{

part i }


Andrew is so excited about the day hes having trouble staying inside his own skin.

He was trying to be good, with his serious-actor-glasses and his serious-actor-button-up and his serious-
actor-smile (polite and controlled and definitely not the wild wide grin he wanted to be beaming at
everyone). But that was this morning. Now, he thinks itll be hard just to resist shouting I LOVE THE LOT
OF YOU! at the top of his lungs once he walks into that room. He will try his best though, because he
knows this is the first day and he also knows that technically the part isnt 100% his yetthis table read
is the last step in a long process of getting to be in this movie, but it already feels like its happening.
Which is incredible!

He can sense that the giddy grin hes been resisting is starting to curl round his mouth, and he is sure he
must look a fool, but is just such a happy fool he cant care properly. At least he has successfully resisted
the urge to skip (so far).

One person he is particularly excited to meet today is Jesse Eisenberg, who is going to be the Mark to his
Eduardo, and the core of this entire film. He knew it was an important moment. If he and Jesse didnt
make Sorkins words whip and simmer and spar and crack in all the right placesand with the right
chemistry for their charactersit just wouldnt work. And not just their parts, but all of itthe entire
film couldnt breathe without the right give and take between Wardo and Mark.

Suddenly Andrew feels an immense pressure to perform today. The thought of getting so close to being
in this film and then having his chances fizzle right at this table is terrifying. Andrew is normally not one
for nerves, so he jumps in place and shakes out his limbs and neck a bit in the hallway, sloughing off his

self-doubt. Then he heads inside, ready.

The table read starts with everyone going around and doing some small introductions, names mostly.
Sorkin says a few words about the genesis of the script and Fincher gives them a few no-nonsense
directives about what he wants to hear today, leaving Andrew feeling equal parts intimidated and
inspired. He sits up a little straighter in his (absolutely rubbish) folding chair.

Armie is the first to speak after Fincher, and he introduces himself twice, once for each twin. That cuts
the tension in the room, and Andrew can feel everyone easing into themselveseveryone but the bloke
at the opposite end of the table, who looks like his nerves are tangled together tighter than his curly
brown hair. He instantly recognizes him as JesseAndrews seen The Squid and the Whale five times, so
he should know his face by now.

When its Andrews turn to speak, he introduces himself as the Brit from LA, gaining appreciative smiles
around the room, and says he is much honored to be here. Rooney goes next, then Rashida, then Joe.
Finally they get to Jesse, with a look of mild terror on his face and his palms awkwardly skimming the
edge of the table like hes trying to scrape the skin off.

Hey, Im, um, Jesse. Eisenberg. And Im reading for Mark. He gives a quick nod to the room along with
a small smile, which he then promptly cuts off by biting his lip. Something about the way he bits his lip
like that makes Andrew utterly endeared to him, right from the start. Its such a relief.

Andrew believes, in order to play the undercurrent of the character properly, that Eduardo has to truly
love Mark and want to take care of him through all things, just like a brother or a lover or someone else
equally intimate would. And if Jesse had been an alienating or obnoxious or closed-off person, that
would have made things much harder. But Andrew can see right away that Jesse is open, so open hes
almost raw. He immediately wants to take care of him. Its exactly the motive he needed to make
everything fit for Eduardo.

Andrew is vaguely aware that hes been staring at Jesse (in what must seem like a creepy serial killer
fashion rather than just an interested colleague one) for a very long time. He keeps puzzling over him,
thinking about all the ways Jesse fits as Mark. He also thinks, strangely, that Jesse is sort of lovely.
Andrew cant place exactly what makes that thought come to mind, which just leads to him staring and
puzzling all the more.

Thankfully Justin breaks him out of his out of this momentary haze by jumping up and introducing
himself a mile a minute, leaning across the table at a dozen different angles to shake everyones hand.
Andrew cant help but laughJustin is just what he thought he would be.

After the introductions, they dive right into the reading. Andrew rolls up his serious-actor-sleeves,
adjusts his glasses, regrets his wool hat, and theyre off.

Hes shocked at what comes out of Jesses mouth as he and Rooney go at each other immediately in a
verbal fencing match, elegant and ruthless. Jesse, who 30 seconds ago seemed that he might at any
moment produce a man-sized shell to retreat into, is now shooting lines straight at Rooney like theyre
darts, making her duck them and catch them and toss them right back.

Sorkin is loving it. And Andrew is in awe. Its as if Jesse has completely sunk into Marks skinthe steel

in his eyes, the pointed staccato of his speech, the words like weapons. Its magnificent.

After a few pages, Andrew readies himself to jump in, filling his lungs with his first breath as Eduardo.


***


About half way through the reading, Fincher calls lunch. Andrew is grateful for the break because hes
bursting to talk with Jessethere is so much he wants to say after the way the read went.

He decides to ask Jesse to grab lunchit only makes sense that the two leads would step out together
to talk shop. He hoped Jesse would see it like that anyway (and not as Andrews thinly veiled attempt to
get closer to himto puzzle over Jesse some more). Its not just Mark hes trying to figure out.

Jesse doesnt seem wildly enthused at the invitation, but he doesnt say no either. Thats more than
enough encouragement for Andrew to keep up his giddy mood.

They head down the street to a great little kosher place Andrew likes, and Jesse actually asks on the way
how Andrew knew he was Jewish. Andrew resists the urge to gesture to all of Jesse in response, and
instead just laughs.

When they get there, Jesse quickly grabs a sandwich and pours himself into the nearest booth. Andrew
takes a little more time, picking out ingredients for a salad theyre chopping for him. It looks delicious.
Everything about today is good.

Salad acquired, Andrew bounds over and slides deftly into the booth across from Jesse, popping a
forkful of lettuce into his mouth as Jesse unwraps his sandwich. He smiles warmly at Jesse, and hopes
thatll encourage him to start talking first, saving Andrew from his urge to dive into all 20 topics he
wants to flood Jesse with at once.

Hmm. Silence. No dice.

So, Andrew says, starting things off. Youre a dick.

Jesse just stares at him. Still says nothing.

I think youre a dick but I care about you anyway, which is interesting, Andrew continues, hoping to
coax Jesse into adding to the conversation eventually. Because its not like I can just not see that youre
a selfish asshole, but I keep doing things for you like Im hoping that one day you just wont be.

Andrew waits a beat. Still nothing. This is excruciating! All he wants is to hear what Jesse thinks. About
everything. But the silence stretches, so Andrew just continues on, gesturing with his fork probably too
animatedly as his hands try to keep up with the energy of his words and thoughts.

So that means that I can sort of see you, what motivates you, all the insecurity and fear and anger, and
I can understand it. On some level I can almost relate to it because of all the pressure Im under from my
father and this whole rejection complex hes given me. And so I look at you and I see those awful parts

of you with perfect clarity, but something makes me think that youll be better than all of that. Andrew
swallows a bite of salad and, after a moment of appraising Jesse and wondering if he should say what he
really thinks about Eduardo, he finally does.

I must really love you.

Jesse puts his sandwich down and knots his hands together. And, to Andrews delight, finally jumps in.

So you think you were right? Jesses asks, brow furrowed.

Andrew raises his eyebrows. Of course I was right! Youre an asshole! You broke my heart! How could
Jesse even ask that? What an interesting question. Thank god hes finally speaking.

Maybe you expected too much of me, Jesse counters coolly.

I expected you to be a decent human being, Andrew responds, pressing the point.

I think I have a lot of feelings that youre not really aware of, Jesse says. I think you think you
understand me, but there are parts of me that you still dont get. Im not all open and accommodating
like you. I cant express what I feel, but that doesnt mean I dont feel it.

Cant, or wont? Andrew challenges.

Jesse not only takes that challenge, but throws another back at Andrew, and another, and another, and
they spend the next half hour hitting each other with in-character arguments about everything from
Sean Parker to the Porcellian to what it means when Eduardo says Im coming back for everything. It
cant just be about the money, Andrew is sure.

The whole time theyre tossing ideas around, Andrews mouth is moving and his arms are whirling and
he is shifting in the booth like a madman arguing with Jesse on a dozen topics at once, but under the
chaos one steady thought keeps pulsing through him: this is so unexpectedly interesting. Its making
Andrew acutely aware that its been so so so very long since he met someone this fascinating.

And the thing is, Jesse is not just being interestinghes literally challenging Andrews entire
characterization of Mark and Eduardo. Its strange, because Andrew is usually so persuasively
argumentative that he always wins. He doesnt even get a half-hearted refutation of his opinion
delivered back to him most of the time. But Jesse is just throwing it all back at him. Over and over.

Fascinating!

To Andrews surprise, they end up reaching more consensus in the end than disagreement, and the
conversation eventually dwindles down to the finer details worth debating, and then, the topic
exhausted, to nothing.

Andrew would be happy to waste no time on silence and launch an avalanche of new topics onto Jesse,
but he gets the distinct feeling hes been doing most of the talking, and decides to shut up finally to see
what else Jesse has to say. Andrew gives him an unmistakable look of expectation, hoping thatll force
him to say something.


Jesse shuffles around a bit awkwardly, and then finally blurts, So, youre Jewish?

This is the topic of choice? Andrew smirks for a second then nods, swallowing another bite of salad.
Half-American, half-British, and Jewish. Im like a unicorn, at least back home in England.

Whats that like? Jesse asks.

Im assuming you mean England, not being a unicorn, yes?

Yes, and, um, being Jewish therein.

Andrew smiles. Well, for one, our dreidels are made out of Yorkshire pudding and mud from the
Thames and, like, the dust of ground up monocles. Also, The Queen comes to all of our bar mitzvahs and
personally knights us.

Oh, so its basically exactly what I was picturing, Jesse says.

Naturally. Andrew says. He is trying to remain deadpan in his delivery, but there is something about
this conversation thats just making him buzz with energy. He wants to beam at Jesse stupidly, but he
keeps it together. Theres also a very secret club of important British Jews. We meet on the Sabbath
around a giant table to discuss things like

How to integrate the yarmulke into your wardrobes of deerstalker caps and comically large pipes?

Deerstalker caps. Thats it. Thats the last piece. The puzzles solved now, and Andrew knows. He gets
why he thought Jesse was lovely earlier and why he wanted to bring him to lunch and why he wanted
him to speak first and why he wanted to puzzle and puzzle and puzzle Jesse out.

He fancies Jesse.

Shittity shit shit. He fell for his costar. On the first day. Before lunch. Bloody bloody bloody hell.

All these thoughts smash together in Andrews head in one second, like a slap. He tries to move past the
revelation without missing a beat in the conversation.

He narrows his eyes and points his fork at Jesse accusatorily. Have you been spying?

Lucky guess, Jesse tells him. Who presides?

The honorable Stephen Fry, of course, Andrew says. Technically hes an atheist, but he was born
Jewish and hes Stephen Fry so exceptions were made. And George Michael sits at his right hand.

Absolutely. I mean, I dont know about you, but when I think highly esteemed British Jews, I think
Wham.
Andrew nods seriously and lowers his voice. I really shouldnt be telling you any of this. Ill probably be
executed for treason.

Filthy European fascists, Jesse says.

Andrew can tell Jesse is fighting a smile, just like he is. Jesse is so adorable that Andrew can hardly
contain the urge to ruffle his hair.

Oh god. He fancies Jesse. He really really fancies Jesse. Bugger bugger.

Frankly, Im surprised you even get invited, since youre not really British, Jesse continues. Do you
have to forge your papers?"

Excuse me, Im just as much of a filthy European fascist as anybody else, Andrew says, fake affronted.
Jesse finally cracks the smile Andrews been waiting for, and it makes his heart jump around his chest
like its trying to escape his ribcage.

Bugger.

Andrew throws caution to the wind for a moment and brushes Jesses knees under the table, totally,
gratuitously on purpose, just to finally make some physical contact. A tingle runs down Andrews leg
when it happens, rushing through his veins like liquid lightning. Its far too brief.

***




Additional text messages typed out and almost sent to Jesse on his birthday. Andrew thought
the better of all of them. Especially the last one, which he didnt even finish typing out because
he knew he would never be able say what he really wants without Jesse requesting a
restraining order.


***


Jesse is wildly funny.

Andrew knew Jesse was clever and sensitive and brilliant and a million other fantastic things, but he
didnt realize how utterly hysterical he could be. Theyre at the grocery shop now, and Jesse is discussing
which British authors each of the different species of lettuce look most likeas ridiculous as it is,
somehow its killing Andrew. Hes doubling-over in the aisles and has nearly careened the cart into a
family of four. Twice.

Jesse and he moved in together on the last day of rehearsals, throwing their lives inside a small flat near
where most of the principal photography for the film will be shot. This shopping trip is their first
domestic activity, and its making Andrew so happy that hes standing there humming Carly Simon to the
Cheerios. I mean really, he gets to LIVE with Jesse! How bloody brilliant is that! Its not often that you
fancy someone and the universe then just concedes to squash you two together 24 hours a day. Andrew
thinks its the loveliest thing.

Still, all this proximity worries him a bit. He admits he doesnt know everything about Jesse, but from
what he does know, one thing is crystal clear: what Andrew wants cant happen.

It hurts to say it to himself so bluntly, but its only the truth. What Andrew wants cant happen because
Andrew wants everything. Andrew wants to be holding Jesses hand in the shop right now. Then he
wants to sneak a kiss, grazing his lips against Jesses neck as they load the bags into the car. Then he
wants them to set up one of the bedrooms as both of theirs, shared, together, and the other as
something elsea music room or a TV room or maybe a reading room. Yes, a reading room is perfect,
Andrew thinks. They can put their bookshelves in there and a little table for tea and just laze about on
the extra bed all day reading together, a tangle of limbs and library books.

Clearly Andrew is greedy when it comes to Jesse. He wants it all.

But to Andrews credit, he is also fully aware that this is pure fantasy.

He knows that what actually is going to happen tonight is something like this: theyre going to buy these
groceries, go home, unload them, set up their individual rooms, unpack their boxes, discuss the film a
little, and then retreat to their separate spaces for the night with a friendly See you in the morning.

Excruciating.

Gutting.

Andrew was prepared for this though. He knew full wellright from the moment he realized he fancied
Jesse at the table readthat this was going to be hard as much as it was going to be fantastic.

He knew he had to keep his emotions from running away with him. Jesse is his costar and now his flat
mate as well. He cant risk rocking the boat by casually dropping something like, Oh hey Jesse, maybe
instead of just going to sleep tonight we could make love for about three hours and then I could
tenderly run my lips over your face, chest, and back to sink you into a perfect deep sleep where you can
dream about me, into the conversation.

Saying something like that would probably do more than rock the boat, Andrew thinks with a cringe of
sadness. It would cause a spectacular shipwreck, sending burning debris like bullets into the heart of the
filmand into their friendship.

So, no matter how sweet the payoff could be (at least in his fantasy world), Andrew knew he had to
keep his mouth shut and his lips to himself. Getting this part is one of the biggest things thats ever
happened to him, and he cant screw it up over a crush. He owes everyone, including Jesse, too much to
make a mess of it now.

Besides, even if he did walk right up to Jesse and tell him everything he was feeling, he was certain that
Jesse wouldnt receive his affections well. At all. Honestly, it was comical to even consider.

Andrew was pretty sure Jesse was straight, if he was anything at all, which means he wouldnt be
looking to start a romance with a man, full stop. That made things pretty simple: Andrew couldnt even
be considered in the romantic running on grounds of gender alone. He was pretty sure he was the only
pansexual one of the pair.

But it was more than that. From the limited time that theyd spent together, Andrew could tell that
Jesses emotional reaction to intimacy was approximately that of a sparrow. If Andrew took one step too
close, Jesse would just jump back the same distance to keep them safely apart. And if Andrew rushed
ahead at him, as he wanted so badly to do, Jesse would fly away completely.

It simply couldnt be risked.

So, Andrew resolved not to propose marriage to Jesse on the first day. Or ever. Well, at least definitely
not on the first day. Hed be a professional costar and a proper flat mate and would try his best not to
let his eyes linger too long on the lines of Jesses body when they were unpacking these groceries later.

But of course, Andrew wasnt planning to shy away completely from Jesse. Hes always been one to
wear his heart squarely on his sleeve, and Andrew knew that he would become an emotionally
constipated mess if he had to pretend like Jesse meant nothing to him when they were bloody living in
the same flat. It would feel like some kind of terrible, corrosive lie.

So, Andrew is determined to find a happy mediumsome kind of way to be able to interact with Jesse
as naturally as possible (which, in Andrews world, means touching him and teasing him and fawning all
over him) but stopping his affections just short of anything irrevocable, like kissing Jesse full on the
mouth. That would seem a no-no.

Andrew sees it sort of like flirting. Or maybe even courting, in a very slow and sneaky manner. Not that
any amount of courting would likely work on Jesse. But still, this approach feels better than the lie of
nonchalance.

So, right now, Andrew has his arm hooked affectionately round Jesses neck as they debate the merits of
frozen dinners (Andrew is firmly against). Jesse is leaning into his touch, seeming very OK with this
particular level of affection. Andrew would obviously love to pull Jesse even closer and run his lips
against Jesses ear lobe, but he stops himself. Happy medium, happy medium.

Jesse seems happy right now. And so is Andrew. So far everything is beautiful, and nothing hurts.


See, Andrew thinks, I can do this. This isnt so bad at all.


***


As predicted, their first night in the condo is mostly full of unpacking, spreading things around and
tucking them into drawers and cabinets. Also as predicted, there is no kissing. This is to Andrews great
dismay, but again, is quite predictable.

Andrew is aghast when he discovers there is no tele in the flat. So, after they unpack the groceries,
Andrew drags them out yet again to go to Best Buy so they can acquire a proper flatscreen.

Once they get back for good, Andrew sets Jesse to the task of setting up the TV as hes already finished
unpacking his own things (and Andrews still got three boxes to go yet).

Though he denies it vehemently when Jesse accuses him of it, one of Andrews boxes is, indeed, only
filled with scarves.

I hope youve got some decent movies, Andrew says to Jesse now that the tele problem has been
resolved. None of my DVDs work over here so the weight rests on your dainty shoulders.

I think youre pronouncing broad and impressive wrong, Jesse says from the sofa. There is something
about these little jokes Jesse makes that drives Andrew crazy. His sense of humor is one of the most
attractive things about him, second only to those burning blue eyes.

Dont ogle Jesse, dont ogle Jesse, Andrew remembers stupidly. To distract him from this train of
thought, he starts absurdly wrapping one of his scarves around his head like a turban. Its the least sexy
thing he can think of on short notice.

And I dont really watch movies that much, so Jesse continues.

Youre kidding, right? Andrew says, arching an eyebrow at such absurdity. Youre a movie star who
doesnt like movies?

Im definitely not a movie star, Jesse tells him, adorably awkwardly. And its not that I dont like
movies, I just dont really get them.

Then whats in here? Andrew asks, leaning back to peer into the cardboard box Jesse has left on the
coffee table.

Wait, no, thats Jesse says with a vague air of panic in his voice. Andrews eyes go as big as saucers
as he pours his hands into this magical box. Oh my god, Andrew thinks, a smile as wide as a Winnebago
stretching across his face. Is this what I think it is?

Les Miserables: Original London Cast, he reads off the cover of one CD before picking up another.
West Side Story: Original Broadway Cast." Oh my God, these are alloh my God, you have three
different versions of Phantom. Is this all the music you brought? Just showtunes?

Theyre not showtunes, Jesse says, reaching forward to snatch Jesus Christ Superstar out of Andrews
hand. I like musical theater.

Theres got to be at least a hundred albums in here, Jesse!

I really like musical theater.

Apparently, Andrew says, beyond delighted. Jesse just keeps surprising him. The last thing in the world
he imagined Jesse would bring was a full librarys worth of bloody show tunes, especially since this box is
one of only four Jesse brought with him. According to that ratio, one quarter of all things Jesse Eisenberg
owns in the world isoh yesshow tunes. And Andrew just couldnt be fonder of him.

Alsoa small, silly voice in the back of Andrews head promptsthis might mean Jesse is not quite as
straight as he had originally thoughtquite interesting

Havent you got any real music? Andrew asks when he realizes these are truly only showtunes in this
box.

Jesse frowns. That is real music.

No, I mean, Andrew continues, yknow things that dont come with formation dancing?

Yes, Jesse says, looking about as fierce as a kitten as he crosses his arms trying to act angry.

Its no use. Jesse uncrosses his arms again just as quickly, clearly realizing that being mad at Andrew is
nothing but a futile exercise.

Not a lot, but. Yeah. Nothing really recent, though, Jesse answers.

Andrew clutches his chest and rolls his eyes back in his head, faking a fainting spell over this news. Then
he realizes that he obviously shouldnt be mocking poor Jesse, he should be helping. Andrew leaps to his
feet and springs over the table, over Jesses legs, over the back of the sofa, and into his bedroom.

What are you doing? Jesse calls over his shoulder.

Youll see! Andrew shouts back as he dives into his unopened boxes. He knocks one of them over
accidentally and swears at the inanimate object with abject fury. After a moments struggle, Andrews
hands find what theyre looking for, and hes bounding back into the living room at top speed, climbing
over the back of the sofa, and plopping down next to Jessewell, maybe sort of on top of Jesse. But
thats just Andrews way. Happy medium.

What are you doing? Jesse asks again. Despite his testy tone, Jesse seems to be settling into the couch
comfortably with Andrew, like its home. Andrews glad to see that hes getting more comfortable
herehes been really worried about Jesses homesickness. Its been written all over him since they first

got to Boston for rehearsals.

Im making you a CD, Andrew says. Hes got his tongue tapping between his teeth as he studies the
screen of his MacBook.

I dont want a CD, Jesse says.

Aww, bless. Yes, you do, you just dont know it yet. Its for educational purposes, Andrew says. And
besides, itll make you feel better.

I feel fine.

Andrew doesnt even look up from what hes doing, just says simply, No, you dont. Youre homesick
already, I can tell.

Jesse is silent for a beat. I miss my cats, he says finally.

Its so raw and honest a reply that it tears a little something in Andrew.

Its okay, he says quickly and gently, wanting to do anything he can to work the worry out of Jesses
voice. Ill give you my happy playlist. You are required by law to listen to it. I will get Her Majesty to sign
a decree. Youll be fed to the royal dogs. He knows a joke will make Jesse feel a little better.

I am almost definitely outside of her jurisdiction, Jesse says, a smile starting to ghost back onto his lips.
Also, the Queen wont even take your calls. She only convenes with her actual countrymen. Last I
checked, you were a British-American playing a Brazilian, so. Good luck with that one.

Hush, Andrew says, digging one elbow playfully into Jesses side. When Jesse laughs, Andrews heart
thumps so loudly he worries Jesse might hear.

***



Scribbled on a sheet of Andrew's FAB 100% recycled parchment notebook (how great is that?) and
presented to Jesse with a CD labeled REMEDIAL EDUCATION.


***


Its their first official day of shooting and Andrew is absolutely beside himself with excitement. He is
beaming from head to toe and can barely keep all the mad energy pent inside his skin. He really wished
Jesse had let him ride his Vespa todayit would have been a great outlet for his energy. But of course,
Jesse wouldnt have it.

Though he would never admit it, sometimes Andrew loves what a curmudgeon Jesse can be. There is
something endlessly endearing about it.

Since the Vespa was vetoed, hes now just sitting in Jesses car, with a thermos full of tea between his
legs and a piece of toast smacking between his lips. He may be sitting down but every part of him still
feels like its in motion. His fingers are tapping the window, his teeth are clicking as they chew, his knees
are jiggling (possibly knocking Jesse a few times), and his mind is moving faster than any of them. He just
cant believe its finally here. This film is one of the most significant undertakings of his entire life, and

he is buzzing with anticipation for his first day on set.

He knows that his excitement is due in no small part to his costar. He is certain Jesse will be incredible,
absolutely incredible, and Andrew cant wait to see what he does with the role. Rehearsals have been
spectacular, and Andrew is confident that as soon as Jesse and he get to really go at it on camera,
batting Sorkins words at one another, everything will be elevated to pure electricity.

Andrew keeps beaming at Jesse as these thoughts speed through his mind. Jesse seems so calm, its
unreal. But he is thankful for itso thankful that Jesse is here. It really feels like Jesse is anchoring
Andrew sometimes. He has this way of making Andrew feel perfectly at peace even when things are
mad.

Andrews heart gurgles a little as he stares at Jesse, the sun coming in through the window and kissing
his warm brown curls. Andrew wishes he could just reach over and lace their hands together or give
Jesse a quick kiss right on his perfect dimple. But Andrew knows by now to keep thoughts like that to
himself. Too far, Andrew. Happy medium, happy medium.

Instead he simply says, Its going to be bloody fantastic, bobbing along to the sounds of his own
mixtape on the car stereo. I can feel it. Its going to be brilliant. Youre going to be brilliant.

"Why is this song on here? I'm pretty sure it's about bone cancer. How is that supposed to make me feel
better?" Jesse replies, making Andrew feel a little hurt that he completely ignored what he had just said.
And to so glibly insult Sufjan, too! Andrew snorts indignantly.

"How dare you, this is Sufjan Stevens. He is a god among men."

"Sufjan? Is he a member of an indigenous tribe somewhere?"

"No, he's a white guy from Michigan. His parents were in a cult, and they let them name their kids; He
has a brother named Marzuki and a sister named Djohariah," Andrew tells him. He reaches over and
pokes Jesse in the cheek with his toast. "Silent D."

"I like the other one better," Jesse says, "the one that just says don't give up on your dreams over and
over. Nobody's crying on the telephone or driving their car into any Navy yards."

"Look, it's my happy playlist because the songs make me feel better, not because it's all happy music,
you plebeian. I'll burn you a Sufjan album. You'll see the light. And anyway," Andrew says, slapping the
back of his hand where it's resting on the gearshift, "quit trying to steer the conversation away from
how wonderful you are going to be in this movie. Because you are a genius."

Jesses face suddenly melts into a shy smile. It makes a funny warmth spread through Andrews skin.

"Thanks," Jesse says, "so are you. Andrews heart lurches again.

Well, you know, I mean. You're adequate," Jesse tacks on, still smiling. Andrew loves that even more,
and laughs with full lungs.

Jesse wears that smile the whole way to set.


Andrew stares, memorizing his face just this way.


***

Photo taken on set after Andrew and Jesse shot their very first scene together. Andrew was a bit
mortified he had to start the first day out in that hat. Somehow he still managed to be a shameless
flirt.


***

Written at the kitchen table, then stuck up on the bulletin board by the refrigerator. Andrew feels a bit
stupidly sad whenever he reads what Jesse wrote last, people will think were gay, like its a very
bad thing. Andrew wouldnt mind at all.


***


Andrew spends a lot of his day looking at Jesse.

He spends a lot of his day touching Jesse too. And the time he doesnt spend looking at Jesse or touching
Jesse he usually spends thinking about Jesse or talking to his mum on the phone about Jesse or, if
asleep, dreaming about Jesse. And the time he doesnt spend doing any of those things is the time he
spends actually acting with Jesse. So, really, everything is Jesse now.

Andrew thinks this should be a problem. Shouldnt it be a very bad idea to spend so much time with
someone you fancy but who you cant have?

Somehow, so far, it works for them. Andrew talks with Jesse while they brush their teeth, snuggles with
him while watching Doctor Who, plays with Jesses hair while he waits to catch his flying toast, debates

furiously with him over line interpretations while Jesse drives them to set. At this point, Jesse is as
essential to Andrew as air.

Maybe it all works because Andrew is careful not to freak Jesse out too much with his affection (no
proposals yet!). But Andrew will admit he has become a bit of a flirt. His hands almost never leave Jesse,
and to his delight, Jesse hasnt pulled away so far. In fact, sometimes Jesse does this thing where he
moves just a bit closer to Andrew, angling a fraction deeper into his touch. It makes Andrews skin sizzle.

Thankfully (or dreadfully, depending on how you look at it) Jesse doesnt seem to be interpreting all this
hands-on attention as flirtation. He seems to think thats just Andrew.

If only Jesse could know how very different this all is for Andrew. Andrew is affectionate and handsy
with everyone, sure, but this is entirely new. He feels physically compelled to be near Jesse. Its like
Andrew is one half of a magnet perfectly polarized to Jesses other half. There is some intangible force at
work that just makes Andrew want to sink into Jesse completely, like a stone into sand, enveloped.

So, when they get some time off from filming in Baltimore, Andrew naturally schemes a way to still
spend the day with Jesse. Andrews noticed that Jesses wardrobe consists mostly of pajamas, ratty t-
shirts, and sweatshirts blatantly stolen from set. He thinks a mandatory shopping trip is in orderand
that it would be just the excuse he needs. Such a devious Brit I am, Andrew thinks with too much glee.

Jesse somehow acquiesces to go to the mall, and Andrew is ecstatic. Its almost like theyre going on a
date!

They wander through the Apple Store and Borders and get into conversations about literature and
philosophy. Its the first real chance theyve gotten to have a conversation like this, Andrew realizes with
some surprise. Then again, he is always coaxing Jesse into watching Doctor Who or listening to the many
CDs he foists on him. Its left little time to talk about art and philosophy and literature and life.

They burn through a dozen topics as they wander the mall, Jesse leading the conversation most of the
day. Andrew loves seeing him so intellectually alight like this, so forceful and brilliant and cuttingly
funny. Andrew likes nothing more than hearing him talk.

Theyve made it to the topic of poetry by the time Andrew manages to find an acceptable clothing store.

He makes absolutely no sense, Jesse is saying, hanging back near a display of sweaters while Andrew
carefully examines a rack of dress shirts, searching for something that would work on Jesse.

I can appreciate taking creative liberties, but at some point the complete and utter decimation of the
rules of grammar becomes physically painful for me and I have to stop, Jesse says.

But thats the beauty of it! Andrew counters. He holds up a shirt, considering, but decides it doesnt
really say Jesse and hangs it back on the rack. Its free expression! Bending the rules to create
something unexpectedly beautiful.

No, its like a violation of the laws of the English language, Jesse says, chewing on a thumbnail.
Humiliated commas. Parentheses coming home past curfew with their underwear on inside-out. And
think of the uppercase letters, Andrew. They have families to support too.


Bloody hell Jesse is adorable.

Keep it together, Andrew. Do not snog your costar. Happy. Medium.

I thought everyone liked Cummings, Andrew says, shaking off the distinct urge to maul Jesse in the
mall. I thought it was a rule of being an English-speaking adult. Once again, Jesse Eisenberg, youre a
fascinating anomaly.

I dont know if Id say fascinating, Jesse adds timidly.

Come on, Andrew says, peering around the rack at Jesse, smiling brightly. You dont like E.E.
Cummings. What do you like?

Like, poetry?

No, just in general, Andrew says. He pulls another shirt off of the rack as hes talking. He can imagine
Jesse in this one, maybe a bit too well. He traces the thin lines of white through navy with his fingers,
letting his imagination go.

What do you do? Andrew asks after a long beat he hopes Jesse didnt notice. Other than the whole
musical theater thing.

Jesse rolls his eyes at that. Um. I dont know things, I guess. I like to collect old maps and history
books. Sometimes I, uh, I write really short stories on post-its and leave them places. I can play guitar.
One time I crocheted a pair of socks.

Whatever Jesse just said sounded adorable, but Andrew barley heard it. The urge to see this shirt on
Jesse overwhelmed him and, in two quick strides, he closed the gap between them to hold the shirt up
against Jesses chest, spreading it out with his palms. He feels Jesses muscles get a little stiff at the
suddenness of his touch, but thats just Jesse. Sparrow reactions.

See? Andrew says, referencing the comment he barely heard (something about short stories on post-
its). Those thingsnobody does that. Youre like a different species. Its fascinating.

Jesse bites his lip, which normally would drive Andrew crazy, but right now his full attention is on the
shirt hes pressed against Jesses chest. Its hot. Devastatingly so. Andrew lets one of his hands linger a
moment longer than it probably should on Jesses chest, lacing his fingers along the lines of the shirt,
then finally resting his thumb against the dip of Jesses collarbone.

