Staying Straight

34: Second Chances

As it turned out, "mental rest," as the phrase applied to recovering from a concussion, meant more than a single night's good sleep, and a day of interrogation was precisely in opposition to healthy, smooth recovery from even a mild head injury. "It's just a damn shame it took 'em two X-rays and three days in the hospital to figure that out," Jo managed to joke as the doctor left him alone with Harley, and Harley granted him the grace of a giggle and patted his hand.

Those three days in a hospital room were probably as much a grace period as anything else could have been. The riots and protests had continued, even after the announcement of the arrest and arraignment of the woman who'd falsely summoned the police on Zack Ro, identified now as Eugenia Katerina Maoh, and had even briefly worsened with the announcement that a plot to break Guan Maoh from prison had been foiled, coinciding with the arrest of almost three hundred known or suspected gang members. Jo had watched the drama unfold on the twenty-four-hour news cycles from a lumpy air mattress in a recovery room in Mercy Square Hospital, wishing he had popcorn. As it was, he tore up one of the cheap napkins for confetti in honor of Neil Jenning's walk to the courtroom, dressed all in orange and looking better than Halloween. Harley had only left his side when forced, and on the two nights when the protests were close to the hospital, nobody dared force him to walk home. Dan came in the evenings, and Gage called at least twice a day. Avoiding the nightmare outside in favor of sixty hours of rest and a whole lot of Tylenol seemed like an incredibly fair deal.

The time had come, though, for both of them to get on with their lives. With the official report that Jo's brain was fine and though his ribs were bruised, none of them had cracked, Jo was hauling himself from the bed on his own power for the first time in three days. He lifted his arms over his head to stretch in front of the window, basking in the sun for a luxurious moment, as Harley looked on with appreciation clear in his gaze. Jo caught him at it, and grinned at Harley's sheepish expression as he tried to pretend he hadn't been looking.

"So," Jo started, firming up from the light conversation the two had maintained over the last three days. "What happens now?"

"Simply, we have been given a second chance. I intend to make the most of it." Harley tucked his hands into the folds of his elbows. "I should mention that your former employer has offered me a management position at Extreme Dataflow. He intends to handle the books through his accountants and the like, but he wants me to handle the work and some of the business. I'll have to ask him if he's finished drawing up the paperwork, but I'll technically be a contractor through him. Meaning, I'll have my health insurance back." He smiled secretively, a pleased blush painting his cheeks. "I also have to have a very serious conversation with Dan about getting my scholarship reinstated and getting my college degree."

"I got all my hopes on you, guy." Jo took up the bag left on the chair by the window and slung it over his shoulder, then faced Harley, his chest close to his. "So, you think there's, uh, room for a boyfriend in that second chance of yours?"

"I'm afraid not. You see, there's already a delightful life partner in it which the rest of it revolves around." Harley smiled and put his hand over Jo's. "Unless you prefer to be called 'boyfriend,' of course."

Jo could feel that his smile was too wide at that, wobbling from being stretched so far, and the thrill of delight he got from Harley's hand on his at his hip was almost intoxicating. "I dunno. That life partner thing sounds like some Star Wars stuff. I thought boyfriend might be a little gay, but... hell, here we are."

"So we are." Harley squeezed his fingers, then lifted his hand towards his lips. He stopped short, his eyelashes flitting up to let him meet Jo's eyes. "May I?"

"Sure." Jo nodded, and Harley kissed his fingers. Just like Harley had promised, they were going at the pace at which Jo felt safe, and Harley asked permission before trying any new gesture of affection. He had lots of them, and Jo felt like a little child experiencing every single one of them, bashful and flushed. He had no idea how anonymous sex could be so easy and meaningless, then come around to find mild romantic gestures so thrilling.

Then again, the whole world seemed a little bit brighter now. The October sunlight was warm on his face and chest. Harley's expression was clear and focused, his smile pure, and his eyes were as vibrantly green as they'd ever been. As Harley carefully released Jo's hand, Jo caught him by the palm and squeezed. "You didn't ask what I was going to do now."

"Oh? And would you care to share?"

