A/N: Thanks for the encouraging reviews! This is the final chapter. I hope you'll continue to tell me what you think!

"Call?" Celia said. "You look like you're constipated."

Call was pacing back and forth, trying to come up with the words he needed, and failing. How do you explain to someone you're emotionally constipated? Call had rehearsed his confession, gone over it again and again, earlier in the common room. Tamara had suggested he break it into steps. One: He didn't like Celia. Two: He was gay. Three: He liked Aaron.

...He felt like breaking something. If he was that blunt about it, he was going to sound emotionally stunted. Celia would get the wrong idea, and think he was just confused. That was the last thing he needed.

Call took a deep breath.

"Celia—"

Tamara Rajavi was smirking.

"Where's Call?" Aaron had demanded, bursting into their common room.

"Something wrong, Aaron?" Tamara had asked, noting he had a bit of a disheveled look about him.

"What?" Aaron said, too distracted to process her words right away.

"No," he said hurriedly. "Kinda the opposite, actually. Do you know where Call is?"

"Yeah," she said, trying to keep her tone neutral, and give nothing away. "He went to the Library to see Celia. I got the impression it was really important. Do you think he's finally ready to take their relationship to the next level?"

"T-take their relationship to the next—?" Aaron couldn't finish the sentence. He really didn't like where this conversation was headed.

"Yeah," Tamara said slyly, "Do you think they're going to have sex?"

"Call's asexual," Aaron managed.

Tamara shrugged.

"So? There are sex-positive asexuals, and demisexuals, and aceflux people, too. There's a whole great big spectrum..." Tamara raised her eyebrows. "Why are you looking at me like this is news?"

Tamara hid her grin behind one of her hands, trying to look pensive and serious, like that sculpture she'd seen once in the Musée Rodin. She was trying really hard not to laugh at how stressed out Aaron looked; she wanted him to find out Call really was gay all on his own, she didn't want to spoil it. But it was pretty hard to believe Aaron was buying any of this. Hadn't it been Tamara herself, all these years, who had told Aaron not to give up?

He couldn't seriously think she'd changed her mind that easily, just because he'd asked her to before. Then again...this was Aaron Stewart. He liked to believe the best of people. He wasn't that good at telling when other people were lying to him, possibly just because he was always ready to dismiss his own perspective. Hopefully, dating Call would give him some more self-confidence.

Aaron shook his head, like he was trying to knock out all the thoughts in his brain about "Call and Celia having sex" from his ears. He took a deep breath.

"Call's in the Library?" he said, just to double-check.

Tamara nodded.

"Yep," she said.

"I'll see you later, Tamara," Aaron said, and he spun on his heel and ran back out the door.

Aaron didn't know why he was running, why he was bothering to starve himself of breath like this. If Call was straight, if he was serious about Celia...It wasn't like Aaron getting to the scene as fast as he could was going to stop it from happening. This wasn't a movie, where if he made it just in time, he could yell, "I OBJECT!" and True Love (TM) would save the day. But he had kind of already decided that didn't matter.

What mattered—the only thing that seemed to matter at all anymore—was that he tell Call the truth. He couldn't live like this. He couldn't spend the rest of his life, knowing he'd lost to Celia, when maybe...Maybe he didn't have to.

He knew that was crazy. Tamara had been wrong, was definitely still wrong, had admitted, just now, that she was wrong and Call was straight, hadn't she? He didn't know why, then, he was holding onto some crazy hope, just a gut feeling, really. His mind was telling him he was insane, but another part of him was determined to challenge that. He didn't want to give up—did that make him an idiot? Probably.

But he'd been thinking about something Master Rufus had said once, when Call had asked him why, in his opinion, had Constantine Madden done all that crazy stuff? Master Rufus had said that...that was just the way people are. Being driven mad by the loss of his brother wasn't something unique to Constantine, he had posited. It was normal that a human being should be unable to love with only half their heart.

At the risk of sounding sentimental, there are some people you just can't live without.