Is that why you like me so much? Jesse asks, his voice catching a tiny bit in his throat. What does that
mean? Because living with me is like a nonstop National Geographic special?

No, I like you because youre weird and adorable, Andrew says, perfectly honest. He can feel Jesses
muscles finally release into his touch. Its wonderful.

Okay. Jesse has to get this shirt. Or Andrew may die. That decided, he pulls it from Jesses chest, slings it
over his arm, and flashes Jesse a devious smile as he zips away. Andrews off to grab the smashing blazer

he sees out of the corner of his eye, along with about a dozen more shirts and pairs of pants.

After making the careful selections, he coaxes an unenthused Jesse into a fitting room to try everything
on. Andrew tries not to think about Jesse stripping down to his boxers over and over just on the other
side of this flimsy slated dressing room door.

Every time Jesse steps out, Andrew has to congratulate himself on his choiceshe was spot on. Jesse
looks fabulous in everything. But of course Jesse doesnt agree, and fights him every step of the way.
Over the next hour, Andrew has to beg, plead, and bargain with Jesse about every piece. He loses a few
battles over cardigans and wing collars, but ultimately he wins the war with the navy striped shirtthe
one he had pressed against Jesses chest for so long. Jesse agrees to buy that one, though he says with a
grumble that he still doesnt think it looks that great on him.

Andrew has begun to realize that Jesse never sees himself very clearly. Jesse is beautifulspectacularly
beautifulin every way a person can be. But he seems insistent on believing only the opposite. Its
horribly frustrating.

You look so fabulous with a bit of polish and style, Andrew insists, standing beside Jesse in the three-
way mirror, adjusting the collar of a crisp white button up. Jesse gives him a look.

I mean to say, you know, just the clothes, not you, because, youre, you know, youre ratherer, here,
go try the green one on. And these pants! Andrew throws a pair of black skinny jeans at Jesse.

Bugger. What Andrew almost said was youre rather gorgeous.

Its completely true, but actually saying it wouldve been going a bit too far. Happy bloody medium.

Andrew waits for Jesse to come back out. And waits. And waits even more. He only gave Jesse one shirt
and a pair of pantwhat could be taking so long?

Jesse? Andrew asks.

Im not coming out, Jesse replies with a squeak. Andrew rolls his eyes, still smiling.

Jesse if you dont get your little white arse out here in ten seconds Im simply coming in there. And you
know I will. He hears Jesse make a little noise of defeatyou cant argue with Andrew.

After another minute or so of Andrew assuring him itll be fine, Jesse finally emerges. He opens the
fitting room door a crack and slinks out, sulking. He stands there with a pained look, waiting for Andrew
to say something.

Andrew is still. And Andrew is never still. But the sight of Jesse in those pants stops his heart, his breath,
everything. The fabric clings to every inch of Jesses legs, hips, his oh god, Andrew dont think about
that.

Um, Andrew manages after a minute, leaning forward in his chair. What can he say that wont be over
the line? Everything that comes to mind is just dripping with lust.

Those. Are pants. Thats all he can safely get out.

I think thats a pretty generous use of the word, Jesse says, looking horribly uncomfortably in front of
the angled mirrors, fumbling to shove his hands in the pant pockets.

You need to buy those pants, Andrew declares, nothing more to say on the subject.

Thats what you said about the last four pairs of pants, Jesse reminds him.

No, but, Andrew says, watching Jesse shift from one foot to the other, you really need to buy those
pants.

I just Jesse says. I dont think I can pull these off.

BLOODY BLEEDING HELL! Andrew wants to shout. Jesse is, in fact, pulling off these pants so well that
Andrew is trying desperately to think of football and car crashes and genocide and German architecture
just to keep from getting physically aroused in the middle of the fitting room.

Trust me, Andrew insists to Jesse. Youre pulling them off.

Jesse just stares back at him and says, I dont know

Jesse Andrew interrupts, cutting himself off with an exasperated noise of utter frustration. He cant
take Jesse being such a git anymore. He springs out of his chair, seizes Jesse by the shoulders, and spins
him around so that hes forced to look at these pants properly. Look at you! Legs! Arse! These are
Gods pants!

Really? Jesse finally chokes out after a minute.

Yes, really, Andrew says, smiling now at Jesses reflection.

Are you sure?

Andrew rolls his eyes and steps back, crossing his arms over his chest. Im not stroking your ego any
more, mate. If you dont buy these pants, so help me, I will buy them for you and personally force you
into them every morning. Andrew means it.

They exchange a smile, and Andrew knows he won.

Jesse ducks back into the fitting room, and Andrew sits, still thinking about those pants.


***


They head out to find some dinner after shopping, making Andrew giddy at the prospect of this outing
becoming more and more date-like. They see a Cheesecake Factory almost immediately but Andrew
obviously cant abide that, so after a bit of searching they finally head into a little local seafood place.

They sit outside, order some beer, split a smashing crab dish, and lose themselves talking about Red
Riding and Pablo Neruda and Ween and a dozen TV shows Andrew is aghast Jesse doesnt watch.
Andrew finds the more he gets of Jesse the more he wants. Its excruciating and exciting and everything
falling head over heals should be. Andrew would give anything to know what Jesse is thinking right now.

Leaving the restaurant, Andrew realizes hes gotten a bit drunk, the whole world taking on a lovely
amber haze. Jesse is beside him and everything is gorgeous. Even the cracking pavement seems pretty.

The October air has turned colder and is refreshingly crisp as it brushes over Andrews skin on their walk
back to the hotel. It feels like its waking Andrew up to something.

When they arrive, Andrew carries half of Jesses shopping bags to his hotel room (always the proper
gentleman) and flops down on one corner of the bed. Jesse goes to take a shower, and Andrew stays,
lying down and listening to the soft sounds of Jesse moving about the place. The noise of his nearness
makes Andrew happy. It feels like a lullaby.

Andrew closes his eyes for a moment, tracing the outline of his thumb with his forefinger, thinking about
how it felt pressed into the crevice of Jesses collarbone.

When his eyes open again, he realizes with a start that its almost morning. And, oh, wow, he is still in
Jesses bed. This is new.

Andrew remembers passing out at the foot of the bed, but in the night they must have moved and
melded together. Andrews now near the middle of the bed, and Jesses legs are entwined with his, the
sheets a whirl around them. A smile cant help but whisper along his lips.

He looks at Jesse, still asleep, the sunlight pouring across his skin. Andrew wishes he could wake up this
way every day.


***




Copied by Andrew out of his old e.e. cummings collection after waking up next to Jesse. He leaves it
for him to find, hoping it doesnt annoy him too much.


***


Andrews been dreading this day for a while.

He and Jesse are shooing some of the most intense deposition scenes today, and Andrew wakes up in a
foul mood, afraid of the mental space he has to inhabit for the next 16 hours.

Thank god for Jesse. Because, despite everything, somehow theyre in the car headed to set and Andrew
is laughing. Not just laughing a little, but bent over the seatbelt, gasping for breath, guffawing. Andrews
not sure exactly what set it off, but he thinks it had something to do with an off-color leotard reference.
This then led to Andrew confessing a double-life as a former child gymnast, which Jesse just would not
believe. After laughing and arguing and laughing and arguing for about 20 minutes, Andrew finally
decided to settle the whole thing by giving his mum a call and making her tell Jesse about how he placed
fifth in the national competition when he was twelve.

This turned out to be a terrible idea, since his mum ended up asking if this was the same Jesse shed
heard so very much about (thanks mum). And even then, Jesse still didnt believe! Andrew offered to do
a full floor routine if Jesse would pull over the car, just to prove the point. That only made them laugh
even more absurdly, and by the time they got control of themselves, they were already pulling up to the
set.

But it didnt stop there. They ended up torturing Linda, their lovely makeup artist, for the better part of
the morning by keeping up this hyena routine (for some reason Jesse finds her scaryAndrew doesnt
get it, but then again, Jesse finds a lot of things scary).

Despite all this levity, Andrew still knows whats coming. He keeps holding on to Jesse, thumbing the
knob of his wrist to anchor himself to something real and good and sweet and lovely before breaking
into the dark part of their day. Jesse lets him.

Kept in good spirits by Jesse, Andrew is still laughing when he sits down across from him at the
conference table on sethe even starts making Rashida laugh with a joke about Jesse's "business
hoodie". Then Andrew sees Aaron, and waves him over to talk about the line he stayed up half the night
worrying about: I was your only friend.

After a few minutes, Fincher yells action! and Andrew disappears into Eduardo. He can taste the
bitterness on his tongue now, the latent rage lacing through his muscles, the deep sadness hanging
heavy in his chest. He feels the disappointment of his father sitting on his shoulders and the weight of
unrealized hopes holding his heels down too roughly on the ground. Being Eduardo in these scenes feels
like when you go the dentist and they have to put that thick lead apron on you, and then they leave you
alone and youre just sitting there with the drill and the deadly looking tools on the table. And youre
empty and a little afraid and just want to rip the weight from your chest.

When Fincher calls lunch, its still no relief. Jesse walks away immediately, Marks gait guiding his feet.
Andrew knows hes alone. Or maybe thats Eduardo.

After forty-five minutes, they all get called back to set and have to start the hardest scene of the day.
They do 37 takes in total, and its brutal. The little part of Andrew thats still there, smothered inside
Eduardo, hopes that hes done well, but its impossible to know. And Andrew never likes to watch
playback of takes on the monitors, so he has to trust that Fincher knows what hes looking for and that if
he calls cut, hes got it.

On the last take, number 37, something tears in Eduardo, and he has to turns his chair around to face
the window before he says it: I was your only friend. You had one friend. The words taste metallic
against his teeth.

Fincher finally calls a wrap for the day, but Andrew doesnt move. He's still sitting, staring down at his
hands folded on the tabletop. Hes been buried so deep in the darkest parts of Eduardo that he is having
trouble coming back up. Its like being a deep-sea diver, going down so far below that its black all
around--there is no hope of breaking through the surface when you dont even know which direction to
swim for air.

Somewhere on shore, miles above, Andrew hears someone say Hey.

Then he feels a hand, gently grabbing his wrist just below the cuff of his shirt. The touch is a lifeline,
pulling Andrew towards the surface. He hears someone say Hey again. Andrew looks up.

And there is Mark. And hes Jesse, but hes not. And for a moment that makes Andrew and Eduardo
even more impossible to sieve apart. But then Andrew blinks, hard, willing Eduardo out of his head. He
feels himself taking control of his limbs again.

He smiles up at Jesse, and grabs the hand at his wrist, bringing it up to his mouth for some reason he
even cant explain, giving Jesses knuckles a playful bite. It feels good to do something like that after all
this melancholy.

"Hey," Andrew finally says in return. "Sorry."

"No," Jesse says, his eyes locked into Andrews. "I mean, it's okay. Let's go home."

Andrew knows home is wherever Jesse is.


***

Stuck to Andrews thermos during filming. Obviously made his entire day.

***




Left for Jesse, tucked between the pages of his copy of the script. Andrew finds it highly accurate.


***


Andrew is the kind of guy that John Hughes made movies about. The one who will be outside your
window with a boombox declaring his love or breaking down doors or punching out jerks just to win you
over. He is a hopeless romantic right down to his core, and he falls in love often and easily.

But Jesse Jesse is an entirely new thing. No one has ever made him feel this way. Its as if there is no
sound in the room when Jesse is there, and theres no air, and no time, and the borders of gravity just
go wobbly. In those moments, Jesse is all that exists. And its terrifying.

Its terrifying because Andrew, for once in his life, has literally no idea what to do about his feelings.
Happy medium is not making him very happy anymore.

Normally he wears his heart so freely on his sleeve that there is nothing for it but to just pour affection
onto the person he fancies. He doesnt normally get very self-conscious or riddled with doubt when he
wants someone he just pursues. But he cant do that with Jesse. He cant even begin to think about
doing that because he is pretty sure it would scare sparrow Jesse away forever.

And that would be bloody inconvenient, considering they are flat mates, costars, best friends, and even
making ruddy Ayn Rand cakes together every morning.

Bugger bugger bugger.

The thing is, sometimes Andrew thinks maybe it all isnt so crazy. Like when Jesse lets Andrew crawl all

over him on the couch, or when Jesse holds his wrist or brushes his shoulders after the day has been
rough on set. And theres a certain way Jesse looks at him sometimes. Usually its in the morning or late
at night, when its just them, alone together draped watching tele or at the breakfast table or in one of
their rooms chatting. Andrew will say something clever or elbow Jesse affectionately or use an absurd
Briticism and Jesse will look at him like

Like Andrew is home.

When Jesses normally quick and quiet blue eyes are brimming with warmth like that, so open and
loving and alive, it gives Andrew room to hope that there could be more between them. That perhaps
hes not being mental after all and maybe Jessetwitchy, touchy, perfect, radiant, raw, unknowable
Jessecould open up enough to love him back. Its a long shot, but the dim hope of that future is
keeping Andrew composed.

Oh bloody hell.

Did he just say love?

{ part ii }


Andrew has a new scheme in mind. And he is positively giddy about it.

He and Jesse were bumming around the flat, reading together in the living room when he first got the
idea. They were sitting with their backs against the opposite armrests of the couch, their legs
overlapping, meeting in the middle. Andrew may have been idly running his socked foot against Jesses
thigh, half reading and half thinking inappropriate thoughts, but he will neither confirm nor deny that.
He was reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, and thats when he remembered. ZOMBIES!
Zombieland!!

Jesses new film is out and he must see it. Immediately! But what to do

Andrew may or may not have already downloaded Jesses entire filmography from iTunes (though, with
all the time he actually spends with Jesse, hes had little time for watching films on his ownhes gotten
no farther than The Education of Charlie Banks). But he wants to see Zombieland more than all the rest
of the films put together. Jesse as a comedic zombie-fighting kind-of-action hero? Be still my quivering
thighs! Er, um, beating heart!

Andrew is in the shower now, letting the hot water run over his muscles, calming his body so his mind
can think clearly. Hes got to puzzle this out. He is desperate to see the film, but there are a few
problems. First, he obviously doesnt want to see it by himself. Aside from the vaguely icky feeling going

to the theater alone would give him, hes not going to spend one of the only days he has off with Jesse
without Jesse. It would take at least an hour to get to the nearest theater, then two hours to see the
film, then another hour to get backby then almost the whole day would be gone! And of course, at
some point hed have to confess where he was and Jesse would be mad at him.

He could just watch it himself at the flat, he thinkshe already found a download of the DVD screener
on the internet when he was googling the film. If he did that, hed only have to come up with an excuse
to nip off to his room for a couple of hourshe can say hes just taking a nap maybe. But this plan has
problems too. Watching a legally-ambiguous copy of Jesses movie without paying for a ticket just feels a
bit wrong. He is in the film industry after all. Also, the nap excuse wont workAndrew would soon be
discovered when he started laughing like a git in his room. Once Jesse found him out, hed be pretty
cross. And besides, he wants to see Jesse kicking zombie arse on the big screen! This plan is no good
either.

A new idea suddenly blazes into Andrews mind he could lure Jesse (blimey that sounds awful
already) to a theater under some pretense to see An Education maybe, thatd be perfect then,
instead, force him to see Zombieland with Andrew!

That way, Andrew could spend the day with Jesse, see it on the big screen, and be devastatingly clever
all at once! The only downside to this scheme was that Jesse would be furiousAndrew knows he hates
watching himself on screen. But it seems every possible scenario ends with Jesse being mad.
Regrettable, but it just cant be helped.

Besides, Andrew justifies to himself, Jesse gets mad at everything, even irrational things like E.E.
Cummings and fava beans and fingerless gloves. Knowing him, he probably doesnt even like Andrews
glasses.

Its sorted then! Andrew decides, just a bit too happy about being a devious mastermind. I will lurrrrre
him to the cinema. He twists his non-existent moustache in the shower, water flying from his fingertips.



***


Are you still pouting? Andrew asks Jesse, half concerned and half amused. This the first time Andrews
seen him in the flat all afternoon since they got back, and he still looks miserable.

As predicted, Jesse was mad. So mad he refused to even speak to Andrew on the way back from the
theater, then immediately walked away from him when they got home. Jesse took about an hour-long
shower and then retreated to his room, probably to talk to his mum or sister on the phone about what a
terrible git Andrew is.

Andrew feels a pang of guilt for putting him in this state, but hes having a hard time feeling truly
terrible because it was SO BLOODY WORTH IT! The film was fantastic, almost like a video game put on
screen. It was hilarious, exciting, fun, inventive, and Jesse

Jesse was sexy. Obviously Andrew always finds Jesse sexy, in the literal sense that Andrew wants to have

sex with him. But usually those feelings are coaxed out of Andrew via Jesse being adorable or brilliant or
an irresistibly cute curmudgeon. But in this film, Jesse was just plain bloody sexy. Particularly during the
last sequence, when Jesse was shooting and running and rescuing and sweaty and bloody and bruised
and Andrew shudders a bit just thinking about it.

He was wise to have strategically placed the bag of popcorn on his lap just so in the theater. Otherwise,
he would have had some uncomfortable explaining to do.

Its also hard for Andrew to feel bad when Jesse insists on pouting so adorably. Besides, this whole
adventure was good for him. Just last week Jesse was telling Andrew about how one of his therapists
insisted he start watching his films back, to try and respect the value of his work. So, as far as Andrew is
concerned, this was just some free therapy (Andrew paid for the movie of coursehe may be a devious
mastermind, but he is a gentlemanly devious mastermind).

Im not pouting, Im reading, Jesse finally answers, spitting out the response without looking up from
his book. That should make Andrew feel bad, but its just so cute!

Andrew slides down right next to Jesse on the couch and tips up the book in his hands until he can see
the cover. Oh this isnt good. You're reading Vonnegut. You don't even like Vonnegut. Youre definitely
pouting.

You forced me to spend two hours staring at an 80-foot version of myself while you giggled like a 12-
year-old girl, Jesse reminds him as he picks his book back up, an edge of acid in his voice.

Is it my fault you are so very, very dashing?" Andrew says, pushing Jesses book all the way down onto
the armrest and planting his hand in the middle of the page. "Honestly, I had no idea you were so
romantic and heroic. Can you really ask me to contain my feelings? Everything Andrews saying is
completely true, but he knows Jesse will take it as a jest. And all for the bestJesse clearly needs a bit of
jest just now.

Quit batting your eyelashes at me. Its meretricious. And dumb. Oh bloody zombie hell, is Jesse really
going to make this so hard? Hes left Andrew no choice.

Ooh, Jesse! Andrew says, laughing and lunging for Jesses head, deciding there is nothing for it but to
be as absurd as possible until he can get Jesse to laugh. Once he gets that first laugh out of him, hell
have won. Let me brush your hair over your ear!

Have you seriously not tortured me enough for one day, asshole? Jesse says, but hes grinning as he
dodges Andrew. Jesse tumbles backwards onto the couch as Andrew launches himself at him, expertly
pinning Jesse up against the armrest.

Let me tuck it, Jesse! Andrew says, wildly giddy. Just let me tuck your haaaair!

You are an absolute dick, Jesse says, digging an elbow into Andrews side. Seriously, we are never
watching anything Im in ever again. I hate you. I hope you get Ebola.

Andrew knows that Jesse is just pretending to be mad now. Hes won already.

Andrew laughs and completely ignores Jesses continued struggle against him, getting a steady grip
around both of Jesses wrists and holding them against his stomach long enough to finally leverage
himself up. Thensuccess!he is able to push one of Jesses perfect brown curls behind his ear at last,
with a spectacularly exaggerated flourish of the hand, just for extra points.

Oh, the romance! Andrew wails dramatically, his glasses sliding down his nose. Nevermind that its
true. Well, for Andrew anyway.

Jesse stops squirming just long enough to wrench one of his hands free and then uses it to try to
dislodge Andrews own from his hair, but Andrew just digs his fingers in farther, taking a handful of
Jesses still damp hair into his hand. Pray tell, do you have some stockings I could lay siege to? A bodice
I can rip? Andrew is being a bit naughty now, high on the moment.

I am going to set you on fire while you sleep, Jesse promises, still smiling.

Andrew waggles his eyebrows and puts on his poshest accent. I say, I quite enjoy this Bront theme
weve got going.

You are not even allowed to act that British, Jesse says, clearly both amused and exasperated.

Andrew just laughs, leaning back into his lungs. When he does, he gets off balance a bit and ends up
accidentally tipping backwards against Jesse. He lands squarely on him, right in a straddling position.

Suddenly everything goes very still. Jesse isnt trying to shove Andrew off his body anymore, fighting his
limbs for release. Jesse is just looking at him.

Really looking at him, as though Andrew is something beautiful and incandescent and intense, too
intense to take in all at oncelike the light from a prism that paints the walls and the floor and the
room and you with a thousand colors in every direction. No ones ever looked at Andrew like that
before.

His entire body is buzzing, so loudly that there is no other sound in the room. It only gets louder when
he realizes that Jesse is stroking his hand, tenderly tracing his thumb over Andrews knuckles. Jesse
sucks in a broken breath between his teeth.

Suddenly Andrew knows what this feels like.

It feels like the moment of hesitation, just before a kiss.

Oh bugger bugger bugger bugger bugger bugger all!

Andrew has this all wrong, hasnt he? He knows he has. He must. Jesse couldnt possibly want Andrew to
kiss him right now. Andrew is certain he is interpreting Jesses actions all wrong, forcing everything to fit
together into the plot of some romantic fantasy hes conjured up.

Still, Andrew is on the verge of breaking his rule, his one rule: do nothing irrevocable. Kissing Jesse right
now, right right right now, as every nerve in his body is demanding, would be something he could never
take back. And it could ruin everything between them. But it could maybe be the best thing. It could

maybe be what Jesse wants.

An awful moment of indecision rips through Andrew, almost tearing him in two. But then he knows.

He just cant risk it.

Though the decision is made, a desperate voice still screams in protest at the back of Andrews mind,
What if youre right! What if Jesse does want you to kiss him now, right now! Youre missing your
chance!

But Andrew knows that voice. Hes heard it quite a lot lately. He cant let desire get the better of him,
especially when shes such a cunning liar, always so likely to tell him anything he wants to hear.

The decision stands. He cant risk kissing Jesse. Hes sure its not what Jesse wants. But what do to now?
Andrew has to cut this tension somehowhe cant just get up and walk away, leaving an awkward fog
thickening throughout the room.

So, he does the most ridiculous thing he can think of: he tosses up Jesses shirt and gives him what is
possibly the longest wet raspberry in recorded history. The absurdity of it all makes Andrew laugh as he
rolls off Jesse to run away. And hide. Forever.

You are like some kind of insane baby deer, Jesse shouts over the top of the sofa.

Its all part of my fascist agenda, Andrew calls back, heading into the kitchen to cook whatever
elaborate dish will take at least an hour to prepare. He needs to busy himself with something
immediately. Hes already feeling a tidal wave of regret coming on to crush him, the taste of Jesses skin
still on his lips.

It was for the best, he tells himself, somehow not quite believing it.


***

Dictated to Jesse, who creased the corners in a fit of nervous energy, then used as a coaster by
Andrew, effectively ruining half of the pad. Just add that to the list of things that makes Jesse mad,
Andrew thinks with affection.


***

Andrew lives for the days he gets to do nothing but be in the flat with Jesse, feeling like they are two
halves that make a home only by being whole together.

He relishes in the quiet comfort of togetherness. He loves standing next to Jesse at the stove, bumping
hips while Jesse makes eggs and he puts the kettle on, and Jesse comes up with increasingly difficult and
bizarre shapes for Andrew to mold their pancakes into (the catamarancakes were a recent hit). Jesse
drives them both to the set every day with Andrews CD on the stereo and Andrew forces Jesse to sing
along with him because Andrew loves his voice so very much.

The time they have off is pretty evenly divided between rehearsing, catching up on lost sleep, and
messing about the flat. Andrew convinces Jesse to watch Doctor Who with him almost every day
together on the sofa. When Andrews not explaining things to Jesse, he mostly watches his reactions,
usually more closely than he watches the actual show, always wanting to know what Jesse is thinking.
About everything. Lying about watching tele together also gives Andrew an excuse to be snuggled up
with Jesse, buried deep under the quilt his mum mailed them. This may explain some of his constant
eagerness for Doctor Who marathons.

One time he drags out Jesses guitar and talks him into playing it. Andrew sits cross-legged on the floor,
wonderstruck, taking pictures of Jesses hands on the strings, watching him deftly coax the chords into
music. Jesse plays the opening number from The Fantasticks and then, to Andrews surprise, one of the
Sufjan songs he had given him. It is exquisitely beautiful.

Andrew spends a lot of time puzzling over what happened on the couch that day after Zombieland, and

the more Andrew thinks of it the more hes torn. Sometimes he thinks Jesse truly did want Andrew to
kiss him, and other times Andrews sure hes mental and remembering everything wrong.

Either way, nothing like it has happened since, so Andrew thinks it best to stop torturing himself and put
it out of his mind.

All that matters is right now, Andrew is happy. Hes sprawled out on the living room floor, curtains
pulled back, allowing the lovely November light fall over him.

He lets the stillness fill his limbs, just breathing.

Jesse comes and lies down next to him, reading. Andrew loves the crisp sound the book makes when
Jesses fingers pull each papery edge, flipping the pages every few minutes.

Jess Andrew says after an hour, reaching out to touch the back of Jesses his hand with the edge of his
own.

He hears Jesse pull in a deep, slow breath. Andrew does the same.



***

Left for Andrew to find on the kitchen bulletin board between the hours of 4 and 5 AM. He likes the
part that says he is here.



***


Andrew has gotten in the habit of lingering around set even when he has the day off, just to watch Jesse
work. To anyone who asks, Andrew gives the easy excuse that seeing all these facets of Mark in the film
are very helpful with his own interpretation of Eduardo. That watching Jesse and Davids take on Mark
throughout the film is essential, really, to his own work as an actor.

This may very well be true, but its not the reason Andrew is sitting outside on the first freezing day of
the year hanging around a movie set. Its because he cant keep away from Jesse, even for a day.

Hes buggered, and well knows it.

Andrew is finding it hard to watch Jesse today though. They are shooting exterior scenes in 25-degree
weather, and Jesse is just in Marks socks, sandals, gym shorts and hoodie. Andrew can only imagine
how much pain hes got to be in.

And at the moment its worse, because theyre not even filming. At least when the cameras are rolling
the scene keeps him engaged, and he doesnt look like hes about to get frostbite. But poor Jesse is just
standing there now, hoping up and down to keep from freezing to death between takes. Normally there
would be a PA waiting to pass a coat off to Jesse, or at least to give him a thin thermal blanket to wrap
in, but right now there is some kind of critical issue with a camera and Finchers sent the PAs to find the
1st AC so they can get it working as soon as possible. Leaving, of course, poor Jesse to freeze.

Andrew gestured to Jesse earlier, offering to go get his coat for him from his trailer, but Jesse just gave
him this sad shrug and shake of the head, which Andrew could only interpret to mean that Jesse even
forgot his own coat today. Typical Jesse, he thinks with a grin.

But now things are just getting absurd. Its been at least 20 minutes that Jesses been in the cold, no
filming and no jacket. Andrew waves to him, making sure hes still alive and in good spirits. Thankfully
Jesse smiles and waves backwell, after a fashion. Its really more of a flailing gesture of the elbow, his
hand still deep in the pocket of his hoodie. Its adorable, and just a bit too sad for Andrew to take.

Andrew leaves his book and thermos in his chair and runs over to Jesse.

You look pathetic, he says brightly, poking Jesse on the tip of his very cold nose.

Leave my nose out of this, Jesse mumbles, miserable.

Andrew laughs. Well, it shouldnt be parading around in that whorish shade of red if it doesnt want
people to talk.

Uncalled-for, Jesse grinds out through chattering teeth. And a little sexist.

I resent that. Your nose has no gender, Andrew says. He looks at Jesse for a minute, and decides he
cant abide this anymore, and starts unbuttoning his coat. Right. Arms out.


Jesse stares, confused. What are you doing?

Dont be thick, Andrew says, pulling off his jacket and holding it out for Jesse to take. Youre
obviously freezing your delicate, lily-white arse off, and we cant have our Mark dying of hypothermia.

We cant have our Eduardo dying of hypothermia either, Jesse says, totally missing the point.

Im from England, Andrew says. I was born to withstand these kinds of temperatures.

Actually, Jesse says, you were born in Los Angel

Arms out, Andrew interrupts, rolling his eyes, you complete tosser.

They exchange a smile, warming them both a bit, and Andrew wiggles his coat in the air in front of Jesse.

Jesse rolls his eyes, never one to preen under Andrews attention without some fuss, but eventually he
holds his arms out. Andrew circles around behind him and slides the coat over Jesses ice-cold arms.
Andrew zips back in a flash to button Jesse up, but still doesnt get there fast enough and has to swat
Jesses hands out of the way.

Hands in pockets, they must be freezing, Andrew insists, fastening the coat from the bottom up. Jesse
does as hes told, and places his hands firmly in said pockets.

Why do I let you do these things? Jesse asks as Andrew finishes buttoning. Hes using his annoyed
voice, but is still smiling, so Andrew thinks its okay.

Because you like it when people take care of you, and I am irresistible, Andrew says, flashing him a
crinkly-eyed grin. He buttons Jesses top button, straightens the collar, takes his own scarf off, and
wraps it securely around Jesses neck, letting his fingers linger against Jesses jawbone a moment longer
than they should have.

There. Snug as a bug, Andrew declares, satisfied.

Are bugs really snug? Jesse says, his smile widening. Is that a thing?

Hush, Andrew says, smiling back at him. Hes down to a white V-neck and gloves now, but he doesnt
mind, and rubs his hands up and down his arms to create a little heat.

Jesse smirks. Cold?

A bit.

Are you shivering?

N-no, Andrew shivers. Bugger.

Because I think they can revoke your League of Important British Jews membership card for that, Jesse

says.

Andrew gives Jesse his most intimidating look. Dont make me regret giving you my coat. That should
settle it.

Why dont you do a floor routine to warm yourself up? Jesse says, his voice a bit muffled as he digs his
face deep into the scarf. Maybe some ribbon dancing?

Andrews laugh comes out as a bark, buried in a cloud of steam. Still on about that, are you? he says.
I could do it! If I wanted to, I could.

Yeah, Ill believe that when I see it, Jesse says. Andrew Garfield: The Flying Hipster.

You really want me to prove it? Andrew says, turned on by the way Jesse is teasing him.

I would love to see you try to, Jesse replies, challenging him.

Alright, fine, Andrew says, uncrossing his arms. You asked for it, Eisenberg. Prepare to be shocked
and amazed.

Jesse laughs as Andrew paces away to a clear span of concrete, stretching his arms over his head as he
goes. His limbs dont feel quite as loose as they should, probably because of the cold, but hes confident
he can pull it off.

Are you ready? Andrew calls, getting in position to spring. Jesse gives him a nod, the best nod, a nod
that says I dont believe you can do this but I want you to be able to do this. So Andrew does it.

He feels the icy wind rush over him as his flips down the sidewalk, regretting doing this on pavement
when he feels the hits on his joints each time his limbs smack the ground and spring out immediately for
the next flip. Despite the pain, Andrew sticks the landing and turns to bow to his one-man judging
committee.

Jesse just shakes his head and laughs and laughs and laughs, steam shooting from his lips. He wants to
go over to Jesse, to hug him, hell, maybe to kiss him. Maybe to grab him up and carry him away to make
love to him in his trailer. Andrew is feeling delightfully mad, high on the adrenaline of his acrobatics.
Who knows what he might do.

Before he can act on any of these irresponsible thoughts, though, one of the producers comes over and
starts immediately reprimanding him for putting his life in danger and oh what would they say about
this at legal and why by god are you not even wearing a coat yadda yadda yadda. Andrew then gives him
a piece of his mind right back, asking why he thinks its a good idea to let Jesse freeze all day without a
PA next to him, jacket at the ready.

