybe, just maybe… He owed it to himself.
“I’ll still want to,” Jude said with heartbreaking sincerity, and he folded himself back into Alvin’s embrace—just as desperate for a hug, but not as sad anymore. “You’ll see. It’s only one and a half years.”
And for the first time in a long time, Alvin let himself hope.
They’d been living together for six months now.
Alvin thought sometimes that he and Jude hugged way too often to still be strictly platonic anymore. Like this, with Jude relaxed in his arms, breathing deeply as Alvin stroked his hair. If there was a line between friends and boyfriends, sometimes it felt as if they’d already crossed it.
There was guilt at that realisation, but below that, a surge of affection as well.
He loved Jude.
There had become a point somewhere in the past months that Alvin had started being able to admit that to himself. Sometimes he was even able to bask in the rush of warm emotion when Jude smiled at him, and the familiar guilt would not rear its head.
Jude for his part clearly hadn’t gotten over his crush, which maybe wasn’t surprising, considering how much time they spent together.
Maybe like this, living with Jude and supporting him, Alvin was giving Jude the wrong idea, leading him on. Maybe the decent thing to do was to give Jude space to get over his crush.
But Jude needed someone to look after him, someone to give him a hug and a pat on the back every now and then. Alvin had a feeling Jude hadn’t gotten enough praise in his life without more expectations being heaped on him in the same breath. And Alvin could do this for Jude. If his heart skipped a beat at Jude’s pink cheeks and his bashful “thanks, Alvin”, well. That was just another thing for him to deal with.
No wonder Jude had asked him multiple times if Alvin would please change his mind and give it a try.
Weren’t they basically already trying?
Alvin smoothed down the spikes of Jude’s hair, flattening them down, long strokes from the crown of his head to the back of his neck. Shifting their positions, Alvin stretched out his legs on the couch, with Jude lying between them, Jude’s head on his chest.
Yeah, Alvin thought as he glanced down at a mop of dark unruly hair. No way this was anything other than romantic.
And…was he kidding himself when he thought it might be good for Jude, too?
“Feeling better?” he asked, sliding his hand lower, rubbing between Jude’s shoulder blades.
“Yeah… Hey, Alvin?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know how you do it, but I always feel safe with you. You always make me feel better when I’m down.”
Ignoring the obvious implications of that, of their position like this, of the way his chest expanded with fondness and so much affection for this strong, brave boy, Alvin made a noncommittal sound.
“When Leia and I were kids, we built a treehouse in her backyard. We spent all summer gathering wood, and her mom helped us nail it all together. We built it in a massive tree, so it was almost impossible to spot it from the ground. It was small, barely big enough for two people, but when it was done, it was my favourite place to be.”
Alvin gently tugged on Jude’s hair, and Jude laughed softly. He pushed himself onto his elbows, looking Alvin in the eye.
“I felt safe there. It was a place my parents couldn’t touch me. Where they couldn’t hurt me.”
“I’m glad you had that,” Alvin said, and he meant it. From what little he knew of Derrick Mathis, that man had never won any Father of the Year awards.
Alvin regularly wondered how much of Jude’s feelings for him were real and how much of it stemmed from his obvious daddy issues. That was a can of worms he didn’t feel brave enough to open, though. Not yet. Maybe not for a long time.
“That’s how I feel when I’m with you,” Jude said, and his eyes went soft.
Alvin—as usual when the conversation went in this direction—felt like the biggest jerk on the planet when he shook his head. “Jude, we’ve talked about this.”
“I know,” Jude said. “I’m ready.”
“You’re sixteen.”
“Almost seventeen. Which, when you think about it, is almost eighteen.”
“Jude... I remember what it’s like to be sixteen. You think you know what you want, and that you’re all grown up, but you’re not.”
“I’m a spyrite researcher,” Jude said, adorably petulant, frustration bleeding into his every word, like every time they had this conversation. “You promised me you wouldn’t date anyone else until I’m eighteen. How is a relationship any different from what we have been doing anyway? You make me feel better. I like talking to you. We watch movies and you let me fall asleep on your shoulder. We’re like this.” Jude made a vague gesture at how they were cuddled up together on the couch.
