Haven't held a racquet in two years, my foot.

Being on the school team, Halle always thought they were pretty decent at tennis, but apparently they aren't even a match for Leon, despite him being rusty as all hell. They're playing server, which was supposed to give them an advantage, but he's already beating them love-30.

Halle serves yet another ball, watching in slight defeat as Leon intercepts it almost effortlessly. They almost wonder if he's the captain of some top-secret youth tennis team they never heard about. Now that'd be a plot twist.

After Leon has been declared the victor of their third consecutive match (no surprise there), they set their racquets down and go to the sidelines to cool down. Halle takes a long drink from their water bottle and tries not to watch their friend wipe away a bead of sweat making its languid way down his neck. "I refuse to believe you haven't played for years," they pant.

Leon shrugs. He presses the ice-cold surface of his bottle to his rosy cheek, which Halle also tries not to watch. "I played a bit at school. Apart from English, P.E. was probably my best subject."

"Oh, I never knew."

"Waiting tables all day is good enough exercise these days," he continues, "but it was fun getting to play a few matches with someone." Leon wipes his forehead again and smiles at them. "So, to the library next?"

"Sounds good." They put their bottle back into their back, then go to pick up the racquets. Leon's loud footsteps clap against the floor as he follows, bending down to grab Halle's racquet at the same time they do.

"Um," Halle says. Leon's hand is squeezing theirs.

"Sorry." He doesn't sound particularly apologetic, grabbing his own racquet instead and stowing it in his bag. They follow suit, trying not to think about what just happened, and they head for the library.

The moment they step inside the building, welcomed by a blast of air conditioner, Leon's eyes seem to dilate. He looks around at the shelves upon shelves of books as though hypnotised.

Halle lets him stare in awe for a bit more before asking, "so, which genre do you want to check out first?"

"Maybe some YA books. It's no fun reading those stuffy classics all the time."

They try not to think (lots of trying not to think today) about how those "stuffy classics" sent them and their friends into making up queer conspiracy theories. "Ooh, yeah, I haven't read any good YA in a long time."

The YA section is on the library's second floor, and Leon makes a beeline for the nearest bookshelf he can see. In less than a minute, he's pulling out a book and reading the blurb on the back cover. "Hey, I've been looking for this for ages!"

"What book is that?"

He shows them the cover — the text beneath a drawing of a bow drawn into a heart shape reads The Song of Achilles.

Shoot.

"I — I think you'd like it," Halle observes carefully. "You like Greek myths, right?"

"Uh-huh." Leon opens it up to the first page. "I especially love all the queer ones. You probably read the Apollo and Hyakinthos story I posted a couple of days ago, but my favourite still has to be Achilles and Patroclus' love."

"I see." This is the third queer book he's mentioned, what does he mean, is he queer, oh gosh —

"It's the yearning for me. All that longing and those secret stolen moments have me soft," he sighs, sounding totally lovestruck. "I'd totally want a relationship with as much passion as theirs. Minus the tragic early death, of course."

"Of course." Their voice comes out all nasally and gross, and they clear their throat. "A relationship like Achilles and Patroclus'. That would be… nice."

He turns a page, chattering, "did you know Achilles wanted their ashes to be mixed together after they died, so they'd never have to be apart, even in death? You can't get more romantic than that."

"No, you can't," Halle squeaks.

"It's so funny how people keep thinking the two of them were just friends." His hushed voice is all they can focus on, gushing about these ancient lovers. "Achilles literally called Patroclus 'the man he loved beyond all other comrades, loved as his own life'. Like, yeah, that's totally just dudes being buddies."

"Mmhmm."

Page after page is turned, and Leon grows more engrossed in the book with every one. With nothing to read, Halle really should go get a book for themself, but some unseeable, indescribable force keeps them in their seat to look at their friend. They only realise when their chest grows tight that they forgot how to breathe.

Leon finally looks up when he's halfway through the book. His expression is almost dreamy — eyes far-off; cheeks slightly flushed, less than before; smiling softly as though in love. Maybe he is. The way his thin fingers gently cradle the book makes it look like he's holding something far more precious. "I think I'll borrow this," he wisps, "and if I can find it, I'll get Brideshead, too. It's high time I reread it."

"The classics are downstairs." Another breath. They didn't know it was possible to forget how to use one's lungs. "Do you want to go look?"

"Sure." He takes a bookmark out of his pocket and slides it onto the page he stopped on, then closes the book. "You don't want to check out any YA books?"

Halle picks up their bag and stands up. "Nah, I'll start reading Dorian Grey fir — agh!" Their foot connects with the table leg. Arms flailing, they fall forward and nearly crash right into Leon.

To their relief, they catch themself in the nick of time. Halle stiffens when they feel fingers wrap around their arm and tug them upright. Leon's grinning. "Did you just fall for me?"

There goes their breathing. Again. A noise that sounds like a balloon deflating escapes them.