Jo, of course, grinned through his embarrassment. "Not a clue. But I'm gonna do it with you with me, so it's gonna be awesome."

Harley giggled and twined his fingers with Jo's. "You just wanted an excuse to use that cheesy line."

"You know it." Jo tossed his head back, then moved his hold on Harley's hand to his hip and tipped his head to the side. Harley reciprocated, moving in to let their mouths meet, until a cough from the door broke the two from their focus on each other.

"If you're getting discharged," Steele grumbled to the pair of them, as they froze, their faces kept apart by just a slender wisp of air, "then you have to leave the hospital. That doesn't mean dismembering the innocence of anyone who walks by this room as a final farewell."

"Funny, Padre." Jo pecked Harley on the nose, then turned around. "Are you our ride?"

"I am. Get in the wheelchair they left for you, let's get a move on." Steele spun on his heel and strode away, and Harley retrieved the wheelchair and gestured.

"Your chariot." Jo rolled his eyes, but went with it rather than risking being kept in the hospital a second longer.

Harley pushed Jo to the door, but the moment they crossed the threshold, Jo jumped to his feet again and slung his bag over his back. Harley put the chair back and returned to his side, as Jo smiled out across the parking lot, at Gage waving from the shotgun seat of Steele's Mustang, at the skyline of the city. Standing out in the world again felt like being on new ground, and Jo wrapped his hand around Harley's again.

"Today is the first day of the rest of our lives."

They stepped down, shaking off the days and weeks of struggle, towards the car, towards the world, towards the rest of the strange and wonderful thing that they called life.

The real work started there.

Harley tackled the daunting task of reorganizing Extreme Dataflow, cleaning the office and stripping down all of the shells Zack had been using to get the shop in order. Harley asked Ken if he could paint over the weird computer mural on the side of the building, but Ken insisted the business had to be solvent before they wasted money on redecoration. Jo did what he could to help when he had time, which was mostly lift and carry something heavy, put this there, and no, those are Macintosh parts, let's please keep them separate from the generic Windows parts. It was a little eerie for either of them to have to pass by the alley behind the shop, even though they couldn't see any signs of the misfortune that had come to pass there. Jo found himself holding Harley's hand a tiny bit tighter every time they walked down the sidewalk past the fire escape, faces forward.

Jo spent as much time as he could helping Harley, but true to his word, Ken wasn't paying him. Any sign that his unforgivable crime had been forgiven would have put Ken's standing at risk with the rest of the ex-cons, and with tension still high among ex-gangsters and the disenfranchised, Ken didn't want to risk a mutiny. Jo got it. So, in order to maintain his parole, he took volunteer work at K-One, just like Yana had promised he could. Steele promptly put him to work watching Gage.

"I can't have an eye on him every second, but you can and damn well better," he'd said, before hurrying off to the kitchen where Sana and a crew of volunteers were preparing the first lunch handout in a month. Jo grinned his approval to Gage, and lightly slapped the kid on the back.

"It'll be like Camp Jojo all over again!"

Steele had reopened the shelter a week after the failed jailbreak attempt, having deemed Gage well enough to be around others, albeit not quite well enough for school. A tutor came from the school three days a week, four hours per session, to catch Gage up on the weeks of school he'd missed, but when the tutor was gone, Jo was there and ever happy to keep Gage out of trouble (or at least, in no more trouble than Jo would let him get into). Trips to the library and comic shop were still out of the question, but Jo would play any game Gage wanted, and despite Gage's seeming weak, Jo did what he could to get him moving again.

"I know being stuck in bed and sleeping all the time's got you feeling kinda wimpy," he'd told him after he protested a twenty-lap jog around the courtyard, "But the only way you're gonna get rid of that is by starting to move again. If your surgery wounds start hurting or if you actually get dizzy, stop me, but if you don't try, nobody's gonna do it for ya."

Jo knew Gage had at least one more trip under the knife ahead - his diaphragm muscles were too tangled to fix themselves - but if he went in weak, he'd come out worse for the wear. That was how he justified it to Harley, anyway, when Harley caught him showing Gage how to do chest flies with his "baby weights."

