Chapter Text
Jesper is going to kill Kaz Brekker.
He jokes about it a lot, but this time he really is going to do it.
“Are you Jesper Fahey?”
Just say no, Jesper thinks as he stares at the man in front of him. Deny it and drive off.
“Yeah, that’s me.” He sighs. “Get in.”
This whole thing started three days ago. Well if you want to get technical, it started six months two weeks and two days ago when Jesper decided he needed something new and disappeared to Noyvi Zem for a change of pace. He says disappears as if Kaz and Inej didn’t know exactly where he was the whole time. He still has no idea how they figured that out, but he’s long since given up being surprised by their antics.
The man hasn’t moved. He just stands in front of the car, twisting his hands together.
“You gonna get in?” Jesper asks, leaning a little further out the window. The man eyes the car warily.
“Is this thing even road worthy?”
“Of course.” Jesper scoffs. He sees the man's eyes trail over the slightly dented bonnet and the duct tape securing the back window. “Completely safe. I promise.”
“This looks like a kidnapping vehicle.”
“Kidnapping? What are you, twelve? Wait,” Jesper groans. “You are an adult, right? Please don’t tell me Kaz has got me carting some kid around the country for him.”
“I’m not a kid,” The man bristles, crossing his arms. “I’m twenty.”
“Why can’t you drive yourself then?”
“I-” He looks down at his shoes. “I don’t have my licence.”
“Of course you don’t.” Jesper sighs. “Look, if you’re getting in, get in. Otherwise bugger off so I can leave without you.” He hesitates for a minute longer, before muttering something to himself, hoisting his bag over his shoulder, and walking around to the passenger side.
“What’s your name, anyway?” Jesper asks, as the man drops into the seat next to him.
“Wylan.” He replies, tugging the seatbelt across him. “Wylan Hendriks.”
Three days ago, Jesper got a phone call from Kaz.
“I need you to do a job for me.”
“I’m doing well, thanks. And you?” Even an entire ocean away, Jesper could still recognise Kaz’s exasperated sigh.
“I’d be doing a lot better if we could just get to the point.”
“Where are you?”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because I want to be able to picture you better.” Jesper grinned as Kaz sighed again. Raising his shoulder so that the phone stayed in place, he hoisted himself up onto his tiny kitchen bench and rested his head back against the tiles.
“Can you tell your ADHD meds to focus on me for two seconds.” Kaz snapped.
“Don’t think that’s how it works.” Jesper said, pressing his finger down on a spoon so that it tilted up like a catapult. “And this is the first time I’ve spoken to you in six months. I want to capture this historic occasion.”
“It’s hardly historic.” Kaz said, and Jesper could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “I texted you.”
“Twice.” Jesper informed him. “You’ve texted me twice. In six months. One of them was because you clicked the wrong number.”
“Anyway,” Kaz said pointedly. “I have a job for you.”
“Hmm.” Jesper hummed. “No thanks.”
“You haven’t even heard it yet.”
“Don’t need to.”
“You haven't heard what it pays, either.” At that, Jesper paused.
“Keep talking.”
Kaz snorted. “Thought that might get your attention.” Jesper groaned, head falling back against the tiles behind him.
“Shut up,” He hesitated, weighing up his options.
“You want to ask me how much, don’t you?”
“Shut up Kaz.” He groaned again. “Now I’m not going to ask.”
“Fine. I’ll just tell you then.” Kaz paused, building tension like the dramatic prick he was.
“If you’re not going to tell me-”
“Ten thousand Kruge.”
“What?” Jesper’s hand slipped, sending the spoon flying off the bench. It landed on the floor with a clatter as Jesper leaned forward, pressing the phone closer to his ear. “Kaz, are you- how do you just have ten thousand Kruge to give away?”
“I’m not just giving it away,” He corrected. “I’ll be paying you. If you do this job for me.”
“What job could possibly be worth- are you gonna ask me to kill somebody? Because it’s not a no , but I’d really prefer-”
“No killing anyone.” Kaz interrupted him. “It’s perfectly legal.”
“That I doubt,” Jesper said, reaching for another spoon to fidget with. “But tell me anyway.”
“All you would have to do is drive someone back to Ketterdam with you.” Jesper blinked.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Who am I driving, then? Please don’t let it be a criminal, I am not harbouring another fugitive for you Kaz.”
“He’s not a criminal.” Kaz said. “At least I’m pretty sure he’s not.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” He said quickly. “I just need to know if you can do it. The job is relatively time sensitive.” Jesper ran a hand over his head, thinking hard.
