"Is there anything else you want to do while we're out?" asked Jeremy, trying to sound chipper. He needn't have bothered; Jean wasn't paying attention to him, anyway.

"It is still very close." He stared at his phone, frowning. "Who else can we get to vote? Are you on any older Trojan groups that might help us out?"

"Wait, how can you tell it's close?" asked Jeremy. "I didn't think you could see results until you participated."

Jean stared at him. "Are you telling me you have not voted?"

"Are we allowed to?" asked Jeremy. "I thought we were just supposed to wait and see what the result is!"

"Do you really think Minyard and Josten are abstaining?"

"I don't know," said Jeremy with an uncomfortable shrug. "It seems kind of silly—wouldn't all of our votes cancel out, anyway?"

"Not if you do not participate!" said Jean. "If you do not vote, we are only canceling out one of their votes, and that gives them an advantage!"

"Okay, fair enough," said Jeremy. "I'll vote as soon as we're home."

"Vote now."

"I'm driving," said Jeremy, exasperated. "Unless you think crashing the car would get us sympathy points?"

"If the accident is our fault, it probably will not help us," said Jean seriously. "Give me your phone. I will do it for you."

Jeremy sighed. "It's in the center console."

"Excellent," said Jean, grabbing the phone. It only took him a moment. "Done. Now you will be able to keep an eye on the poll results, too."

"What am I supposed to do with that information? Go canvassing?"

"I do not think we have the time," said Jean. "Or the resources, for that matter. There are only two of us, and for it to be effective, we'd have to stay together. I doubt it would make a difference."

"I was joking."

"Oh." Jean frowned. "I do not get it."

"Never mind," said Jeremy with a grimace. "It clearly wasn't that funny."

By this time tomorrow, it would be over, and he would have his husband back.

Hopefully. He didn't want to think about what he would do if this change in Jean became permanent.

Jeremy could last another day.

The next morning, Jean woke up before Jeremy. Fortunately, Jean had agreed that there was no need to go back out and make any sort of last-minute push—"We do not want to look desperate," he had said—but unfortunately, that meant there was nothing to distract Jean from his phone.

They'd been awake for an hour, and Jean was still obsessively refreshing Kevin's tweet. "The voting window has not closed yet, but I think we are going to win." There was a glint in his eyes, but there was a certain darkness to it that outshone any joy or triumph. Jeremy hadn't seen that particular look in years—since Jean's first year at USC. It was the look he'd had after had recovered enough to believe in a future, but before he'd learned how to let go of some of the worst habits of his past.

Jeremy wasn't fond of that look.

Jean glanced over at him. "Did you hear me? We are going to win!"

"I heard you," he said, holding back a sigh. "Great. I know it means a lot to you."

Jean dropped the hand holding his phone to the side. "Just to me?"

Jeremy's mouth twisted. "Well, yeah," he said. "This was mostly your thing, from the beginning."

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked Jean, frowning. "I thought you were also enjoying yourself."

"We've done a lot of fun activities," Jeremy said.

"But?"

He sighed. "But they haven't been all that fun. You've just been so focused on the competition of it all."

"It is a competition," said Jean, as if it were obvious."

"I know that!" said Jeremy. "But—it's seemed less like you want to win, and more like you want them to lose, and it's all just . . ."

Jean's eyes narrowed. "Just what?"

Jeremy searched for a way to say it that would hurt less, but he couldn't find one. "You've been acting more like you would have as a Raven than a Trojan."

Jean froze. "No."

"I'm not trying to—to accuse you of anything, or . . . I know you just got caught up in excitement of it all, and that's fine, it's been fine, I just—well, I miss the Jean from a month ago, before we got swept into this whole rivalry thing."

"I see," said Jean slowly. "You—you do not like that I am competitive?"

"That's not it at all," said Jeremy, shaking his head. "I love your drive, and your enthusiasm. And I can be competitive, too! All of that's great."