“I pointed a gun at you,” Alvin said, his throat burning and closing up. “I shot your best friend. I lost count of the number of times I betrayed you.”
“And you apologised. I forgave you for all of that. I was miserable the entire time until we talked it out. No one makes me feel the way you do, Alvin. I may be sixteen, but I know that.”
Jude pulled back to look up at Alvin with determined eyes, his mouth a pursed line.
“Kid, you don’t know what you’re saying,” Alvin said, but he could feel his resolve was hanging by a thread.
“I do, Alvin.”
Alvin looked into his fierce, amber eyes, bright and narrowed with resolution. When Jude Mathis put his mind to something, he wouldn’t stop until he accomplished it, Alvin knew that better than anyone.
The honourable part of Alvin—however small it was—really did want to wait until Jude turned eighteen, but at the same time, Jude was right. He was the youngest spyrite researcher in the country, he ran his own research lab. He’d seen more than any sixteen-year-old should’ve seen. And Jude had been asking for this for almost a year. Alvin could no longer pretend it was a fleeting crush that would go away in due time.
But it wasn’t just about the age difference, was it? It was part of it, sure, but Alvin couldn’t lie to himself; he had never felt deserving of Jude.
But unlike Alvin, Jude never lied. If he said he felt safe with Alvin, then it was true. And that meant that maybe, just maybe, Alvin was deserving of Jude’s love, if only a little. And if he was, then…
Alvin gave a great, relenting sigh.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, kid.”
Jude’s face lit up with hope.
Alvin leaned in, fully intending to press his lips to Jude’s forehead in a comforting, completely platonic kiss, but Jude had other plans. He tipped his head back and pushed himself up on his knees so their lips touched instead.
Alvin froze.
But Jude was not as easily deterred. He pressed closer, his lips soft and a little moist. And then he whimpered softly against Alvin’s mouth, and the last of Alvin’s resolve melted like snow in the first spring sun.
For all of three seconds, Alvin tried to keep the kiss chaste, but then Jude made another high-pitched, needy sound, and Alvin slid his hands in Jude’s hair to pull him closer, opening his mouth to lick at Jude’s lips.
Jude tasted like coffee and chocolate protein bars. His hair was silky between Alvin’s fingers, just as soft as it was every time Alvin stroked it to comfort Jude whenever he had taken on more than he could chew.
Jude opened his mouth slowly, shyly, and Alvin went slow, too. Nipped at Jude’s bottom lip until Jude moaned again, ran his tongue across the inside of Jude’s upper lip. Gently pushed his tongue further into Jude’s mouth, and Jude was saying “oh”, but it came out as more of a moan again.
Jude was shivering, so responsive and so sensitive that Alvin couldn’t help but smile. This had to be Jude’s first kiss.
If nothing else, Alvin could make it a memorable one. He gently explored Jude’s mouth, feeling Jude’s hands tighten against his shirt at every brush of their tongues. Jude’s mouth was warm, his movements tentative, and his breathy sounds were addicting as Alvin slowly deepened the kiss.
When after long moments, Alvin pulled back, Jude tried to chase his mouth, but Alvin stopped him with a hand on his chest. Jude pouted again, and spirits, he looked so young, what was Alvin doing...
Every reservation, every guilty feeling came rushing back to him at the sight of Jude’s flushed cheeks, his darkened eyes, his red and slightly swollen lips. The awestruck look on his face that made him look like a puppy.
Some of his thoughts must’ve shown on his face because Jude’s expression softened.
“Alvin... It’s okay.”
What had Alvin ever done to deserve Jude?
The boy with the golden heart who made him feel so many things that he didn’t know how to handle the storm of emotions inside of him.
The boy who, after all the shit Alvin had pulled, still stood by his side and said, Come with us.
