Hello hello! I guess these frequent updates are going to continue to be a thing for now :O Which is somewhat scary for me since it's been so long but hey, it's fun.

A few notes for this chapter, some of which are DOWN BELOW the story to avoid spoilers. Mostly, I want to remind readers that this is more of a coming-of-age story than a shipping story – which doesn't mean I don't get a lot of shippy joy out of Certain Things, but it does mean that I'm not going at anything in here from the standpoint of 'this is 100% Totally Okay'. I mean, you shouldn't take any fanfiction that way anyway. But especially in a massive one like this with a lot of stuff about transness and queerness and mental health, it's worth reinforcing.

This is where I (finally) clarify a little more about how the Xingese side of the switch goes, which is SUPER FUN for me! Unfortunately, due to pacing, the character here last appeared in Chapter 30. If you're reading the whole thing at once, probably fine. If you've been following the whole time, and haven't read that chapter since it came out…. Maybe go reread it.

Finally – I feel VERY clever re: the Zhu Yingtai name so cookies for the first person who figures out why that's her name xD (there are two reasons!)

TW for: homophobia/transmisogyny (they are so often two sides of the same coin), discussion of slut-shaming and sexual harassment-adjacent things, sexual harassment, adult/minor mild romo/sexual interactions***, alcohol/intoxication, racism/xenophobia, illegal immigration as a Plot Point

~42~

maybe a great magnet pulls all souls towards truth
or maybe it is life itself that feeds wisdom
to its youth
constant craving - has always been –

-Constant Craving

Once upon a time, more than ten generations ago, a traveler came from the west. He was a noble man, fallen from grace and cast out from his homeland – for he had meddled with forbidden things, and now he was immortal, bound into his flesh like the thousand little gods into their stones and rivers. To add to that, he had come out of the bone-dry desert, clinging relentlessly to life.

The emperor and all his noblemen gathered to hear the Western Sage speak. He gave them knowledge of many things – how to turn back the wind with stone walls, and how to treat slaves and servants with kindness, and most importantly, the seeds that became alkahestry. He taught the healers a new way of listening to the body; he taught the stoneworkers and blacksmiths and carpenters how to sing their creations out of unbroken ground; and he gave unto the emperor's heir the greatest gift of all – the gift of immortality, and where to seek it.

However, the Western Sage gave this knowledge with a warning – that immortality was not a small thing. "Do you, young one, wish to be emperor forever? Death is a curse until it is a freedom." The emperor's heir pretended to listen, but his heart was already corrupted by lust and greed – the knowledge that eternal life awaited him, if he only had the skill to acquire it.

The emperor's heir set off then, into the lonely wastes of the desert. When the emperor found out what had happened, he grieved mightily, for he never expected to see his son again, and indeed he never did. At first, he thought to exile the Western Sage for depriving him of his heir, but the Sage did not protest. He only said thus: "If your heir was impetuous enough to run after a dream, he was too impetuous for the throne."

The emperor saw the truth in his words. He gave unto the Western Sage his youngest daughter and the most beautiful, she called Jiayi the auspicious one, and further dubbed the Western Sage and all of his heirs with the name 'Zhu' – the name of the luckiest colour, the bright vermilion of the azalea, the pomegranate and the rose.

The Western Sage stayed amid people of Xing for a long time, until the time had come for him to leave. He did not bid farewell; his great-granddaughter, Zhu Hong, simply found his room empty, the windows open, and the scent of lotus and sulfur left behind. The emperor, on the other hand, died a natural death; his second son, to avoid the fate narrowly avoided by the heir's disappearance, said that he would now take a wife from every clan, and father heirs among them, to ensure that Xing would always be ruled by the most worthy.

As for the emperor's impetuous son – it is rumoured he still lives out among the distant lands, too preoccupied with his own eternal life to understand that his father died grieving. His name is still given to fatherless children, those borne from the immediate and thoughtless desires of their parents – Yao, which once meant brilliant and shining, but now is always written as to want, a reminder of the weakness of human hearts.

The Zhu clan are still considered the luckiest of them all; even on hard times, it cannot ever be forgotten that we are the children of the Sage and the descendants of an immortal being. This is our pride, which can never be forgotten.


Zhu Yingtai was not feeling particularly lucky at the moment. "My name is Juliet Douglas," she said stiffly to the man at the train station. "I require transport to Central City."

The man snorted. "Juliet Douglas? Likely story. I can hear that accent of yours, you know."

"I travel. Is that a bad thing?"