“All I have to do is drive this guy to Ketterdam?” He asked slowly.
“Yes.” Kaz confirmed. “We’ll cover gas, hotel expenses, all that. Just get him here by next weekend.”
“Next weekend?” Jesper asked. “Do you know how long it takes to get back home?”
Home . He still thought of it as home, despite everything. If Kaz noticed, he didn’t say anything.
“Roughly sixty hours.” Kaz replied promptly, ignoring Jesper’s groan. “You could do it in a week, or five days if you felt like being really helpful.”
“And you can’t put him on a plane or something?”
Kaz hesitated for slightly too long before saying no.
“Oh Saints,” Jesper rubbed his temple. “I’m harbouring a fugitive again, aren’t I?”
“That was one time.” Kaz snapped. “And I promise he’s not. The situation’s just a bit too sensitive to risk air travel.”
That was the part where he should have said no. Right there, before he found out anything else, he should have said no and walked away.
The man might be a criminal. Ten thousand Kruge. Sixty hours of driving. Ten thousand Kruge. You’d have to go back to Ketterdam.
Ten. Thousand. Kruge.
All fucking saints.
“I don’t know if I’m ready,” He said finally, pressing the pad of his thumb against the edge of the bench just hard enough to hurt. “Y’know. To be- to be home again.” Kaz sighed.
“Look Jesper,” He said gruffly. “If you don’t want to come home, then don’t. But you are ready.” Saints I’m really going to do this, aren’t I?
“Oh fine.” He groaned. “Fine. Ok I will drive your guy across the country for you.”
“Yes,” Kaz snorted. “For me. Not at all because of the money.” Jesper grinned.
“It can be for two reasons.”
“Sure. Well, get a move on, will you? Time sensitive, remember.”
“Is this just because you miss me?” It took Jesper a minute to realise Kaz had hung up.
Jesper never noticed how small his car was until he had to share it with a stranger.
“You can put your bag in the back, you know.” Jesper tells him. It’s the first thing either of them have said since Wylan got in the car, which is basically an eternity to spend in silence.
“I’m ok.” Wylan says, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
“Really?” Jesper raises his eyebrows. “Sitting like that cannot be comfortable.” Wylan’s duffle bag is taking up the space where his feet should go, so his knees are pushed together, squished up against the door. Wylan just shrugs.
“It’s fine.” He tells him. Jesper glances over at him again.
“Wylan,” He hums. “That’s Kerch, right?” Wylan nods slowly, as though this might be a trick question and doesn’t elaborate. All saints . “You from there?”
“Yes.” Wylan says curtly without looking at him. Jesper sighs, turning his attention back to the road.
He sounds Kerch, Jesper thinks. His vowels are too sharp for him to be from the Barrel, but Jesper could have guessed that anyway. Even here, squished into the passenger seat of a car, Wylan’s hands are clasped together, almost like a singer at a recital. There’s something so posh - for lack of a better word - about that, that Jesper almost bursts out laughing. He's not entirely sure how someone like this could be too sensitive for air travel , all though to be fair, he’s not entirely sure what Kaz meant by that. Right now, his only theory is that Wylan is some kind of white collar criminal, but even that seems like a stretch. He said he was twenty, but Jesper’s yet to see proof of that.
Maybe he just has a baby face, Jesper muses, sneaking another glance at him. It’s not really a baby face, but the combination of wide eyes and an abundance of freckles make his face seem softer, especially with gentle curls falling into his eyes.
He’s kind of pretty. Just objectively speaking.
“You’re staring at me.” Wylan tells him, and Jesper startles, eyes snapping back ahead.
“No I’m not.”
“Yes you were.”
“No I-” Jesper cuts himself off, squeezing the wheel very tightly to stop himself from groaning aloud. What is this guy's problem? He thinks irritably. Wylan doesn’t even continue with the argument, just pulls a tiny, battered cell phone out of the top pocket of his bag and stares intently at something on the screen. Jesper fights the urge to look over again and fails, doing his best to see what Wylan’s so interested in.
He has nice hands, Jesper supposes. Again, just objectively speaking . The kind of hands that don’t look as though they’ve done a day of work in their life, further proving Jesper’s theory that this guy comes from a very different part of the world to him.
“You’re staring again.” Wylan says, without even looking up. This time Jesper does groan, head thumping against the headrest in frustration. That noise makes Wylan look up.
“Careful.” He snaps. “Watch the road.”
“I am.” Jesper insists.
“You’re not. We’re going to crash.”