The boy who curled up to him when he was sad, who said Alvin made him feel as safe as the treehouse he’d hidden away in as a kid. The boy whom, even after everything, Alvin wanted to protect from the cruel world out there. No one had protected Alvin when he was a kid, not after his father died. He’d been lonely for so long, the way Jude had been lonely in a house with parents who didn’t know how to express their love.
Maybe they had more in common than Alvin had thought.
“I wanna do right by you, Jude,” Alvin whispered so softly that he wasn’t sure Jude heard the words. This time, he didn’t say.
Jude tightened his grip on Alvin’s shoulder—so he had heard. “You already do, Alvin.”
“I’ve made so many mistakes in my life. I don’t want you to be one of them. You deserve better.”
“That’s not for you to decide,” Jude said calmly, as if he was explaining a mathematical problem to Alvin. “I can make my own choices. And I choose you.”
Alvin swallowed and averted his gaze. “I’m not good boyfriend material.”
Jude fell silent for long enough that Alvin couldn’t help but look back at him. Jude was staring at him with an incredulous look on his face.
“What?” Alvin asked.
“What are you talking about? You cook for me when I’m too tired. You make sure I sleep enough. You cheer me up when I’m feeling down.”
Alvin blinked, feeling the by now familiar warmth of hope bloom in his chest. He hadn’t thought of it like that.
“And Alvin, let’s be honest. How platonic is…this?” Jude gestured down, to the way they were still all but cuddled up together.
“So you noticed,” Alvin muttered, unsurprised because it wasn’t exactly rocket science (and if it was, Jude would’ve been able to figure that out, too).
“You want this, too,” Jude said, and it wasn’t a question.
Alvin raised his eyes to the ceiling and took a deep breath. This was it. Part of him had always known it would come to this. Jude was too determined for their friendship to go anywhere else but down this particular road. Maybe they were always going to end up like this.
That was a reassuring thought.
“Yeah,” Alvin said, not looking at Jude. “You saved me, Jude. You mean the world to me. Which is why the thought of hurting you again makes me—”
The rest of his words were cut off when Jude surged forward to kiss him again. It was clumsy and eager, and Alvin had to cup Jude’s cheeks to tilt his head a little, but it was so Jude that it made Alvin’s closed eyes sting.
And of course Jude was a quick learner. Of course he followed Alvin’s lead perfectly, opening his mouth when Alvin licked at his lips. He pressed himself closer, and it felt…
It felt right despite everything.
Eventually, Alvin slowed the kiss down because kissing was one thing, being boyfriends was one thing, but he still had no intention of taking this further for now.
Jude was beaming when he pulled away, hair mussed and lips swollen. He looked at Alvin like Alvin had pulled down the stars and moon from the night sky and handed them to him gift-wrapped.
He looked at Alvin in a way Alvin had never thought he’d deserve. But maybe he did, if Jude believed in him. If Jude loved him.
There was a time last year when Alvin had all but given up. He struggled with all the horrible things he’d done, the choices he’d made, starting when he was younger than Jude was now. There were people he’d killed for his uncle, people he’d manipulated for his mother’s sake. He had no excuses, it was just who he was. He thought he’d never be able to change. But then Jude appeared in his life, the most gentle person Alvin had ever met, and without even realising what was happening, he had started to love. And with it, he’d started to gain hope.
Jude and the rest of their mismatched group of found family slowly gave him a reason to change.
And now he was here. Now they were here, together, curled up on a narrow couch in a two-bedroom apartment, and Jude’s eyes were bright and his smile was brighter.
“I love you,” Jude said, and he was one second away from crying again, but this time he was smiling through his tears.
“I love you too, Jude,” Alvin said, and he was surprised by how easy it was to say the words. Words he hadn’t said to anyone in his life, ever.
Jude laughed, and he embraced Alvin. “Thank you. Thank you, Alvin.”
And maybe, if Jude believed in him, Alvin could be good enough for him. That was another promise he would make to himself and that he would keep.