Despite his protests (or maybe because of them), Andrew is sent back to his trailer for the rest of the
afternoon. As he walks away, he turns around and gives Jesse the saddest face he can muster, making
the shape of a heart with his hands and then breaking it dramatically.

The worst part is that Andrew really is just that pathetically sad. Hell miss Jesse all afternoon.



***

Stuck between two of Jesse's maps


***

Andrew can tell Jesse is not comfortable with this.

At Justins insistence, he, Andrew, Armie, and Jesse are all headed out for the night to get sloshed and
have a generally merry time away from set for once. Andrew thinks its a smashing idea, but when Justin
was pulling them out the door Jesse had that look on his face thats a distinct cross between
constipation and panic. Andrew knows thats not a good thing.

Right now, theyre making their way through the crowded bar, pitchers in hand. The music is pulsing
against them so intensely it feels like its inside their clothes, the sound beating right up against their
skin. Jesse has his free hand on Andrews back, letting him guide him through the mass of people.

Andrew loves the feeling of protecting Jesse.

Justin had the owner clear out a booth in the back for them when they got there, which is why Andrew
and Jesse were relegated to beer delivery duty. They set the pitchers on the table and slide into the
booth across from Armie and Justin just as a fabulous gay waiter comes by and drops off a round of
complimentary shots called Cowboy Cocksuckers. He gives a randy wink to the entire table, and then
heads off. Andrew looks over at Jesse, who seems positively scandalized. Andrew tries to stifle a laugh.

Justin passes out the shots, and Jesse gives them all a look of serious misgiving, but tosses it back like a
champ anyway, emptying his shot along with the rest of the group.

Andrew pulls a pack of Parliaments out of his jacket pocket and lights one up, throwing an arm over the
back of the booth, an inch from Jesses shoulder. He can feel heat building in the sliver of space between
them, and Andrew knows hes only a drink or two away from closing the gap.

The smoke from Andrews cigarette lingers around the table in stretching circle, mingling with the lights
of the club in mesmerizing ways. He hasnt smoked around Jesse before. He hopes it doesnt make him
uncomfortable. Itd be impossible to tell right now, though, because ever since they walked though the
door of this place Jesse has looked perpetually uncomfortable.

And its only worse now that their conversation has descended into a sure soon-to-be scandalous game
of Never Have I Ever, led by Armie of all blokes.

Never have I ever cried over a Disney movie, Armie says first. The other three of them groan in unison
and take a swift swig of beer each, while Armie just chuckles indulgently to himself.

Youve seriously never cried over a single Disney movie? Jesse asks. Not even when Mufasa got
trampled by that stampede of wildebeests? He is looking at Armie like he just turned into an 8-headed
hydra. Andrew thinks his own face must be somewhat similar.

Nope, Armie says, and Andrew hisses, totally gutted just remembering the damn little cartoon lions.
My dad told me crying was for girls, Armie finishes, as though that is a reasonable explanation.

Wow, therapy, Justin chimes in. Andrew hopes Jesse doesnt take that personally.

Not even Bambi? Andrew demands, swaying on the spot with the force of his conviction and quite a
few pints of beer. Everyone cries when they watch Bambi! Armie couldnt be so heartless not to care
about Bambis mum, Andrew thinks through a thick haze of liquor.

Well of course you cried, they shot your mom, Armie says, then adds, Get it? Because you are a
cartoon deer, Andrew Garfield.

Andrew throws both hands in the air, ignores the cartoon deer crack, and tells Armie in no uncertain
terms that there is a vacuous space where his soul should be.

Armie just shrugs. Whatever. Jesses turn.

Andrews listening now.


Jesse stammers, looking pained. Andrew feels the curiosity clawing at him. Mercifully, Jesse finally blurts
something out.

Never have I ever had sex in public, he says, biting his lip and looking from face to face, clearly
awaiting judgment on if that answer was acceptable.

Justin mutters a series of incomprehensive things that all sound a bit smutty, then takes a mighty swig of
beer to a chorus of both ewww and awesoooome.

Never have I ever had sex with someone and then left before morning, Andrew says, a bit proud of
himself. Armie awwws and reaches across to ruffle Andrews hair. Justin is the only one who drinks, and
he looks at Armie accusingly.

What? I'm classy, Armie says, flashing his wedding band at Justin. "I could do Old Spice commercials."
Oh, right, Andrew laughs. We keep forgetting youre a nice Christian boy.

Hey, Im a nice Christian boy too! Justin slurs indignantly in response.

Yeah, but you also brought sexy back, if I recall correctly, Jesse deadpans, followed by a wry little smile
just for Andrew. His heart thumps stupidly against his ribcage.

He settles deeper into the booth, pressing his body in closer against Jesse.

I wonder, can we still hit you if you misbehave, Andrew teases, or was that a limited time offer?

Justin flips them both off and says, smugly, Okay, assholes, never have I ever had a bar mitzvah.
Andrew throws a half-soaked napkin at Justins head, but he ducks it deftly. He and Jesse both drink on
that one.

Never have I ever jerked off in my trailer, Armie says wickedly. Justin predictably rolls his eyes and
drinks.

Shit, Andrew thinks. This one is a bit awkward because the only time hes ever done this is on the
current shoot. And the reason for that is pressed right against him in this booth. It makes it all feel too
immediate, as though they caught him right in the act. Andrew hopes the flush from the alcohol is hiding
how much hes blushing.

Eventually Andrew just throws up a hand in defeat, and drinks too, laughing it off. Hes very thankful this
game does not require any sort of mandatory explanations of the intrigues involved. All the same, he
doesnt risk a look at Jesse.

Your turn, Armie says to Jesse. Andrew can feel the jump of Jesses leg when Armie kicks him under
the table.

I never went to prom, Jesse blurts out suddenly. Andrew slaps him on the thigh and laughs, thinking
that sounds like Jesse.

Armie just grins and drinks, proudly declaring that he was prom king as he slams his glass back down on
the table. Andrew drinks again too.

Somehow another tray of those glorious Cowboy Cocksuckers appears on the table, and they switch
from sips of beer to shots for everything theyve done. Andrew thinks this might be a very bad idea, but
then again, getting deeper into this game with any level of sobriety would probably be just as damning.

After Andrew declares hes never forgotten a line on stage, forcing Jesse to drink, everything gets a bit
hazy. At some point Andrew puts out his cigarette dramatically and proclaims that hes never been
mistaken for baking soda just to piss Armie off, after which Justin admits to being in a four-way (or was
it a five-way?). Jesse seems a bit out of it, fading fast and leaning heavily into Andrew. Its all a bit of a
blur.

The next thing Andrew knows, Armie is announcing that hed never kissed a guy before, waking the
entire table up. Predictably, Andrew and Justin both take shots. But then, so does Jesse.

So does Jesse?

Andrew is thankful Jesse seems too out of it to notice his reaction. Jesse kissed a boy? This revelation
rings around his head a dozen times but Andrew still just cant make sense of those words strung
together in that order.

Thankfully Justin seems just as interested in this revelation as Andrew, so theyre both pressing Jesse for
more information on this Mikey character, who turns out to be a boy from Jesses theater camp when
he was fifteen. When Justin gets Jesse to admit that Mickey is not the only boy hes ever kissed, Andrew
feels like gravity has loosened its grip on him for just a moment.

If Jesse has kissed boys before that means he might still want to kiss boys. And Andrew is a boy.
Andrew is definitely, rightly a boy. Andrew cant help but beam. He is a boy!

After a few more rounds, Jesses collapsed over the table with his chin on his arms and Andrew is
draped over his shoulders, enjoying the rise and fall of Jesses body every time he takes a breath.

Then Armie grins a little cross-eyed and says, Never have I ever hooked up with a costar.

Justin tries to punch him in the shoulder but misses. He takes his shot, muttering something about
Mickey Mouse Club and fucking discrimination, and Andrew knows hell be drinking to this one too. He
reaches around Jesse to grab another shot off of the tray.

Fuck yeah, Justin says, pointing one wavering finger at Andrew. Everybody already knows about
mine, syou have to tell us about yours. Who was she?

Andrew takes the shot, wincing at the burn before he says, He.

Dude, Armie says, trying to look earnest through what has to have been at least ten beers, dude,
wait. Are you gay? I mean, thats cool, whatever, but like, how did I not know this?

Im not, Andrew drawls, his accent dragging out more heavily from the alcohol, not completely.


So, what, youre bisexual?

Does it matter? Andrew says, sassing him. It aint about the body, its about the mind.

Thats Prince, Justin accuses.

Andrew laughs, and finds himself falling further into Jesse, his nose landing at the nape of Jesses neck.
Indeed it is. But its still true. Im paaaaaansexual.

You're what now? Armie says.

Google it, asshole, Andrew replies, and then he starts laughing when he thinks about Robert pulling
that face every time they were together. Andrew is hiding against Jesses shoulder to muffle his
laughter. He really has had far too much to drink.

What are you giggling about? Jesse asks.

I am not giggling, Andrew says, monsieur. Oh that face, Andrew cant stop picturing it now. He tries
to push the thought from his mind and get it together before they make him confess whats so funny.

Yes you are, youre giggling like a little gay cartoon deer, Armie slurs.

Je suis pas, Andrew argues, the French feeling slippery on his tongue. And why are you so obsd
with me being Bambi?

Are you saying Bambi was gay? Justin says. Because I find that offensive.

Was it really that bad? Armie asks.

What, Bambi? Oui, mon Dieu, Andrew wails, jai cri comme un petit ananas, t

He was talking about the dude you hooked up with, dumbass, Justin says, and the reason you cant
stop laughing about it.

Did you just say you cried like a small pineapple? Jesse asks. Jesse knew that? It makes Andrew giggle
more.

No, no, I mean, Andrew says, then is taken over by a renewed fit of laughter, itheeit wasnt
fuck, Im not telling you. That settles it, Andrew thinks with hazy conviction.

Come on, Justin whines, Im blue-ballin here.

Am I the only straight guy at this table? Armie says unhappily.

Andrew certainly hopes so.

Thats lame. You guys dont get to have your own club, he continues, then lurches sideways, grabs

Justins face in two huge hands, and licks it.

Get off, Justin says, shoving a very amused and self-satisfied Armie backwards. And you, Justin says
to Andrew, either stop fucking laughing or tell us whats so fucking funny.

Fine, Andrew concedes, not happy about having to say it out loud. It was this bloke I was in this
film thing with. Last year. Robert, was his name. And this year hes on this new show, and in like the
second episode he has this sex scene, and the whole joke is that he makes this horribly unattractive face
when he you know. Andrew makes a sloppy gesture with one hand that he hopes sufficiently
manages to convey orgasm. But the thing is, it actually looks a lot like that in real life. I actually had to
try really hard not to laugh at him, and then I just watched him on that show and he pulled that fucking
face and now its forever preserved on film and I, I cant

Like what? Justin says. What did it look like?

I cant do it. Use your bloody imagination. Andrew waves him off. He is not doing the face. He doesnt
even know if its physically possible for another human to recreate it. Ive told you too much already,
its not becoming of a young lady.

Awww.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of bottles too numerous to count, but they eventually make it
outside, and Armie, who somehow despite being the youngest seems to be the most responsible out of
all of them, manages to call Justin's driver and then get Jesse and Andrew into a cab before calling his
own. Jesse slides in first, and Andrew pours himself in after, sloppily falling sideways across the backseat
and landing with his head in Jesses lap.

It feels so nice, he thinks. Or maybe says out loud. Hes not quite sure anymore. He doesnt seem to
have any sort of filter left functioning to separate things that should be said from things that should not.

He opens his eyes just enough to see Jesse smiling down at him. Hello! Andrew sings cheerfully,
waving up. Jesse is drunk enough to wave back.

Hi, Jesse says. Yum, thinks Andrew. Or maybe he says it. He hopes he doesnt say it.

Thawas good fun, yeah? Andrew slurs, all lilting vowels bouncing off his drunken lips. I had fun. Did
you have fun, Jess?

I did, Jesse says. Then, after a moment, You have really big eyes.

Yeah? Andrew says, happy happy happy. Dyou like them?

Yeah, Jesse tells him. Jesse kisses boys.

Snice, Andrew says, feeling fuzzy all over. He flops onto his side and nuzzles his nose into Jesses shirt
and says, muffled, Je taime bien. Or maybe he thinks it.

You think I understand these things you say, Jesse tells him, but I do not. Andrew guesses he

mustve said that one.

You knew the thing about the pineapple, Andrew mumbles into Jesse, loving the smell of him, like
pine needles and paperbacks and pecan pie.

Thats because the only French word I know is pineapple, Jesse says. Andrew turns his head and just
stares at him for a moment, then dissolves into laughter.

You are so strange, Andrew says. What even are you? Youre like somebody I made up in my head.
Andrew knows thats the last full sentence he can possibly manage tonight. But it doesnt matter
because Jesse kisses boys.

Did you know, Jesse says, letting his head loll against the window, thats exactly what I think about
you.

Andrew laughs again, and leans his head into Jesses legs. Lovely legs, these.

I like your legs, Andrew gurgles. Your legsre a proper length. Robert was all legs, it was like shagging
myself. Shagging Jesse would be so quite new a thing, mmmm, Andrew thinks incoherently, half asleep
already.

What, Jesse says. Or maybe Andrew just thinks that.

I promise I dont throw myself at all my costars or anything, Andrew says. Jesse looks so far away up
there! Andrew reaches up a hand to touch Jesses face, but he misses. Robert was une gourgandine.
Andrew really wants Jesse to know he is nothing like that silly strumpet Robert. If only his mouth could
form words right.

Jesse says something that Andrew doesnt hear. Hes too distracted now by the fabulous pants he is
nuzzling his drunken cheek on at the moment.

I have always liked these trousers on you, by the by, Andrew says, his teeth catching against the fabric
as he rubs his face into them. They are most fab.

Andrew thinks Jesse might have said something, but he cant really hear anymore. All Andrew can do
right now is think about how much he wants to just chew on Jesses perfect perfect perfect thighs
because Jesse kisses boys.

Or maybe he says that? Oh bloody hell I better not'vve, is the last thing Andrew thinks before he passes
out.


***

Emailed from Andrew to Jesse, with nothing but the words THIS IS YOUR SPIRIT ANIMAL in the body of
the message


***

{ part iii }


Andrew doesnt enjoy planes.

He doesnt have a fear of flying exactlyits more of a general aversion to the whole experience. Maybe
its from too many years of crisscrossing the Atlantic, but he really is over the novelty of flight. He hates
how stale the air feels in the plane after being up for so many hours, how stiff his limbs get, how the
pressure change makes his ears ring for hours after theyve landed. And takeoff always gives him a
terrible headache.

Its all just so bloody unpleasant.

The flight hes on now is normally the kind hed hate the most: a 6+ hour flight to LA just for one day,
then back again immediately. It feels like living on a plane for a weekend. But Andrew doesnt mind it so
much this time around, seeing that hes prepared: hes got Jesses filmography to entertain him the
whole way, and he also recently picked up a new volume of poetry Fincher recommended to him, Crush
by Richard Siken. Between these two, Andrew thinks the flight will be a breeze.

He reads a few poems between films and finds its having a strange effect his mind keeps mingling
Jesses scenes with Sikens lines. Then, Sikens lines will remind him of something from Cummings, which
will remind him of something from Neruda, which will remind him of the particular way Jesses lips form
into laughter, which hell then see on screen a moment later. Its a tumble of verse and emotions and
moments, all falling together into a single tangle.


Andrew is watching The Hunting Party now and there is a part where Jesse is riding in a car, looking
broken and beautiful as he stares out the window. His face is unmoving, but it betrays a thousand
emotions. Andrew feels something between pain and perfection as he watches Jesse, and of course it
reminds him of a line from Siken hes just read:

You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won't tell you that he loves
you, but he loves you. And you feel like you've done something terrible,
like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself
a grave in the dirt, and you're tired. You're in a car with a beautiful boy,
and you're trying not to tell him that you love him, and you're trying to
choke down the feeling, and you're trembling, but he reaches over and
he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your
heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you
don't even have a name for.

Everything about the passage is painfully relevant, Andrew thinks, suddenly filled with a fresh wave of
wanting. Jesse is a beautiful boy, and Andrew does feel tired, so tired, because all hes done since the
table read is try not to tell Jesse that he loves him. Hes been choking down his feelings,
compartmentalizing, happy medium-ing. And all the while hes been waiting for Jesse to touch him like
the boy in the poem. To touch him in a way that says I know, I know, I know.

If that were ever to happen, Andrew is sure his own heart would take root in his body, his muscles finally
settling into his bones, feeling whole for the first time. The story is true.

Hes been riding in a car with Jesse for awhile now. But where its taking them, he cant be sure.


***

Andrew couldnt get this verse out of his head as he watched Jesse, and needed to write it out.
Andrew didnt have any paper on the airplane, so he used his Zombieland ticket stub, still saved in his
wallet.

He slips this into one of Jesses books when he gets home, hoping hell find it someday.


***




Andrew is finally back in Massachusetts, already in a cab headed straight to the flat. He wonders what
Jesses been doing while hes gone, and with a tinge of longing, wonders if he missed him.

Andrews been starting to see things with Jesse differently lately, probably because of their sloshed
night out when he discovered that Jesse kisses boys, a revelation that still makes him giddy at random
(Jesse caught him grinning like an idiot four days ago, a spoon of nutella lolling in his mouth, and he had
to make up some pathetic excuse involving lolcats).

Andrew doesnt know what Jesse is exactlymaybe hes gay, maybe hes something elsebut
regardless, Andrew finally thinks it could be possible for Jesse to want him. It took Andrew awhile to
make room in his mind for that very foreign thought, needing to clear out the clutter of self-doubt hed
been accumulating in huge clumps.

He is consideringwith wild trepidationthat he might be ready to do something about all this. To
finally tell Jesse how bloody mad he is about him.

The thought feels far too raw right now, like a cut that still needs a bandage to heal properly. Hes got to
roll it around his mind a bit more before making any decisions. He also needs to consider how exactly
hed stitch himself together again if things didnt go well.

When Andrew thinks about telling Jesse how he feels, he pictures himself sitting at their kitchen table
across from one another. And he imagines emptying his pockets out onto the table. Then taking off all
his clothes, laying them on the table too. Then he imagines slowly dismantling himself, skin first, then
ribcage, then heart. He imagines opening that too, and showing Jesse the mess of strings inside. Telling
Jesse how he feels would be like taking every piece of himself apart, arranging it carefully on the kitchen
table, and waiting. Waiting for Jesse to take each piece and put it back, one by one, sealing every part of
Andrew again with a kiss and a kiss and a kiss. Or waiting for Jesse to simply get up and walk away,
leaving Andrew inside out.

A crushing pressure begins to build in his chest as he considers this, his breath feeling rough against his
lungs. It is so very much to risk.

Before he does anything rash, his main priority is to observe Jesses actions with fresh eyes. Hes tried to
go back and reconsider everything thats passed between themall the way from deerstalker caps to
Cowboy Cocksuckersto see if he could discover some hidden sign that Jesse fancied him. But
everything before this point feels like its been covered in a thick fog of misgiving. Andrews belief that
Jesse could never feel anything for him has colored all his memories, and going back to examine them
feels like looking at a reel of film that wasnt quite developed right.

Andrew intends to watch Jesse carefully now, hoping to find at least one sign of affection he can call
unequivocalone thing that can give Andrew the bit of bravery he needs to confess his feelings. He
doesnt want to do it if hes sure it will be a spectacular failure, so he just needs something, the smallest
something, to make himself believe Jesse could love him back.

As the cab pulls up to their flat, Andrews nerves begin to buzz with anticipation. Just touching Jesse

again will feel like such a relief after this trip and after everything thats been knocking around Andrews
head. He pays quickly, grabs his suitcase, gets out of the cab, and jets up the stairs to their flat in three
swift strides.

Sometimes having freakishly long legs can come in bloody handy, he thinks with a smile.

Finally there, he bounds through the door and shouts Hello!, abandons his suitcase, and smothers
Jesse in a messy hug, limbs over limbs in an almost desperate embrace. After half a moments
hesitation, Jesse molds himself against Andrew just as fiercely. It feels like a miracle.

Andrew smiles into Jesses shoulder and says, "I'm home." Andrew hopes Jesse knows he means him,
and not the flat.

"I noticed," Jesse replies. His sarcasm slips off the words, and Andrew can hear the tenderness
underneath.

He can feel Jesses heart beating brutally against his own body, almost like its trying to enter Andrews
chest and live there for awhile. Andrew thinks this could be the beginning of something. This could be
everything.

After they break apart, the rest of the night blazes by in a flash. Jesse orders a pizza and Andrew tells
him all about his trip and how he might be in the running to be the next Spider-Man and how bloody
fucking cool would that be? They talk and talk and talk as though they were apart for a summer instead
of just a Sunday, and Andrew wears himself out almost immediately. Hes beating back monstrous
yawns when Jesse finally insists he gets some rest.

Andrew heads to his bedroom, excited for sleep and already slipping off his shirt as he goes, but pauses
to say goodnight to Jesse before he closes the door.

"Glad I'm home, Jess.

He wonders if Jesse knows what he really said was, I love you.

Jesse swallows and replies, "Me too."


***

A Tell Jesse / Dont Tell Jesse pro & con list Andrew composes over the following days. Its not
helpful.


***


A week goes by, and Andrew is always observing. He finds himself trying to tip Jesses every word or
gesture into one of two categories: (1) things friends do and (2) things more than friends do.
Unfortunately, the results have been somewhat inconclusive. Andrew cant help but notice that most of
the things in the more than friends category he actually initiated himself. Jesse seemed perfectly
content to go along with Andrew in all those cases, but still, it hardly feels like definite proof.

The biggest thing Andrews got in the more than friends category is the way Jesses heart beat against
his own that night Andrew came home from LA. That definitely seemed significant. But then again, who
knows? Jesse couldve just had a lot of coffee that day.

Andrew is thankful that half the time he spends with Jesse is on set, suspended outside themselves as
Mark and Eduardo. Its the only time he can stop constantly making mental tic marks every time Jesse
turns his head.

Theyre on set right now filming the telephone scene, the one where Mark calls in a panic over the
frozen accounts and the flaming scarf gets thrown on Eduardo's bed. Jesse hasn't filmed Mark's side of
the conversation yet, but Andrew's doing his bit now. Jesse's with him, watching from behind the
camera and giving Andrew little things to work off of here and there, reciting his side of the
conversation and adding in things to help Andrew refocus the character.

Andrews contending with a ton of tough elements on set today. Its not easy having to emote to the

empty end of a cell phone while props are on fire and youre flailing about in your boxer-briefs. All this
chaos is keeping him from hitting the right mood at the end of the conversation, which is the keystone
of the scene. After about ten different takes that just aren't working, Andrew knows he cant do it this
way.

He feels like hes drowning. And there is only one way he knows to get the air back into himself. Its
bloody stupid but he doesnt care. Andrew and Eduardo both need it to keep going.

Andrew asks Fincher for a minute to gather himself and walks out of the frame to where Jesse is
standing, hoping he doesnt look as desperate as he feels.

"I don't know what to do, Jess," Andrew says, trying to articulate what he needs. "I don't know why I
can't, ah"

He breaks off to rub a frustrated hand across his face, smashing his brow together with worried fingers.
Jesse bites his lip, looking lost as to how to help.

"You can do this," Jesse says after a minute. "I'm here."

"I know," Andrew says, fisting a hand in his hair. "I know. But I just can't get there, you know? It should
be like you just told me that you love me and you want to marry me and grow old together or
something.

Andrew is going to ask now, and he knows he wont be able to take it back, but its what he needs and
what Eduardo needs and what he needs, needs, needs, needs.

Can you... can you just say that?"

"What?"

"Just tell me that you love me," Andrew says.

Jesse looks astounded. "Seriously?"

"I mean, I'm just, I'm desperate for some kind of affection from you, aren't I? This whole thing has been
about trying to get through to you, so that I need my CFO has got to feel like I love you to me," Andrew
says, meaning it all too much. "You know how Mark really feels, right? So, can you just, like, remove
whatever enormous blockage is keeping him from ever expressing or communicating his feelings for a
minute? Just be Mark, but open him up."

Andrew touches one of Jesse's fingers, just barely. Please please Jess. For me.

Jesse finally looks up.

"Wardo," Jesse says, and Andrew's smiling already, "you're my best friend, and I love you."

Andrew feels the impact of those words like a brick wall feels a wrecking ball. It totally breaks the barrier
that was holding back Eduardo and Andrew both. He deepens his grip on Jesse's palm.


"You're the only one who knows how to talk to me. Everyone else just thinks I'm weird and
unapproachable, but you like me. You're the best thing in my whole stupid life because you get me, and
you're not afraid of anything, and you're just, you're amazing and brilliant and I couldn't have done any
of this without you, and you're my best friend, and I love you."

Andrew feels his heart taking root in his body. It feels like a prayer, like something he didnt even have a
name for. The story is true.

"And we're gonna get married," Andrew says, swaying his hips a little.

"Yeah," Jesse says, "we'll get married and buy a house in the Poconos and have brunch with the
neighbors."

"I like brunch," Andrew says, so stupidly smiling. He lowers his voice and leans in so that his forehead is
almost touching Jesses. "Thank you."

He squeezes Jesse's hand for a fraction of a second, and then he's waving for the crew to get ready to
roll one more time.

The take is perfect.

As Andrew retreats to his trailer, he plays Jesses speech back in his mind, firing off tic marks like theyre
bullets. Things more than friends do, things more than friends do, things more than friends do, things
more than friends do! He feels dangerously giddy.

He truly believes that speech was Jesse speaking to Andrew as much as it was Mark speaking to
Eduardo. And it changes everything.

Andrews sure now. Hes going to unfold himself fully, putting every piece out onto the table.

Hes going to tell Jesse.

***

Andrew's pro & con list, edited.

***



Andrews never been so frightened or so ferociously happy in his life, and feeling both at once is starting
to overwhelm him. But hes ready. Today is it.

Today, hes going to tell Jesse how he feels.

Hes got it all planned outits one of the first days theyve had off together in awhile, and hes put
together a heap of surprises for Jesse. Theyre going to drive out to Bridgewater and head straight to a
record shop so Andrew can pick up a present for Jesse. Then theyll be off to this intimate little coffee
house, then to the restaurant that Andrew agonized over choosing, then to the tree lighting (which is
supposed to be spectacular). After all that, there is a little candle-lit patisserie hes going to take Jesse to
for dessert. Thats where hes going to tell him.

Andrews sure that as the moment approaches, the terror of it all will become stronger than the thrill,
but right now hes just too wildly excited to focus on that aspect of the adventure. All he can think now
is that this will be the most amazing date of his life (even if Jesse might not, you know, technically be
aware that its a date).

There is just one problem with the plan: Jesse will not wake up.

Andrews been awake for almost three hours already, bumming around the living room, drinking

approximately a trough of coffee, and trying to keep sane while waiting for Jesse to emerge from
hibernation. Hes pressed his ear against Jesses door about two dozen times, listening desperately for
any sign he might be stirring. But there is absolutely nothing! Andrew is beginning to understand the
literal definition of stir crazy as hes started just spinning in place for want of something to with all this
unbound energy.

Once the clock clicks past eleven, Andrews had enough. Time for the British invasion!

He turns the doorknob to Jesses room softly, trying not to bust in with all his limbs at once the way he
wants to. He can see now that Jesse is most certainly asleep, coiled up just the way he was that morning
at the hotel in Baltimore.

That memoryof waking up next to Jesse, together in a tangle of sheetssuddenly cascades over
Andrew, curling around his limbs and holding him in a warm embrace of wanting.

He hopes to wake up next Jesse just like that tomorrow.

Oh bloody hell...
did I really just think that?

Andrew immediately questions the misfiring of his mind, not sure how to process the fact that his brain
is already suggesting things like: if tonight goes well, I could be spending tomorrow morning tumbled
into bed into with Jesse. Then maybe I could spend every morning tumbled into bed with Jesse.

The chance of that future is so slim, he knows. But it exists. And thats enough to make the grin hes
wearing now feels like its permanently etched onto his face.

Today cannot start soon enough.

He takes one last lingering look at Jesse before bounding directly onto his bed. He feels a tinge of guilt at
disturbing him, but its as though Andrew is on fire and the only way his skin can be extinguished is if
Jesse wakes up. He just cant stop himself.

He very softly runs a hand over Jesses back and through his hair, hoping to wake him up gently, without
totally terrifying him. After a few minutes of this (which Andrew has to admit he thoroughly enjoys),
Jesse finally begins to wake.

"Do not be alarmed," Andrew says once hes sure Jesse can hear him. "There is an Andrew in your bed."
He cant even imagine how giddy he must look.

"Why," is all that emerges from Jesse's mouth. That is not exactly the bright note Andrew wanted to
start the day on, but hell take it. He springs up onto his knees, ruffles Jesse's hair, and says "Hello!"

"What is wrong with you?" Jesse moans miserably, trying to pull back as far into the bed as he can go.

"Come, now," Andrew insists, tugging the covers away from him, "I've just had my morning coffee."

"To wash down all the meth," Jesse suggests sarcastically, but Andrew sees the whisper of a smile start

to form on his lips.

"Jess," Andrew says scoldingly, launching himself across Jesse's body so he absolutely cannot be ignored.
"The sun is shining! It's our day off! Do you really want to waste the whole thing in bed?"

Well, then again, that is another good plan Andrews mind bleeps unhelpfully, his thoughts wandering
into an unsafe direction.

"You are not Ferris Bueller, Jesse complains, and I refuse to get out of bed for a man dressed like a
member of Vampire Weekend."

"Ooh, two for two on pop culture references and not even awake for a full minute," Andrew says,
climbing off of Jesse and rolling him onto his back. "I am impressed."

Jesse pulls the blanket up over his face successfully this time. "You're a bad influence."

Andrew yanks it back down. "Nonsense, I'm delightful."

"No, you are actually a psychopath," Jesse says. He's pawing after the blanket, but Andrew won't give it
back. "The only reason you're being so friendly is because I woke up before you got a chance scalp me."

"You can't possibly prove that," Andrew tells him.

Jesse sighs. "Why are you in my bed?"

That one stung a bit. But still, not enough to dent Andrews happiness.

"Because," Andrew answers cheerfully, bouncing up and down on the mattress, "we're going on a trip!"

Jesse rolls back into the fetal position and wraps a pillow around his head. "No, we're not. I'm going to
go back to sleep, and you're going to crawl back to the enchanted forest from whence you came until a
more reasonable hour."

"Jesse," Andrew says. He draws out the second e in a stern tone, trying to make Jesse take him seriously.
"It is eleven in the morning, and I will not abide your grumpery today."

"That is not a word at all.

Jesse finally cracks one eye open. Andrew beams at him with his entire body.

"Okay," Jesse says after a minute. "Hypothetically. If I were to agree to go somewhere with you today,
where would it be?"

SUCCESS!

"You'll see! It's a surprise," he replies.

After a bit of a struggle to get Jesse out the door in a timely fashion, theyre finally on the road, driving

across Massachusetts. Andrew was so excited to get going that he insisted Jesse get ready at top speed,
which he of course resisted in his adorable curmudgeonly way. Jesse seems perfectly happy now,
though, listening to Andrew rattle off directions from his phone over the sounds of Mama Cass on the
radio.

As they near Bridgewater, Andrew directs Jesse to pull into the desolated parking lot in front of the
record store. Jesse looks perplexed at being here, which makes the surprise even sweeter. He drags
Jesse inside the shop, where Peter, the owner, is expecting them. As soon as Andrew introduces himself,
Peter produces the record out from behind the counter, wrapped in a brown paper bag. Andrew
snatches it up and turns to Jesse, hugging it to his chest.

"Guess what this is," Andrew says.

"A gift certificate to Denny's," Jesse guesses. "A Mexican family. A small boat."

"Wrong, wrong, and wrong," Andrew tells him giddily. "You remember that song you played for me the
other day? 'Try to remember a kind of September?' Well, I loved it, so I looked it up and found out it was
from a musical, and I figured you must really like it since you never play anything for me, so I called
around until I found..."