Aaron, Tamara, and Call had looked around at each other then, each thinking the same thing. That was them, as well. They needed each other. Aaron didn't know what he'd do without his best friends. More than that, though, right now, he was certain Tamara would always be there for him; he didn't feel so sure about Call. He loved his friends, and he was sure they loved him, but...He loved Tamara like a sister. He did not love Call like a brother, and he couldn't go on pretending like he did.

What if this cost him his friendship with Call? He didn't want to be dishonest, he couldn't stand it, but he didn't want to force these feelings on Call, either. He didn't want to make Call deal with something he hadn't asked for; Call had dealt with so much already, and he still had a lot on his plate. He was probably happy with Celia, so wasn't doing this insanely selfish?

Not that it mattered now. He had reached the library. Call was inside talking to Celia, as Tamara had promised, but otherwise it was completely deserted. Aaron got a bit sidetracked, wondering if anyone at the Magisterium had ever studied, but he abandoned the thought as quickly as it had come.

He couldn't hear what Call was saying to Celia, but his face was flushed. If he was going to do this, it was now or never.

"CALL! Wait!"

Call had barely gotten out Celia's name, hadn't even had time to tell her he wanted to break up, when suddenly he heard Aaron's voice from behind them, shouting his name.

"Aaron?" Call said in a small voice, honestly shocked by the appearance of the other boy. His hair was a mess, and—was his fly down? What the...

"Call," Aaron said again, but it sounded different this time. Not angry or worried or tinged with desperation. It was something else, something Call couldn't quite name.

Call knew what Aaron's voice sounded like when something was wrong; he'd heard its tone often enough, throughout all the insane adventures they'd had. But this was different. He'd heard Aaron say his name like that, maybe once or twice, when Aaron was asleep. He'd always figured it had come out like that because Aaron had been asleep. Now, he didn't know what to think.

"Aaron," Call said again. "What are you doing here?"

Aaron strode across the empty library, making a beeline for Call; he didn't even seem to notice Celia was there, though he must have seen her in his peripheral vision.

"Call, before you say anything, there's something I've got to tell you—"

"Can't it wait?" Celia said. "Call was just about to—"

"I know what Call was about to tell you," Aaron said. "Tamara told me. That's why I came here. I know I can't stop you, Call, but—"

"You want to stop me?" Call said, his heart ramming against his chest, like it was determined to rip itself out before Aaron could. "But—don't you care what I—"

"Of course, I care about what you want," Aaron said, anticipating Call's next words. "But I also care about what I want, and—"

"What you want?" Call said, genuinely confused. "What's that got to do with anything?"

Call hadn't meant to sound that harsh, but he couldn't believe Aaron knew he liked him, and he was still trying to force him to stay with Celia. Didn't he realize how unfair that was to Celia? How unfair it was to Call? He couldn't believe Aaron had the gall to tell him he should have to date a girl, when he wasn't even straight. Aaron was gay! How could he not understand what he was asking Call to do?

"I don't want to live a lie," Call admitted, out loud for the first time. "I don't want there to be any more misunderstandings, and I don't want to hurt Celia—"

"Why would you—" Celia tried to say, but Aaron cut across her.

"What are you talking about?" Aaron asked.

"What are you talking about?" Call shot back, now completely lost, and without any idea where this conversation was going.

Aaron and Call held each other's gaze for a moment, both of them tensed for rejection, expecting it like a slap to the face, or a punch to the gut. But when the words didn't come, Call breathed through his nose, and opened his mouth to speak.

Aaron must've had the same idea, because they both spoke at the same time, each having decided on his own that he was going to have to go first.

"I like you!" they said together, not without difficulty.

"What?"

This time, Celia's voice chorused with the boys'.

"I was going to break up with her," Call admitted, more to Aaron than to Celia. "Why'd you try to stop me?"

Aaron made a face.

"Tamara had me convinced—well, nevermind what Tamara said. I swear, she's going to get it! I can't believe she played me like that!"

"You were going to break up with me?" Celia cut in.

Call looked back at her guiltily, as if just remembering he hadn't actually got around to telling her before Aaron had burst in.

"Yeah, about that...Celia, I'm—that is—I was wrong, before. Tamara was right. I only see you as a friend. I'm really sorry—"

"You're...sorry..."