"Then what is the problem?" asked Jean stiffly.

Jeremy took a deep breath. "When you're at your best, your competitive spirit is focused inward. You work incredibly hard to be the best possible version of yourself, on and off the court. It doesn't matter what the other team is doing, because you're bringing you're A-game, and that's all that matters. But with this rivalry, you were more focused on them being bad than us being good."

"Why didn't you say something?" asked Jean. "Why didn't you stop me?"

"I tried," said Jeremy helplessly.

"Well, then, you should have tried harder," said Jean. He looked up at Jeremy. "Was it really so bad for me to want us to be the best?"

"What does winning a friendly competition have to do with whether or not we're the best?" asked Jeremy.

Jean frowned. "How else are we supposed to prove it?"

"Why do we need to prove it?" asked Jeremy. "Who are we trying to prove it to?"

"Everyone!"

"Everyone? Why does everyone need to know?"

"How else can we measure it?"

"Why does it need to be measured?" He leaned towards Jean and took his hand. "Jean, you know how much I love you. And I know how much you love me. Our friends, my family—they all know, too. And I'm pretty sure the general public has a pretty good idea of it, too, but even if they didn't, it wouldn't change anything. Our lives would be exactly the same if the general population didn't even know we existed. The ones who matter—their opinions of us aren't being swayed by a bunch of performative shit we do for a made-up rivalry. They know us and they love us in ways that can't be measured by a Twitter poll."

"But if we can't measure it, what is the point?" asked Jean, frustrated.

"The point was to have fun, I think," said Jeremy gently. "Which—you were. I thought you were. At the beginning, at least."

Jean paused. "I do not think I was having very much fun. Even at the beginning."

"Oh." Jeremy swallowed. "I'll say something next time. Sooner, I mean. I'll—I'll try harder."

"Next time?" asked Jean, raising an eyebrow. "You think I will sign us up to do this again?"

"Not this, exactly," said Jeremy, "but some other version of it. Next time I notice you falling into old habits, I won't wait to call you out on it, and I won't just hint at it. I won't drop it if the conversation is difficult. I'll make sure we actually talk it through."

Jean nodded. "Thank you." He paused. "I do not think I want to be doing this anymore."

For a second, Jeremy's heart caught in his throat. "This?"

"The rivalry," said Jean, and Jeremy relaxed. "I want it to be over."

"It will be, soon," said Jeremy. "Just a couple more hours on the poll, right?"

Jean shook his head. "No. Well, yes, but that's not—I don't want it to end, I want it to be over. I don't want to win, or to lose. I just want it to have never happened."

"I can call them," said Jeremy, squeezing Jean's hand. "I can call them, and ask to call it off."

"They will never agree to that," Jean scoffed.

"They might," Jeremy insisted. "We can't know if we don't ask."

"We will look weak."

"To who? Neil and Andrew?" asked Jeremy. "They know just how strong you are. And so does Kevin. And so do I."

Jean wrinkled his nose. "I suppose. But. Quitting. It feels . . . wrong."

Jeremy took a deep breath. "You know what takes a lot of courage? Knowing when to step back. When to walk away."

"Maybe," said Jean slowly.

"Definitely." Jeremy smiled at him. "We can end this. It's up to you. Just say the word, and I'll take care of it."

Jean hesitated. "Okay. Call them."

"Thank you," said Jeremy, leaning into Jean and kissing his cheek. He picked up his phone and drifted into the other room to make the call. He dialed Andrew—based on past experience, he was the most likely to answer. True to form, he picked up on the first ring.

"Calling to gloat? Because there's still over an hour left on the poll; this isn't over yet."

Jeremy took a deep breath. "What if it was?"

Andrew was silent for long enough for Jeremy to think he might have hung up, but then he heard a click of a door. "I'm listening."

"This made up rivalry—it's been . . ."

"Shit?" suggested Andrew quietly.