"The kid can handle two pounds, even with his muscles kinda messy," Jo had insisted, but Harley raised an eyebrow anyway. "Look, I can Google it for ya. That dumbbell weighs less than a loaf of bread."

This just got a sigh, and a reluctantly approving smile. "Just be mindful of him."

Jo's heart panged at the thought. "Hey, I take good care of the brat." He turned back around to Gage, observing with a satisfied smile as he pushed the two tiny weights up above his chest. Harley settled back to observe as Jo carefully but enthusiastically guided Gage through a simple and gentle exercise routine.

Despite Harley's work and Jo's volunteering, the two of them still had to make their parole meetings. Dan and Yana obliged, aligning their meeting times exactly and meeting with the two of them as a couple. Harley had wondered at first if this wasn't a violation of their privacy, but Dan explained that they'd had to tell their higher-ups about the relationship between Jo and Harley after both Dan and Yana went to bat at the police station for them. "Our supervisors were concerned that the two of you might be more trouble together, but there's nothing in either of your paroles preventing you from being involved romantically with another parolee. However, since we all know each other, the head of the parole department suggested we take the two of you into meetings together."

Yana had giggled and added, "Think of it as couples' counseling!" Jo had groaned. Still, the joint sessions made talking about his progress immensely more bearable. It also helped that he was actually making progress, or at least making change, for the first time in three years. He could talk to Yana and Dan about the mild frustration of adjusting to a new situation, and both of them offered him guidance.

"It's like," he'd said, after a few weeks of trying to get used to calling himself Harley's boyfriend, "looking into a mirror and not really seeing me. But still being weirdly happy about it." They always sat together in Yana's office, side-by-side in the oversized arm chair and barely squeezing in, as Dan and Yana faced them in Yana's office chair and the chair Jo had occupied before, respectively, and Jo found it easiest to look between the two of them. "I mean, I like it, but I'm not sure if I should."

"Trust your feelings," Yana said, leaning forward in her chair as Harley patted Jo's hands between his. "You're still used to looking at yourself in a certain way, seeing yourself as having to be a certain way. This is a huge adjustment. Outside of your personal dissonance, how do you feel about your relationship?"

"Oh, hell, it's great." Jo didn't hesitate, didn't have to think about it. "I wake up every morning and my best friend is there and in love with me and nagging me to put on clean socks and making me breakfast. And then he kisses me goodnight and tells me he'll see me in the morning, and he's there." Jo found himself grasping at Harley's hands and wrists for purchase, like he was slipping away even though he knew for certain he wasn't. "I... I always know he's gonna be there. That makes it all fine for me. See, he's perfect. I'm the weird one."

"Joel," Harley had tried to scold, but it didn't work.

"Then," Dan cut in, stifling Harley's flushing, "How about from outside of your relationship? I imagine there was some fear of judgment on your part, Jo."

"I haven't noticed anything." Jo shrugged, his elbow rubbing against Harley's forearm, but Harley held a soft sigh behind lips pressed tight.

"We don't talk to very many people who don't know us well, and they had honestly thought we were romantically involved from the start." He moved in a little closer, his head tucked against Jo's shoulder. "But I do hear people we don't know insult us in languages we don't know. I don't care, but I feel ashamed for..." His gaze drifted towards Jo's leg, his focus tracing the weft of his denims, but Jo patted his back.

"I don't care what they say." Jo slid his hand around Harley's hip and squeezed his side. "I don't understand them, and you're better than any of them anyway."

Their meetings were more than just couples counseling. Yana and Dan also asked Jo about his eventual goals in life. Jo had to answer them honestly: "I don't know."

"I realize that." Yana clasped her hands on her lap, trying hard to appear stern, but it took Dan's crossed arms to really communicate it. "You've just been getting by, because Ken kept you working and the money kept a roof over your head. However, I'm concerned that a lack of purpose might leave you floundering for a foothold in your life even with the steadiness of a good partner. So, I would ask, if you could do anything, what would you do?"