Andrew turns the envelope over and shows Jesse his surprise: the original cast recording of the music
from The Fantasticks. He presses it into Jesse's hands.

"Andrew" Jesse says, his voice straining.

"I know we're not going to have time to do it right," Andrew says, "but this is part one of your Hanukkah
gifts from me. We can listen to it on my record player at home."

Jesse's mouth moves soundlessly for a few moments as he looks up at Andrew. "I didn't get you
anything," he finally says.

"So?" Andrew replies, not seeing how that is even remotely relevanthe didnt give that to Jesse to get
anything back. All he ever wants is just for Jesse to be happy.

Jesse looks at Andrew thenthe same way he did that day on the couch, like hes trying to drink
Andrew with his eyes, but there is just too much to take in all at once, so he ends up drowning instead.
Andrew wants Jesse to look at him like that every day.

Andrew pays for the record, and they leave the shop. On the walk back to the car, Jesse thanks Andrew
profusely, and slides his gift partially out of its sleeve to touch the grooves, running his fingers over the
record with loving delicacy.

When he does that, it makes Andrew so bloody blissful that he wants to crash into Jesse and kiss him
right then. But he holds himself back, trying to stick with the plan. Which is already going spectacularly
well, he thinks with unabashed glee.

When they get back to the car, Andrew makes Jesse leave the record under the seat, and informs him
that this isn't end of the day, not even close. Andrew doesnt remember the last time he was so happy.


They head to the coffee shop Andrew picked out next, enjoying cappuccinos while discussing art and
philosophy and Jesses guitar playing and all the new Siken poetry Andrews been reading. They go to
take a walk around town next, and unexpectedly find a lovely park where they end up spending two
hours on a swing set kicking at each others' ankles and sharing headphones while Andrew picks the
music. It isnt part of the plan, but it is perfect. Afterwards, they head to dinner and have the amazing
bisque dish Andrew read all about.

Jesse seems happy, so happy, and every time his perfect dimples dot his smile on both sides, Andrews
heart leaps in his chest. It happens so many times that it feels like Andrews heart is just dancing at this
point.

Its the best night of his life.

They leave dinner just as the sun is setting, the whole world falling into shades of crimson and copper.
Andrew smiles and tells Jesse he's got something else planned, for when it gets dark. They get back in
the car and Andrew has Jesse drive them to the edge of town. Thats where the tree lighting festival is
happening, and he cant wait for Jesse to see it. Andrew grabs him by the sleeve of his coat when they're
out of the car, and leads him to the center of things, taking big happy strides all the way there.

"So, um," Jesse says after they arrive, the world ablaze with golds and greens. "This is. This has been
really nice."

"Nice?" Andrew says. "Look at all this! It's a Christmas miracle!" He cant help himselfhe twirls right on
the spot, feeling so high on the moment.

"No, I mean," Jesse says, "everything. The whole day. I just wanted to say, thank you."

Andrew turns and beams at him.

"It was my pleasure," he replies, never meaning something more.

Jesse smiles back at him, and the lights all seem to burn that much brighter.

Suddenly Jesse says, How do you do that thing you do, where you just say whatever you feel to
everyone all the time?" The words come out in a rush, spilling from his lips all at the same time. His face
looks pained.

"What?" Andrew asks, genuinely confused.

Jesse drops his eyes and starts picking at the skin on the side of his thumbnail. "I was just wondering,
because... I don't know, I could never do that. I mean, doesn't it scare you?"

Jesse cant even begin to know how scary it is, Andrew thinks. And its funny Jesse would say this, when
Jesse is the one person Andrew actually cant do that with. He always has to be guarded with Jesse,
always careful not to say or do exactly what he feels, for fear of losing him.

"I don't know, Jess. We're just different, I think, he replies after a few moments, measuring out his

words. We're both really soft and exposed in a lot of places, but it's almost like bits of you are raw or
something, you know? It's like you don't want to let anything touch you too much, or like you can't. I'm
not like that." Andrew thinks of Jesses sparrow reactions, but isnt sure its a good idea to use that
metaphor just now.

"Yeah," he says to his feet. Andrew can see Jesse's whole body tightening up, his hands curling into
cramped fists.

Andrew suddenly realizes something is wrong here, and grabs Jesse by the elbow.

"Wait," he says, "Jess, I didn't mean"

Andrew moves in closer to Jesse, trying to get Jesse to look up at him so he can read his eyes. Andrew
shouldve known it was bloody stupid to tell someone as raw as Jesse that, oh, yes, you are, youre so
very raw and I see that quite clearly, along with the whole world. What could make Jesse retreat back
into his shell more than saying something like that?

"No, no, it's okay," Jesse finally insists. He looks up and smiles, but it seems forced to Andrew. "I know.
You're totally right. I should probably just be sealed in a cryogenic chamber or something. Better for
everyone."

Andrew feels Jesses words like a slap. This is wrong, this is all wrong. The last thing in the world he
wanted was to make Jesse feel badly tonight, to make him retreat into his shell further. And bollocks if
Andrew is going to let Jesse speak like that about himself. Jesse is the most amazing person Andrew's
ever met, and its infuriating that Jesse has no concept of his own worth.

"Jess, don't start with the self-deprecating bullshit, okay? he says firmly. It's me." Andrews voice is silk
over steel.

Andrew needs Jesse to know what he means to him. He needs Jesse to hear it, really hear it, right now,
before he pulls away from Andrew for good. It cant wait until dessert.

Andrew moves his hand down to one of Jesse's fists and works it loose. He places Jesses palm flat
against his own chest, right over his heart. He hopes the sure, steady beat will prove to Jesse that he is
certain. That he means every word of what hes about to say.

"You know I adore you."

A thousand emotions click through Jesses eyes in an instant, like the frames of a film reel, spinning and
spinning and spinning. Andrew watches them all go by, not daring to breathe until he knows which one
will lock in place. After an excruciating wait, Jesses eyes finally settle on something Andrew knows very
well. He knows it because its what hes been most afraid of.

"It's okay, seriously. I just, I'm tired. That's all," Jesse says flatly. He pulls away from Andrews chest,
jerking his hand out from under his touch. He takes a wide step back, putting distance between them.
"We should probably start heading home," he says, already turning away from Andrew.

Jesse is several steps ahead before Andrew manages to say, "Okay," and follows.




***

Photo of the patisserie where Andrew was going to take Jesse, printed out and sitting on his bedside
table, along with the other research he did for their date. Andrew sees it the second he walks through
his bedroom door, and immediately throws it in the waste paper bin.


***



Well, you are a right stupid git, arent you.

Thats all Andrew can think as he lies in bed, back from Bridgewater. Its almost 4am now. Hes tried to
sleep for a long time, but it just wont come.

Hes been busy running everything back in his mind, and its all so cruelly clear now.

Jesse didnt even want to go to BridgewaterAndrew had to literally force him out of bed and into the
car for the day. It was probably closer to kidnapping than a date. Andrews heart rips at the thought.

The simple fact is that Jesse has never said anything passionate or loving to Andrew, aside from that one
time Andrew literally begged him to do so during filming. And even then it was Mark saying it, not Jesse.
The most Jesses ever done is call Andrew adequate.

Conversely, Andrews told Jesse he is brilliant, adorable, fascinating, fabulous, and even told him he likes

his bloody legs (and may have mentioned he wanted to chew on them, but he still hopes he didnt say
that part out loud). Hes flirted with Jesse shamelessly in dressing rooms, grocery shops, on set, at
home, and everywhere in between. As much as he was striving for happy medium most of the time,
Andrew is certain his affection was unmistakable.

He even held Jesses hand, straight over his own heart, and said I adore you. And Jesse walked away.

Its perfectly clear now that Jesse feels nothing for Andrew. Nothing more than a friend. How Andrew
couldve gotten it in his head that Jesse actually fancied him, he has no bloody idea.

Andrew notices drops rolling off his cheek, dripping softly onto his pillow. They make a gentle sound as
they fall, a rhythmic plop, plop, plop against the fabric. Hes not sure how long hes been crying.

He cant handle this all alone right now. He fumbles his hand across the bedside table until he feels the
buttons on his mobile. He grabs it and dials Careys number in the dark, so thankful its already morning
over in England.

Hey lovely, how are you? she greets warmly, picking up the phone right away.

He realizes now he is actually not even in a proper state to form words. Silence just hangs from his end
of the line.

Andrew? Carey asks, concerned.

Carey I its about Jesse. His voice breaks when he says the name.

Hes already told Carey quite a lot about Jesse, but he fills her in on everything thats happened since
they last spokeabout how Jesses heart beat against his own that day, and how Andrew asked him to
say he loved him on set, and how hed planned the whole date in Bridgewater to finally tell Jesse
everything. Then Andrew tells her exactly what happened in Bridgewater. He can barley get though it,
the pain so raw and ripping at him still.

Carey needs a moment to take it all in before she speaks, her voice calm and steady.

So, if I have this right, you didnt actually tell him that you love him? You just said, I adore you, do I
have that bit down? she asks.

Andrew doesnt really understand the relevance, but answers, Right, yeah, I didnt technically say I
love you, but I think the confession was bloody unmistakable.

Andrew, I dont know. What if youre wrong? What if Jesse just didnt understand what you were trying
to tell him?

Carey, Im sure he knew exactly what I meant. How else can you explain his reaction? Pulling away so
fiercely? If he didnt realize the weight of what Id said, why react like that? Andrew asks.

I well, I dont know, she admits. But Andrew, I think youre wrong. I think Jesse does care for you,
deeply, and he truly might love you back. But Jesse will never just come out and say it. From all the ways

youve described him, its clear hes not the type to come forward first with his feelings. Youd have to
tell him you love him before hed bring himself to tell you.

That well, that bit about him never being able to say it first may be true. But Carey, I did say it! I put
his hand over my heart, told him I adore him, and in the end he just turned away from me. What more
can I do? Andrew asks, desperate.

You can tell him that you love him. Properly. In those exact words.

Andrew sighs, exasperated with that answer. How can she ask that of him? Hes already unhinged every
part of himself and put it in front of Jesseand Jesse walked away. Literally. Now Andrew feels like hes
just pieces, spilt out everywhere, broken and unbound. He cant put himself together again just to be
dismantled a second time.

Carey, I cant do that. Theres nothing for it. I dont think he loves me, and Im not going to be fool
enough to try and force my affections on him again. At this point, its just damage control. He hears her
make an exasperated sound on the other end of the line, but she lets it go.

Well, how was the car ride home? she asks.

Bleeding miserable, he tells her, remembering how much louder the silence was than the sound of the
radio.

How can I go and bloody be on set tomorrow for 16 hours with him? Andrew asks. How can I even
ride in the car to set with him, sitting there for an hour, with everything so different now? Andrew has
never known such utter misery.

Andrew, Carey says, her voice thick with sympathy, even if he doesnt love you romantically, you
know he still loves you as Andrew. You must know that much at least. And that means hes going to be
working just as hard as you to keep the friendship together.

Andrew does see a certain logic in that. But its hardly comforting to think of how far hell have to pull
back his affection to just be Jesses friend, and no more, now and forever.

But how do I do that, Carey? Do I act like nothing even happened today?

Things might not be exactly the same as they were before, she says kindly, but they dont have to be
miserable either. Tomorrow, try doing all the same things. Make breakfast together, laugh on your way
to set, watch Doctor Who when you get home. Settle back into your routine. I bet it will feel like slipping
on your favorite jumper. Itll be comfortable and familiar, I promise.

Andrew doesnt know if he believes her, but he does like the idea of getting to keep hold of that unique
nearness he and Jesse have. Even if they cant be anything more, keeping that might be enough for
Andrew.

Well, he says, that sounds bloody difficult, but it is good advice. Ill give it a go. Thank you, Carey.
Truly.

He can feel her smile over the phone. Anytime.

Just before they hang up, she says one last thing. Dont give up on him, Andrew. No matter how things
feel now, I promise hell be just as important to you tomorrow as he was to you today.

After a moment, she adds, And vice-versa.

Andrew takes a deep breath, wanting to will Careys words into reality.

Love you, Car. Andrew clicks the line closed.

After a few minutes, he hears rustling in the flat, and guesses Jesse isnt sleeping well either. Then he
starts to hear other things a papery sound, then something scratchy, then some very melodic notes.

He realizes Jesse is in the living room, listening to the record Andrew gave him.

Despite everything, despite it all, Jesse is listening to the record. If Jesse is doing that, then today must
have meant something to Jesse, even if it didnt mean what it did for Andrew.

That sound makes him think, for the first time tonight, that they could be okay.


***



Listened to from start to finish for three consecutive nights. The notes feel like they're knitting Andrew
back into one piece.


***



Things, for the most part, fall back together again.

They maintain their routine around the flat, spending nights on the couch watching Doctor Who and

mornings making pancakes as they laugh about whatever happened the night before. They still listen to
music and debate line interpretations on the drive into set, and still brush their teeth while banging hips
in the bathroom, both trying to use the sink at the same time. Jesse still laughs at his jokes and loves his
Briticisms and hates his fingerless gloves. Its amazing how much of it feels the same, really.

And the fact is, its not as though Andrew could simply avoid Jesse and go mop up his broken heart on
his own, even if he wanted to. Jesse is his flat mate and his costar, and no matter how they feel about
each other personally, those facts are not going to change for a long while. Its just one of the many
reasons hes thankful theyre still friends.

There were some hitches at first, of course. After shooting a stressful scene a couple of weeks ago,
Andrew went to pull playfully on one of Jesses curlsas he always used to dobut Jesse immediately
yanked back from Andrew, shirking his touch.

He hasnt done anything like that since.

The biggest difference, though, is Andrews increasing melancholy. Its hard for him to sleep properly
now, knowing that Jesse is just in the next room yet still an unbridgeable distance apart from him. Hes
also taken to smoking far more frequently, even between takes, to relieve the stress of the situation.
And worst of all, hes started slipping out onto the porch after Jesse falls asleep every night, calling Carey
or pouring though his Cummings & Neruda for the umpteenth time, hoping to push the pain away on
those far too frequent evenings it threatens to swell up and choke him.

Still, not much has changed between them. And its truetheir familiar routine has been a great
comfort to Andrew, just as Carey said it would be.

After a stretch of nonstop shooting, they're finally getting a full week off for the holidays. Andrew hopes
the break will be good for them, even though hell miss Jesse terribly. They're both flying out of Boston
on the same morning, so Andrew makes them breakfast and then Jesse drives them both to the airport.
It's raining on the way, not enough to delay their flights, but enough that they have to share Andrew's
umbrella on the way in, their suitcases knocking one another as they awkwardly huddle together. They
cant help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Every time he can laugh with Jesse, if feels like catharsis. He breathes far easier afterwards, the air
finally able to fill his lungs correctly.

They eventually arrive, half-soaked but in high spirits. While Jesse is busy checking his bag, Andrew grabs
a luggage tag and starts writing something for him. There is something he wants Jesse to know.

Andrew keeps the luggage tag note hidden in his pocket as they make their way through security. Once
inside, Jesse buys Andrew a pack of gum in one of the little convenience stores, telling Andrew he
remembered how he always gets awful headaches right after takeoff. Andrew takes a piece and chews
happily all the way to Jesse's gate.

"This is it, then," Andrew says. He pretends to look at his boarding pass as he asks Jesse, "Are you going
to miss me?"

"Yes, but I've saved a couple clippings of your hair, so I think that should get me by," Jesse replies.

Andrew just laughs and steps on his foot, and Jesse pinches his tongue between his teeth.

"Are you?" Jesse asks him in return.

Andrew loves that Jesse just said that. He looks down, smiling. "Like mad."

As they hug goodbye, Andrew slips the note into Jesses pocket. He hopes Jesse finds it soon, and knows
how much Andrew means it.

***

Jesse's mom washes his jeans before he can find the note, turning the paper to pulp. Jesse later
discovers a few crumbled blue and white pieces in his pocket. It makes him feel strangely lonely.

***

{ part iv }



So, it turns out, Andrew was wrong.

He hoped that spending some time apart would be good for them. The idea of trying to get over Jesse
while they were still pressed together in their flat seemed about as effective as trying to dry off when
youre still underwater. Andrew thought that putting an ocean and a few thousand kilometers between
them would be enough to finally let him breathe a bit easier, if only just for the week.

He was entirely mistaken.

Any hope he had for relief vanished as soon as he stepped off the plane and saw how cheerless
everything looked. It was like the world had been brushed black and white, drained of all the tangled
colors of Jesse.

You hate airports, Andrew. Thats what he told himself at first. He hoped finally seeing his family would
ease him into thingsmake him realize all this melancholy is due more to baggage claim than a full-
blown breakdown of Eisenberg proportions.

Everything looks a bit bleak when youre in baggage claim after all, he reasoned, a tinge of desperation
to his thoughts.

His mum and dad came to meet him, and just being with them did make his spirits lift. He gave them

both monstrous hugs, and listened delightedly as they caught him up on whatd been happening at
home, warning him that his brother was at the moment wearing the most hideous holiday jumper in the
history of knitting, and that Andrew should try not to make fun of him too much for it once they arrived
at the house. They all had a good laugh at that, and hugged and hugged again, and it all started to feel
like home somehow.

On the way to the car, his mum began to fuss and fret over him right away, asking if hed been eating
enough and if the shooting schedule had been too taxing on him and, oh, that reminded her, how was
Jesse, and where was Jesse now, back with his family in the states?

Oh thanks, mum, Andrew thought to himself, frustrated that he wasnt able to fend off the topic even
long enough to make it to the car.

He tried to answer her as casually as he could, but he still saw the worry begin to crease around her eyes
as he fumbled together a poor reply. He smiled brightly at her after he finished speaking, a pathetic
attempt to vanish her suspicions. Andrew was used to telling his mum most things about his life, but he
didnt particularly want her to know that he was maybe probably on the brink of a severe emotional
collapse over unrequited love for his costar.

Jesus. Just thinking that out loud made him feel exhausted.

On the drive home, Andrews cheerless mood began to creep back over him, slowly stretching across his
skin the way a shadow bleeds across pavement. His eyes trailed the landscape lazily as he stared out the
window, and eventually he texted Jesse something stupid about all the sheep he saw just to make some
kind of contact. It was all he could do to keep from texting I love you I love you I love you I bloody bloody
bloody love you.

And that was just the first hour.

Ever since that first day at the airport, its only gotten worse. Being away from Jesse is excruciating. It
actually feels like Andrew is trying to breathe through a straw after running a marathon up a mountain.
Why he thought this break was a good idea he would never bloody know.

He tries to keep his spirits up during his days at home, determined to spend as much time as he can not
thinking about Jesse. This turns out to be quite difficult, since of course all anyone wants to talk with
him about is the film and how its going, which is a topic inescapably steeped in Jesse. This drives him to
spend most of his time avoiding adults and instead playing with his niece and cousins, who mercifully
could not care less about him being in a facebook movie.

He went out for the night with his brother yesterday as a new distraction technique, but even in a loud
drunken crowd, he couldnt get Jesse off his mind. He ended up texting him some typo-riddle drivel
about being smashing, which Andrew found on his phone the next day. He was horrified, yet strangely
relieved that he hadnt said he wanted to chew on Jesse thighs like he did the last time he was so deeply
drunk. A small mercy.

To be honest, the most fun hes had at home was sending Jesse his Hanukkah gifts. He just wishes he
could be there to put them all in Jesses hands himself.

Andrew is sitting on the couch now, his whole family surrounding him, chatting happily with one
another about how delicious the curry and challah and cranberry sauce were. But he is somewhere else
entirely. Hes back at the flat, on a different couch, holding Jesse as they watch the tele. He sighs a bit
too deeply, and realizes he needs to be alone for a few minutes. He excuses himself to go make a cup of
tea.

He was able to pick up his routine at home easily enough, but something about this all feels mechanical,
as though whatever intangible consecration makes a place home has shifted right beneath his feet. This
simply doesnt feel as much like home as his flat with Jesse does. Here there are no debates about
Donna Noble or a mess of quilts to melt into or musicals playing in the background. Here his toast does
not fly.

And none of that is even it, if he admits it to himself. Its not about the flat really. Or about the sofa or
the film set or Massachusetts or anyplace you can put on a map. It's just Jesse. Hes the home Andrew
misses.

Lost in thought, Andrew accidently makes a second tea, exactly the way Jesse takes it.

Once he realizes what hes done, he puts the cup carefully into the sink, not able to bring himself to
pour it out. He feels a vicious stab of loneliness as he stares at the cup, wrenching him like a wound.

It turns out to be the best burst of pain hes ever felt, though, because thats when he gets the idea.


***

Best. Plan. Ever.

***


This is mad. This is so, so, so bloody mad, Andrew thinks as he rushes through JFK, whizzing around
railings and leaping at the end of every escalator just to get out of the airport a few minutes faster.

He couldnt stand to be apart from Jesse another day. That orphaned teacup was just too much to take.
As soon as the idea came to him, he rushed to tell his mum. He told her everything in fact, because it all
came out in a flood he just couldnt stop, but truthfully she had already guessed most of it. She really is
the best mum in the world.

She broke the news that Andrew was leaving early to his dad and to the rest of the family while Andrew
rushed to find the number for Jesses parents.

He got a hold of Jesses mom right away, and she was just as lovely as hed imagined she would be. For
some reason, she didnt find it strange at all that Andrew wanted to come spend the day with them
before heading back to set. He wasnt sure what that easy acceptance meant exactly, but he was
extremely grateful he hadnt been pressed to produce some semi-plausible-non-lovesick explanation for
his visit. He got directions to the house from her, along with a promise to not tell Jesse a thing, and as
soon as they hung up he was back on the phone again booking a new ticket out.

He left within the hour, packed and paraded around for goodbyes at top speed. He wasnt sure what
excuse his mum had given to everyone, but it must have been convincing because no one seemed to
question his swift departure.

His flight felt far too long, but is running now, running out the airport doors and leaping into the
cabstand line, his body abuzz with the rush of it all. He really has no right to be this excited, considering
that being near Jesse has been just as hard as its been happy lately. Ever since the heartbreak of
Bridgewater their constant proximity has been bloody painful, so painful Andrews been banishing
himself to the porch every night with his poetry, trying to center himself just enough to keep it together
for the next day.

He shouldn't be so happy right now, but he is. He just wants to run and run and run to Jesse and worry
about what happens next once hes there.

The cab ride seems to stretch on for hours, but, after a quick stopover to pick up some Magnolias, he
eventually makes it to the address Jesses mum gave him. He pays the driver double and leaps from the
car like its on fire, bounding breathless towards the front door.

A shock hits his skin when his finger finds the doorbell. He presses it once, and waits.

After a few seconds that feel like centuries, Jesse opens the door. He looks a mess, wearing sweatpants
about three sizes too small for him and a t-shirt with a questionable orange stain on it, his hair curling
unkempt around his glasses to give it all a finishing touch. He is absolutely perfect.

"Surprise!" Andrew says, smiling so hard it hurts. "Part three!"

Jesse just stares at him for a long moment, his face utterly blank. Andrew experiences a sudden panic
attack, terrified that hes got this all wrongagainand that Jesse will actually be aghast that hes here
and is going to tell him to leave immediately.


Instead, Jesse says, "I'm wearing my sister's sweatpants."

Andrews laugh bellows from his whole body. "Missed you too."

"What" Jesse stammers, "what happened to England?"

Andrew shrugs. "You're here." Its far too honest, but he says it anyway.

Jesse blinks and bites down hard on the smile hes trying to hide. It makes Andrews heart heave against
his ribs.

"And, how, um, did you know where here is, exactly?" Jesse asks.

"I called your mum!" Andrew says brightly. "Got the address, flew in a day early, took a cab. She's lovely,
by the way, your mum. She didn't tell you I was coming, did she? I wanted it to be a surprise."

"No, sheyou called my mom?" Jesse asks, looking wary.

"Yeah. Your parents are, er, they're in the phone book." Oh bloody hell, I am a stalker. "That's not
creepy, is it?" Andrew asks, afraid Jesse is about to request a restraining order.

"No," Jesse says immediately. "It'swow, hi, come in."

Jesse steps back to welcome him into the house and smiles straight at Andrew. It makes his stomach
shoot up into his chest, feeling like the momentary rush you get when a rollercoaster spills down a steep
incline.

Or maybe this is just what butterflies feel like. Hes never really gotten those until Jesse.

"Thanks," Andrew says, smiling back at Jesse as he drags his suitcase over the threshold. "Anyway, I
wanted to bring you your presents like I promised. Where should I put all this rubbish?"

Just then, a woman who Andrew recognizes right away as Jesses mum comes round the corner.

"Andrew!" she says, sweeping him swiftly into a hug that almost knocks the box of cupcakes out of his
arms. "It's so nice to finally meet you! How was your flight?"

It was a breeze! And it is so lovely to meet you, thank you so much for having me. What a beautiful
home! And you kept the secret, you dove! I think we gave Jesse a proper shock, Im so pleased. She
laughs with him about that all the way to the kitchen, Andrew already feeling like hes known her for
ages.

She shows him where to put the cupcakes (surprise part four!, he tells them) and the rest of the hour
sweeps by in a flash, Jesses mum foisting food on him and asking him a hundred questions hes
perfectly happy to answer.

Eventually, Jesse leads Andrew upstairs to his room to deposit his suitcase, and Andrew cant keep the

stupid smile off his face. He gets the definite sense that Jesse wants to be alone with him, and the
ecstasy of it all is making him feel a bit blurred around the edges.

"So," Jesse says, opening the door with his hip. "This is it. You can, uh, you can put your stuff in here."

Andrew tosses the bag aside, never taking his eyes off of Jesse. The room feels like its folding in,
pressing them closer together. They were standing three feet from one another just a minute ago,
Andrew is sure, but somehow theyre only a few inches apart now.

Jesses cheeks tint a touch red as he gives a small shrug. Then he bites his lip in that way that drives
Andrew insane. He very seriously considers crashing into Jesse then, kissing him fiercely and forgetting it
all.

Instead, he just says, "Do you have any idea how boring life is without you now? Andrew lets out a
noise somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. Its such a relief not to be on opposite sides of an ocean
anymore.

Jesse unconsciously angles in closer again, as though he cant stand to have even an inch of empty air
between them. Andrew knows the feeling. He was starved for Jesse. He couldnt manage a day more
without him.

Hes tugging on the hem of Jesse's shirt now, just barely. Everything finally feels quiet. Andrew is home.

He doesnt really know what to say thats safe, so for once, he forgets caution and tells Jesse exactly
what hes thinking.

"You have ruined me forever. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Jesse leans a fraction of an inch deeper into Andrews touch, just enough that Andrews knuckles brush
the skin over Jesses hipbone. The contact feels like lightning lacing through his fingers.

"I'm not really very sorry at all," Jesse says, just above a whisper.

Andrew closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, desperate to drink the moment in. For this one
suspended second, it feels almost as though theyre in love.
***

Jesse's Hanukkah Gift #5, the other three parts being a box of brown sugar and cinnamon Pop-Tarts
(Jesse's favorite of course), Sufjan Stevens' Illinois album, and his very own motorcycle helmet, which
Jesse swears never to use

***



Jesse's gift to Andrew, along with a pair of festive socks, the soundtrack to The Light in the Piazza, a
pad of post-it notes with a different drawing on each one, a wool hat, a Keats collection because Jesse
thinks he'll like it and it might get him off of all the cummings for a while, TARDIS coffee mug, and
another pair of socks

***


They've only got the rest of the day in New York before they have to head back to work, and it's already
getting dark. Andrew has a reservation at a hotel for the night, absolutely not wanting to impose on
Jesses family. But the snow has gotten so thick throughout the day that Jesse's mom refuses to let him
back out on the roads. After a little bit of negotiating, it's finally decided that Andrew will spend the
night on the living room couch.

Andrew cant help but be a bit too happy about the turn of events. The idea of spending the night totally
alone in a hotel, after hed come all this way just to be with Jesse, was the one part of his plan he hadnt
be looking forward to.

Jesse's dad eventually makes it home through the snow and Andrew immediately leaps up to greet him.
After he and Jesse exchange their Hanukkah gifts (the TARDIS mug is just too much!), they eat dinner, all
five of them around the table with plates of perfect pot roast and Andrew regaling them all with stories
about his trip to England and what it's like shooting a movie with Jesse. Andrew can feel Jesses eyes on
him all night, watching him warmly. It makes Andrew dangerously giddy.

After dinner, theres some amazing chocolate cake Jesses mum made, and they each take a huge slice
as they settle in for the evening, Jesse and Andrew and Hallie Kate and Jesse's mum and dad and the
cats and reruns of Seinfeld on the TV. After a bit, Jesses parents turn in for the evening, both hugging
Andrew goodnight before they go. He spends the next two hours talking with Hallie Kate and petting
Pickles, Jesses surliest cat. Or so Jesse tells himAndrew thinks Pickles is just delightful.

And it all fits. It fits so well its scary. Being here feels like sipping tea in front of a fire in the house you
grew up in with everyone you love in the room with you. Its pure warmth.

The clock clicks past midnight, and Andrew finally confesses he has to sleep, making profuse apologies
through massive yawns. He kisses Hallie Kate on the top of the head and then darts up the stairs to get
ready for bed, hoping Jesse will follow.

Andrew is busy brushing his teeth when Jesse walks in and leans against the doorframe, smiling at
Andrew's reflection over his shoulder. Andrew smiles a foamy smile back at him, then spits, rinses, and
turns around.

"Your family," Andrew says, making his way past Jesse to his suitcase, which is lying open in the middle
of the floor, "is fantastic. Not that I expected anything less. Your sister is about five-hundred years old
inside, isn't she?" He starts pulling on pajamas as he talks, knowing he cant hold off sleep for much
longer.

"She really is," Jesse replies, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

"I'll have to take you back home one day," Andrew says as he wrestles a t-shirt on. "I'm sure my family
would love you." Despite how hard it was to be home this past week, imagining how things might have
been different with Jesse there completely recolors his memories, shining them up like scuffed shoes
you thought you wouldnt want to wear again but now actually quite like. Having Jesse and his family
together would be the most wonderful feelingthe most complete sense of home.

Jesse's smile falters a little. "Maybe," is all he says in reply, his eyes dodging away from Andrew.

Andrew freezes, his t-shirt still only half on, arrested by a sudden pain punching through his chest. It
takes him a minute to remember it all. Oh yes, oh right right right, you are the one in love here, and hes
the one who walked away. Never forget that, Andrew. He walked away from you. Dont pull all your
pieces out onto the table again and expect things to turn out any bloody different.

He strains to put his face back together, needing composure only long enough to leave the room.

"Right," Andrew says, closing his suitcase and taking a swift breath to steady himself. He turns around
and gives Jesse a small smile. "Goodnight, I suppose."

He swings the door closed behind him as he leaves, letting his face fall apart as soon as it shuts.
Thankfully, no one is around to see.

He settles on the couch at last, tucking himself into a pale blue blanket that smells like Jesse. His head
feels heavy on the pillow, filled with thoughts hed rather forget for the night.

Pickles comes to snuggle up against him. Hes thankful for the company.

Andrew realizes then that every inch of him aches with exhaustion. Mercifully, sleep comes quickly,
relaxing his muscles and melting his mind into silence. Its a kindness.

Being in love alone is brutal.

***



Andrew dreams about Jesse. Thats nothing new, of course. But the thing is, this is a great dream.

Lately all his dreams about Jesse have been deeply bleak, usually ending in him bleeding on the side of
the road somewhere after Jesse tosses him out of his car or a taxi or a even off a tandem bike once. It
always ends with Andrew alone, feeling like hes dying in the dust or dirt somewhere. But this dream is
something totally different.

Theyre in a bookstore, a tiny place tucked in some hidden sliver of Manhattan, and theyre pressed up
against a shelf in the back, just laughing. Hes not sure whats so funnyits one of those dreams that
sort of starts in the middle. But Jesse is holding him, holding him in the most casual way, like its nothing
at all, like he holds Andrew this way every day. Then Jesse kisses him.