"It is when you're not from here."

She was ready to spit fury at him, but there were other ways to travel. New Optain was not a city friendly to strangers, and she had other ways to spend her-

The handcuff clinked onto her wrist before she even realized that she was flanked by military men. "Immigration papers, please," one of them said in a bored tone. There was a Border Patrol insignia on his uniform.

This far from the border? She tried not to worry about it. Instead she flashed the sergeant her sweetest smile. "I think this is a misunderstanding. I'm Amestrian – I don't know why everybody's giving me so much trouble."

The soldier raised his eyebrow, and his companion looked even more skeptical.

"My name's Juliet Douglas," she said in frustration. "Have you ever met somebody from Xing with the name Juliet?"

"Now…" he leant inwards. "Whoever said you were from Xing?"

Tā mā de. She was in trouble.

He leaned in, grinning a little. "I guess I could be convinced to let you go. Pretty thing like you shouldn't be travelling alone anyway-"

She recoiled, then before she could stop herself – "Cào nǐ mā!" She spat into his face.

He took his time wiping the glob of spit away, his eyes on fire. Damn. If she'd been smart and waited for him to at least take the handcuff off, she'd be gone by now.

"Alright, sweetie. Maybe some time in a jail cell will give you some time to think."

Ranfan was going to be furious with her. But in her defense – he had really deserved it. Still, Yingtai wondered if her father would ever hear about this, and fervently hoped not. She liked living.


The poor girl was dead asleep, and Lieutenant Valjean – who Maria Ross did not know particularly well but had already picked up plenty about – stared down at her with a crestfallen expression. "…Is she alright?" he asked finally.

Maria sighed. For three days straight, Sheska had been trying to write out whatever bizarre book the Fullmetal kid had been after. She didn't believe for a minute it was actually a cookbook, but what it was instead she had no idea. "She finished the notes and passed out. She'll be fine."

"Oh." He fidgeted. He was holding a small parcel and a bushel of flowers. "Should – should I stay til she wakes up?"

Maria managed to keep a straight face. All of the horror stories she'd heard about Solaris and Valjean, and while she hadn't met the boss yet, Valjean was… well… sort of an overgrown puppy. She couldn't quite mesh the tall, awkward man in front with her with the whispered rumours that had persisted around Central the entire time she'd been here. "I suggest," she said kindly, "that you leave those here, and go off and work on a proper apology."

"I have one!"

"Really?"

"…An explanation counts, right?"

Maria just pointed at the door, trying not to scowl at him. He laughed, putting the flowers and parcel down on the table and crossing his arms. "I'll go, I'll go. Will's behaving himself, right?"

"Er, he threatened Sergeant Brosh and I with dismemberment if we went into that room or even knocked on the door any time in the next five hours."

"That's normal enough."

"It is?"

Valjean chuckled again, looking significantly less lost now that they were on military matters. "You weren't here when we got transferred, were you? I try to know as many of the commissioned officers as possible."

"Graduated the military academy two years ago, sir."

"Oh, now I'm sir? Two minutes ago you were booting me out of here."

She had the grace to turn red at that. "I-it was a suggestion, sir-"

"Relax. I'm a Lieutenant. I'm not gonna ride your ass about that. Besides," he smirked, "I like being bossed around."

She didn't quite manage to slap him, mostly because he ducked. The cocky grin on his face just made her feel even more punchy. Partially because he was attractive, and partially because the very fact that he was attractive meant he got away with it.

"Okay, okay, okay. I'm sorry." He almost looked properly contrite.

"Are you?" she challenged, horribly realizing that she was having to work not to grin.

"…Mostly? If you want me to be."

"OUT."

Valjean left, still chuckling, and Maria rolled her eyes. The worst part was that Denny had sat there with wide eyes the whole time. "I suppose you couldn't be any help," she snarked.

"You just talked back to the Shrike," he gaped. "That was the Shrike, Ross."

"I don't care what or who he is. I prefer being taken to dinner before that kind of talk."

There was a snicker from behind her, and she realized that Will had been watching. She hadn't even heard the door open. "If it's any comfort, he's always like that."

"Is that supposed to be comforting?"

"It is when he's actually a useless git." He poured himself a glass of water from the cooler, then just stared into it with a glum expression. "…Shrike? Really?"

"It's just silly rumours," Maria brushed it away. "How is it going in there?" She nodded at the room that had been closed for hours now. The Bradley kid was in there with him, trying to help decipher the notes that Sheska had scribbled out.