Jo chewed his lower lip, as Harley withdrew to give him space to think. "I dunno. I've never thought about, like, a long-term career." A chuckle burst forth unbidden, and he shook his head. "I guess I really was just gonna ride that fucking bike 'til I croaked."

"So," Dan countered, "What is it you like to do?"

"Uh." Jo scratched his head, feeling oddly small at Dan's question. "I like listening to music. And playing cards. Drinking, sometimes." He shrugged down into his seat. "Uh, I lift weights."

"Oh!" Yana clapped her hands together, bolting upright with a bright smile. "What about personal fitness training?"

Jo scrunched his whole face up. "No offense, but the thought of catering to a bunch of rich old people who don't bother to work out on their own is kind of a turn off."

"It's not just the wealthy." Harley rested his palm on Jo's shoulder, and Jo glanced over to face him. "In fact, I know someone you've been personally training for several weeks now."

"What, Gage?" Jo felt a little dazed – he hadn't thought of it that way. "I mean, I like kids, so it's fine with him, but not a lot of kids need personal trainers."

"No, but plenty of children need physical therapy." Harley lifted his index finger in his habitual way. "I know for certain Gage will see a physical therapist after his next surgery. Many people who have been injured in accidents receive therapy. You've offered to help strength train me, and you've promised to help Gage recover with exercise just the same. Physical therapy is just that, but professionally. I think you may like it."

"Physical therapy," Jo repeated, feeling the words in his mouth. "That... that sounds big. I mean, it sounds good, but big."

"You'd have to go to college." Dan sat back, arms still folded and drumming his fingers on his bicep, but he donned a knowing, thoughtful smile. "I'll look up the exact requirements, but you'll need at least four years of education. I can help you with scholarships and admissions, but you'll have to work for it."

Jo found himself biting his lip again, his shoulders tense and his palm cold, but Harley clasped his hands. "I think you can do it. You're much smarter than you give yourself credit for."

With that, Jo felt resolved. "Maybe I can." He turned his face up towards Yana and Dan. "Do you think you'll be able to help me figure out what I need?"

"Between the two of us?" Yana jostled Dan's arm with her elbow, her smile as bright as summer daisies and even sweeter than the same. "We'll pull you through, one way or another."

After that, Dan and Yana both pulled focus from getting Jo into a new paying job and pushed him towards a career. Six years of school sounded like a lot, but Dan told him, "You're twenty-two now, right? Almost twenty-three? You've got plenty of life ahead of you, and nobody's saying you can't work while you're in school if you're looking to help take care of you and Harley."

Chance Harbor Community College, as it turned out, housed all of the general education programs he would need to get started, and when Jo wasn't actively entertaining Gage, he was under Ken, Yana, and Dan's orders to get his scholarships in order and start studying to begin school again in the spring. Gage would sometimes sit right alongside him as he struggled through essays and scoured every prospective student site in preparation.

"You only went to fourth grade, right?" Gage asked, as Jo grunted and switched tabs to look at a thesaurus again. Gage pursed his lips, then patted Jo on the back and scooted down the bench to give him space. "It's cool you're going to college now. I'm proud of ya!" He hopped to his feet and meandered away, though he didn't miss Jo's self-satisfied smile.

Even he felt like he was finally getting his life together.

His career wasn't the only thing that had changed, but his entire path. Dan and Yana helped him with some of it, but he knew the hardest work to be done to keep the life he'd fallen into, the person he would have given up that life for, was entirely his. Dan and Yana impressed as much on him in sessions where they insisted on taking each man individually.

"Jo, I've been reviewing my notes," Yana began, as Jo swung his legs uncomfortably in the chair that felt too big without Harley's hip flush to his. "You and Harley have been official for... three weeks? Are you still comfortable with that?"

"Of course." He felt small in the shadow of her doubt as he said it, shrinking under her scrutiny, as Yana took a few more notes. "He's the best. I can't imagine being without him."

"Ah. See, I did want to bring that up with you." She ran the pen across her lower lip. "It's come to my attention that you may have something of a fear of being left alone, hence your hesitance to become attached to things." Jo buttoned his lip shut, vacillating between anger and humiliation. He wanted to shout her down for psychoanalyzing him, but it made sense. After a minute of forcing calm, he managed a grin.