Celia wasn't sobbing, so Call didn't notice she was crying, and he plowed on.

"Yeah, it's just—it's like Tamara said, I kind of...tried to ward off the gay, but I can't, and—"

"Call," Aaron said, nudging him.

Call hadn't been able to meet Celia's eyes, but now he looked up.

"Oh," was all he said.

"We're gonna go," Aaron said, taking Call's hand and leading him out of the room.

"Are you sure that was okay?" Call asked, genuinely concerned.

"Yeah," Aaron said. "I'm pretty sure she wants to be alone, right now."

Tamara had gone to bed early. That was the first thing the boys noticed when they entered their common room. Aaron made a face, and grumbled about how he was going to get revenge; Call couldn't take him completely seriously. His fly was still down, for one thing.

The second thing they noticed was that they were still holding hands.

"Oh, sorry," Call said, reflexively letting go, just as he had any other time when holding hands had been briefly necessary. The "no romo" instinct was still there, apparently.

Aaron obliged to let go of Call's hand, but he grabbed Call's sleeve instead, and pulled him closer, until their feet and their faces were mere inches apart (more like centimetres, Call thought).

"So," Aaron said, as if standing this close wasn't at all awkward, "You...that is...we like each other, right?"

"Yeah," Call said. "I mean, I do. Like you."

"You like me," Aaron echoed, like he wasn't sure he'd heard right.

Impulsively, without thinking, he reached up to stroke Call's face. He brushed his hand through Call's hair, which was long enough to cover his ears by now. All of the blood in Call's entire body must have rushed to his face then, because he looked like a human pomegranate: Aaron didn't think he'd ever seen anything so red. Such a bright color probably didn't exist in nature, Aaron thought, except maybe in elementals.

Aaron drew his hand back, as if just realizing what he'd been doing. Call grabbed at his arm, taking hold of him by the elbow, seemingly without meaning to do so.

"Don't..." was all he said.

"Don't what?" Aaron said, his voice pitched higher than he intended. His left hand clenched nervously into a fist. "Just so I'm clear...Call, you don't...like me as your friend, or your brother, or—"

Call wasn't really listening, but Aaron was too distracted to notice that. Call had taken a step forward—

"Ow!" Aaron shouted, suddenly.

Call looked down, and realized he had stepped on Aaron's foot.

"Sorry," he said, putting his foot back.

They glanced at each other then, and meeting the other boy's gaze silenced all their doubts. There was an intensity there, a familiar trust there, and something else Call recognized now: desire. That had been the edge to Aaron's voice, earlier. The thing that Call couldn't identify. Aaron had sounded like he was begging Call not to leave him, when he had shouted after him in the library. But it wasn't a plea, like he thought he was going to die. He didn't sound scared. Aaron had said Call's name like it was the most important thing he'd ever say, like it was the only thing that would ever matter to him, as if nothing would supersede these feelings again. That wasn't the voice of someone asking permission; it was a declaration.

I want you more than anyone else. I love you more than anything else.

Aaron hadn't been demanding Call love him back; but that tone in his voice, that's what it had meant. He had completely revealed himself to Call: there would be no more hiding, from either of them. He hadn't been trying to dominate the conversation...he'd been revealing his own weakness, communicating to Call what he really wanted. Aaron hadn't asked Call to love him. He'd just wanted Call to let him love him.

Suddenly, Call realized how long the walk from the Library to their common room was, and he noted the pain in his leg. He abruptly sat down on one of the couches, his eyes leaving Aaron's gaze, while he momentarily caught his breath. Him and Aaron...Tamara had been right all along, why hadn't he seen it? Why hadn't he listened?

"Call?" Aaron said, uncertainly. "Are you all right?"

He sat down next to him, noticing Call was rubbing his leg.

"Yeah," Call said, "It was just a long walk."

"Maybe this will help," Aaron said, and before he could talk himself out of it, before the thought had time to complete and his brain had a chance to shut it down, he leaned forward and kissed Call.