“Why are you telling me how to drive?” Jesper demands. “You don’t even have a licence.”
“I don’t need to have a licence to know you need to watch the fucking road.”
“Music!” Jesper blurts. “We need to listen to music.” He thinks that’s the only thing that’s going to keep him sane, because if he has to listen to this whiny little kid for one more second he’s going to crash the car on purpose.
This is great, Jesper thinks. We’ve been here for, what, half an hour? And I already want to rip my hair out. All fucking Saints I am going to kill Kaz.
He sees Wylan’s gaze land on what was once the aux cord and is now just a tangle of frayed wires with a sad bit of rubber hanging off the outside.
“Music.” He repeats dryly, and his voice is far too judgmental for someone with a phone that looks like it was made in the last century. Jesper bites his tongue to stop himself from saying so.
“CD’s.” He says shortly, gesturing to the back seat. Wylan inhales sharply as he takes his hand off the wheel and Jesper tries to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He fails. “Calm down kid,” He groans. “I only get paid if Kaz gets you alive, so I promise not to crash.” Funnily enough, this seems to placate Wylan slightly, and he carefully twists in his seat to reach for the folder of CD’s.
“My music taste is excellent, so I’m sure you’ll have all sorts of problems with it.” Jesper says. Wylan doesn’t react. For a moment Jesper doesn’t notice, then he glances back to see Wylan is frozen, staring at something on the back seat and-
Saints, Jesper curses, mentally kicking himself. He’d meant to tidy up but he’s the only person ever in this car and it’s just sitting there, not even loaded, not harming anyone. Except maybe Wylan, whose eyes are very wide as he stares at the gun sitting on Jesper’s back seat.
He might not have seen it, Jesper reasons, weighing up his options. It’s half hidden under stuff, maybe he’s just appalled at the state of your car.
“You alright?” Jesper tries. Wylan swallows, before turning back to face the front. His knuckles are very white where he’s gripping the CD folder, so realistically the chances of him having seen the gun are pretty high. It’s a fair enough reaction; Jesper wouldn’t particularly want to be trapped in a car with someone carrying weapons either, except that gun barely counts as a weapon. It’s more family heirloom than anything else, although he knows there's no way for Wylan to know that.
He should probably do something about this - cleaning your car once in a while would probably be a good start - but Jesper has too many things to stress about without adding a nervous Wylan to the list. He decides to continue with the assumption that Wylan didn’t see it and that everything is fine, falling back on his go to strategies for pretty much anything: denial and avoidance.
“Pick anything.” Jesper tells him as Wylan starts to flick through the first few pages of CDs “Unfortunately there’s no classical music, or whatever losers such as yourself listen to.”
“I do not listen to classical music.” Jesper raises his eyebrows. “I do not only listen to classical music.” Wylan amends, pausing on one page.
“Hurry up and pick one.” Jesper says, fingers drumming impatiently against the steering wheel. He hates driving in silence at the best of times, and the longer they stay quiet, the more time Jesper has to stress about the possibility Wylan thinks he’s some deranged madman and is going to call off the job and Kaz is going to be mad and him and he’s going to lose ten thousand kruge before he even gets it, which would be a record even for him and-
“There’s too many choices.” Wylan says, breaking him out of his panic. “Tell me what to pick.”
“I would, but I have to keep my eyes glued to the road.”
“Ghenzen.” Wylan mutters, flicking through the plastic sheets with far more force than is really necessary.
“Careful,” Jesper says. “Don’t go breaking any of them.”
“I won’t.” Wylan tells him, rolling his eyes scornfully, but Jesper notices that he does handle them a bit more carefully after that. Eventually he settles on one, gently lifting it out and setting it in the CD player.
“Yes." Jesper laughs, smacking his hands against the wheel in excitement. “Excellent choice, Wylan.”
“What are you doing?” Wylan eyes him warily as Jesper reaches for the volume, turning it up as far as the car's worn out speakers will allow.
“You have to listen to it loud.” Jesper shouts over the blaring song. “No point otherwise. Hey, roll your window down.”
“I’m going to die in a car accident.” Wylan mutters to himself, but he rolls the window down anyway. Jesper sticks his arm out the window, laughing as Wylan sinks in his seat slightly, looking very much as though he’s questioning all of his life's decisions up until this point. Jesper doesn’t care. He can’t care, not with the music this loud and the wind battering against his face.
Denial and avoidance, he thinks, then turns the music up even further, until he can feel it reverberating around his rib cage.
“You’re going to go deaf!” Wylan yells.