"Well, you can say so, but-" He swallowed, grinding his teeth, then drawled in imitation of carelessness, "I wouldn't know what to do about it."

"I could suggest therapy." There was a hint of a sharp edge in her tone now, and Jo realized she was tapping her pen impatiently on her notepad. "I'm not sure you're receptive to it, though." She sucked air in through her nose, then relaxed into her usual genial tones. "However, I want you to remain engaged in the friendships and relationships you have. Do you ever feel concerned that your relationship with Harley is at risk?"

Jo felt his mouth dry completely, but shifted his back against the seat. "No. I... I don't think so. He treats me really well. I guess I mostly worry that he'll decide I'm not worth it."

"I see." Yana tapped her pen to her lip as she thought. "How can you secure yourself in your relationship?"

Jo shifted again, unable to find comfort under those heavy thoughts. "I... I guess... keep being better for him. I could ask him, I guess."

The thing was, Jo was almost certain he didn't have to ask. He knew how Harley felt, how Harley still felt. Harley was exactly as good as his word, everything he'd promised Jo and better. After a week back on his medication, Harley managed full days without having to shut himself in a small room with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and began the work of spoiling Jo the same way he had before. He cared for their tiny apartment with zeal, he made every meal and made everything delicious, and if Haku had learned a new song or two in the meantime, Harley praised every note with an eye over his shoulder to where Jo tried not to whistle along. Harley would rub Jo's shoulders after he worked out with Gage – after asking permission – he would run his thin fingers through Jo's hair - again, after asking permission – and he greeted Jo with a kiss – yet again, asking permission, and damn if Jo had ever consented to someone having so much contact with him. Jo had always been the one touching, reading consent in body language and apologizing if he was wrong, but Harley made damn sure everything was explicit and that Jo was comfortable. Jo, in turn, had never felt so comfortable and natural in a relationship, not since the few years he remembered living with his brother.

Jo had figured out that Harley liked to say "I love you" to him, he could just tell from the little note of music he heard in the words when he whispered it in the morning and as they lay down to sleep at night. However, saying it in words over and over ad infinitum could never match the depth of the sentiment. Instead, Harley said it in sandwiches and stir-fry, in compliments and assured consent, in soft touches and nose kisses, in amused banter, and in the warmth of his smile.

Jo, for his part, tried to be the man that Harley deserved. He kissed back when kissed, he thanked Harley for every favor, every meal and every chore, and even helped when he could. Sometimes he would just wrap his arms around Harley's waist as he washed the dishes and sway against him, humming along with whatever music they had playing on the radio. He did his best to be the same charming jerk that he'd been the day he met Harley, flippant and cool, but it was hard to act like he couldn't give less of a crap about the world so long as he was happy when he cared so much about Harley.

He was the one who asked if he could share the double bed with Harley – "Like, sleeping in. Y'know. Together." It was a tight fit, though Jo didn't care, and so different from falling asleep next to a beautiful woman. Harley didn't have as many pleasant curves and warm, soft places he could put his chin or hands, but he did have a heartbeat that thrummed under his palm when he wrapped his arms around him, and when it was Harley, that beat a good set of tits any day. The curve of his spine fit snugly against Jo's chest and abdomen, and if Jo was being honest with himself, his hair smelled really nice. Best was the sensation that Harley wanted him there, that he would scoot back into his hold, that Jo would wake to find Harley turned around and watching him, then greet him with a good-morning kiss. He knew Harley liked to be held, safe and secure, as much as Jo liked waking up and knowing in an instant that someone smart, funny, and wonderful wanted him alive today.