Andrew feels Jesses lips linger for a long moment against his own, less like theyre kissing and more like
theyre trying to slide into Andrews, their mouths corresponding pieces to a puzzle only they make.
Andrew rakes his hand through Jesses hair, catching curls around his fingers as he presses the kiss in
closer. Its heat. Its pure heat, and its burning away everything. Its burning away Andrews fears and
Andrews scars and Andrews self-doubt and Andrews sleepless nights and Andrews suffering, aching,
empty everything.

And whats left in its place is a calming tide of contentment. It ebbs and flows between them, Jesse the
push, Andrew the pull. Nothing is unsaid between them, nothing held back anymore. They are one
place.

And thats when Andrew wakes up.

Its cruel really, how beautiful it was. Like giving someone dying of thirst a thimble of the coolest,
clearest water, teasing him with the empty idea of escape.

Andrew stirs, a few blurry blinks telling him that something is strange in the room. A lamp is on
somewhere, hes pretty sure. He opens his eyes a bit wider, fumbling for the source of the unfriendly

light. But then there is Jesse.

Is thiswow, is this real? He blinks harder, trying to sieve sleep from reality.

"Jess?" he mumbles, once hes certain hes really there. "What... what're you doing?" Andrew shifts into
a sitting position, trying to see Jesse properly.

"Sorry, I was just" Jesse stammers, "I-I couldnt sleep." Jesse hugs his arms to his chest, a strangely
self-preserving gesture. "I didn't mean to wake you up. I was just"

Andrew knows that Jesse needs to be taken care of sometime, even when Jesse doesnt know it himself,
like that day on set with the coat in the cold. Something tells Andrew Jesse needs him right now.

"Get over here, then," Andrew insists, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

What?" Jesse says, blinking. "I wasn't"

A noise of impatience rumbles from Andrews chest in response. He grabs Jesse by the t-shirt and pulls
until he pitches forward onto the couch.

"You make things more difficult than they need to be. Andrews never said a truer thing in his life.

He can feel Jesse resisting him, but he knows its only momentary. Jesse finally gives in, dropping himself
against Andrew. He throws his blanket over both of them, curling up against Jesses back.

Maybe its the week they spend apart. Maybe its the flights or the stress or the shooting schedule or
maybe its just the dream Andrew had a minute ago. But whatever it is, Andrew is sure this nearness is
what they both need.

After a few minutes, he feels the last bit of resistance leave Jesses body, their limbs loose and lopping
over one another. Then Jesse says, "Hi."

Andrew is not sure he has the energy to speak just yet, so he nuzzles his face between Jesse shoulders,
hoping Jesse knows that was Andrews sleepy deer version of a greeting. Jesse sighs a little in response.

After a few minutes Andrews awake enough to find his words, and says, "Tell me a story." His voice is
muffled against the fabric of Jesses shirt.

"What?" Jesse asks.

"When I was a kid," Andrew answers, tucking one of his fists up under his chin, "my mum used to make
me tell her stories until I fell asleep."

"Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?" Jesse asks.

Andrew laughs. "She didn't think so."

"II don't..." Jesse says, trailing off.


"Tell me what The Fantasticks is about," Andrew suggests. Its the first thought that comes to him. "I've
listened to the soundtrack start to finish a million times, but I still don't know what it's about. So tell me
the story."

"Um," Jesse says after a moment. "Okay."

And Jesse tells him about Matt and Luisa and how their fathers built a wall between their houses so that
they'd fall in love, because they believed that children would always do what they're told not to do. He
tells him about the arranged kidnapping and how Matt and Luisa had to get together and fall apart and
go figure the world out on their own and crawl bleeding back to each other before they were ready for
things to be real.

Andrew only hears half of it, considering hes so drunk with sleep and distracted by the nearness of
Jesse. But he still hmms and ohhs in all the right places and makes Jesse put on an accent every time he
mentions El Gallo and forces him to sing lines from the songs whenever they fit in. Andrews heart beats
thickly throughout the story, flooded with wantingwanting Jesse to feel safe and wanting this to be
how every night ends and wanting Jesse to love him the way Matt loves Luisa and wanting the story to
stretch on forever like Scheherazades did so they could live a thousand years on this couch just pressed
into one another.

Andrews little trick eventually workshe can feel Jesses breath lengthening, matching the rhythm of
his own. By the end of the story, Jesses words are all slurring together and his eyelids keep sliding
closed. He trails off into silence for a minute, and Andrew strokes his cheek with the back of his hand,
barely touching.

"Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"You ready to sleep?"

"Mmhmm."

Andrew settles a bit deeper into the couch, ready to lose himself to sleep for good this time. Jesses in
his arms, and yeah, it may only be for tonight, but that might just be enough. Spending one night
tumbled together with Jesse might be exactly what he needs.

But then Jesses body is lifting off the couch, pulling away from Andrew.

"Oh, alright," Andrew says, understanding now. Of course Jesse wont stay. It was stupid to think he
would. Never forget, Andrew.

Jesse seems a bit wobbly on his feet, so Andrew shrugs off the blanket and helps hoist him off the
couch, steering Jesse towards the stairs. "Come on, then, up you get."

It all feels a bit like the blind leading the blindor, in this case, the ruinously exhausted leading the
mildly sleepybut right now Jesse needs to be taken care of, and so of course, Andrew is there. It

doesnt matter that Andrews just come off a trans-Atlantic flight or that he sprinted through two
airports to get here or that hes had his heart broken yet again today or that hes got to get up far earlier
than Jesse tomorrow to make yet another flight.

Andrew could be in tatters, bleeding and broken on the side of the road like in all those bitter dreams,
but hed still spend his last breath taking care of Jesse if he could.

As they struggle up the stairs, Jesses fists grope for support, his touch spilling all over Andrew. Jesse
finally manages to get hold of two handfuls of his t-shirt, and Andrew cant help but laugh at the whole
thing. He finally takes Jesse through the door to his room and settles him down into the bed.

"You get these little grabby hands when you're sleepy," Andrew says, pulling the blankets over Jesse.
"Did you know? It's adorable."

It really is.

Jesse mumbles something in response. It sounds a lot like So are you. Andrew chuckles a little at that
and tells Jesse goodnight for the second time today.

He fumbles back down the stairs, sliding his hands along the walls for support. He finds the center of the
room somehow and folds himself into the couch again, Pickles pouncing back into place for the night.

Andrew falls asleep thinking about the wall, about Matt stuck behind it all his life and how much he
wanted the girl on the other side. And about how utterly fucked he is.



***



Andrew breaks open the roll of Polaroid film Jesse gave him to document the adorable kitty critters he
finds still with him on the couch in the morning. He is thankful they chose to stay all night.

***



They both have plane tickets out of New York, but Andrew's flight is much earlier than Jesse's, so he has
to head out first. Andrew hops in a cab straight after breakfast, gushing goodbyes at everyone and
saying how wonderful it was to meet them all. He sincerely means it.

As Andrew boards his plane, all he can think about is last night and everything that passed between
them. His feelings for Jesse are almost crippling now, he knows, and he can sense a breaking point
starting to hint on the horizon. This situation is completely untenable, and the day is coming soon when
everything will change. He can see that now.

A tiny, tender part of him whispers that maybe the change will be them finally finding each other. That
maybe Jesse will come round after all this time and manage to love Andrew back.

That voice is so faint and far away he gives it almost no notice anymore. Hes sure the change is actually
going to come at whatever point Andrew does something far too affectionate, tossing some last straw

on the situation that forces Jesse to finally tell himin no uncertain termsthat nothing will ever
happen between them. That they need to establish some kind of clear distance, because what Andrew
wants is impossible. He can see the blue of Jesses eyes turn to steel as he says it, their warmth closing
off from Andrew for good.

The thought of that is almost too much to take.

For the sake of his present sanity, Andrew pushes it away. Pushes and pushes and pushes until the
terror of it all fits in the tiniest box in the farthest corner of his mind. The day might be coming soon, he
knows, but its not here yet. And hes determined to keep it at bay for as long as possible.

When Andrew gets back to the flat, he starts homemaking immediately, wanting to create a space
where Jesse feels completely safe and taken care of. He cleans up the place a bit, sets the table, makes
dinner, and even puts an episode of Doctor Who on pause so they can settle down into the couch
straight away. He wants to preserve the sense of home he felt laying next to Jesse last night. He wants
to bring back the best parts of their evening together, and toss everything else aside.

Once Jesse finally arrives, he seems so genuinely happy to see Andrew that it makes the whole room
brighten around them. They spend the evening talking about what they've got to film that week and
running lines and watching four episodes of Doctor Who together on the couch. The rest of the week is
just as warm, working and cohabitating and falling back into step with each other. They have a few of
their very best days on set, screwing around between takes and laughing together like nothing can touch
them. It all feels so easy that Andrew begins to forget about that day he sees coming.

But it doesnt last.

After about a week, the whole production temporarily moves to LA to film the Palo Alto footage. They
have an absurd shooting schedule ahead of them with far too few days to finish it all, and theyre filming
some of the hardest scenes of the entire movie, meaning that he and Jesse will not only be taken to the
brink physically, but emotionally as well.

The feeling of home falls apart almost immediately in LA, with Jesse and he in separate hotel rooms on
separate floors often shooting on separate days. Andrew still comes to set with Jesse when he can, and
the studio agrees to let Jesse drive them back and forth instead of using chauffeurs, but it's still not the
same. Andrews also off doing a lot of things without Jesse these days, meeting with directors about
new projects and completing screen tests and getting ready to gear up for Never Let Me Go press.

Andrew find himself starting to lean into the separation a bit, opting to spend his nights apart from Jesse
more and more often, smoking out on his hotel balcony alone. The scenes theyre shooting now all
revolve around Mark and Eduardo being driven apart, and somehow its easier not to knit Jesse and him
back together every night. Why make all that effort when they have to pull the stitches apart on set the
next day anyway?

Or at least thats what he tells himself. Hes sitting alone now, watching the cigarette smoke waft in
rings around him, wishing of course that Jesse were here, but not willing to go to him.

Why should he? Jesse never comes up either.




***

Taken by Andrew during their week back in Massachusetts. He brings it out on the balcony with him
every night, wishing he could will them back to that place.


***


The last thing they're filming in LA is the scene when Eduardo comes to the house in California. It's split
up over two days, which is always terrible for both of them, because neither of them seem to be very
able to shake these scenes off when they're not finished, especially not scenes like this. Andrew knows
its going to be a very rough couple of days.

The first morning actually doesn't start off as awfully as it could have, thanks mostly to Joe and his
uncanny ability to defuse any tension, often with something as small as a well-time eyebrow wiggle in
your general direction. And when Joe calls him War-dooo between every take, it starts to chip away at

the weight on his shoulders.

Unfortunately, the first day of shooting ends up even more grueling than Andrew thought it would be.
He spends all night getting drenched repeatedly and then having to perform this tense, precarious scene
again and again with no break whatsoever. The water they dump on him is completely freezing, and he
starts to seriously question the producers credibility when some perfectly safe gymnastics are not okay
but dousing a lead actor with glacial water from a bucket again and again outside at midnight is no
problem.

After awhile he becomes so deeply immersed in Eduardo that he's just enduring it, shedding everything
in him thats Andrew and subsuming all his personal frustration into the performance.

On top of everything, Justin is totally relentless and exhausting as Sean. After about 40 takes it becomes
too much for Andrew to handle, and all he wants is to do during the single 15 minute break Fincher gives
him is run to Jesse and feel a sliver of something thats not Eduardo.

But when he finally finds Jesse, he sees Mark instead, slumped back against the stairs eating a red vine
and totally ignoring everyone. He knows he wont see Jesse again until the end of the day. It makes him
feel so profoundly lonely that his knees nearly buckle under the weight of it.

And this is all just a prelude to the hallway scene itself, which is the most difficult part of the day by far.
The set is cleared of everyone but Sorkin and Fincher and the crew and a few assistants and they're
corralled into this claustrophobia-inducing hallway and instructed to lay into each other, and they do,
and it's just so bloody taxing for both of them.

When they wrap for the day, it's almost three in the morning. Andrews in so much pain in so many
places it feels like hes been tortured.

On the drive home, he hears himself ask, "Do you think Mark and Eduardo were ever together?"

Andrew doesnt have any idea what makes him say it. Or why hes still using Eduardos voice.

"Like, the real people? Or the movie versions?" Jesse answers, keeping his eyes on the road.

"The characters," Andrew says, needing to clarify because he and Jesse view them as two entirely
different sets of people with two entirely separate histories. "I don't know, it's just that sometimes I feel
like the whole story makes more sense if there was something like that between them at some point. I
mean, for Eduardo, it was never about money or fame or any of that shit. Business was secondary, you
know? He sued Mark because Mark broke his heart."

Jesse twists his fist around the steering wheel. "It wasn't about the money for Mark either."

He reflects on that for a long moment, the thought eventually pushing past Eduardo and making its way
into Andrew. When he speaks again, its in his natural accent.

I think Eduardo's in love with him. Always was. And if they never were together, it was because Mark
couldn't see it." He pauses. "Or because Eduardo was an idiot and never told him."

Hes not quite sure if hes talking about the characters, or Jesse, or himself. But it doesnt matter. Jesse
never answers.

They dont say another word to each other for the rest of the night, and go their separate ways at the
elevator.

Once Andrew makes it to his bed, hes so exhausted that sleep comes immediately. He ends up having a
horrible nightmare, though, and it wrenches him awake after only an hour. Its about Eduardos struggle
with Mark, and its about Andrews struggle with Jesse, and he feels the rage and regret and loneliness
and lost time in both worlds becoming borderless, mixing sorrow for sorrow so deeply that Andrew
struggles for air as soon as he wakes. He rushes out onto the balcony, gasping against the railing.

After a time, he finally steadies himself, pulling a Parliament out of the pack he left here. It tastes foul on
his tongue, but thats probably because the world around him resembles the cigarette far too much.
Food is a bland gray waste lately. The water in the shower feels ashy against his skin, never quite getting
him clean. The sunlight even feels smoky, as though a thin fog is ghosting around him all the time.

His cigarette idles in his hand, and he watches as the tip of it drips flits of empty ash onto the railing. Its
just like that. The world feels covered in a fine gray film.

Andrew takes out his poetry books, searching them for some kind of solace. He carted these thick
volumes here hoping to recreate the refuge of their creaky porch swing in Massachusetts. That was the
one place Andrew could linger alone every night, working past the pain of Jesses proximity.

But the Shakespeare and the Cummings and the Neurda are all not enough tonight, and he finds himself
starting to scribble out his own lines. He hates his poemsthe words never feel right, like shoes put on
the wrong feet that are two sizes too small. But poor as they may be, the words come and come.
He didnt remember to bring his notebook with him, so he has to write it all out on a hotel pad with a
hotel pen on his hotel balcony before he wanders back to his hotel bed. It makes him feel that much
more apart from any sense of home.


***


***

Scribbled out on the balcony before going back to sleep.


***



The morning of the second day of shooting, Andrew cries harder than he ever has in his life. He has no
idea what brings it on, but hes standing in the shower and it just comes and he cant stop it. The water
goes from blistering to freezing before its all out of him.

He dresses quickly in yesterdays clothes before heading down to meet Jesse. They don't talk at all on
the way to set.

The day is just as brutal as he anticipates. They do take after take after take after take in the hallway,
and near the end of it all he can see Jesse is starting to lose it, which never happens. Whenever Jesse
pulls Mark over himself, he does not emerge again until he absolutely means to. But today, on some of
the later takes, Andrew can see Mark slipping from Jesses grip just for a second, and its deeply
unnerving, like seeing your parents cry in front of you for the first time.

Neither of them can take much more of this, but Fincher wants to go one more time to make sure he
has this one angle just right. So they take their marks and they run the scene one last time, and Jesse
just hammers into him, taking back hold of Mark and literally becoming him. Andrew responds by
upping his own intensity until its rolling off of him in waves, dangerous and heavy. His voice breaks
when he starts shouting, and Jesse swallows it and throws it all back at him just as hard.

"And how's that working out for you?" Jesse spits at him, all venom.

This last take is different, Andrew can feel it.

Something snaps in both of them at the same time, and its like theyre the only ones there, the hall
empty of everything but Andrew and Jesse and Mark and Eduardo and this thing, this huge horrid
unnamed thing that both sets of them just cant get around anymore. Andrew's breathing hard, and he
lurches forward, only it's not Andrew, and it's not Jesse, and this was never what they rehearsed.
Andrew throws his weight against Jesse and his back hits the wall, but hes not Andrew anymore, hes
Eduardo, and hes slapping the fucking red vine out of Marks hand and its Marks chest hes pushing
against with both hands and its Mark's stupid t-shirt hes gripping against him then.

"What did you mean, get left behind?" Eduardo says through Andrews teeth. Water drips from his hair,
rolling down Mark's face and trailing over his lips. Eduardo follows it with his eyes.

Mark pushes back, hard, until Eduardo is pinned against the door, and

Someoneprobably that bloody jackass of a producerknocks something over off-camera, and the
sudden sound makes both of them freeze. And just like that, all the air rushes back into the room.
Theres a bizarre moment of suspension, and then it deflates, everything, all of Eduardos anger and
Marks malice and suddenly both of them, Andrew and Jesse, reappear in the room, breathing strangely
and discovering their limbs again.

Jesse takes a step back and they let go of each other. Somewhere Fincher is telling everyone that they
got it, they can start wrapping for the day, but Andrew cant hear it over the echoing thunder of
whatever just passed between them.

Andrew needs to leave the set. Now.

"Good take, guys," Fincher says as he rushes past. "Get some rest."

Or at least thats what Andrew thinks he says. Hes on some kind of autopilot now, changing out of his
soaking suit and into whatever dry thing he wore to set this morning, probably putting it on backwards.
He makes it to the car somehow, buckles his seatbelt, and tucks into a tight ball, knees pulled up to his
chin, hands pulled up inside the sleeves of his sweatshirt, hiding inside himself as deep as he can go.

It takes him a half hour to become conscious of the fact that Jesses here too, driving the car hes riding
in.

He looks over and sees Jesses knuckles stretched white as he grips the gearshift, holding onto it like an
anchor.

Andrew unfurls his fist, one finger at a time, and reaches over to cover Jesses hand with his own.

Hey, he says.

Something cracks in the air between them then, lighting fast, like the shock you sometimes get touching
skin to metal. Theyve been miles apart all day, but with one word theyve snapped back together, riding
in the same car, side by side.

Jesses eyes move to meet his own. The blue in them is utterly alive, thrashing and turning and breaking
like the ocean in a storm. Hes never seen them like that. Andrews thumb traces the side of Jesses
hand, memorizing the shape of it.

Yeah, Jesse says, his voice an avalanche of emotion Andrew doesnt know how to interpret. Yeah.

Andrew keeps hold of Jesses hand all the way back to the hotel. Jesse parks the car, and just sits there,
deathly still in his seat. Andrew has to squeeze his hand several times before he finally looks up.

"Come back to my room with me," Andrew asks involuntarily, the words bleeding from him.

He didnt mean to say them, but now that he has, he knows hes never needed anything as much. Jesse
bites his lip and nods.

Andrew grips Jesses hand again as soon as they're through the back door of the hotel, and he holds
onto it all the way up the flight of stairs to the second floor and down the hall to the door of his room.

There's a second before he swipes the keycard when he stops to look back at Jesse. He knows hes been
holding on to Jesses hand the whole way up here, but he still has to look back for a second, just to make
sure hes still there. If Jesse were to walk away now, Andrews sure he would shatter.

He pulls Jesse through the door, and locks it behind them, desperate to keep him close. Andrew paces
for a minute, and then he looks at Jesse, and Jesse looks back, and for a few seconds they're still. Not
frozen or broken but just still.

Andrew wants this to be their flat. He wants this to be the morning before Bridgewater, before
everything got so snarled between them. He wants it to be that night out, drunk and drooping over
Jesse, rushed with glee when he found out Jesse kisses boys. He wants it to be the first day again, Jesse
quipping about deerstalker caps and Andrew feeling the whole world start to bloom with possibility, the
possibility that this boy might be the boy, the only boy, that maybe this boy would be everything.

He wants to go back to a place with Jesse thats full of things to come, rather than full of things done
and done and done. Everything feels so narrow now, like theyre just living out a countdown until
whatever day Jesse decides to leave him.

Andrew reaches for the remote and switches on the TV, desperate to feel that sense of home with him
again. He looks up at Jesse and smiles nervously, but Jesse gets it right away, and smiles back. Andrew's
body finally relaxes into the bed.

Jesse leaves his shoes by the door and turns off the lamp on the desk so that the only light in the room
now is the blue wash of the television. Andrew has no idea whats on, but the color it gives off reminds
him of TARDIS blue, and thats enough to make things feel familiar.

Jesse climbs in bed next to him, every movement measured, resisting Andrew like always. Jesse tries to
edge back towards the headboard, but Andrew needs him so much closer than that.

If its all going to end anyway, Andrew is ready to abandon caution for one night. If the only thing thats
left is for Jesse to leave him, then he might as well make the most of whatever time hes got left.

He gets a hand on one of Jesse's arms and wriggles behind him and tugs until theyre meshed together,
Jesses back against Andrews chest, as close as Andrew can get him. They lay still, just feeling the rise
and fall of their bodies for a long time, breathing back into one another.

Then something amazing happens. Jesse just cascades onto Andrew, relaxing every inch against him. His
head falls back onto Andrew's shoulder and his arms link over Andrews own and every part of them
thaw into one another. Andrews chest releases a sound thats been trapped there ever since the first
day he met Jesse, a sound of untamed wanting, and he slides down into the sheets with Jesse until
they're both coiled up together. Andrews arms wrap around Jesses waist and Jesses face tucks into
Andrews neck like its always been meaning to settle there.

Jesse falls asleep almost right away, but Andrew cant miss any of this. He runs his fingers though Jesses
hair as tenderly as someone might reach out to touch a soap bubble. Andrew moves closer and,
abandoning everything, puts a pair of trembling lips against Jesses forehead, then against each of
Jesses eyelids, then the bridge of his nose, then the dip of his temple, and then finally just at the edge
of his lips. Not a kiss really. It feels more like a prayer.

Andrew cant resist his own exhaustion anymore, so he closes his eyes and whispers goodnight to an
already sleeping Jess, tracing his fingertips down the trail of Jesse's spine.

Stupid boy is the last thing that escapes his lips. Hes not sure if he means Jesse or himself.



Andrew can feel the daylight start to press impatiently against his eyelids.

He refuses to open them.

Slivers of last night are slowly resurfacing, and all he wants is to let them linger under the covers with
him awhile. Hes too afraid to open his eyes, terrified of that feeling you get when you have a gorgeous
dream but, upon waking, become flushed with the fact that none of it was real. That it all happened to
some specter of yourself, played out in a world you wound together in your head.

Dreaming, Andrew thinks, is really just a beautiful way to tell yourself a lie.

He couldnt have dreamed this though, because the first thing he hears when he wakes up is Jesses
breathing next to him, even and unburdened. He can smell Jesses skin, hes sure of that too. He can feel
Jesses curls teasing under his chin, Jesses arm wrapped around his right hip, Jesses lips brushing just
below his collarbone every time his chest lifts with breath. He can feel the heat from Jesses body
blazing through the sheets and covering them both. And he can feel the beat of Jesses heart, so close,
like its in him too, threading through his own veins.

Jesse is still here. For once, for the first time, he said yes. He didnt walk away or sleep somewhere else
or stop himself or shove Andrew aside after some measured moment that was always meant to end.
Jesse is still here, still in Andrews bed, because Jesse chose him this time. Its real, all of it, intoxicatingly,
impossibly real.

Andrew cant bring himself to lift his lids. Its real, yes, bloody hell, its real. But its raw, too. The
moment feels so fragile, like something precious you can only hope to protect for so long.

He tries to will himself back to sleep, to stay in this place for as long as possible. But, after a few
minutes, he starts to feel things that arent Jesse, like the fact that hes aching with hunger and that his
bladder is about to burst and that his back feels broken from having stayed in this same position all

night. This would all be nothing, though, if it werent for the fact that Andrew also remembers he has a
flight to catch, and it could be virtually any hour at this point. He knows he needs to get up, and its
bloody awful.

Andrew takes a steadying breath, and wills himself to count to three.

One, please let this be real.

Two, please let Jesse still be here.

Three, please let this mean He finally forces his eyes to open.

The first thing Andrew sees is the mess of hair tucked under his chin. The morning light is lacing through
the strands, turning Jesses curls the color of copper and coffee and even a few locks dimly gold. Andrew
smothers a smile into those curls, taking a deep breath full of Jesse. Jesse in his arms, Jesse in his bed,
Jesse holding him as he sleeps, Jesse jutted up against every part of him, Jesse, Jesse, Jesse, Jesse.

It overwhelms Andrew, and he forgets that he meant to get up. Instead he just lies there, lingering in the
brightness of the embrace. Its ephemeral, so ephemeral, he knows, like the flickering of a candle at the
end of its wick. He has to make it last.

Andrew slides down the bed a bit until his face is level with Jesses. Its times like this hes so thankful
Jesse sleeps like the dead. Jesse often has trouble falling asleep, its true, but once hes there, hes gone.
Andrew curves his palm around Jesses cheek, so lightly, and then, after a moment of hesitation, brushes
his lips against Jesses own. Its a stupid thing to do, but Andrew feels incredibly close to Jesse now, as
though this one night knotted them together in some new, nameless way.

Andrew hopeshopes more fiercely than he ever hasthat Jesse could be ready for all this. That Jesse
could finally be starting to open himself up, shedding the walls within him brick by brick, allowing
Andrew a way in.

It feels like theyve finally found the beginning.

Andrews optimism is so intoxicating he considers waking Jesse up right then and confessing
everythingevery minute of wanting from the moment they met until this morningand seeing what
comes of it.

As though in response to the thought, Jesse shifts away from Andrew then, breaking the barely-there
kiss as he readjusts his position onto the other side of the bed, still deep in sleep.

Andrew feels the empty air rush in around him, swallowing him whole. The loneliness is so brutal it
burns him.

Okay. He knows that he absolutely does not want to wake up Jesse. This may be the beginning of
everything, yes, but its only the beginning, and Andrew cant charge heart-first into this thing and
expect to tear down all of Jesses walls in one day.

Andrew slips out of bed then, fumbling his way to the bathroom to get ready for the long trip he has

ahead of him. Hes off to London to start on the press tour for Never Let Me Go, and hes not looking
forward to it. He remembers how things went the last time he had to be apart from Jesse, and he knows
this will be much worse. If he cant even stand to have Jesse on the opposite side of the bed now, how
can he be expected to leave him on the opposite side of the bloody planet?

I do get to see Carey though he realizes, brushing his teeth with a bit more pep. The thought of her is
just about the only thing keeping him from canceling his flights, faking an illness, turning his phone off,
and leaving it all to linger here with Jesse.

Wow. The fact spending the day in bed with Jesse might even be an option is enough to make Andrews
stupid cartoon smile cement permanently onto his face.

He peers into the room one more time before hoping into the shower, wanting to catch a quick glimpse
just to make sure Jesses still there. He is, and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest under the sheets
assures Andrew hes still deeply asleep. Safe.

Once Andrew is showered, shaved, dressed, packed, and left with no further pretext for dawdling, he
readies himself to leave.

He considers waking Jesse just to say goodbye. But, the brutal fact is, Andrew is a coward.

He is sure last night meant something, he is, but part of him is still terrified that Jesse would be aghast at
having stayed, feeling awkward about being wrapped up with Andrew for so long. And Andrew just cant
chance that level of rejection right now.

He hopes, of course, that Jesse would actually be happy about being here with him. But if he wakes up
Jesse, then hell know what it all meant, good or bad. Its a finality he just cant face yet.

So, instead, he calls down to the front desk to pay for an extra day in both rooms just to make sure Jesse
isnt disturbed. Then, he writes Jesse a note. He struggles with what to say for an absurdly long time,
and finally settles on:

Jess: UK for NLMG press. back day after tomorrow. paid for an extra night in both rooms,
so sleep as late as you like.
x

He knows that if he says any more, hell say everything. So he forces himself to leave only that
incomplete goodbye.

He realizes, actually, he didnt even pen in goodbye, but he keeps folding the note anyway, afraid of
what else hed write if he opened it back up.

He tucks the thin paper into Jesses palm, grabs his suitcase, and allows himself one last look back
before he shuts the door behind him. The next time he sees Jesse, hes sure, everything will be different.
One way or another.

Lovesick, incurable Andrew cant help but remember the dream he last had about Jesse, hidden in back
of a bookstore, feeling whole and entire. He hopesgod, he begsthat theyll have it all, just like that.

A thousand afternoons of Jesse just a breath away, both of them forgetting time and falling further
together.

He finally manages to pull his eyes from Jesse and drags the door closed behind him. But just before it
clicks closed, he lopes back inside, a shameless smile across his face.

Jesse Adam Eisenberg. I am absolutely, utterly, unforgivably in love with you.

He says it all out loud, almost daring Jesse to hear it.


***



Andrews flight is from LA to NYC with just a quick stop over to let passengers on and off at JFK. Then,
its straight on to London.

Somewhere just before the Midwest, he makes the terrible mistake of continuing on through Jesses
filmography. Without knowing what hes getting himself into, he clicks play on Adventureland.

Always a glutton for punishment, Andrew sits through every minute of the beautifully awkward
romance, losing himself in waves of jealously and genuine longing. He almost vomits his vodka onto the
passenger next to him during the scene by the pool when Jesses erection is clearly visible under his
stretched t-shirt. That really is just too much for one man to take.

But the worst part for Andrew is the ending. Jesse looks so excruciatingly gorgeous as he walks out of
the rain, drenched and discovering the girl again, declaring hes a New Yorker now. Jesses beauty just
burns through Andrew sometimes, leaving him half hollow until he can manage to regrow whatever
organs Jesse just liquefied.

And then. Oh god. There is sex. Thankfully it cuts off before anything too intense happens, but the little
left on screen is enough to ruin Andrew. Jessea shirtless fucking Jesse Eisenberggrabs Kristen at one
point, pulling her against him, hips first, insistent. Hungry.

Andrew worries about whether Jesse would ever pull his own hips against him like that. He thinks, with
sincere misery, probably not. Even if Jesse does unwind enough to be able to want him, it could never be
as bad as the way Andrew wants Jesse. Hes sure.

And Andrew, bloody git that he is, rewinds it. He rewinds it, and he watches it back, back again four
times, because it is just that sexy.

Its one thing to think Jesse might not be capable of this sort of thing. But it is so much worse to see that
can do this, that he can be, just, that he could, that, god, that hes good at it. But that it might never be
for Andrew.

And he knows its all just a movie. He does. And what Jesse does in a movie might be nothing like what
hed do in real life. But there was something in the way Jesse pulled her hips to him, all instincts and

adrenaline. It teases Andrew. Tortures him with the idea that there is so much more to Jesse than he
might ever be allowed to know. Its glorious and its gutting and its more than he should be expected to
handle on an airplane.

He needs to do something with all this pent up emotionall this love and doubt and hope and horrible
fearbut there is nothing. He is stuck forty thousand feet in the air with no phone and no internet and
no hint of release. Unless he wants to start pouring his heart out to the unfriendly Frenchman sitting
next to him (yes, the one he almost vomited on), he has very few options.

But thats when the credits of Adventureland end, and his screen shifts back to the blue hum of iTunes.
Oh, that is perfect, he thinks, as though he already knew.

And this is how, at last, Andrew allows himself to say it all. Everything he feels for Jesseevery last
longing murmur of his mad heartis pulled out and put onto a CD. Each lyric has an incredibly specific
meaning to Andrew, much of which will probably just run right past Jesses ear, but the overall theme
wont be lost on him. It wouldnt be lost on a brick wall, actually. The playlist pounds you with one
unrelenting idea: I love you and I love you and in case you didnt hear I love you yet again.

It takes Andrew almost two hours to compile everything. He is so excited the entire time he bounces in
his seat like a seven-year-old.