"Badly," he grumbled. "You'd think alchemists would want to share knowledge, but no, everybody's gotta have a code. It's stupid."

"Aren't you an alchemist?"

At that he just shrugged, grumbled some more, and disappeared back into the room.

"He's a little odd," Denny commented a moment later. Maria just sat down, frowning at the door. She'd heard plenty of rumours about Fullmetal, too – significantly less pleasant and more cruel than the ones about the Shrike or his CO, the Flame Alchemist. It had always sat badly with her that the locker-room talk about the youngest member of the military was so crude; now that she had actually met him, it sat even worse.

"What's on your mind?"

"Oh, just… he's so young." She sighed. "Do you think he knows what he's walked back into, transferring back to here?"

"What do you mean?"

Maria just gave Denny a look until it dawned on him. "Oh. Oh, that. Uh. I mean, he must know, right?"

"I'm sure he does. He's still fifteen." She squeezed her hands together. "If I had a dime for every soldier I've had to tell to shut their mouth-"

"You'd be rich as hell, because you do it all the time. Rightfully," Denny added swiftly. "I don't like that stuff either!" He glanced nervously at the door again. "And I mean, he's not, right?"

"Not what?"

"Well, they go on about how he's a sexual deviant. I wasn't expecting him to actually show up in a skirt."

"I wear a skirt when I'm off-duty, Denny. Do you think-"

"No, no, no!" He held up his hands. "No, you're right. His skirt is awfully short, though."

She snorted at that one. "Oh, well, I imagine he needs a little help with his wardrobe. It's not like anybody teaches boys how to dress."

"Hey, what are you implying?"

The shout split through the room, startling both of them to attention. "GO TO HELL!" Denny's hand flew to his gun – Maria reached out and put a hand on his arm. She crept forward and put her ear to the door.

"-you decoded it wrong?"

"Like fuck I did. It says it right here. The final ingredient in a Philosopher's Stone are human lives. Lots of them." Will didn't seem to care how loud he was talking – he was angry, furiously so, and Maria could hear the slam of his footsteps as he paced back and forth in the room. "I can't – this explains a lot and I can't stand that, this isn't – I can't do this!"

"Please, Will, sit down a moment-"

"I'm going out," he said instead. When he was only greeted by silence, he sighed. "I can't risk doing something stupid to you again. I'm. Going. Out."

"Alone?"

"What part of 'I don't want to hurt you' are you not fucking getting? Leave me alone!" There was a clatter, the sound of somebody hitting the ground, and another quiet curse from Will. Then Maria only had a few seconds to get away from the door before it sprang open and Will Elric passed by it, his black longcoat swishing around his legs as he marched out of the door with a face like stone.

Maria glanced back into the room – then rushed to Selim's side as he picked himself up from the floor. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he exhaled, rubbing the back of his head with a wince. "Just, uh, tripped."

She frowned. "Did he hurt you?"

"What? No! No, he just –" Selim's shoulders dropped despondently. "I was trying to stop him from leaving, he pushed me, I'm clumsy. Nothing terrible."

It didn't sound wonderful to Maria, but at least she could be satisfied that it had been an accident – and that it meshed with what she heard. The rest…

The rest was significantly above her paygrade. Thank god Sheska was still asleep.


He had warned Diana that Will wasn't likely to be any more amenable to being guarded than he had been last time, but Jareth had to admit, this was a surprise. Will's outbursts had previously been limited to anger, sometimes half-hearted physical violence, things that could be explained just as much through anger management issues than the 'paranoid schizophrenic' diagnosis tucked discreetly at the bottom of his declassified file. Occasionally things got a little more frightening, like whatever had prompted Armstrong to use the morphine on him.

This, though? This was pure rebellious teenager, all the way through, and Jareth wasn't sure if that was worse or better. He sighed, staring at the name of the establishment that had finally called him and asked if he intended on picking up the bill. The Rathole. He vaguely remembered this place, actually. He'd probably gotten laid here a few times.

He headed inside, waving away the gusts of cigarette smoke. The bartender looked him up and down. "I s'pose you're here for the half-pint."

"Yes. How much does he owe you?"

"Oh, not a terrible amount. Three drinks. I just want him out of here, and I know 'nough about those pocket watches not to mess with himself m'self." He pointed with his elbow to the back of the bar. "He's, uh, making himself comfortable there."

Jareth headed to the bar – then came to a stop, horror and amusement fighting a pitched battle in his brain.