"Hey, this is the part where the whole library's supposed to clap." He looks at them. "Are you okay?"

"Um," Halle says, very intelligently. "Uh, yeah. I'm fi — " Their voice cracks. "I'm fine."

He prods their cheek. Now their lungs are shutting down. "Was my pickup line that bad?"

"It was a pickup line?" Halle chokes.

"Only if you want it to be." Leon slings his backpack over his shoulder and pushes his chair in. "But anyways, let's go."

This time without their knees giving out, they follow Leon to the ground floor of the library. Just like he did in the YA section, he manages to find a copy of Brideshead Revisited in no time at all, and return from the maze of shelves with the blue-covered book as well as a yellow-paged copy of The Picture of Dorian Grey that looks like it'll fall apart any moment. Halle borrows their book first, then waits for Leon as he fills out a form to get a library card. They stare down at the faded, half-hidden face of Dorian Grey on the book's cover, once again remembering what their friends said about it. Adding The Song of Achilles to the list of books Leon took interest in, plus the story he posted this week and how much he gushes about the queerness in Greek myths, he might as well be waving a rainbow flag in their face. Or is it creepy to be assuming someone's sexuality based on the books they like?

Leon returns with his two books tucked under his arm, snapping them out of their thoughts. "I still have about an hour before Yao wants me home," he says. "D'you want to go get something to drink?"

Ten minutes later, the two of them are seated beneath the Feasting Through History shelf in The Cove. Leon takes a sip from his hot chocolate, peering around the cafe. "I'm surprised Vic and Madeline aren't nearby. They're usually around this area writing essays together or holding hands or being disgusting." He dunks a piece of shortbread into his drink. "Just ew."

Halle stirs the cup of ginger tea Leon recommended they get, then takes a cautious sip. Still too hot. They set the cup back onto the saucer, sighing, "my brother's boyfriend comes over all the time and they're always disgustingly sappy. Couples are the worst."

"Totally." He nibbles on his shortbread. "Funny how we hate couples but want to get into a relationship."

"A relationship?" They ask, then proceed to wonder why they asked.

Leon takes another bite. "I don't know if I'm, like, actually prepared for one, but it sounds nice. I'd like to hold hands with someone, or cuddle them. To me, a partner's just like a good friend I can kiss." His cheeks colour slightly. "Not that I have lots of friends, but you know."

The tea is still too hot to drink. Halle blows over it lightly, watching the ripples spread across its surface. They bounce against the cup, washing golden-brown against bone-white. Some of the tea splatters up in boiling-hot droplets, though none of them escape onto their hands or the table. The steam rising from the cup smells bittersweet and sharp.

"You look really fascinated in your tea."

Now it goes sloshing over the rim of the cup to scald their hand, and they curse. After carefully setting it back onto the saucer and wiping their hand clean, Halle responds, "it smells nice."

He goes back to his hot chocolate.

Were Halle blessed with better social skills that didn't corner them into talking about how they were intensely staring at their cup of tea, the two of them would be having a delightfully interesting conversation. Unfortunately, they are awkward, and it's awkward silence that they and Leon sit in for the next fifteen minutes. Probably tired of waiting for them to come up with something normal to talk about, Leon takes his phone out and starts scrolling. He raises an eyebrow. "Huh."

"What is it?"

"Nothing, I'm just looking at PuffinReviews." Halle starts at the mention of their pen name. "They usually update around this time. Their last review was over a week ago."

Oh, right. They had a review to post. "Maybe they're taking a break or something," Halle feigns.

"Yeah, maybe," he mulls, reaching for the last piece of shortbread. "They're not revealing anything about their next review, and I swear I'm going to die of anticipation. Do you think it's going to be about some Michelin-starred restaurant? They've never written about those before."

"That would be interesting." Halle drinks from their cup, savouring the rich, spicy sweetness of the ginger. It seems to burn as it goes down, though the feeling isn't unpleasant. "Do you, uh, know the person behind the reviewer or something? You seem pretty knowledgeable about them."

"Oh, I wish! Nobody knows their real first name, or have seen their face. I guess it's good, though, that nobody knows who this popular restaurant critic is." He licks a crumb from the corner of his mouth. "I still want to meet them one day, though."

They briefly consider dropping a "well, they're sitting right in front of you" like the main character in a teen drama might, but that would totally compromise their career. "I hope you get the review soon."

Leon's phone chimes with a notification that makes them frown. "I have to get home soon."

"Oh," they say.

"We'll see each other soon, right?"

They start feeling warm again. It's probably the tea. "Yeah, of course."

"Actually, we should keep in contact some other way. What if we exchanged numbers?"

Even warmer. "S-Sure." Halle takes Leon's phone and types their number into it, then waits for him to send a message.

The text that pops up on their phone mere seconds later reads:

Leon
Hi :)) (Sent 17:32)

The icon is that of a plastic cup of bubble tea, coloured pink, purple and blue.

Well. That answers the million-dollar question.