There is a minor set back at one point (well, more of a major panic attack) when he realizes that what
hes got himself here is a bloody mixtape. He gets this horrible flash of being in secondary school again
and, oh god, that makes Jesse some girl with ribbon-wrapped ringlets, doesnt it?

What the hell is he supposed to do with this now? He certainly cant give it to Jesse.

A mixtape? An I love you mixtape? No. He absolutely cannot.

Can he?

No. Of course he cant. RINGLETS!

No, yeah, yes. NO. He. Yes. Fine. Just, yes. Andrew WILL give it to Jesse. NOW. Before he can try and
take it all back.

He attempts to think of a plan right when the loudspeaker cuts into his train of thought.

We are beginning our initial descent into New York. Please put your tray tables away and seatbacks
upright. You must discontinue all use of electronic devices, and please be aware that the seatbelt sign
will remain on for the duration of the flight. Thank you for flying with us, and welcome to New York.

Hmm. New York Andrew considers. How far is New York from Boston, exactly?

Close enough, Andrew decides, reckless and ready.

He shakes his own heedless head at himself as he packs up to leave the plane. Sometimes he really does

understand why people call him a cartoon deer.

***

The mixtape to end all mixtapes.

***


The apartment feels so different, Andrew thinks, pacing through the place.

Hes never really been here without Jesse, and staying the whole afternoon alone is a bizarre
experience. Everything they own is still here, hes sure, but it all feels so strangely empty. Maybe
whatever has been building between them for so long was stuffing the place, pressing them in closer
and closer together. And now, with Andrew alone, its all just vapor, venting from the room without
Jesse here to hold it in too.

Andrew makes himself a quick cup of tea, trying to remember this as home.

After a few minutes, he heads to Jesses bedroom to drop off the CD. He turns the doorknob delicately,
as though there might be something waiting for him on the other side. Theres not.

Jesse is naturally a much neater person than Andrew, and everything in his room is arranged with some
basic outline of order. There are several books and a couple of maps strewn on his desk, which is
probably the messiest bit of things. Andrew wanders over, sliding aside a few of the papers to see what
Jesses been reading. Thats when a bright red envelope flops off the top of a book, the words NETFLIX
stripped in the middle.

Andrew knows what this is, obviously, but he finds this discovery quite confusing nonetheless. Hes sure
Jesse doesnt have a Netflix account. Jesses never once produced a DVD for them to watch. Ever.

Andrew cant help himself. He is sure this is going to be a grave violation of some unbreakable rule of
roommate privacy, but the curiosity just claws at him, too much to ignore. He flips over the envelope
and pulls out the DVD inside.

And.

Well.

There is Andrews face.

He really cant help but laugh. Andrews obviously been doing the same exact thing by stalking Jesses
filmography, but seeing this, and knowing that Jesse purposefully kept it a secret, is just too much.
Maybe Jesse was doing some research on Andrews work, or maybe he was just sort of curious, who
knows. Two things are perfectly clear, though: (1) Jesse got a Netflix account just for this one DVD, and
(2) Jesse never wanted Andrew to know.

For the second time today, Andrews heart leaps at the hint of hope. Hope that Jesse might have been
bloody doing the same thing Andrew was this whole time, feeling things and never knowing how to say
it.

Andrew slips the CD back in the envelope and tries to arrange everything just the way it was. He doesnt
want Jesse to know he knows. The secret is just too sweet to expose.

He heads over to Jesses bed and, committing a gross violation of yet another unbreakable roommate
rule, pulls himself under the covers.

Considering the way Jesse sleeps in sometimes, its actually possible that he is still in that hotel room in
LA, snoozing deep into the afternoon. Andrew likes the idea. He closes his eyes, plopping his head onto
the place Jesses usually rests, breathing in the scent of him.

Laying here reminds him of last night, and the feeling of his wet hair soaking the pillow as he feel asleep
in all his clothes, crushed together with Jesse. He smiles against Jesses sheets then, remembering. It
was absolutely rubbish sleep, and probably the best night of his life.

He imagines what being with Jesse in this bed would feel like, here in their own flat, tucked together all
blankets and bare skin.

After lingering far longer than he should, Andrew extricates himself from Jesses bed, neatening it up
again. After all set to rights, he slips a note onto the pillow. It simply says, for you, x. He places the CD
carefully on top.

Now, its all up to Jesse.



***




Andrew may never get over this.

***



Andrew spends the entire two days shamelessly talking about Jesse. Thankfully, Carey is a captive
audience, and always far too willing to indulge him.

She was shocked when he showed up all smiles and high-spirits the last time theyd spoken was during
one of his worst nights out on his balcony in LA, smoking incessantly and feeling shattered. So, as far as
she knew, he was still in a miserable state.

The moment he saw her in their hotel lobby, though, he sprinted over and smothered her in a
monstrous hug (which, considering how adorably petit she is, totally overtook her and forced her to fall
over a bit). They exchanged brilliant smiles when they broke apart, and then both just burst into wild
laughter for no reason at all.

Andrew is so thankful for having such a splendid best friend.

Carey, of course, was so taken aback by this total change in temperament that she immediately began
to grill him about what happened since they last spoke. He filled her in on everythingthat horrible
night filming the hallway scene, the deafeningly silent drive home, the way Jesse finally said yes, Andrew
holding his hand all the way through the hotel, andat lastthe desperate way they clung to each
other last night, folding together and falling asleep.

Her eyes went all glassy as he described it, filling with the same sense of wild hope Andrews heart had
been bursting with the whole way here. She agreed that night meant somethingmeant something
vital.

They both had huge tears rolling down their cheeks by the time he finished telling her everything, and
they couldnt help but dissolve into giggles again when Carey pointed out what stupidly sentimental
tossers they both were being.

Andrew is shocked at how much fun everything is throughout the days, and how little opportunity he
has to miss Jesse. The junkets and interviews are keeping them both extremely busy and, during the
brief minutes they arent working, Carey is always there, always encouraging Andrew to tell on about his
new favorite topic.

Andrew does begin to worry about the fact that he hasnt heard anything from Jesse. Its been quite a
while since Jesse was scheduled to leave LA, and Andrews sure he must have returned to the flat by
now. That, of course, must mean Jesse has the CD. Considering the fact that it was really just a bloody
love letter, if Jesse has the CD, it means Jesse knows everything.

If Andrews affection wasnt abundantly clear already, that CD is now tangible, unequivocal proof that
Andrew loves Jesse. That Andrew loves him and wants him and that theyve both been bloody stupid
and its time they just give in to each other already.

Its all there, poured into the lyrics and rhymes and rhythmseverything Andrew feels for him.

So that means Jesse is out there, out in the world right now, possibly uploading Andrews whole heart
into his iTunes library. And it makes Andrew feel completely raw around the edges. All his nerves are
sitting exposed, waiting for what comes next.

Hes dismantled himself a second time by doing this, he knows, and every piece of Andrew feels like its
been left behind in that apartmentlungs and limbs and every last string inside his unfastened heart.
Theyre all there, sitting casually among the socks and the couch and the clutter, settled into the flat
with Jesse. And Andrew is just waiting now. Waiting to hear if Jesses going to pick up the pieces and put
him back together this time.

He and Carey are in her hotel room right now, sitting cross-legged on the bed with three trays of room
service strewn about and a bottle of wine open between them. Theyre laughing like fools, trying to
make the most of their last night together.

I am so sad I wont get to see you again for probably two months! Carey cries, genuinely broken up
about it.

I know, its bloody awful. I miss you already, love, Andrew says, stretching out a hand to hold hers. He
really means it. He always seems to be missing someone these days.

And you have to call me the MOMENT Jesse says anything to you. I am serious, she demands, pointing
a finger threateningly in Andrews face. Andrew swats it away playfully, both of them giggling like
theyre kids again.

Their laugher dies out just a bit as the same thought flickers through them, both wondering why Jesse
hasn't said anything yet. She sees Andrews face fall just a bit.

No news is good news, right? Dont worry. She puts a reassuring hand over his.

I know, I know its a lot for Jesse to take in, I mean, of course, I get that. I do. He probably just doesnt
know what to say yet. Carey nods seriously in agreement.

Im sure when I see him, everything will come together, Andrew says, more because he wants it to be
true. Every hour that passes without a word from Jesse makes him more and more nervous, but hes still
optimistic.

Exactly, Carey concurs. Dont worry, I bet youll get home and hell have lit candles and whipped up
his finest mac-n-cheese-out-of-the-box dinner for you both. Oh! And hell have your mixtape on in the
background, bless him! She pinches Andrew, teasing him terribly, and they both just about fall off the
bed from laughter.

Yes, Car, Im sure itll be exactly like that, well-spotted, Andrew says once they both catch their breath.
He gives her a sideways smirk that says youre crazy, but his insides cant help but scream with
excitement, indulging wildly in what ifs

Suddenly Andrew hears a buzz against the table behind him, and literally leaps off the bed to grab his
mobile. Hes been like some bloody on-call heart surgeon the last few days, clinging to every bleep of his
mobile like it might be life or death.


He swipes the screen of his iPhone and just about passes out when he sees he finally got a text from
Jesse. He cant even read the words because his heart is beating into his body so fiercely, filling up his
ears and his eyes and his lungs until everything in the room is just a big pulsing blur.

He snaps his eyes shut and takes a desperate breath, begging his body to calm down and cooperate so
he can just see what Jesse sent. After a minute, he opens them again, and reads the words.


Need to talk to you when you get home.


And, thats it.

Hes not sure how long he just stands there, suspended in shock. At some point he feels Careys hands
on his shoulders, and can hear her say his name, he thinks, but its all so far away, almost like shes in
another room.

Its very quiet inside Andrew for a long moment. The only sound he hears is the blood rushing through
his veins.

Then a violent pain punches through the numbness. Andrew can feel claws, giant and jagged, digging
deep into his chest. Then they drag, drag down his entire body, ripping him open from end to end. How
could he have been so stupid to think this was all possible again?

Hes crumpled on the floor before he really knows its happening. Carey is there, grabbing him, holding
him together.

He cant bring himself to respond to her touch at all. Eventually she starts shouting at him, shaking him,
trying to force him to resurface, but hes drowning in the pain, sinking inside of it, and all he wants is for
her to go away so he can wallow here for as long as it takes to just be numb again.

He cant articulate that to her though. He cant really articulate anything. You cant hold a conversation
with someone who is on fire.

This is what all those dreams of being tossed out onto the side of the road were about, he knows now.
Hes been riding in a car with Jesse for a long timehe remembers thinking that once before, and
wondering where it would end. Well, it ends here. It ends, just like in all those dreams, with Jesse
tossing him into the street, saying no, saying its over, leaving him broken open in the dirt, bleeding until
hes empty.

Carey lies with him on the floor, for hours, until he falls asleep.

***



***

When he wakes up the next morning, the first thing he can sense is the smell of hot coffee.

About three inches in front of his face is a cup of black steaming liquid, and its sitting on top of a note
written in Careys handwriting. He fumbles his hand out for it, tugging it from underneath the cup. He
has to blink about fifty times before he can finally see enough to read it.

Andrew, love, hopefully Ill be back before you see this. I just popped down to your room to pack
you up and make arrangements for me Im going to come back to Boston with you. Hope that i
Is all right.

Drink the coffee Ill be back soon.

And, forgive me for saying this, but please dont be such a git. I am certain the text
didnt mean what you think. Love, C

The text. Jesses text.

The memory rushes back into him, snuffing out the last bit of sleep. It makes him feel sick.

Just then, Carey walks back into the room, Andrews suitcase and messenger back in her arms. Her eyes
go wide when she sees Andrews awake.

Hi there, she says, tentatively.

Hey, Andrew responds, his throat rough with disuse. She puts down the suitcase and steps towards
him the way someone might approach a wounded animal.

Thanks for calling me a git, by the way. Refreshing way start to the day. He musters the best smile he
can, trying to lighten the leaden mood in the room.

Andrew feels so terrible for having put Carey through all this last night, and he wants to let her know
hes not going to make her do that again. She returns his smile with one of her own, relief flushing her
features.

She comes and plops down next to him on the carpet, forcing the cup of coffee into his hands. A
tentative laugh escape her lips as Andrew half spills it on himself.

So, were going to Boston together? He asks, cheered significantly at the idea of Carey coming with
him.

Well, yes! If you want, she replies, tenderness in her voice. I booked us two tickets out together, but I
didnt call to cancel your original flight yet, so if you want to just go back alone you can certainly still
take that one.

No, no I want you to come. Thats bloody brilliant actually.

Andrew thinks how much easier things will be with Carey in town when Jesse insists on having the talk
with him. Or, even better, maybe Jesse wont say anything with Carey around. Andrew knows whats
coming now, but he would be happy to put off for as long as possible.

Andrew, she starts, her voice kind but serious. You do know you are being bloody stupid, dont you?

She waits, but he doesnt say anything.

You are aware that Jesse might want to talk to you when you get home because he got your rudding
CD and wants to tell you he loves you back? Yes? She cocks her head to the side a little and looks at
Andrew like hes just about the stupidest person shes ever met.

He sighs with his whole body.

Carey. You are astonishing, and wonderful, and I cant thank you enough for everything youve done
from last night until now. But please dont try and and tear this thing open again, he scrunches up his
face in agony, gesturing towards his chest, by even hinting at the possibility of good news now. Just,
please please let me sink into the fact that its over, she tries to interrupt him then, but he presses on,
so that maybe by the time I actually see Jesse I dont collapse like I did last night.


Carey just looks at him, annoyance and empathy clearly competing with one another for control of her
features. After a moment, annoyance wins.

Andrew If he had texted you anything remotely negative, I would do that, I wouldI would keep
quiet and not bring this up again. Id just stand here to support you, and nothing more. But Jesse didnt
do that, Andrew! He didnt reject you! He just said he wanted to talk with you. Talk! Why in the world
are you interpreting that as the end of all things?

Carey, come off it, he says, getting annoyed right back, not understanding how she could be so thick.
If someone bled their whole heart out to you in a loveletter, lets say, and you were happy to get that
loveletterand I mean at all, in any way, even a little bit pleased to have received said letter would
you just shoot off a one-line text to that person after two days of silence, saying, we need to talk?

He gawks at her, awaiting her acquiescence to his perfectly inarguable point.

Instead she just stares at him, her head still cocked to the side like that. So, he answers his own
rhetorical question.

Of course not, Carey! You would never do that! You would say you love them back or at least that you
fancy them back or maybe say this is what you wanted. Or, you know, you would at least acknowledge
you got the bloody letter. Or, you know, sure, you might not say anything, if you didnt know what to say
yet. Silence I couldve bloody dealt with. But to say, we need to talk, and nothing else? Everyone knows
that is universal code for we need to talk about this terrible thing I have to tell you. Thats how that
sentence ends, Carey.

Andrew, I think youre taking a bit too much stalk in romantic comedy tropes here.

Im not. He insists. I know Jesse. This is his way of letting me down easy.

Andrew

Carey, I knew it was coming. I did. For a very long time Ive known there would be a point past which I
could no longer stretch this fantasy of him and me. I knew Id do something at some point thatd just
be too much for him, and hed finally have to set me to rights and tell me its never, ever going to
happen. Thats what this text is about.

Andrew says it with a finality that means the topic is longer open for debate.

Carey tries to say something more, but Andrew's already jumped up and walked off to the bathroom by
the time she tries to speak, shutting the door behind him. He wants to do simple, mindless things right
now like shower and shave and brush his teeth and definitely not talk about Jesse any more. Carey
means well, so well, he knows, but shes wrong. She is just bloody wrong, and he cant indulge in even a
moment of further fantasy. He is far too fragile for that right now.

As he shucks his clothes off, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and has to do a swift double
take. He doesnt recognize the person gawking back through the glass.

He leans into the reflection, studying himself on the other side.

He looks fucking tired. Not like how someone should look after a few bad nights. More like a few bad
years. There are new lines all over his face, streaking his forehead and collecting around the curve of his
eyelids. He could name each one, if he had to. This is Bridgewater, he thinks, dragging a fingertip against
his skin, and this is flying half way across the world for you. And this, he continues, tracing the lines, is
the desperate wet raspberry on the couch that afternoon, and this is poetry every night out on the
porch swing, and this is that silent ride home, and this is regret and this is lust and this is loneliness and
this is every lopsided smile I was never allowed to kiss.

Andrew can finally understand why hes been taking twice as long in makeup every morning. The
thought makes a brittle laugh break from his lips.

And these, he names last, sweeping the circles stained purple under his eyes, are every time I thought
there could be more.

He realizes now that hes been avoiding his reflection, looking any direction but his own that last few
weeks. Its got to be a metaphor for something deeper, hes sure, but right now he cant begin to care
what that might be. Instead, all his reflection does is remind him how bloody tired he is, and how far he
has yet to go today.



***




Its going to fine, dont worry, Carey assures him, holding his hand in the back of the cab. She knows
by now not to keep bringing up the impossibility of Jesse wanting him back.

It will. It its absolutely going to be okay. Thank you, thank you so much for coming with me. He gives
her hand a squeeze, and just feels the waves of reassurance rolling off of her and on to him. Hes so
happy shes here. She warms him.

The cab is pulling up at the flat, and hes going to see Jesse now, and its all going to be different, just as
he predicted. He is bloody fucking Nostradamus these days.

And Andrews ready. Hes been steeling himself for this moment ever since they left England. He knows
its over, knows its been building up to being over for a while actually (like love Jenga Carey said
once, trying to make the worst thing in the world sound a little less horrible).

Andrew knew this was comingcould see the edge of the ax coming down on him in excruciatingly slow
motion for months nowand was so terrified of the inescapable eventuality that his desperate mind
invented this idea of Jesse feeling the same way. But thats all over now. This is the last swing of the ax,
and its about to cut off the little fantasy Andrew invented for good.

The absolute finality of it all makes it easier to take, really.


Carey gives him a bit of a pinch on his side, forcing him to smile. Things will be so much better with her
here.

They grab their things, get out of the cab, and head straight up the stairs to the flat. And stupidly, so
stupidly, Andrew actually feels excitement start to tingle up against the back of his neck. Despite whats
coming, despite it all, hes still so happy just to be in the same place with Jesse.

He realizes then that Jesse not being in love with him really has no affect on how much he still is in love
with Jesse. And probably never will.

Hello!" Andrew says, tossing open the door, his eyes hungry to find Jesse. And bless him, hes standing
right in front of the doorstrangely close really, as though hes just been perched here waiting for
Andrew.

"Hi," Jesse says, smiling at him. Andrew feels a thousand emotions at once. Mostly he just wants to fall
into Jesse, but he stays in one place.

"Hello!" Carey says, popping in behind him. He can see Jesse tense up immediately.

"This is Carey!" Andrew says, smiling a little too widely to compensate for whatever just shifted in the
room. He tugs her inside playfully by her sweater, trying to create a casual mood, even though that is
absolutely the opposite of everything hes feeling.

Jesse still doesnt say anything, and Andrew finds himself suddenly blurting out, "She wanted to come
see what I was up to, so I thought she could stay with us for a few days. Is that alright?"

"Yeah, of course, why not?" Jesse says, still tensed up like someones about to hit him with a truck.

"It's so nice to meet you!" Carey says, trying to mend everything by reaching out to shake Jesses hand.
"Andrew's told me all about you."

"Hush," Andrew says, tugging on her sweater again. She smiles at him, and Andrew smiles back in a
playful you know Im going to kill you later for saying that kind of way.

Andrew cant take the tension hanging here among them anymore, so he whisks Carey off to his
bedroom and tries to make light of everything, carrying on about where she can put her things and how
she better not snore too loudly and how she can sleep in his bed only if she promises not to try anything
saucy. They both cant help but laugh at that one.

Once Carey gets settled in, she wants the three of them to go out for dinner, which Andrew is all for
the more things the three of can them do together, the less opportunities Jesse has to pull Andrew aside
and, basically, break up with him. Its sad that Andrews started to phrase it like that in his mind
considering how very much they were never together but a break-up is what this feels like. He doesnt
know of better word for it.

They head out to this little Indian place down the street for dinner, and Jesse is sort of hanging back,
continuing to act strangely. He is out of step with them, constantly checking his text messages and

generally trying to avoid any eye contact with Andrew. This only serves as confirmation that things are
not right between them. Jesses stilted, disjointed demeanor only proves that Andrew was right.

They get seated for dinner and, after awhile, it all actually starts to feel more and more like a normal
night out. Carey tries very hard to keep a cheery conversation going, and especially works to get Jesse
engaged, asking him a hundred questions about himself. Andrew can tell that Jesse really starts to warm
to Carey after a couple of hours. Really, how can you not?

Right now, they are talking animatedly over tea and naan and plates of chicken tikkaJesse and Andrew
and Carey all laughing together. It actually ends up being a really wonderful night, which is totally
shocking to Andrew, considering how this day started.

As soon as the three of them get home, though, Jesse immediately retreats into his room. Andrew has
no idea what that means.

He and Carey settle onto the sofa, and she gives him a look of amused exasperation.

What? Andrew asks, not sure why hes smiling back at her.

She throws up her hands in an Im not even going to say it! gesture, and just continues to smirk at him,
like shes in on some secret he has no clue about.

No. Come off it. What? Andrew asks, tickling her in an attempt to get it our of her. Theyre both
laughing in fits now, and she finally is able to stage-whisper, HE- she huffs with laughter,
ABSOLUTELY-BLOODY-FANCIES-YOU-IDIOT! Andrew has a different opinion on which one of them is
the idiot here, but theyre both laughing now, and he attempts to give her an intimidating look that says
not another word from you!

And that makes the giggles come over them all again. Its amazing, really, how much shes made this
dreadful day better for him.

Thats when Jesse walks back into the room. Andrew and Carey both swing around to smile at him, but
Andrews shocked to see a look of utter mortification on Jesses face. He takes a few halting steps
toward them, then awkwardly extends his arm out, his cell phone hanging from his fingers.

Its, um, its for you, he says to Carey.

Careys brow furrows, but she takes the phone from Jesse and says into the mouthpiece, "Hello?"

Andrew can hear a very animated voice start to blare on the other end of the line, and after a few
seconds, Careys face lights up. "Oh, wow, hello! Nice to, er, meet you, in a way. Youre lovely, Im quite
a fan."

Andrew touches her knee and tries to give her a look that communicates even half his confusion.

She responds by pointing to Jesse and then covering the mouthpiece and mouthing Emma! Andrew
turns around to give Jesse a questioning look, and Jesse just shrugs, not making eye-contact with
Andrew.


Oh, what in all of lovesick British hipster hell does this mean?

Andrew doesnt know how much more a broken man should be expected to take.

"Oh?" Careys saying now, frowning a little, and then her expression shifts into something like fond
amusement, and she laughs. "I see. Could you hold on for a moment?" Carey gives the two of them a
lookthe same one she gave Andrew on the couch a few minutes backthen grabs her coat off and
heads out to the porch, sliding the glass door closed behind her.

And then theyre alone.

There are a few seconds of Andrew and Jesse just blinking at each other, suspended in silence. They are
both avalanches waiting to happen, Andrew knows, so he needs to just get away from here before they
both crumble down their respective mountainsides and into one another.

He runs off to the kitchen and starts banging around, talking too loudly about making dessert for them,
pulling out ingredients in random order. Andrew is dying to know what Carey is doing out there, but
something in him is far too frightened to ask Jesse about it. He just continues to clash pots together and
turn on the water and fire up the stove, just to fill all the ringing silence with something. Jesse just stays
standing behind the couch, facing away from Andrew.

Carey remains outside on the phone for over twenty minutes, during which Andrew produces lots of
noise and absolutely no dessert, far too busy watching Carey while pretending not to watch Carey. He
can tell she is laughing, laughing like a madwoman most of the time, and she has her hand over her
heart and is making all these huge sighing noises like the world suddenly makes sense to her. Every time
Jesse tries to approach the door, she gives him a look of death, and he backs away, continuing to stand
awkwardly against the couch.

Carey, finally, comes back inside and hands Jesse the phone. Jesse takes it from her and immediately
disappears into his room, not even leaving Andrew as much as a glance.

Andrew can do nothing but gape at Carey, jaw moving but not making any sounds, trying to form the
words to whatever question he should be asking.

She immediately walks over, puts a finger firmly over his lips, and says, Im not saying a word. So dont
even try. She gives him that same smile again, like she knows a thousand things he doesnt.

She turns round right on the spot, and walks toward Andrews room, stretching her arms in a yawn and
saying she should really get to bed.

CAREY! You cant just do that, you know, Andrews blurting out in frustration as he follows her into his
room. She grabs her toothbrush and pajamas from the bag she brought, totally ignoring him. What the
hell was that thing out on the porch? Emma? Jesse? The phone? The laughter? What? he asks, but gets
no answer. She just sort of shakes her head at him in amusement, beaming from bloody head to toe like
this is the best day of her life.

Then, she bops him on the noseon the nose!and heads off to the bathroom to get ready for bed,

humming all the way.

I cant even begin to understand what is going on in this madhouse, he says to himself, exasperated
with everything.

He thought hed come home, get his heart broken, cry it all out with Carey, and be in bed before nine. It
was going to be bloody awful, obviously, but at least he knew what was coming. Now, he barely even
knows what world hes living in. Carey is here, having just had some mysterious conversation with
Jesses best friend thats made her look like shes won the lotto, and Jesse is just totally hiding from him,
will not even look at him, and Andrew is well, completely exhausted, he realizes. He is ready to just put
this whole day to rest, and start figuring it all out again tomorrow.

He flops down on his bed, realizing that passing out in his clothes three of the last five nights is probably
a bad pattern to establish. He doesnt care enough to stop himself, though, and hes asleep the moment
his head hits the pillow.

Carey only stays for one more day, and Andrew can feel her coming absence like someone might dread
the impending removal of a limb. He holds onto her like a security blanket all throughout the day,
keeping her around while they run lines over lunch and at night when they watch TV and every other
moment he might have otherwise been alone with Jesse.

That nighther last night in the flatthey are huddled together up to go to sleep, and Andrew begins
to bargain, beg, plead, and press Carey for the hundredth time about the conversation with Emma.

Please just tell me. You know this is driving me crazy. And I am already a man on the brink, you know
this, he gives her a look of playful desperation.

She doesnt budge.

Or, fine, at least just tell me what youre so bloody happy about, he begs.

She sighs into the pillow, glancing sideways up at Andrew and smiling that same bloody smile.

Carey, so help me, I didnt want to have to do thisbut I will tickle it out of you. He holds up his
hands, fanning out his fingers and smirking at her.

Alright, alright, she says, signaling defeat. Emma and I promised each other wed let the two of you
sort this out, so I WILL NOT answer any of your questions, Andrew Garfield. He throws his arms up in a
gesture of compliance, hoping shell go on.

But Ill tell you this much. And I know youre not going to believe me anyway, so it hardly matters: you
were right. About it all. You were always right about Jesse. Well, apart from those times you were being
a git. Actually you've been a git far more than you've been sensible, come to think of it. So maybe I'll just
say, you were always wrong about Jesse. Especially now. She smiles at him as though she just told him
the great secret to all the world, nods, and turns around to go to sleep.

I what does that bloody mean?!

Andrew truly doesnt get it. She cant mean he was right about Jesse. About the good things about Jesse.
About Jesse wanting him back. Can she? He opens his mouth to ask her more, but she senses he's about
to say something and just flips around and makes a zip it! gesture, clearly signaling the topic is closed
for discussion.

Sleep comes over Carey rather quickly, but Andrew doesnt pass out for hours, crazed over what she
could have meant. He thinks himself in circles, not coming to any kind of reasonable conclusion. At least
he has on proper pajamas for once.

Sometime in the morning, far too early for Andrews taste, he can hear voices trickling in from the
kitchen. He sees that Carey is gone, and figures she is probably out there talking with Jesse. He resolves
to get up too.

He emerges from his room, rubbing his face and squinting at the light, and sees Carey and Jesse sitting
together at the kitchen table.

"You two're up early," he mumbles as he feels his way to the counter like a blind person.

"Early flight, remember?" Carey says to him, smiling serenely and picking her coffee cup up. "Plus, you
snore."

Andrew cracks one eye open to glare halfheartedly at her. "I do not."

"She's right, you kind of do," Jesse says. They both turn to look at him. Pain ripples through Andrew as
he remembers how Jesse knows that.

Carey leaves a couple of hours later, kissing them both on each cheek before she heads out to where her
cab is waiting. She gives Jesse an extra hug, leaning into his ear and saying something Andrew cant
hear.

When she hugs Andrew goodbye, he begs her under his breath not to go.

But she just pulls away, and leaves him with that same knowing smile.


***



Left by Carey on the refrigerator door


***


Andrew spends the next week pointedly avoiding Jesse, trying his best not to be alone with him in an
attempt to put off the talk as long as possible. He eats dinner at a different time, brushes his teeth
later in the night, avoids Jesse on set as much as he can during the day, and, whenever theyre finally
forced together to rehearse or run a scene, he becomes totally eclipsed in Eduardo, keeping up his
accent far longer than he needs to.

Andrew might be encouraged to do things differently if Jesse wasnt still being so strange around him,
always avoiding Andrews eyes. Clearly, Jesse still wants to have the talk, but neither of them can
quite face it. Its like theyre both running opposite ways now, Jesse not wanting to deal with the
awkwardness of letting down Andrew, and Andrew not wanting to hear it. They used to have this
intangible thing drawing them together, pulling them in closer and closer, but its like their poles have
been flipped and they cant even skirt too near one another now without needing to rush apart a
moment later.

He thinks every once in awhile about what Carey said. But Jesse's actions speak much louder than what
little hope she left him with.

Andrew is actually finding it physically painful to be too near Jesse these days, feeling like hes
constantly holding his breath. All the emotion clutters inside his lungs, pent up along with the stale air,
and this immense pressure starts to build, crushing down and smashing through his center. Its
agonizing.

He doesnt touch Jesse anymore either. Whenever he is about to reach out for him, running on instinct,
he remembers how Jesse pulled away the last time Andrew went to casually spring one of curls. If he
had to feel Jesse jerk away from him like that again, his eyes closed off and cold, Andrews sure he
would shatter.


His sense of self-control is far too thin these days as it is. He thinks if he says even one word to Jesse
sometimes, hell say every word, every word hes ever wanted to say to himfrom deerstalker caps all
the way to dinner yesterday and will end up crying out confession after confession, breaking under
the weight of unrequited everything. And the last thing the two of them need is a scene like that to
suffer through, especially on set.

So, he just doesnt say a word. And stays as far away from Jesse as he can manage.

The next major scene on the schedule is the confrontation between Mark and Eduardo, and if the
hallway scene was rough on them, it will be nothing compared to this. The building they're using for the
Facebook offices is about an hour away from where they're living, so the studio sets them up with a
driver to take them the distance. That means Jesse doesn't get to drive them to set anymore. Its a
welcome change for Andrew, really. Those drives with Jesse were something he was really dreading,
terrified of them being thrust so close together with no avenue of escape. He hopes having a driver
there will give them an excuse to not say much to one another.

Also, the idea of Jesse actually driving him anywhere reminds him far too much of those terrible dreams.

As predicted, the ride to set on the night of the big scene passes in an hour of tight silence, both of them
leaned up against their respective windows, repelling apart. On one level it's Jesse and Andrew and on
another it's Mark and Eduardo, and not a single part of any of them seems to know what to say.

They sleepwalk through hair and makeup and costume and a couple of last minute blocking changes and
test shots, and then it's time to roll. Jesse and Justin and Joe and all the rest of the facebook extras are
already on set, and Andrew is hanging back behind the camera, waiting.

As soon as Fincher calls action, he walks on, and without even thinking about it, gives it all to Eduardo.

All of the tension and turmoil and things left unsaid are pouring into his performance, pitching
everything up to an entirely new place. On the fourth take, he smashes the laptop and then flings it ten
feet away from him onto the floor. And even that is not enough. He hammers it all, every wrenching
moment from the last three months, into Eduardo, harder and harder and harder until the character is a
steel cage around Andrew, keeping him covered as he comes undone.