Will was there at the back table, alright. The table itself had the three empty glasses of the drinks he'd had – which wouldn't be that much, Jareth reflected, if he'd been more than ninety pounds sopping wet and had gotten normal beers and not what he suspected had been glasses of either whiskey or bourbon. Will wasn't sitting on the table – he was seated in the lap of an older gentleman with a bristly beard, rambling cheerfully about something involving dragons and Xerxian mythology. The gentleman was doing an excellent job of pretending to listen as his hand worked its way up Will's thigh.

Christ on a goddamn cracker.

Jareth stepped forward and grabbed the man's hand. "I suggest you move that hand before you lose it."

The man looked up at him with a half-drunk leer. "What, you want him?"

"He's fifteen and an employee of the State Military. I don't think you do."

The man froze, then shoved Will off his lap, making him scarce. There was a thunk as Will hit the ground, and he sat up, glaring at Jareth. "Fuck off."

"I will not. You're making a fool of yourself. Come on."

"No. I'm stayin' right here where I don't have to think 'bout anything or worry 'bout anything or-"

"Come on, Will. Get up."

"Go to hell, Jareth," Will slurred, flopping backwards onto the filthy floor with a dramatic swoosh of his hair.

Great. "Alright, when you sober up, I want you to know you practically asked for this."

"What-?"

Jareth bent down, picked up Will like a sack of potatoes and slung him over his shoulder.

"WAIT! NO! FUCK YOU!"

"if you throw up on me, you're cleaning it up." Jareth patted Will's back, and tried not to smirk when there was nothing but quiet acceptance from his back. Once they'd gotten out of the bad neighborhood and into the park that separated one part of Central from another, Jareth pulled Will off his shoulder and parked him on a bench.

"Don't," Will complained before Jareth could get a word out, and put his head on his knees. "Not right now."

"Sorry, but I gotta know. How on earth did you even get in there?"

"Pocket watch," he mumbled.

"Will, your authority isn't so you can get piss-drunk as a minor."

"Oh please. Nobody else thinks I'm a minor. Why shouldn't I- I get to get drunk?"

Jareth sighed, running a hand through his hair. He, Diana and Maes had actually talked about this at one point; what they were going to do when Will got old enough to realize that he could do whatever he wanted, in combination with what he was likely to want.

"I'm –" He sat down on the bench next to Will. "I'm a little less worried about the alcohol, kid. Although on that topic, the hell did you drink?"

"Whiskey," he mumbled from his knees. "S'what Diana drinks."

Jareth let the familiarity slide for now. By now, he could see that Will wasn't just drunk – he was miserable. "She's also been drinking for years and is about twice your height."

"…does that matter?"

Don't laugh at him, Jareth reprimanded himself. It was more sad than it was funny, anyway. "The first time you get drunk and you chug half a whiskey bottle. Why?"

Will shrugged, head still buried in his bare knees. "Dunno." That was a lie, Jareth knew, but he wasn't likely to get more out of him.

"Listen, kid, I'm not gonna be the one telling you not to drink. But for christ's sake, don't be stupid about it."

"Why not?" Will finally straightened up, leaning back in the bench and yanking his headband down around his neck, so that his hair fell straight down around his shoulders and over his face, a few of the braids coming undone where they'd lost their ties. "Why shouldn't I?"

"I just pulled you off the lap of a total stranger-"

Will started to laugh. At least, Jareth thought it was laughter, and perhaps it still was, but there were tears falling down his face. He scrubbed at his face. "Yeah. Yeah," he whispered.

Jareth found himself staring down into Will's face. Less down than he was used to – Will had grown taller. But more than that. Calling him a kid wasn't really accurate. Even without the military job, without all the shit that Will had been through – he was growing up. He couldn't bring himself to be snarky or cruel, not when he was realizing that it was probably time to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

"Will…" he began to say. But he didn't really know how to start.

"I'm gay," Will said instead, and it hung between them. He'd beaten Jareth to it.

"Well, I knew that," he said softly. "But that doesn't mean you have to fall into bed with a stranger. Or whatever it was you were doing."

"Fall into bed?" Will echoed. "Do you think I'm fucking stupid?"

"No, of course n-"

"I know what they say about me, Jareth." Some of the alcohol had worn off, enough that he was speaking clearly. Jareth almost wished he wasn't. "Since I was twelve, they've said all the same things. That I'm a – a deviant, a predator, a faggot, that I probably slut around to get the freedom I do-"

"You know that isn't true. And so what? They can say what they want, won't change how many people in the military are gay."