They went on dates. Jo would "borrow" money (never repaid) from Dan or Steele and take Harley to the coffee shop, or just escorted him on a walk through the park, their hands linked as they watched the falling leaves. Jo felt embarrassed he couldn't offer more, since he knew he was the one with something to prove here, but Harley didn't complain. A little over a month into their new lives, Harley reciprocated:

"November 9th, isn't it?" Jo felt his cheeks burn at hearing the question, a week before, and glanced up to see Harley pouring almond milk into his cereal from the carton and failing to hide a knowing smile. He joined Jo at the table, leaning in towards him and putting his hand over Jo's. "It's a very special day, right? And only three days away. How would you like to celebrate?" He paused, the twinkle in his eye dimming just a little. "How do you normally celebrate?"

Jo's jaw hung open for a moment, but he chuckled and shrugged it back. "I dunno. Normally didn't, y'know? Wasn't worth it. I guess we could get a cake or-" Harley suddenly held a hand up, a bereft look coming over him.

"Please, never tell me you're not worth something. It... it honestly frightens me, when you make statements that tell me how little you value yourself." Jo shrank, feeling oddly chastised, but before he could try to defend himself, Harley clasped his hand. "I know you value yourself, but sometimes, your language choices tell me otherwise, and I'd rather you not start believing the things you accidentally say."

Jo could only mumble a half-hearted, "Sure, whatever you say, babe." He relished Harley clasping his hand a moment longer, before wrapping his other hand around Harley's. "If you really want to celebrate, then, uh... I mean, I know money's tight, but we could have dinner or something. Maybe invite Dan, or Gage, maybe Father Steele, I dunno. Normally I'd just go out, get wasted and get laid, usually in that order. The old 'hey, baby, it's my birthday' line goes over real well for cheap drinks and easy women." He chuckled and fidgeted with his spoon, as Harley cocked his head owlishly, blinking as he thought.

"Were you interested in cheap drinks and easy sex?"

Jo was about to answer, 'Fuck the hell yes,' then rethought it. "Nah. Last time I got drunk was kind of a disaster, and sex... I dunno. Dinner with you and Dan would be fine. Nothing fancy, either. I don't wanna wear a tie."

Harley giggled, then clapped Jo's hands between his. "Anything you want."

Jo was still mulling over Yana's question of how to keep the bonds he had as Dan came to pick them up from their apartment (though he didn't miss the way Dan scowled at their crumbling tenement). It got lost in the simple pleasure of sitting around with all the people he knew at a hibachi joint, and he lost himself in and part of the noise and chatter, the rush of fire and the smell of food cooking right in front of him (nowhere near as good as Harley's, but Harley was relaxing against his arm, so how could he complain?), and it all seemed so effortless. At the end of the night, as they moved to exit the restaurant with Steele already complaining quietly about his stomach and Yana lolling on Ken's arm after one too many bottles of Kirin, until Harley tugged Jo's arm and pointed.

"There's a karaoke bar. Would you like to get a drink with me?"

"You don't drink." Jo chuckled, but leaned towards Harley's touch. "I mean, if you want, we can ask Dan if he wants to hang around a little longer-"

"Dad!" Gage interrupted suddenly, seizing Father Steele's sleeve and yanking it, eliciting a string of annoyed swears. "Dad, I wanna sing a song to Jojo!"

Yana, too, stumbled a step away from Ken, squinting at the bar. "Ooh, karaoke?" She jumped up and down, and Ken, who'd been moving to catch her again, backed away, his cheeks turning pink. "I'd love to! Kenny, Danny, let's go!" Without waiting for either of them, she hooked Ken's arm and grabbed Dan's belt loop and dragged them both in. Gage and Steele followed, with Steele muttering that he'd tolerate it as long as someone got him a drink, but as Jo chuckled and made to follow, Harley tapped his shoulder again.

"I know it's your birthday, but..." He trailed off, biting his lip, then slipped his hand into Jo's and whispered, "Do you think you could sing?" Jo's heart skipped a beat as if it had jumped rails, then clattered back into motion. Harley quickly added, "Only if you want to, and whatever you would like to sing. But I do love your voice." His grip on Jo's hand faltered, but Jo took up the slack.

"I'll feel out the room." He smiled, then pressed his lips to Harley's for a brief moment and led him in.