Aaron was warm. That was the first thing that registered with Call. His heat was almost oppressive, at least compared to Celia, who had always felt like winter personified. His shirt was bigger than Celia's, big enough that Call could fist his hands in it. He pulled Aaron closer to him, grabbing at his arms again, and kissing him back, kissing him harder.

It seemed to be a competitive thing; Aaron didn't want to think about Call kissing Celia. Call didn't want to think about Aaron kissing Jasper. So, they had to do their best to erase that history, to eradicate it, to let it become meaningless and forgotten...

Aaron pushed Call down on the couch, and Call stretched out, his leg evidently forgotten. Aaron wasn't thinking about forcing Call to have sex with him, but here in this position, with Call beneath him, returning his energy, refueling it, firing back at him as earnestly as he could...It was hard not to think about what that'd be like.

Call, surprisingly, for someone who didn't much like being touched himself, was more handsy than Aaron had expected. He seemed determined to touch every part of Aaron he could reach: running his hands through his hair, down his neck, across his shoulders, over his chest, down his back...Aaron got the impression Call wanted to feel all of him, and for his part, Aaron was perfectly fine with letting himself be enveloped in Call.

Call wanted Aaron to feel good—that was as much as he could explain his actions—and for perhaps the first time maybe in all of ever, he was feeling touch-starved himself. He wanted to be sucked in by Aaron's presence, lost in the reality of having him here; it had been so many years, so many miserable years. Kissing Aaron as he was, he suddenly couldn't fathom how he'd done his waiting, how he'd swallowed these feelings and buried them unimaginably deep inside. Right now, they were boiling over, bursting out of him, against all notions of pride or decency or common sense.

They both thought they should've been stronger than this, they both feared what being this vulnerable towards the other meant; but they both put it out of their minds, too enwrapped in the rapid actions of their hands and mouths to make much sense out of anything else, let alone have time for constructive thinking. The problem-solving part of their brains had already decided: This, this is it. This is the answer to your problem. They didn't think about it—it was maybe the first time they'd ever flatly refused to overthink something—they simply allowed themselves to be absorbed by what they were doing.

Call kissed Aaron, and Aaron kissed Call, and it went on like that for hours, or maybe days, or maybe an entire age; they couldn't tell, and they didn't care anyway. All they knew was that they had no intention of being parted by fear and stupidity again.

"Your fly..." Call said, between snogging, "it's still open."

He snorted, but Aaron didn't seem bothered. He reached down and unbuttoned his pants; he reached up and pulled Call by his shirt, pulled him back down to him, and took his mouth again; and Aaron was kissing Call as suggestively as he could, touching him carefully, so as to not set the asexual boy off.

Call was on top of Aaron now, and it got him thinking. He might not be capable of sexual attraction, in any direction, but he'd never thought much about whether he'd like to give sex a try or not. He'd always assumed not, but that had been when he was with Celia.

Aaron, for his part, seemed happy enough to be making out with Call, instead of Jasper. Call got the impression Aaron would let him decide what he wanted—the invitation was certainly there, but did he want to take it?

The best thing, though, was that Aaron was here. He wasn't going anywhere. Call had him, all of him, the entire physical reality of him; he had Aaron Stewart all to himself. And he had plenty of time to figure out what he wanted from him. Right now, Call was happy to just be with Aaron, in the realest sense possible.

This wasn't a dream. He wasn't going to wake up tomorrow, still with Celia, having to watch another spectacle by Jasper, as Tamara looked on disapprovingly from a distance. When he fell asleep, it would be with Aaron; and when he woke up tomorrow, Aaron would still be here. No matter what happened, Aaron was going to be with Call, every day, and Call was going to be with Aaron.

For the first time in his life, Call had an intuitive understanding of what it meant to not be alone. He was never going to be alone. His heart was in the hands of a chaos mage, sure, and that might be dangerous. He and Aaron were, after all, supposedly destined enemies.

A human being cannot live without half their heart.

As far as Call was concerned, Aaron was his whole heart. If anyone could stop Call from becoming Constantine...but he didn't want to think about that right now.

Aaron was kissing him quite heatedly now, and Call was perfectly content to not think about another thing.