"Like you?" Will challenged.

"Well, yeah."

"Yeah," Will snorted, sweeping some of the hair out of his face, "except nobody challenges you on that shit. You're a real man. More people are worried about your war rep than your dick."

Jareth tried to respond to that, but Will was right. He'd faced some homophobia, but between being somebody who dated women and men equally and being tall and muscular, nobody was cowardly or foolish enough to challenge him on it. He'd dealt with more bullheadedness from women or men worried he'd leave them for the other, like the concept of dating openly and freely was completely lost on them – and usually it was.

"We're not the same, Jareth," Will spat out in a strangled voice, bitterness warring with a lost expression. "There's gay like you. And then there's gay like me. So go ahead, tell me why I should give a shit if somebody actually wants to spend time with me."

Jareth closed his eyes for a moment. Then he wrapped his arm around Will, pulling him into his chest. "You deserve better than that."

"I've never even been kissed. And I get to hear about how I'm a fucking wh-" Will couldn't even get the word out, shoulders tense even in Jareth's embrace. "And if people don't think that, they think I'm crazy and dangerous, and if that part's true, it might as well all be."

He had no idea what to say. He'd had no parenting of any quality to draw on, and he had no interest in being a father. Yet, here he was, sitting next to a kid with no guidance other than two other equally-clueless boys, and- and him and Diana. He couldn't give the wrong answer. The wrong answer could make everything worse. The right answer wasn't presenting itself.

When Will pulled away, Jareth asked, tentatively, "What about Selim?"

"Wh-what about him?"

"Well, I thought you two-"

Will shook his head, looking absolutely terrified. "I can't. I can't, if I fuck that up I don't know what I'll do. I don't even know if he's…" He shrugged. "Sometimes I think it's fine. Sometimes I think I'm crazy. And even if it is real, I mean, I-" A different kind of fear crept onto his face, one that Jareth knew intimately having felt it the last few days. "What if I'm no good?"

"At- at sex?"

"Who said anything about sex? I don't know how to kiss people! I'll probably do something stupid and then he'll laugh at me and I'll want to kill myself all over again."

Jareth lost the battle with himself, a laugh leaving his mouth. Will hit his knee, sulky fury replacing the vulnerability. "I can't believe you're laughing at me."

"Do you even know how sex works?"

"Of course I do," Will snorted. "I read a lot."

Oh nooooo. "I meant between two men, Will."

Will turned even redder, clearing his throat and looking away. So that was a no. "I – I have some theories- I was talking about kissing! You're the one who made it all pervy!"

"I'm pretty sure the sex talk is on the agenda given where I found you-" Jareth let the embarrassment sink into Will's features- "but not while you're drunk. Also, not from me. God no."

"I just…" The younger boy looked so defeated it was hard not to feel sorry for him. Jareth mostly managed to avoid it by knowing how hard Will would hit him if he even suspected it. "I don't know how to be an adult and a kid at the same time."

"You're not. You're a teenager. That's a whole different thing."

"I guess."

Jareth chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Look, first kisses aren't that big a deal. Frankly, it's better to get them out of the way. So, I don't know, smooching somebody before Selim is probably okay."

"Like who? I don't trust anybody enough for that."

"Want me to kiss you?"

"Wh-what?" Will started upwards, staring at Jareth and conspicuously dragging his gaze up from Jareth's lips. "You're joking. Stop fucking with me."

"I'm not. You keep freaking out about it. And, wild guess, you're worried about whether or not you're into men at all. Like the second you actually act on it, you'll realize the whole thing was made up."

Will pouted slightly. "…Maybe you do get it. A bit."

"Close your eyes."

Will did as he was told – for once in his damn life – and Jareth took hold of his chin, taking a moment to brush his thumb over the tiny, barely-perceptible blond stubble that Will kept trying to blast into non-existence. Then he leaned in, covering Will's lips with his own.

He realized, pretty quickly, that he'd made a mistake. Kisses weren't a big deal – usually. He'd offered mostly to get Will to stop fretting. He hadn't expected there to be an actual spark, or for Will's lips to be so damn soft. He hadn't expected Will to kiss him back. And of course he wasn't much good at it yet, but his hand at the back of Jareth's neck signaled all the little ways he was reacting to Jareth's lead, learning from him-

Jareth broke the kiss, trying to pretend he wasn't breathing hard. "I uh – I better get you home."

"Home? Oh, Hughes's place."