"Yeah," said Jeremy. "It's just brought out the worst in—in all of us."

"You mean in Jean," said Andrew, sounding amused.

"Not just Jean," said Jeremy. "We've both been struggling."

"Neil is going to hate this," said Andrew. "He always gets annoyed when I point out how much he and your Frenchman have in common."

"He—wait. Are you saying . . . ?"

Andrew paused. "It has been a difficult month." He sighed. "I had no idea there were so many ways to get competitive about public appearances and charity work."

"Right?" said Jeremy, letting out a relieved breath of laughter. "So, we're agreed, then? Can we just call it a draw and declare this thing over?"

"Someone will win the poll."

"What if we just didn't look?"

"That will never work," said Andrew dismissively. "People will tell us."

"Oh," said Jeremy, heart sinking. "Yeah, you're right. So, is that it, then? It's too late to call it off?"

Andrew hummed. "Maybe not."

The line went completely silent—he had been put on hold. When the call reconnected, Kevin was mid-sentence.

"—don't care what you're calling about, it's inappropriate at this stage. Besides, I flew out east early to get some peace."

"Untie your jock strap, Knox the First is on the line, too," said Andrew.

"Hey, Kev."

"Oh. Hi, Jeremy. What's up?"

"We want out," said Andrew. "Delete the tweet."

"Are you kidding?"

"No," said Jeremy, surging with confidence at Andrew's suggestion. This could work. The rivalry could actually be over. "We want to call it a draw. You can pick our activity for next weekend. But you've got to delete the poll."

"Are Neil and Jean okay with this?" asked Kevin.

"Yes," said Jeremy. "Jean is. He told me to call Andrew."

"And Neil?" asked Kevin skeptically.

"He will be," said Andrew. "We will discuss it once it is done. I will make sure he does not blame you."

"He's definitely going to blame me," said Kevin. "Especially if the other option is blaming you."

"Trust me," said Andrew. "Delete the poll, and none of this will be your problem. Don't delete the poll, and I will make all of this your problem."

"Can I ask why?"

"We're not having fun anymore," said Andrew simply.

"'We're'—does that mean you and Jeremy, or all of you?"

"All of us," said Jeremy.

"Really?" asked Kevin. "Jean and Neil both seemed so into it."

"Yes," said Andrew. "That was the problem."

"Oh," said Kevin. "Oh. Yeah. I can see it."

"Don't think I didn't see you encouraging it," said Andrew, warning in his tone.

"I wasn't a part of this!" Kevin argued.

Andrew made a noise of disagreement, then sighed. "We will talk about this later, in person. Just delete the poll."

"Done," said Kevin.

"HEY! Andrew, where's your phone? I need you to check Twitter." Jeremy could hear Neil's voice coming through the phone; it sounded like he was getting closer. "Andrew—oh, you're still on the phone with Jeremy? Wait, maybe he knows—Kevin's tweet, it's gone. I was refreshing it, and now I'm getting an error message."

"I'll let you deal with that one," said Kevin.

"Wait, you're talking to Kevin? KEVIN! What did you do to the poll?"

"Bye!"

"Kevin? Kevin! Andrew, call him back, he needs to fix the poll!"

"I'll, uh, let you guys go," said Jeremy, hanging up the phone.

Jean was standing in the doorway. "Thank you," he said. "You did a good thing." He paused. "And it was very funny to hear how angry Josten was. That made me feel a little better about all of it."

Jeremy winced. "Jean," he said hesitantly.

"No, no, I know," said Jean, waving him off. "I am getting it out of my system."

"Okay," said Jeremy, relaxing a little. "Sorry. I'm just . . ." He sighed. "It's been a long month."

Jean grimaced. "I will make it up to you."

"I'm not asking you to make anything up to me," said Jeremy quickly.

"I know," said Jean. He looked steadily at Jeremy. "But I will, anyway."

Jeremy felt warm.