There's this horrible thrill about it, finally letting it all go. Tears burn in Andrew eyes, and his body feels
like its breaking into pieces along with the laptop every time, but he gives into it all, flinging himself
wide open, full of abandon.

The lines come and come again, firing from his lips in a new, more naked way on every take. Eventually
he realizes there are two scenes being played out here one of Eduardo confronting Mark, and,
underneath, one of Andrew confronting Jesse.

The lines might be Eduardos, but its Andrew who is shouting them, and its Jesse who hes driving them
into. Everyone else is hearing Sorkins script, but what Andrews actually saying is something completely
different. When he asks Mark how bout now, are you still wired in? hes really asking Jesse how the fuck
they came to be this way. He screams at Jesse, demanding to know what broke between them, and
when, and fucking why. Why, why, why have they been driving directly into each other for so long only

to swerve at the last second every time, never coming together?

When he tells Mark to lawyer up, asshole he is really telling Jesse that he is a coward, a fucking coward,
for never loving Andrew back. For not even being brave enough to try. And Andrew confesses that hes
been a coward too, and a fucking idiot, and that everything is so snarled up now that he knows they
have no hope of untangling it all, but that Andrew would sell his fucking soul just to make it right again if
he could. He says it all, right under the scripted lines, and sometimes he swears he can see Jesse flinch at
the thing he meant, not the line he says.

It's eight exhausting hours with two restless breaks in between before Fincher calls a wrap at five in the
morning. At the end of it all, Andrew is demolished.

"Sorry if I was an asshole!" he says to everyone, throwing his hands in the air and forcing out a shaky
laugh that threatens to turn into a sob if he cant get off set fast enough. He needs to escape. Now.

Everyone's clapping and congratulating each other, and he looks down at Jesse for a second, the briefest
second, and it feels like the first time they've actually looked at each other all week. And then he's gone.

He turns around and walks off set as fast as his feet will take him, getting lost in a crowd of people that
keep slapping him on the back and saying kind things to him. He doesnt hear a word of it. His head is
pounding, hammered by his fury and his exhaustion and his anguish and his own jagged heartbeat.

Once he finally makes it outside, he takes huge, heaving breaths, filling his lungs with the icy air over and
over again just to stuff himself with something other than the pain. He feels absolutely destroyed, like
everything in him has been blown open so many times he Is hollowed out for good now.

No matter how much air he takes in, he just cannot catch his breath.

He is pacing the narrow gap between their trailers when Jesse appears around the corner.

Jesse, who Andrew loves more than himself. Jesse, who he would give it all up for. Jesse, who has ruined
him and ruined him and ruined him again so many times hes lost count. Jesse is exactly who he doesnt
want to see right now and, yet, his whole body is screaming for this, as though Jesse is what Andrew
needs to be pulling into his lungs. Like Jesse is the oxygen all this empty air feels bereft of.

"Andrew," Jesse says carefully, taking a step towards him.

"Was I good, Jess?" Andrew asks him. "Was I good?" Was I good? Did I make you understand? Did I
make you love me? Did you feel it when I finally told you everything?

Jesse approaches him slowly, his hands outstretched, like Andrew is something dangerous. Andrew
follows him with his eyes, not sure what will happen next.

Jesse finally gets so close that Andrew can feel the heat from his breath hitting his face, and thats when
Jesse stretches his palm out, resting it firmly over Andrews heart. Jesse looks up, right into Andrew, into
him and through him and throughout him, and Andrew just crumbles.

Jesse lets Andrew totally collapse onto him, lets him twist the fabric of his sweatshirt in his fists and bury

his sobs into the side of his neck and lets Andrew grab and grab and grab everything and not let go.

He holds on to Jesse then like someone on the edge of cliff would hold on to the only fumbling stone left
in his grip. Like Jesse is the last thin thing tethering him to solid ground, keeping Andrew from the chasm
below.

They are pressed so close, just skin and breath and limbs smashed together in a mad crush, driven into
one another by Andrews hysteria. He cries into Jesse, cries like that day in the shower before set,
needing to release everything in him to have even a hope of starting over again.

It takes an eternity for Andrew to finally get hold of his own body again. He can feel the sobs subsiding,
and after everything is out of him, he is able to steady himself enough to pull back from Jesse just a few
inchesonly enough to see his face in the faint light of the alley.

Jesse is looking at Andrew with so much tenderness, his blue eyes alive with emotion. Andrew has never
seen anything more beautiful.

Then, unexpectedly, Jesse reaches out with the tips of his fingers. He halts for the briefest moment.
Then he touches Andrew's face, tentative, sliding his fingers just over the curve where Andrews cheek
meets his temple.

"Hey," Jesse says.

It sounds so much like I love you that Andrew kisses him.

It's this loose, wrecked press that Andrew cant stop. It feels like the end point of some centrifugal force
kicked towards collision months ago, a stretching set of dominos that started at the table read and
ended right here. His lips are against Jesse's, and Jesse's are against his, and thats all he has the capacity
to understand for a few moments.

Then, in a split-second, Andrew freezes, the consequences of what hes just done catching up to him all
at once. He jerks backwards from Jesses lips, Jesses unresponsive lips, oh god, and Andrew is jumping
to his feet and

"Oh my God," he hears himself saying, slapping one hand over his mouth. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I
don't know whatJesus, you're just trying toI'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." How could he have done
this after so long, after being so careful, how could Andrew be such a goddamn idiot.

Jesses face is totally unreadable, and its making Andrew feel sick. Then, out of no where, Jesse stands
up.

"Why did you bring Carey back with you?" he demands.

"What?" Andrew says, thinking nothing stranger could have come out of Jesses mouth just then.

"Why did you bring her back with you?" Jesse repeats immediately, so fast the words crash together.

Andrew's jaw clenches. So, this is how theyre going to do this.


He cant look at Jesse.

Because," he says, turning away, waiting for the pain to puncture whatever is left of him, because I
was scared. You said you wanted to talk and I, I panicked, because I knew you didn'tyou don'tyou
know, feel the same about me as I do about you, and I wasn't ready to hear it, and I thought you
wouldn't say anything if somebody else was there."

Jesse is silent behind him.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, Andrew says, turning back toward him, please just forget about this, okay
"

Then Jesse reaches out, grabs Andrew by the lapels of his jacket, and crushes their mouths back
together.

He was right. Jesse is oxygen. Jesse is exactly what hes been trying to drag into his lungs all this time. All
the days he felt like he was drowning, this is what his body was begging him for.

Andrew can feel himself just give against Jesse, rolling like a wave onto him, releasing everything into
the kiss. His body groans beneath him, utterly giving in.

Jesse's fumbling for the door behind him and then he's wrenching it open and hauling Andrew inside
and shoving his back against it. Jesse, his Jesse, Jesse goddamn Eisenberg, shoves Andrew against a
door, smashing their bodies together insistently. And its 1000 times hotter than that scene in
Adventureland! Andrew was so right about Jesse being good at this. He was so right he could cry.

To be clear, Andrew is sure this is not actually happening. Its not possible. Nothing computes. He is
probably dead in the street somewhere, bled completely dry after being blown open so brutally so many
times, and this is whatever helping of heaven hes allowed.

But whatever it is, Andrew needs it more than hes ever needed anything. He pitches forward into Jesse,
making pleased noises and pushing his tongue past Jesses teeth. Jesse pushes right back, crushing
himself into Andrews mouth and Andrews hips and Andrews hair and Andrews everything.

Wait.

Maybe this is really happening.

And, oh myoh my god, if this is really happening

"Wait," Andrew says, panting as he pulls away. And its Jesse, Jesse is really there, flushed and folded
against him. "I thought you"

"If you don't start kissing me again in the next five seconds I will probably cry," Jesse says before Andrew
can get out another word.

What.


Andrew just stares at him. This cannot be real, but it is, it bloody is, and its everything Andrews been
waiting for. Hes starting to feel all the shattered bits inside him come back together, sealing shut,
stronger than before.

He cant help himself then he just rushes forward, shoving Jesse backwards onto the couch and
climbing on top of him, claiming him. He kisses Jesse again, crashing and crashing and crashing into him,
trying to fuse them together so they never have to know what it means to be apart, not again.

"Jess, Jess" Andrew's saying, dragging his mouth over the side of Jesse's jaw and under his neck, putting
his lips anywhere he can find skin. All Andrew can feel now is Jesses heat. Its running under his clothes
and rushing through his veins and blurring the lines of them both, like theyre burning together. He
reaches down for the zipper of Jesses jeans, needing to feel his heat so much closer.

"Yo, Eisenberg, have you sJesus fuck!"

There's a split second when they both freeze, faces still an inch apart and staring at each other in cross-
eyed horror. Shit.

Andrew scrambles off of Jesse in an instant and watches in horror as Jesse turns this obscene color of
red while struggling to get his pants done back up. Justin is just staring, hand still on the handle of the
trailer door and his mouth hanging open for a moment before it splits into the shit-eating grin Andrew
knew was coming.

"Shut up," Jesse says preemptively, biting his lip to hide a smile. Its so adorable Andrew can barely take
it. This whole thing is suddenly so, so ridiculous that Andrew cant keep himself from laughing. Its a
wonderful feeling.

"Oh my God, I knew it!" Justin crows. "Dude, Max totally owes me like fifty dollars."

Jesse throws one of the little sofa pillows at him. "Go away."

"It's your own fault for not locking the door," Andrew teases, loving the buoyant feeling filling him now.
His whole body feels different, lighter somehow, like he was able to shed three months of misery in just
three minutes of kissing Jesse.

"Look, I know y'all are going to hate me, but wardrobe needs you to bring your clothes back, like, now,"
Justin tells them. He's backing out of the door already like he's afraid Andrew might start throwing
things too. "So, uh, yeah. I'm gonna go now. Congrats on your gay love!"

Justin shuts the door behind him, and Jesse turns towards Andrew, clearly not knowing what to say.

"So that happened," Andrew offers, stating the beautifully obvious.

"Yeah, it did," Jesse agrees.

"So you...?" Andrew could fill the second have of that sentence with a thousand things, but he doesnt
have toJesse understands immediately and, biting his bottom lip, answers, "Yeah, yeah, I do."


"Brilliant," Andrew says, smiling with his whole body. "Um, we should probably go to wardrobe now," he
prompts.

"Definitely," Jesse agrees, his eyes locked onto Andrews.

"And then we can, er, go home, and..." He could finish that sentence a thousand ways as well, but hes
shuffling his feet now, suddenly so much shyer than hes ever felt.

"Yeah," Jesse breathes back.

They take a second to sort themselves out, and then, just before he opens the door, Andrew turns
around and grabs Jesse's face with both hands, kissing him one more time, full of fire.

Andrew stares deep into Jesse after they break apart, and he wants to say everything. He wants to tell
Jesse what a struggle the last few months have been and how many times hes been taken to the brink
and back and how he would have done it again and again, a thousand times, if it meant there was even a
chance he could be with Jesse. He wants to say how close he was to the chasm, and how Jesse pulled
him backhow Jesse is the only thing that could ever pull him back. He wants to tell Jesse that he saved
him. And he wants, more than anything, to tell Jesse in a trillion different ways, in every language in
existence, that he loves him. And that it's a fierce, bottomless love, undimmed despite all Andrew went
through. That Jesse put him back together again after all, and now, because of that, he is a part of
Andrew. That they are built from the same bones.

"I'm... I'm really, really happy right now," is what Andrew finally blurts out, so overwhelmed by what to
say that he ends up just telling Jesse the most immediate thing on his mind.

"Me too, Jesse replies, smiling more brightly than Andrews ever seen.

Together, theyve finally found the beginning.

***





Copied down by Andrew in early November, kept in his coat pocket for months, waiting

{ part vi }

The time it takes to get back to their flat is possibly the longest hour of Andrews life.

The instant he remembers they were driven to set today, he feels his heart drop all the way to the floor.
Its not even the kind of car with a divider between the front seat and the back, so, quite simply, they
are buggered. Andrew has no clue how to get through the next sixty minutes in silence, only a few thin
inches from Jesse. But thats exactly what he has to do.

Once theyre settled into the car together, Andrew considers trying some sort of casual conversation,
but it doesnt feel possible. You cant just crack a floodgate open, he knows well enough now. That
seems to be recurring problem hes having with Jesse.

And Jesse doesnt say a word eitherhe just keeps flipping his eyes between the window and his shoes,
looking horribly anxious. His foot is hammering up and down in this absent but very alert way, like hes
trying to channel all his nervous energy into that one endless looping gesture.

There is nothing for Andrew to do but sit still and think for a full hour, which is dreadful. Andrew much
prefers being in his body over his brain during times like these, hating the way his mind clutters with
thoughts that tinge darker and darker as they pile onto one another.

What just happened was astounding. Jesse kissed him. Jesse, in fact, demanded to kiss him and be
kissed by him, demanded it with words but also with insistent lips and hips and hands all over Andrew.
He is still a bit drunk from the rush of it all, the air hanging heavy and sweet around him.


But as the obscenely slow car ride stretches on, Andrew cant help but wonder if he is being a bit too
presumptuous. The reality is he and Jesse kissed, and thats all.

It felt like something more than that to Andrew, of courseit felt like something vast and vivid and
unknowable, something a human shouldnt even be able to experience really, like being at the center of
a supernova. But that doesnt mean it was the same for Jesse.

Andrew has misinterpreted Jesses actions a hundred times overthats bloody clearand he can't help
but think that perhaps hes done it again. Now that the frenzied heat of the moment is over, Andrew can
see the bare facts more clearly. They kissed, yes, but kissing someone doesnt mean youre in love with
them. Maybe Jesse just sort of fancies Andrew? That alone would be a miracle, of course, and Andrew
will gladly take itbut it also means he needs to be careful.

Andrew may be madly in love already, but Jesse could be just edging around the beginnings of this. If
Andrew rushes ahead full-speed, the way he wants to, he could frighten Jesse and end up losing this
perfect thing he only just got his hands on. And that he cannot risk.

So, hes determined to take things slow. He can do that. Surely.

Andrew tips his head against the glass of the car window and smiles to himself, realizing with exhausted
amusement that its back to bloody happy medium. But this time it will be so much better, he knows,
and he thanks every star he can see out the window just for the chance to have the smallest piece of
this with Jess.

Jesse looks over at him then, giving Andrew a shy grin that makes him just drown in happiness. He
smiles sheepishly back, and moves his hand over the seat, delicate but deliberate, so that his little finger
ends up just overlapping Jesse's.

Its the smallest kind of contact, but it fills Andrew with reassurance.

Jesse is here. Jesse is here, and this is real, and just the simple feeling of their skin together assures
Andrew that the night is alive with possibility. After so long of everything narrowing in on them, the
world just threw itself open, leaving nothing behind to block their way towards one another. The only
thing that will slow them now is the clumsiness of their own feet, tripping as they try to come together.
Which will happen, of course, but Andrew doesnt mind. He can go as slow as Jesse needs.

They finally make it home and fumble up the steps to their flat, loopy and lost for what to say. It takes
two tries for Andrew to get the door unlocked, all staccato laughs and shuffling feet.

Once opened, they both just drift aimlessly inside, neither knowing what comes next. Andrews first
instinct is to rush to Jesseto close the gap between them in an instant and dissolve into him for good
this time. But be careful, he remembers. Happy medium. Go slow. He can do this.

Andrews crossed into the kitchen now, hiding behind the table and looking down into the half-empty
cup of coffee he left there earlier, shifting from one foot to the other.

"So," he says, glancing up. He sees Jesse standing far too straight and still, looking expectantly at him.
Andrews heart beats thickly, so afraid of saying the wrong thing.

"We're on the same page here, then?" he sputters out eventually.

"Yeah," Jesse answers, the barest of responses.

Andrew's thumbing the back of the chair now, all anxious fingers, desperate for Jesse to
say something more. It reminds him of the first time they met, when all he wanted was for Jesse to say
something to him, anything at all, so he could puzzle him out.

"I was thinking, should we maybe take this slow?" Andrew offers, hoping this is what Jesse wants. "We
could, you know, go on a couple of dates or something."

"Okay," Jesse replies, stiffening a little. Andrew has no idea what that means. Was his suggestion too
much? Not enough?

"It's just," Andrew tells him, being as honest as he can, "I want to do this right."

Jesse smiles a little too quicklyalmost Mark quickly.

"I do too," is all he says.

"Okay," Andrew replies, not really okay at all, since he has no bloody idea what Jesse really needs or
thinks or expects right now. "Alright."

"Good," Jesse agrees.

"Brilliant," says Andrew. Not brilliant at all.

There is a beat, and god its brutal. Andrew just fans his fingers on the back of the chair and lets out a
stammered breath, unsure of everything. He doesnt know whats supposed to happen now. Do they
just go to bed? To separate beds? Do they watch Doctor Who first? Do they kiss again? Or

"Or," Jesse says all of a sudden. "We could, like, maybe, have sex now."

! ! ! !

"Oh, thank God, Andrew bellows, knocking the chair out of the way and grabbing Jesse with the full
force of his arms.

Their mouths aren't lining up right at first because Andrew is crushing them together so madly, but Jesse
pulls Andrew forward by the sway of his back and steadies him just enough and there. Everything snaps
into place, and its bloody bloody bloody perfect. Andrew cannot believe that Jessesparrow-reaction,
shell-retraction Jessejust casually suggested they should have sex. Andrews really going to have to get
used to this, and fast.

Andrew walks them backwards towards his bedroom without breaking the kiss, not daring to pull their
lips apart. They smash into table corners and stacks of books and maybe knock down a wall, who knows.
Andrew cannot begin to care. The flat could be on fire and he wouldnt notice right now.

He cannot fathom how Jesse could want him this much, just as much as he wants Jesse, but its real and
its raw and its happening right under his hands. The proof is in Jesses kicking pulse and jagged breath
and in all the heat pouring from him onto Andrew.

They start urgently toeing off their shoes as soon as they're through the bedroom door, bumping limbs
all over as they try to undress without breaking apart. Andrew can feel Jesse laughing into the kiss as
they struggle together.

Andrews bed is littered with scarves and hats and books, he realizes abruptly, and he lets go of Jesse for
the briefest second to start chucking things onto the floor.

"Shit, sorry," he apologizes, desperate to do this as fast as possible so he can have his hands on Jesse
again, let me just"

"I don't care," Jesse tells him. "I like your mess."

Wow.

Carey was right. Bloody hell, Carey was so rightAndrew has been a total git about Jesse. He doesnt
know the first goddamn thing about him, actually. Jesse likes his mess? What else does Jesse think about
Andrew that Andrew has no idea about? There is a whole world woven inside of Jesse, one thats been
completely hidden from Andrewhe can see that now. And these are just the first teasing cords coming
undone, untethering as Andrew tugs at them without even knowing it.

He cannot wait to unravel all of Jesse. To know him every inch.

Andrew presses Jesse down onto the mattress, pulling himself on top. The feeling of Jesses body
underneath his own is completely intoxicating, and all he wants is to drink the sensation in deeper.
Andrew starts running his lips over any skin he can find, occasionally catching his teeth on Jesses chin or
his jaw or around the edge of his ear, tasting and exploring. His mouth and hands work together, busy
discovering all the curves and corners of Jess.

Its already early dawn, and a gauzy light starts to fall all over the room, blending with the sound of
Jesses mixtape on loop in the background. The light and the lyrics and the haze of their heavy breath all
settle into the room together, blanketing them in something soft and thick and sweet, like layers of
cotton candy spinning and spinning and spinning and spinning.

Jesse kisses down the long line of Andrews neck, and Andrew buries a hand deep in Jesses hair. And
everything is only this.

Andrew eventually tries to persuade the buttons on Jesses navy button-down to open, working at each
one with impatient fingers, but for some reason they are just not budging. His hands are trembling
horribly, which isnt making it any easier. Andrew forces himself to pull back for a moment, regretting
that he has to break the seal of Jesses lips against his skin.


"A little help here?" he asks, embarrassed and laughing loosely.

Jesse reaches down to touch Andrews knuckles, caressing them in the most careful way.

"Are" he starts, "are your hands shaking?"

Andrew can feel himself begin to blush, so he dips down to graze his nose against Jesses shoulder,
hiding a bit. "Yours are too, he breathes.

"Yeah, but my hands are always shaking," Jesse says in a rickety voice. "And besides, its you."

Andrew actually has to stop then. Stop, and pull back, and stare straight at Jesse, baffled by that boys
utter inability to understand his affect on Andrew.

"Do you really have no idea what you do to me?" Andrew says, mystified. He harnesses his eyes deep
into Jesse, willing him to understand. "Do you not see yourself?"

Jesses eyes churn and blaze and burn in response, shocking Andrew with their clarity. The emotion in
them is so vivid and readable that Andrew can see his own beating heart reflected right back at him,
every feeling alive in the inferno of Jesses eyes. He knows what each thrash and turn inside them means
now because its everything thats happening in him too. Andrew understands, for the very first time,
that he and Jesse feel exactly the same way about one another. That maybe theyve felt exactly the
same way this entire time.

As if to reaffirm the realization, Jesse drags Andrew back down against him, rough and wanting. Andrew
responds so eagerly that Jesse cant help but grin against the kiss.

Andrew bites his lip for him this time.

Their eager fingers work together well enough to finally get Jesses shirt unbuttoned, and they slide
Andrew's t-shirt off a second later. Andrew starts pulling desperately at the zipper of Jesses jeans,
needing this so badly hes on fire from it. Once undone, he pulls Jesses pants down the length of his
legs, letting his fingernails drag against Jesses skin as he strips them off.

Andrew ends up at the foot of the bed after tossing them aside. He likes that, and pauses there to press
a teasing kiss against the knob of Jesses ankle. Jesse, flushed and fighting an army of smiles, turns to
hide his face into the pillow. Andrew cannot have that, so he loops his tongue slowly around the rise of
his ankle. That quickly recaptures Jesses attention, and their eyes barrel into one another again.

Their gaze remains unbroken as Andrew makes his way up Jesses body, lips first. He moves his mouth
from the side of Jesses calf, to the crease behind Jesses knee, to the camber of Jesses thigh, drawing
his lips slowly up each inch, tripping every nerve along the way.

Jesse plunges his fists into the sheets when Andrew finally reaches the fabric of his boxers, skirting his
nose against the hardness there. As Andrews breath steams through the thin cotton, he can feel Jesse
shudder against him. Andrew shifts up in a teasing maneuver, trickling kisses against the border of
Jesses hipbone, his tongue tracing the rise of it.


Andrew pauses, just for a quick moment, to check Jesses reactionto make sure this is all still okay.
There is this ghost of uncertainty lingering between thema fading bruise that will still sting if pressed
the wrong wayand it makes Andrew want to be careful, so careful, with Jesse.

But when he glances up to check, he sees that Jesse looks exactly the way Andrew feels blissed out
and bleary eyed, every facet of his face washed with longing.

Its unbearably beautiful.

The sight of Jesse so undonehis craving obvious across unrestrained featuresmakes Andrew feel
something quake at his core, his mountainous doubts beginning to crack apart from the force of it.

Andrew reaches up to touch the corner of Jesses mouth with the edge of his thumb, feather light.
Reverent. Then he seals his mouth over the spot.

"Youre incredible," Andrew murmurs. "Youre gorgeous."

From there its all pure sensation. Its Jesse kissing the line of his cheekbone and Andrew grazing Jesses
ear with the tip of his tongue and Jesse running his knuckles against the grain of Andrews stubble and
Andrews fingers finding one of Jesses palms and staying there, secret, tracing the lines. Its the feeling
of Jesses weight underneath him, anchoring him to this. Its trembling kisses and stuttering heartbeats
and its goosebumps and convection and being carried under the current together. Andrew doesnt
want to hurry Jesse he just wants to feel everything with him, even if that means spending a thousand
years lost in these sheets, spilling only hands and lips and laughter over one another.

But then Jesse reaches down, groping for the clasp on Andrews pants, and a surge of heat hits him
when he feels Jesses hands moving against the aching there. Andrew helps work his jeans open and
shimmies out of them carefully, trying not to lift too far off of Jesse. Then its just the two of them, skin
against skin, separated only by two flimsy squares of cotton. Every nerve in Andrews body is firing off
one commandcloser, closer, closer, closerbut he doesnt push anything. He waits for Jesse to tell him
whats next.

Eventually Jesse hitches one leg up and hooks it tentatively around Andrews thigh, pushing Andrews
hips down into his. Andrew completely loses it when he feels that first friction between them, his chest
rumbling against Jesses own as he surges the contact closer. Hes kissing Jesse messily now, rolling
down deeper and thenyesJesse is pushing forward and forcing Andrew against him over and over
and over and over and the world becomes nothing but the slow, scorching movements of their bodies
bending into one another.

Andrew starts slinking back down Jesses body after a few minutes, blowing a thin stream of air along his
bare skin as he goes, leaving a line of goosebumps in his wake. Once he reaches his destination, he bows
his head and drags his cheek against Jesses thigh, stubble on skin. Andrew starts slowly mouthing at him
through the fabric of his boxers, grazing Jesses hardness with the thin edge of his teeth, just once.

Andrew looks up at him quickly, spending one last second making sure this is what Jesse wants. And it
is. God, it is. He can see Jesses entire body begging for this, and its almost more than Andrew can take.
He never thought he would be allowed to have this much of Jesse. Even if Jesse did unwind enough to

want him, he was sure it could never be as bad as the way he wanted Jesse. But Andrew was
fucking wrong.

Hes been wrong about most things, obviously, but this might be the biggest miscalculation. Andrew was
convinced Jesse could never unfurl himself fully in such an intimate way, especially for him. But Jesse
is here. Right here, rolled into Andrews bed, panting and pushing him forward and wanting it all.

Jesses heat thaws all his fears, burning away the final frost of uncertainty holding him back. Andrew is
not second-guessing this anymore, not again. Hes going to give and give and give into Jesse, as far as he
can go, striping off every last band of caution.

He pulls at Jesses boxers then, pinning him to the mattress with one hand and running his fingers in
teasing brushes with the other as he drags the troublesome fabric from his hips. Once Jesse is
completely bared in front of him, Andrew suddenly finds himself feeling not very nice at all, instantly
regretting not just ripping the fucking things off with his teeth. The sight of Jesse naked in front of him
naked for himjust shreds Andrew with want. He shoves Jesses thighs apart, probably a little too
roughly.

"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do this," Andrew thunders, half a groan already.

Andrew closes his mouth around Jesse, tremendously greedy. Jesses hips buckle up off the bed the
moment he feels the first punch of pleasure, but Andrew moves with him, steadying Jesses hip with his
hand after a minute. A tremor of lust unleashed passes straight from Jesse and into Andrew, rocking
them both with the violence of it.

Andrew moves slowly, his tongue rough and teasing in turns. Jesses entire body is responding, so much
that its hard to keep upJesses back is arching off the bed and his hands are digging into Andrews hair
and his voice is a whimpering mess, melting down words into incoherent sounds. And no matter how
much Andrew tries to hold him steady, Jesse won't stop jolting up, his hips heaving him deeper into
Andrew.

The fact that Jesse needs this so badly just obliterates anything polite left in Andrew, making him moan
uncontrollably around Jesses cock as he drives his mouth down to meet him.

Jesse moves his hand to Andrew's cheek after a few minutes of this, thumbing the nexus between his
hardness and the corner of Andrew's mouth like its something incredibly erotic.

"AAndrew," Jesse chokes out, demolished, "Andrew, I'm gonna"

Andrew pulls his lips up the length of Jesse one last time, feeling him tremor as he goes. He leans
forward, moving up to swallow the groan from Jesse's mouth. Andrew cannot have Jesse finish just
yethe needs so much more of this.

"Jess," Andrew says, hoarse, "I don't want you to come yet, I want, I want"

"Yeah," Jesse answers, acquiescing entirely. "Anything. Yeah."

Andrews hands move faster than thought after Jesse says that, and before he even knows what hes
doing hes wrenched the bedside drawer open and pulled out the unopened lube and condoms hes
kept there since December, purchased during an outlandishly hopeful shopping trip pre-Bridgewater.
Before he can consider the enormity of whats about to happen, hes back against Jesses lips, their kiss
crackling and catching fire, keeping him from second-guessing anything.

Andrew pops the cap off of the bottle and slicks his fingers as he hums soft words against Jesse, Ive got
you, Ive got you, he whispers, meaning it more than Jesse can know. He slides his hand down carefully,
pressing a finger skillfully insideJesse gasps into Andrews mouth the moment he catches the subtle
rise inside him, working just the right juncture.

Promises and prayers and a thousand precious words, trapped too long behind clenched teeth, flood
from Andrew then. They spill out in bits of broken english, unbounded along the length of Jesses
skin. You possess meentirecould never have marvelously beautiful alwayswanted this
promisetake care of youforeverpromisepromisepromise

Andrew plays him with the tips of his fingers, strumming inside him until suddenly a specific movement
just obliterates Jesse, making him arch off the bed and gasp madly against Andrews throat.

Andrew cant keep from making a little sound of victory at that, and adjusts his angle lower so that he's
sweeping the same spot again and again, agonizingly slow until hes sure Jesse is unraveled completely.

"Andrew," he begs, his voice breaking. "Come on."

Andrew can do nothing but yield to that request.

He pulls up to kiss Jesses forehead, lighter than a whisper, worshiping every inch.

"Okay."

Andrew knows he needs to navigate this part, so he sits back on his heels to roll the condom on and
works to maneuver a pillow underneath Jesses hips, tucking his hands under Jesses knees to line him
up properly against himself. He tries to do it all deftly, but Andrew is so nervous that he flips the
condom on upside down the first time and ends up dripping lube all over the sheets and needs to realign
Jesse more than once before everything feels right.

He forgets all the awkwardness in an instant, though, when he sees the way Jesse is looking up at him.

Jesses eyes are needful things, begging Andrew to crash into himto crash into him the same reckless
way Andrews wanted to crash into Jesse a thousand times before this. Andrew can think of nothing
now but how profoundly, how irretrievably in love he is with Jesse, and how he never thought he could
have this, but fuck. Here it is.

And its hisJesse is his. Andrews whole body feels infused with an unfamiliar sense of possession, of
conquest, to have Jesse so surrendered underneath him. Jesse is his, and he is Jesses, and they will
never have to know what it means to be less than two parts to this whole again.

"Tell me if Im hurting you," Andrew insists, because Jesse is his now, his to take care of.


"I trust you," Jesse replies, fervent.

Andrew can feel his face dissolve into a helpless sort of smile, and he ducks his head down and kisses
the inside of Jesses knee one last time, a tender reminder that Andrew is surrendered just as fullythat
Jesse is in possession of him in equal measure.

He takes a second to steady himself, inhales, and starts slowly pushing into Jess.

Andrew trembles from head to toe, instantly submerged in a pleasure so powerful he cant even
summon a name for it. Hes had sex with someone hes been in love with before, but this feeling is a
world away from anything hes experienced. Its uncharted.

Jesse clasps a hand against Andrew, low on his hip, steadying him as he moves in slow, shallow strokes.
It takes Andrew a few minutes before he can draw himself inside Jesse deeply enough to be able to lean
forward, embracing Jess in his arms. They are face-to-face then, mouths gasping against one other,
strands of Andrews hair whispering up and down Jesses cheek as their bodies fold together and
together and together.

There is absolutely nothing holding them back from the fullness of this anymore. They are one place.

Andrew shivers wildly when he feels the pace of their movement pick up, driving his hips down deeper
as Jesse thrusts his up to meet him in the same insistent rhythm. He can feel Jesses breath travel over
his skin, arching around him in stretching circles like smoke ensnared in a pent up room. Eventually
Andrew cant help himself. He pulls almost all the way outhovering on the rim of Jesse for a split-
secondthen pushes immediately back in, forceful, ravenous.

Andrew can feel every nerve inside him detonate when he does it, a wrecked moan breaking from his
lips. Jesse rips his fingers into Andrew's back upon impact, his nails raking so sharply they almost break
the skin.