"Yeah. Heads up, by the way, you're gonna feel like shit tomorrow. Hangovers are nothing to sneeze at."

Will nodded as if Jareth had given him some sage advice. He got to his feet – then almost tripped.

"Yeah, on second thought, I'm carrying you again, drunky."

"Mm. Fine."

"Wow, you accepting that without a fight? If I'd known alcohol made you actually shut up and listen-" Jareth stopped. Will had fallen asleep, his cheeks still red.

He sighed, and started the walk to Maes's house. Part of him hoped, a little too late, that Will wouldn't remember the kiss in the morning. He hadn't thought it'd be a big deal.

And it's not, he reminded himself. Then he remembered – he still didn't know what had brought the drinking on. He'd let Will avoid that topic.

Maes opened the door, blinking blearily. "Ah? What happened?"

"It looks like Will's finally discovered that a pocket watch works better than ID," he replied somewhat sourly.

There was a snicker from the living room, and Diana appeared, giving Will a pitying. "Oh, the poor dear. Please tell me it was at least-"

"Responsible? Hon, this is Will we're talking about. What do you think?"

Maes nodded up the stairs. "His bedroom's upstairs. Glad to see he's shown up. Selim's been worried sick."

Jareth did so, dropping Will into his bed and then – checking that nobody was watching – pulling the blankets up over him. "Sleep well, dumbass," he murmured, more affectionately than anything else.

When he made it back down the stairs, Diana was sitting back on the couch, half-reclined. "Please, enlighten us, what shithole did you have to drag him out of?"

"The Rathole. He'll be fine." Then he jabbed a finger at Diana. "If you're going to drink in front of our child, at least tell him he can't drink the same amount of whiskey as you."

"Oh no," Diana said, while Maes dissolved into suppressed laughter. "This is exactly why I'm not cut out for motherhood."

"I know, I know. You're still the one who recruited a baby."

She pulled a face. "They always warn you not to adopt the cute puppies without remembering they'll get older."

"You could be a lot worse." Maes leaned back in his chair. "Considering the examples you two have to work with?"

"Eugh." Diana shuddered. "That's fair."

Jareth wasn't so sure. He still remembered deliberately bruising the same boy he'd kissed tonight. But he kept his own counsel.

"So, what are we doing?"

"Complaining about Central," Diana replied blackly. "I forgot how much I hate everybody here."

"If you drag me back to the East just when I'm on the precipice of Sheska forgiving me, I will abandon you and go work for Hughes."

"You wouldn't," she said in mock horror. Then when he sat down on the couch, she slid her hand into his and squeezed it – a small moment of the affection they usually couldn't express openly.

Maes just shook his head. "You know I can't do that, Jareth."

"Why not?"

"Well, first of all, I love my wife and child very much, and if Diana kills me, that would make Elysia cry, which I don't think anybody wants."

"She'll get over it," Diana shot back from the couch.

"Har har. Second of all, I've had to fend off enough comments about you being my boyfriend without giving anybody the convenient pun of you working under me."

"You wish I worked under you," Jareth snarked, then ducked as Maes threw a pillow at him. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. You are my adorably boring straight friend."

"And the most likely one here to survive into my forties. Especially since Diana here keeps sassing the Fuhrer."

"Oh please, Maes." She threw a frustrated arm over her eyes. "At this rate, thirty is looking like a stretch."

"That's next year."

"Exactly. My excuse is that he keeps flirting with me, badly."

"Implying that if he was better at it, you'd be more willing?"

Diana just gave Maes the middle finger. It wasn't a no, which made it that better. She leaned into Jareth's side, obviously a little tipsy, hurting from all the past she'd had to dig up lately. Jareth felt it too – he was just better at pushing it aside when he had to.

He debated whether or not to tell them about his conversation with Will. Maybe another time. It was Will's story to tell.


A/N:

*** I have ALL SORTS of people who follow this story and I know that! For many of you, the Will/Jareth thing is a big shrug. Fiction is fiction.

For those of you who might be tensing up and feeling a bit on edge – I get you! It's one thing when you click into something specifically for a ship dynamic, and another when it shows up out of the blue. I don't want to give away my story, but I will promise two things: one, Will/Selim is still the intended endgame, and two, no topic that shows up in HOTP and gets dwelt on is something that I don't have the experience and knowledge to treat with as much seriousness as possible. Especially when it comes to figuring out queerness as a very lonely teenager, none of this is a moral A-to-B straight line and I'm more interested in the Complicated Stuff than a moral parable.