The dark bar, littered with pleather poufs and loveseats, lit by flashing blue and pink lights, was chintzy, but felt weirdly intimate. Comfortable. Somehow, listening to Yana slur her way through "Ain't No Other Man" and a drunk Steele and ever-eager Gage stumbling through "Summer Nights" (with Steele ruining every lyric), followed up by a more-drunk Steele belting out six Queen songs in a row built the bravery in him to rise and pick a song for the queue. When his turn came, Steele dropped the microphone on the speaker and stumbled off, demanding someone get him a glass of water, and Jo took it up. He looked around the room, seeing nothing but friends, Harley smiling eagerly from the pouf he'd planted himself on. He took a breath, faced the screen, then ignored it and picked up the tune as if it were running through his veins.

"Wise men say, 'only fools rush in,' but I can't help fallin' in love with you..."

His heart pounded the whole time, but he somehow made it through. Nobody ridiculed him or stopped him, though Steele mumbled along from his spot, and when he put the mic down, it was to applause. He stumbled off the stage and let his knees buckle, dropping down next to Harley. Harley's eyes were bright with approval, shining against the flashing lights, his smile warm and encouraging, and he kissed Jo's cheek, then his hand. "That was lovely. Won't you teach Haku that one, too?"

After that, Jo started to feel ever more confident in their relationship. Harley, too, began to make bolder moves. He started to call Jo "dear" or "love" intermittently, and "Jo" rather than Joel sometimes. Jo, for his part, finally got the bravery up to tell Harley exactly what he felt. It was a night like any other. Jo had drawn the curtains closed tight, kissed Harley goodnight and pulled the sheets up, and Harley had whispered his last "I love you," for the day, and there, in the dark, Jo broke:

"Sometimes, I think you're too good for me, and everyone's too good for me." His arms tightened around Harley's chest, and Harley twisted his neck to face him, his good eye focusing over his shoulder as Jo cringed. "I hear my own voice in my head, telling me everything that's wrong with me, and that I'm a fag, and an idiot, and any second now, everyone else is going to figure it out too and then..."

Harley twisted around completely, nose to nose with Jo, and kissed his forehead and seized both of his hands. "Oh, Joel, no. Have I been pushing you too far?" Jo shook his head, hard, and Harley squeezed his fingers. "You're just a fool in love, not an idiot, not a pervert, certainly not a faggot. Am I a faggot?"

Jo shushed him fiercely at that. "Never say that about yourself." He threw his arm over Harley's shoulder and rested his forehead on his chest. Harley giggled; Jo could feel it on his skin.

"I could tell you the same." He wove his fingers into Jo's hair. "You are radiant. Someday, I'll find the words to convince you of it." Jo tried to respond, but found himself too comfortable with Harley's pulse and voice echoing against his skin. He drowsed away with that sentiment the last thing in his mind. Maybe in the morning, he heard that voice insulting him a few decibels quieter.

Jo and Harley had one more hurdle to get over: they still didn't agree on music. Harley still couldn't make himself like metal, and Jo still thought banjo-rock was the nerdiest thing since corrective orthodontic nightwear. However, they gradually came to an arrangement. They would trade off if they were listening to music exclusively, but once Jo started to take his Gen. Ed. Courses and Harley got his scholarship reinstated, if one was studying, the other had to use headphones. However, even this harsh divide softened over the months:

Harley had a final coming, and when he cracked his book on the table, Jo got up to change the radio to Harley's auxiliary. The song changed, and Harley looked up. "Ah, this band. They sing 'Corduroy,' right?"

"Pearl Jam, yeah." Jo halted with his finger on the cable switch. "Why?"

"Can you make it so it's just them? I've found I rather like them." Harley's smile was earnest behind his book, and Jo quickly adjusted the mix.

"All yours, babe."

Jo, for his part, had started to gain a grudging appreciation for Mumford and Sons, though he'd never admit it out loud. He would just caterwaul the breakdown from "Little Lion Man" in the shower when the mood struck him, and he would hum along when the songs he knew came up in Harley's shuffle. If Harley noticed, he said nothing, but Jo was sure that the ratio of their songs was increasing in his favorite mix.