Ecstasy annihilates all thought after that, and Andrew can do nothing now but paint blurry words onto
Jesses throat, panting jess, jess, jess as he gets so close. And Jesse is answering him in the same
fractured voice, please, andrew, please please. Their rhythm starts getting sloppier, faster, frenzied.
When Andrew finally pulls a hand down around Jesse's cock, he feels Jesse just splinter underneath him,
nearly breaking apart as he comes. Andrew follows in a split-second, driven over the edge by the
rawness of Jesse. Andrew almost goes deaf from the force of it, shaking as he comes.

There is one suspended second were they both hang together in the aftermath, their mouths flung
open, gasping together.

Then Andrew collapses onto Jesse, a pile of exhausted pleasure. There is a long stretch of quiet
afterwards, the sound of Andrew's mixtape in the background bleeding into the heaving rhythm of
Jesse's heartbeat.

Eventually Andrew gains some cursory control over his limbs, and he starts pulling out and cleaning
them up and getting rid of the condom in an attempt to be the one functional human here, noticing that
Jesse is utterly lost, lingering somewhere between bliss and oblivion.


"Wow," Andrew says after tucking himself back into bed.

"Yeah," Jesse agrees, his voice filmy from it all.

He turns to look at Andrew then, and beams a smile so warm and radiant it knocks the air right back out
of him.

Jesse is looking at him likewell, like Andrew is every good thing in the world. Like hes a snow day and
a cinnamon roll and the crack of a crme brulee and the chrystler building at midnight and the curve of
the ocean the first time you see it, awed from the edge of shore. Like Andrew is borderless.
Unboundedly beautiful.

Andrew can do nothing but smile stupidly back, an inexpressible happiness turning all his words to futile
devices.

He pulls himself up beside Jesse, as close as he can, molding their bodies together like that night in LA.
Andrew kisses the place where Jesses neck joins his shoulder, and Jesse runs his fingertips over the arc
of Andrews hip, and there's nothing left uncovered, no space untouched. They fall asleep linked
together like that, naked in more ways than one.


***

Cut sloppily out of Andrew's cumming's collection and left on the bedside table while Jesse was
sleeping.

***


Andrew sleeps better than he has in months.

He rustles awake in the early afternoon, every limb still draped around Jesse. When he first pulls his
eyes open, hes overwhelmed by a strange sense of dj vu, remembering a couple of weeks ago when
he woke up just like this out in LA (albeit a little less naked). He remembers the infinite feeling of that
morninghow he thought it could be the start of everything.

And, it turns out, he was more or less right.

There was a rather major derailment in the middle, obviously (which reminds Andrew: he needs to have
a serious talk with Jesse regarding texting etiquette, ASAP). But, in the end, they came together just as
Andrew hoped they would. That night in his hotel roomthe TV blaring TARDIS blue and his wet hair
soaking the pillowhe recalls dusting a kiss onto the corner of Jesses lips, a prayer more than anything.
When he put his lips to Jesses, he was begging whatever power would listen to let them have this. To
let them to come together for good this time.

And bloody hell, that is exactly what happened. And its so overwhelming, so dizzyingly sweet, that
Andrew can barely sit up straight right now. He considers just staying under the sheets all day, spending
the time until Jesse wakes up counting all the ways in which he is the luckiest bloke on the planet, but
Andrew thinks the better of the plan eventuallyknowing Jess, it could be next Tuesday before hes
finally awake.

Andrew hops out of bed then to slip on a pair of boxers, and he finds his body stiff and aching. As he
twists his back and stretches his arms out, memories from last night start to trickle in, suddenly making
him very aware of why hes so sore (and leaving a ridiculous grin extended across his face). After
recalling one particular bit, he skips over to the mirror to check his back andoh yes, there are
monstrous scratch marks traversing his skin. Hes going to have fun showing those to Jess later.

As he walks out of the room, Andrew instantly regrets leaving Jesse behind in bed, feeling uneasy about
even the smallest separation right now. But he wills himself to shake it off, contented by the pulse-deep
knowledge that he is Jesses now, and Jesse is his, and that those facts will remain true whether there is
a kitchen or a country or a continent separating them.

Andrew sips down a cup of spiced tea as he leans against their dining table, thinking about a crushing
fear he had oncethat telling Jesse everything would be like unhinging himself in this spot, broken open
and bared completely. It turns out it was much worse than he anticipated when it came to the undoing;
he was blown open so many times he was afraid he might never come together again.

And yet, Andrew thinks, perhaps that total destruction made being sealed back together all the more
meaningful. Jesse stitched up every rip running through Andrew last night, mending him with lips
against his throat and fingers through his hair and a thousand words and groans and gestures that
proved there was nothing between them but a complete trust, a consuming love.

And, of course, Andrew can recognize now that things must have been just as bad for Jesse. Hes not
sure exactly how aligned they were in terms of their feelings the whole time, but regardless, one thing is
clear: they each arrived at this bed last night a wrecked mess, split open a hundred ways from
unrequited everything. And Andrew hopes he mended Jesse back just as fiercely.

Realizing hes bloody famished, Andrew starts rifling through the cupboard for the full jar of Nutella he
just bought, digging a spoon out of the drawer at the same time. Maybe when Jess wakes up Andrew
will whip them up a proper breakfast (or supper, come to think). But for now, this is perfect.

When Andrew waltzes back into the bedroom, hes surprised to see Jesse is awake and already propped
up against the headboard, waiting for him. Andrew smiles and jumps right into bed, grabbing one of
Jesses shoulders with his free hand to balance as he leans forward to kiss him hello.


"Good morning," he says against Jesses lips, loving the absolute permission he has to do that now.

"Afternoon, isn't it?" Jesse answers. Andrew gives a little noncommittal shrug, trying not to be an arse
by pointing out that Jesse slept later than he did. He unscrews the top of the jar, flinging the cap onto
the floor before dipping the spoon in, humming happily to himself as he settles into the bed with Jesse.

Jesse pulls him in close, rolling sideways and letting his body mix with Andrew's until their knees are
knocking together under the sheets. Andrew tugs Jesse's arm around his waist, and Jesse leans up and
kisses the skin right under Andrew's jaw, dragging his lips against the stubble there.

Andrew lets out a breathy laugh somewhere between disbelief and delirious craving, and turns to catch
Jesse's chin with two fingers. The end of Andrew's thumb is covered in Nutella, and he swipes it across
Jesse's bottom lip before leaning in to lick it away, curling the contact into a lengthy kiss.

"Deerstalker caps," Andrew says once he manages to pull back, trying to engage his mind with
something other than the fact that Jesse is completely naked in his bed.

Jesse just blinks at him. Andrew smiles a little.

"I'm assuming," he continues, spooning out of the jar as he goes, "that you wondered when I started to
fancy you. It was when we were having lunch the day of the table read, and you said that thing about
British people having deerstalker caps and comically large pipes, and I remember thinking, he's
adorable."

Jesse blinks even harder, appearing rather dumbfounded.

"That was, like, the first actual conversation we ever had, he says, incredulity coating the words.

"I know," Andrew says, smiling around his spoon. Jesse has no idea.

"So," Jesse says, "the whole time?"

"Essentially.

"Oh." Jesse is silent.

Andrew could explain it all then, if he wanted to. He could tell Jesse about purposely brushing his leg
during lunch or about the texts he almost sent him on his birthday or about how badly he wanted to
wrap their lives together from that first night in the flat. He could tell Jesse just how fast his heart dove
into thisnot falling in love as much as torpedoing into it. He could admit that the day on the couch,
when Andrew accidentally straddled him and the whole room rang with the impact of it, that hed never
wanted anything more than Jesse.

He could confess how much he bled, breaking apart again and again whenever he got it wrong
whenever he got so close to this but clutched frantically to doubt, convincing himself that Jesse could
never want him the same way. He could describe the tears after Bridgewater or the panic attack out on

the balcony in LA or the grief that knocked him to the floor of the hotel in London just a few days past.
He could name every line on his face, if that helped explain it allhes done it before.

But Andrew doesnt have to do any of that. Jesse is sitting next to him, his eyes shifting in and out of
focus as his head shakes in slow motion, soundless yet saying it all. Andrew knows he doesnt have to
explain anything, not one part of it, because all those months are moving across Jesses face right now,
faster than a filmstrip. Andrew can see each anguish he experienced tumbling over Jesse in an avalanche
of realization.

After a long moment of this, Jesse finally looks up, his eyes glassy. With an uneven voice, he says simply,
"I'm sorry."

Andrew pulls the spoon out of his mouth and shakes his head, not needing to spend another minute in
that place. "Don't be. I put you through hell too, and I was too thick to realize it."

"I just" Jesse starts. "I was so sure you would have told me, and I didn't... I don't know, I guess I just
never really thought you'd see anything in me."

That sentence smashes into Andrew so hard he almost falls back from the force of it. How could Jesse
ever, ever think that?

"Jess," Andrew says seriously, fixing him with a stern look that he hopes will make him really hear this.
"Listen to me. You are amazing." Andrew doesnt know how to express it any more plainly.

Jesse scrunches up his face and rolls out of Andrew's arms, pulling the blankets up over his head. "Stop."

"No, no," Andrew insists, laughing as he follows, trying to wrestle the blankets away from him, "you are!
Youre sweet and silly and vulnerable andowopen and sexy, honestly, I'm so in love with you that
sometimes it makes me want to throw up."

And Jesse just stops. Everything stops.

Oh bloody hell, Andrew realizes. That was the first time he actually said the words. And Jesses face is
just blank.

Andrews smile cant help but falter a little as he asks, "Was that?"

Before he can finish the question, Jesse's shoving him down and kissing him so hard their teeth bang
together. The abrupt movement sends a shock of pain through Andrews sore body, but hes never felt
anything hurt so beautifully.

Andrew really, really needs to get used to this. For his own safety.

Once he gets his bearings on the whole Jesse-is-making-out-with-me-quite-furiously-right-now situation,
Andrew begin kissing him back in earnest, letting his hands wander greedily over Jesses naked skin.

Then, out of nowhere, Jesse slams Andrew flat against the mattress with both hands, climbing on top of
him and pulling Andrews knees up until Jesse is straddling him, possessive, primal.


Um.

Andrew is awake, correct?

"Right, yes, definitely loving Assertive Jesse," Andrew says once hes actually able to form words.

"I really, just", Jesse attempts to stutter out, biting his lip in that way that makes Andrew insane with
want.

"I love you, he says finally. A lot. Like, sometimes it actually does make me throw up."

If there was any remnant of darkness left in Andrewany inch of doubt still clutching against his heart
those words obliterate it.

"Also love Throw Up Jesse," Andrew says, beaming with his whole body, "and you should know that it
drives me out of my fucking head when you bite your lip like that."

He hauls Jesse back down to his mouth and keeps him there, tracing his tongue over the little dips
Jesse's nervous teeth notched into his bottom lip. Jesses hands rake down Andrews chest and Andrew
bites into the bend of Jesses shoulder, not careful now, only urgent, rampant and running with need.
Jesse not only kisses boys, he bloody fucks them, Andrew thinks with a giddy carnality, remembering
that first drunken night out and how much his world has changed since then.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of mouths and moans and rocking hips and re-discovered
Nutella, the jar of which Andrew puts to good use once he finds it forgotten between the sheets, pulling
strips of hazelnut-chocolate over Jesses torso and licking up the length of him. The messy affair is
followed by a two-hour shower, during which Andrew receives a new set of scratches. Jesse is
magnificently rough sometimes, he is discoveringthats one thing Andrew would never have guessed,
but bloody hell he loves it.

Afterwards, they order a very pedestrian dinner of Domino's pizza because theyre both too exhausted
to do anything else. They tangle down into the couch together, pizza box balancing precariously on the
armrest, and finish the last series of Doctor Who. It all feels familiar, feels routine, in the most lovely,
easy way. Yet part of it is so new, so full of things to come, that Andrew can sense a wide-open future
running far out in front of them, further than they can even begin to see.

***

Taken by Jesse, then sent to Emma at Andrews insistence. Jesse adds the accompanying message,
"Guess what?"

***


Emma calls them screaming approximately five seconds after she gets the picture of Andrew,
demanding to be put on speakerphone so they can tell her every goddamn detail or I swear to
everything that is holy Eisenberg I will fly there and beat it out of you. She is a delight, Andrew thinks
genuinely.

After Emma it's Carey, who gets audibly choked up on the other end of the line as Andrew tells her what
happened. She calls them both idiots, of course, her tears softening easily into laughter. Andrew hopes
he'll be able to repay her someday for the way she held him together so selflessly during the worst parts
of the past few months.

Two days later, they get a bouquet of flowers delivered to their door with a card that says Congrats from
your girls!, which Andrew cant help but roll his eyes at since it accompanies a care package bursting
with condoms and lube. Jesse seems horrified at their special delivery, but Andrew finds it rather funny.

Theyve only got a few days of shooting left, with principle photography scheduled to completely wrap
at the end of February. The mood on set is very light, Andrew findsor maybe this is just how the world
actually feels to someone who is not in the desperate thralls of unrequited love.

Andrew actually has to shake his head at himself sometimes when he looks back on what an idiot he was
about Jesse.

The one thing that makes him feel a bit less stupid, though, is thinking what a spectacular git Jesse was,
far more than Andrew. Because, yes, Jesse gave Andrew hints along the way that he fancied himhints
which Andrew absolutely agrees he should have picked up on and pursued. But when you compare
Jesses few littered clues to the reverberating loudspeaker of Andrews affection, it is almost laughable.
Andrew might as well have hung a bloody banner over the front door to their flat, something along the
lines of Hello! Jesse! Yes, you! I am desperately in love with you, you git of all gits! Regards, Andrew.

To be honest, that might have been a bit subtler than what Andrew actually did half the time.

He really cant help but tease Jesse occasionally over how thick he was (I abandoned my family and
flew across a bloody ocean two bloody days after bloody christmas just to bloody spend one bloody
afternoon with you. And you thought that was perfectly normal, friendly behavior? Um. Yeah? That
friends do that? Jesse Okay, fuck, yes, Im an idiot. Lets actually go ahead and alert the press, Ill
get the Times on the line, Im sure theyre gonna want to run this above the fold first thing tomorrow:
Actor Jesse Eisenberg Bad at Interpreting Human Courting Signals. Well, as long as your full
confession is printed and archived for posterity, Ill be satisfied. Okay. Andrew, are we done? Can we
just, like, have sex now and not talk about this again, ever? Obviously, Andrew says, pulling him
fiercely back into bed).

Hes been pulling Jesse fiercely into a wide variety of locations lately, come to think of it. Sometimes a
bed, sometimes a bathroom stall, and sometimes even just a reasonably secluded corner when they can
sneak away on set. Restraint is something Andrew is having a bit of trouble with these days.

Theyre shooing the last of the deposition scenes that week, spending most of their time on location at
the law offices set. One night, Andrew suggests to Fincher that he and Jesse might stay after shooting to
run through some ideas for tomorrows scenes. He agrees its a good plan and, once the crew is cleared
out at the end of the night, Andrew and Jesse get started.

Improvising around the scripted scenes is something theyve done quite a bit throughout the shootits
a helpful way to inhabit the characters with more clarity. But this time is a bit different.

Tonight theyre going to be playing out the possibilities of how the last meeting between Mark and
Eduardo might have gone. Its something theyve talked about doing for a long time, considering there is
really nothing in Sorkins script about how Mark and Wardo might have left things at the very last. Once
the depositions were over, did they just both walk away, silent? Or did Eduardo say something off the
record to Mark? Or vice-versa? He and Jesse both felt that exploring the end of things between Mark
and Eduardo could be helpful perspective to have as they shoot the last of the depositions sequences
together.

As soon as theyre alone, the mood thickens. And maybe its some very serious reverse-character-bleed
or maybe this is really just what hangs at the core of Mark and Eduardo, but whatever the reason, the
whole room is immediately imbued with a torrent of sexual tension. Its not a terribly large space, just a
meeting room with one large table and a wall of glass doorsbut it feels even smaller now, filled with
this overwhelming tension and the flood of things unsaid between the characters.

The first few times they play it out, they dont even say a word. Eduardo will just give Mark a particular
look before packing up and walking out the door, knowing this is likely the last time theyll ever be in the
same room together. On one try, Mark actually manages to admit across the table that he regrets how
things happened, and Andrew can feel Eduardo responding profoundly to even that small gesture,
alarmingly similar to how someone on the brink of starvation might respond to being shoved a crust of
bread.

On the last try, Mark catches Eduardos wrist between his thumb and forefinger as hes walking out,
stopping him just before he reaches the door.

Wardo, is all he says.

And thats it.

Andrew feels himself whip around as Eduardo takes control of his body, pulling Mark up by two fistfuls
of his ridiculous business hoodie and slamming him down onto the table. Its all a blur after that,
Andrews hands moving with Eduardos need. The last thing he can clearly recall is wrenching open
Marks shirt so violently the buttons made pop-pop-pop sounds as they split off, and Mark ripping those
pristine Eduardo Saverin slacks almost in half as he shoved them down to take Wardo in his hand,
pumping an inelegant rhythm against him.

The next thing Andrew is distinctly aware of is Eduardo coming thunderously and Mark following a
second later, the pair of them nearly breaking the table from the force of it.

Somehow they stay in character even as they pull apart, and Andrew feels a cavernous sorrow overtake
Eduardo as he realizes this isnt reconciliation. Mark is putting himself back together and packing up his
things and telling Eduardo it was all a mistake, and underneath Andrew remembers that of course this is
how it has to endin real life they never got married or moved in together or had brunch with the
neighbors. Whatever the two of them might have done in a room with a table once, the fact is, they
didnt stay together. There is no happy ending for Mark and Eduardo.

So, Andrew has to watch Jesse leave him through Eduardos eyes, feeling demolished as Jesses feet
follow Marks gait out the glass doors, not even glancing back at what he's given up.

They both need a few minutes just to breathe after that, still in separate rooms. A long while passes, but
eventually Jesse comes back in, having successfully sloughed off Mark. Relief is palpable across his
features when Andrew says Hey in his natural accent, back from the brink of Eduardo.

It's just Andrew and Jesse then. And they find themselves holding each other there for a long while,
mourning what Mark and Wardo lost.

As they walk out together, everything instantly feels so much lighter, both of them able to leave the
leaden mood of what they just experienced behind in the room, ready to pick up on it tomorrow when
they shoot.

All Andrew can think about right now, actually, is how impossible its going to be to explain this to
wardrobe.

When they're not on set filming (or engaging in extracurricular rehearsals), their time is divided fairly
evenly between, well, the sex, and all the usual things they always do together, along with a bit of
proper romancing. They have so little free time to work with that often that just means Andrew opening
doors for Jesse or switching from paper plates to the nice glassware when he cooks. Its not exactly how
Andrew would choose to do it if they had more time, but its something.

And there are these little moments along the way that fall together of their own accord. Last night,
Andrew managed to pull Jesse against him to slow dance in the middle of the living room, stepping on
each others socked feat as Try to Remember a Kind of September hummed from the record player. Eyes
closed and foreheads tipping in together, they were the only two people in the world.

Thats not to say there havent been a few hitches along the way, of course. There are kisses that fizzle
out and nights when theyre so exhausted they dont have the energy to do anything more than sort of
pat each other on the shoulder before falling asleep. And occasionally Andrew can feel Jesse start to
panic. It might be from the film or from this or from something else entirely, he isnt always surebut
the important thing is that he knows how to pull Jess outside and anchor him with his arms and breathe
with him all the way through it. And theyre always okay afterwardsbetter than okay, really.

Their first real date as a couple is on their last day off before filming ends. Andrew manages to snag a
pair of tickets to a Boston Celtics game and they drive into the city a couple of hours early so they can
have lunch before it starts. Andrew insists on payingalways the proper gentlemanbut Jesse
somehow sneaks around him that time and gets the waiter to split the bill.

As they head down the street to the stadium, they keep up a respectable distance but still brush elbows
every once in a while, a warm gesture reminding them both this is still a date. Inside, they share one of
those absurdly salted pretzels only Americans eat and Andrew really cant keep himself from pointing
out how much better football is than this inelegant sport. Thankfully Jesse indulges him, rolling his eyes
only the minimum required amount at Andrews raging Briticisms.

At one point during the game, Jesse returns from the bathroom with one of those bright green
shamrocks painted on his face, smirking as he sees Andrews look of surprise.

The next morning there's paint smeared into sheets, the remaining bits of green flecked against
Andrew's lips.


The last day of shooting comes on a Thursday, and it feels powerfully bittersweet. Fincher passes out a
round of beers after he calls a wrap on the very last take, and everybody hugs and high-fives and Sorkin
gets rather mistywhich gets Andrew rather mistyand they all crush together to say their goodbyes.

When he and Jesse are back in the car together, Andrew puts his hand on the gearshift, and Jesse places
his on top, guiding them home.

That night they sit on Jesses bed and pull out all the things they've saved, spreading them out on the
mattress. Its an untidy tangle of polaroids and notes and poems on creased paper, most of it things
Andrew had saved without Jesse even knowing. Jesse touches everything with the tips of his fingers,
skimming his hands over the tangible proof of the life they've built together. Andrew watches him,
knees tucked up to his chin, thinking they can feel it all in this bed, everything that got them here, every
thread raveled up between them, two warm hearts beating too loud in their bodies. He hopes Jesse
feels just the same.

As if in answer, Jesse smiles up at him then, and Andrew leans in to kiss him on both cheeks, painting his
lips over each of Jesses dimples.

"You are," Andrew says, "my favorite thing."


***


Taken by Andrew of Jesse's (their) bedside table.

***



"We're going to be late," Jesse insists.

"I don't care," Andrew answers into his throat, running his teeth over Jesses skin.

Andrew knows full well theyre going to be late to the bloody wrap party, but what the hell does that
matter?

"If we show up late and I have a Seurat in hickeys on my n-neck" Jesse's voice sputters into
incoherency as Andrew grazes one of his hands over the thin fabric of his boxers "p-people are goin
Andrare going to figure it out and then nobody will ever shut up about it and we'll never have any
privacy ever again."

"Mmm, turns me on when you talk about French post-impressionists," Andrew teases, biting the
juncture of Jesse's jaw right where it meets his neck. Andrew knows how to play his boyfriends body
mercilessly now, using his tongue and teeth in turns against Jesses throat just as he works a hand
underneath the band of his boxers.

"Maybe I want them to know you're mine," Andrew challenges, the craving clear in his voice. Andrew
circles a hand around Jesses hardness at the exact moment he also digs his teeth against his throat,
definitely leaving a mark. Whoops.

Jesse buckles forward then, bracing himself against the bathroom counter with both hands. He turns his
head a little, nosing into Andrew's hair, and Andrew lets a pleased sound growl from his chest, sure hes
won already.

They are, indeed, very late to the party. It is well worth it.

The bar is alive with action by the time they finally slink in through the back door. Andrew laughs as he
pulls Jesse by the hand through the crowd and towards the block of booths in the back reserved for the
cast. It looks like everyone's shown upBrenda at the bar doing shots with Joe and Patrick, Rashida in a
corner booth choking on her drink over some story that Josh is telling herthat rougeand Fincher is
even here, having a beer with Sorkin at the bar. Andrew also spots Rooney by the fire exit in a beret and
a pair of knee-high boots, introducing Max to somebody who looks like she must be Rooney's sister.
Andrew thinks he senses a bit of a spark between her and Max.

Then again, what does Andrew know? Hes bloody awful at picking up on those sorts of signs apparently.

"Hey," Justin says when he sees Andrew and Jesse, jiggling his eyebrows in this obscene way that
says, oh hey you two gays, I bet I know what you were just doing before you got here.

To be fair, its not as though hes wrong.


"Hello!" Andrew answers brightly, tugging Jesse against his side. "Sorry we're late. Something came up.
Andrew cant help but smirk at his own depthless joke, and Jesse just glares at him. Justin makes mock
gagging noises as Andrew throws his head back in laughter and Jesse turns beet-red.

"Good evening, ladies," Armie says, coming up behind them and ruffling Jesse's hair in an adorably big
brother sort of way. "Glad you could make it."

Armie looks between the two of them, eyes moving swiftly from Jesse's face to Andrew's arm around his
shoulders to Jesse's neck and back up again. It takes him a minute to make the connection, but Andrew
can see it all click into place as Armie smirks a little and taps the side of his nose twice in a knowing
gesture. They both just nod stupidly in response, and Armie gives them a double thumbs-up and orders
three Cowboy Cocksuckers from the bartender. Its perfect, really.

After that, Andrew and Jesse end up having drink after drink foisted on themthey lose track of who's
buying to congratulate them on the film and who's buying to congratulate them on their gay love, as
Justin so eloquently put it. But regardless of the reason, they end up getting perilously drunk in very
short order, falling all over each other in a manner thats probably far too affectionate for present
company.

He and Jesse had a very long talk recently about how public they were willing to go with their
relationship, and their mutual consensus was that they wanted to keep it as quiet as possible to avoid
any leaks to the press (not that anyone in the States even knows who Andrew is, but still, it could be bad
for Jess). And that meant no hanky-panky at this party.

Several people involved with the film know about them already (some because they have tolike the
PR peopleand some because they just, well, do, such as Justin). This might lead one to think that a
warp party would be a safe place for them to be all over each other, but Andrew is very aware that
there is wait staff here and friends of the cast and, really, even if this wrap party was only TSN cast and
crew, Andrew wouldnt exactly be comfortable with the 2nd AD knowing who hes fucking. The last
thing he wants is a photo of him all over Jesse ending up on some gits Facebook page (that would have
a beautiful sort of irony though, Andrew concedes).

Despite all this, Andrew still gets a little put out when Jesse won't agree to be dragged out onto the
dance floor or consent to make out with him in a sufficiently darkened corner (well, Andrew thought it
was sufficiently darkened). His mood picks back up, though, when Brenda and Justin start telling them
all their embarrassing stories about growing up on the Disney channel, and then Joe chimes in with
something about Jurassic Park, and it all snowballs from there into this sloppy, hysterically funny group
therapy session. Jesse jumps in too, telling an excruciating story about how all his classmates used to
cheer for him not to cry on the bus. Bless him.

Andrew excuses himself for a tick to dart to the toilets, running into Rooney on the way and giving her a
swift kiss on both cheeks before she heads out for the night with her sister. Max is leaving too
apparently, and Andrew shoots him a quick salute to say goodbye, watching as he follows the girls out
the door. Andrew thinks he may have been right about that spark after all.

He is washing his hands at the sink when the noise of the bathroom door squealing open makes him
glance up. He sees Jesse walk in, which wouldnt be particularly odd, except that Jesse grabs him by the
collar, yanks him around, and slams him up against the paper towel dispenser with a seething urgency.

What.

No really, what the fuc

"Shut up," Jesse bellows before Andrew can even open his mouth to ask.

Suddenly Jesse is everywhere all at once. He is biting down on Andrew's lip and shoving a hand in his
hair and kissing him furiously, so violent they'll both have bruises tomorrow, all while running
his other hand over the outline of Andrews cock, already half-hard inside his jeans. Andrew cannot
begin to guess what brought this on, but far be it from him to ever question the motives of Assertive
Jesse.

He is dimly aware that anyone could walk through the door right now and see them like this, but
Andrew finds himself unable to summon even the most minuscule of fucks to give regarding the
situation. Jesse shoves one leg between Andrew's and grinds down hard, the rip of pleasure making
Andrew release a filthy noise into Jesse mouth. He rocks brutally back against him, and they essentially
fuck right there in all their clothes, just desperation and denim and rough friction against one another.

Andrew wrenches a fistful of Jesses hair far too roughly, and Jesse rips three fucking buttons from
Andrews shirt as he tears the top open just to land his lips against the dip of his collarbone. They ride
the fast, graceless rhythm between them until theyre both swearing as they come, holding each other
up.

"Fucking hell," Andrew spits, breathless, "what was that?"

Jesse just shrugs, biting his lip and watching Andrew's eyes, his breath coming in unsteady gasps.

"You're fucking amazing," Andrew tells him, running his hands up Jesse's sides, possessive and sort of
proud. Jesse is usually the careful one, keeping Andrew in check, especially when theyre in public. Just
10 minutes prior Jesse wouldnt even dance with Andrew because people were watchingand now
this?

"IyoufuckingI haven't come in my pants since I was seventeen, what the fuck," Andrew sputters,
undone.

"Let's get out of here," Jesse says, tugging on one of Andrew's belt loops. Andrew is so awed he can do
nothing but follow.

Nobody but Armie notices them coming out of the bathroom together, and he just winks and
mouths unsanitary! at them over everyone's heads. Andrew gives him the finger, and then they're
ducking out the back door and calling a cab and Andrew still hasn't let go of Jesse's hand.

"Love you," Andrew breathes into Jesses ear as they tumble into the backseat of the cab.

"I know," Jesse answers, his lips already against Andrews jaw as he pulls the partition closed.

***

Andrew feels that musical education should never cease, especially when it comes to his showtune-
inclined boyfriend.

***


The lease to their flat is up on February 28th.

Andrew has the date burned into memory because he is forced to stare at it every day when he puts the
kettle on. They keep one of those free charity calendars you get in the mail at the far corner of the
kitchen, and Andrew cannot abide seeing Move Out Day written under the 28th anymore. He keeps
putting things over the date to obscure it, abusing it with Nutella fingerprints and coffee rings until the
inked in words begin to bleed over into March.

Andrew is dreading having to finally walk out the door, losing the refuge of this place they made
together. He is miserable at the thought of not spending every night with Jesse, hating that he has to
head back to England almost immediately to start on a landslide of press and new projects.

But mostly he is afraid of falling out the other the end of this, unsure how to navigate what comes next.
What is Andrew supposed to do, just bang some bookends around this era of his life, packing everything
in tight so he can fit it neatly on the shelf of whatever new place he lands? And Andrew feels strangely
like he wont even know how to use his limbs right without Jesse aroundlike hell always be ghosting
an arm out to grab a handful of chestnut hair that isnt there.

But there is one thing Andrew knows with absolute certainty: they will make it work, no matter what. He
might not know exactly what that means yet, but he has no doubt they'll find their way.

They just need to learn how to open this upup and out and into their livesrather than narrowing
their lives down into this, which is what theyve been doing for the past few weeks.

And they will. It will come to them, as all things do.

The most important thing is that Andrew knows he can carry Jesse with him wherever he ends up, no
matter how far theyre physically forced apart. After so many nights pressed skin to skin, their
heartbeats clouding together as if in one chest, Andrew knows what it means to breathe Jesseto hold
him inside his own ribs. He can do it even if they're half a world away.

It takes them over a week to get all of their things sorted, partly because everything they own is so
tousled together now, and partly because they just don't want to leave.

"I think that's the last of it," Andrew says, packing the final box into the back of Jesse's car. "You're sure
you don't mind holding onto all this rubbish for me?"

"Consider it collateral," Jesse tells him, smiling. "Incentive for you to come back."

"Don't need it," Andrew assures him. "And it'll only be a month or so, promise."

They go back in for one last look around, and somehow seeing the space so bare gives Andrew an
unexpected sense of reassurance. It doesnt take a flat full of tangible objects to sustain a life with
someone. Every wall could burn down around them, and itd still be him, and itd still be Jesse, totally

untouched by something as trivial as landscape. The enormity of what they've built together cannot be
defined by a dot on a map. He's known it for a long time, actuallythat Jesse is home.

Andrew pulls Jesse up under his arm, pressing him close as he lingers inside the idea.

"Hey," Andrew says after a few minutes, finding Jesse equally lost in thought. "Are you with me?"

Jesse nods, running his thumb over the edge of Andrews hand. "Yeah, yeah. Come on."

They close the door and lock it behind them one last time. Jesse presses the key into Andrew's hand,
and Andrew pulls him in by the wrist, kissing him madly right there on the doorstep.

As they walk down the stairs to leave, arms around one another, Andrew slips the very last page from
his notebook into Jesse's back pocket, one clip from Cummings left to share.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this.

For notes on this fic, please visit
notveryravenofu.livejournal.com
Epilogue coming soon.