On the same note, they discovered things both of them couldn't stand. One night, the radio was tuned to a local station, and when a certain song came on, both of them groaned and jerked to a stand and made to change the channel. They froze, each of their fingers over a different button, then looked to each other as the lyrics kicked in.

"You don't like 'Crash Into Me?'" Jo raised an eyebrow.

"You don't like Dave Matthews Band?" Harley changed to his auxiliary and set his hands on his hips, as Jo guffawed and shook his head.

"Holy shit, I hate his voice."

"I can't stand the themes. The lyrics are so heavy-handed." They stared at each other a moment longer, then laughed, Jo doubling over and Harley smearing mirthful tears away. "At least we agree!"

They agreed on even stranger things, so they found. Dan let Jo borrow his car to pick Harley up from school on a rainy February morning, and Harley darted right up to him through the chilling rain. Jo pushed the door for him, and he shook off the cold and settled into the shotgun seat, before Jo leaned in to greet him with a kiss. Harley sighed as Jo sat back into his seat, and Jo frowned at him. "Something wrong?"

"This weather." Harley pulled the door shut, then pressed his palm against the cold window. Jo's chest squeezed at the despondent look on his face. He already knew where Harley's mind was, and that there were no good way to bring it back, not until the rain stopped.

"Yeah, it's dreary," he agreed, cautious not to say anything that might drive him deeper into his funk. "But it'll clear up later. How about we go find a little of our own sunshine?" Harley hummed noncommittally in response, but pulled his seat belt on. Jo's brow furrowed, but he turned the radio on and flicked the dial to a pop station. "I'll just get you home, then."

Harley stared out the window as Jo steered them down 8th towards their building, the radio pumping meaningless pop and rock. The beat kicked up after a few songs, and Jo spotted Harley's hand moving for the dial. "Is the music bothering you?"

Harley's fingers were on the volume dial, and as Jo eased on the brakes, he blinked with surprise. "Er, no. Is it bothering you? I actually rather like this song."

"I listen to this stuff all the time when I'm working out with Gage." Jo did the math quickly, and grinned. "You wanna turn it up, go for it."

The next stoplight they pulled up to happened to be alongside a police patrol car. Officers Ren and Po heard bass booming beside them, and turned to see Harley and Jo in the car next to them. Po, in the driver's seat, moved to roll down the window, but as he did, he heard the song loud and clear through their car windows, and could see Harley white-girl-dancing in his seat (never lifting his hands above his waist, bobbing his head, twisting his shoulders, the works) and Jo pumping his fist and singing off-key at the top of his lungs:

"So raise your glass if you are wrong – in all the right ways! All my underdogs! We will never be, never be ANY-thing but LOUD, and nitty gritty DIRTY LITTLE FREAKS!"

"Oh my God, Terry." Kevin scrambled to reach for the window control to roll it up, flushing red on Jo's behalf. "That's fucking Pink, how did that boy ever think he wasn't – holy shit, don't make eye contact!"

Terry was grinning over at Harley and wiggling his fingers. Harley waved back from the passenger seat of their sedan, absolutely beaming through the rain dripping down his window, and Terry glanced over his shoulder to Kevin. "They remind me so much of us, don't you know? Back when we were young and dumb, just fools in love?" He giggled to himself as the light turned green and Jo sped off, still punching the roof and singing through the glass. "If you can enjoy even bad music so long as you're together, you know it's true. They've got something good."

They had that. They had that and more. They had evenings spent studying across the table from one another, they had nights at the arcade and mornings at Mass, they had their whole lives ahead of them. Harley would read Jo his new poems, and, as the weeks went on, Jo would sing a little louder in the shower and over his chores, making sure Harley could hear him. They had holds and hugs, and Jo had Harley whispering in his ear, telling him his voice sounded like home. Jo knew what home was, what home meant, what belonging meant. They had the straight and narrow, and their path forward was clear. Jo knew where he stood and where he was going, and that was enough.

End Notes: The song Jo and Harley are enjoying at the end is "Raise Your Glass" by Pink.

Epilogue soon, with an extended epilogue to follow!