“Good!” Jesper yells back. Wylan shakes his head, staring at him with wide eyes, and the sight makes Jesper laugh.
Like all good things, the CD ends. It takes approximately four seconds for Wylan to start being a raging pain again.
“We’re lost.”
“We are not lost.”
“We’ve passed this tree like four times now.” Jesper groans.
“It’s a tree. They all look the same.”
“Just admit it.” Wylan snaps. “You got us lost.”
“Fine, we’re lost.” Wylan looks far too pleased with himself and Jesper has to grit his teeth and swallow back a flurry of insults. Instead, he fumbles for the glove box, ignoring the way Wylan shifts back in his seat to avoid Jesper’s hand touching him.
“Here.” Jesper says, throwing an old fold out map into Wylan’s lap. Wylan stares at it.
“What do you want me to do with this?”
“Navigate.” Jesper tells him. “Since you’re so good at directions.” Wylan makes no attempt to unfold the map.
“Why can’t you just use your phone?” He asks.
“It’s dead.” Wylan mutters something that sounds suspiciously like of course it is, which Jesper maturely decides to ignore. “And I would suggest using yours, but it looks so old I’m not sure it even has a map function.” Wylan rolls his eyes hugely.
“What do you want me to do with this then?”
“Read it to me.” Jesper tells him. For a moment, Wylan goes stiff, eyes widening just slightly. Before Jesper can even wonder if he imagined it, Wylan’s shoulders have relaxed, as much as they ever seem to, at least.
“I can’t.” He tells him.
“Just flip it open and read the street names to me until I figure out-”
“I can’t.” Wylan repeats firmly. “I’m- I get car sick.” Jesper stares at him.
“Are you serious right now?” Wylan has gone slightly pink but he nods, shoving the map in Jesper’s direction.
“Read your own map.”
“How car sick could you possibly-”
“Just pull over.” Wylan snaps. “You can figure out directions and we can stop going around in circles.”
Jesper does pull over, but only because they were running out of gas anyway and not because Wylan told him to.
“Careful.” Wylan gasps as the car skids to a stop at a rundown little gas station. Jesper ignores him, slamming the door as he gets out of the car. It makes Wylan flinch, but Jesper is too busy being annoyed with him to really register that properly.
“There should be a bathroom in there.” He says, nodding to what looks like a general store a few paces down the road. “Go splash some water on your face.”
“Why?” Jesper rolls his eyes.
“Car sickness.” He reminds him, and Wylan flushes again.
“Oh. Right.” He hurries off in the stores direction, leaving Jesper to mutter angrily to himself as he fills up the car.
There’s a friendly looking old man sitting behind the counter when he goes in to pay, and he smiles up at Jesper as he approaches. There's something oddly nostalgic about the bell sound that rings when he opens the door, and Jesper is plunged back into his childhood, when his Ma would pack them up into a slightly bigger car than he has now and pull them along on some spontaneous road trip.
Those had only happened a few times, and only when Jesper very young. Then there had been too much for all of them to do on the farm, and then his Ma had-
Jesper blinks, focusing on the bright packets of lollies and chewing gum that have probably been sitting on the same shelf for longer than their use by date advised.
“Pump two, thanks.” Jesper says in Zemeni, and the man nods, ringing him up.
“Roadtrip?” He asks. Jesper nods, fiddling with a peeling sticker on the side of the counter.
“Yeah. Bit lost though.” The man chuckles.
“Need directions?”
“Yes please.” Jesper says gratefully. The man laughs again when he spreads his map out across the counter.
“You city kids.” The man shakes his head amusedly, and Jesper feels his heart twist slightly.
It’s technically true. He has lived in the city for a good chunk of his life, and he felt far more at home there than he ever did on a Jurda farm, but he’s not exactly a stranger to this country. It’s where he grew up and also where he’s been for the past six months. He knows the land, knows the people, should really know his way around.
It’s just that since the age of seven, the vast majority of his childhood was spent on the farm, and most of the last six months have been spent trying not to stray too far from the little house he’d found himself in. He'd been convinced that if he went too far he’d end up stumbling into a bar or doing something equally stupid, so he'd just stayed put, as much as possible.
It was easier to avoid risks in the middle of nowhere, which was why he’d chosen this stretch of the country to begin with. Far enough away from both the big cities and his Da, but still familiar enough that he could convince himself that this was fine and normal and perfectly planned. He’d always talked about going back to visit Noyvi Zem, so really it was fine and normal and kind of planned.
Ending up on Imani’s farm hadn’t been the result of planning, so much as driving until he ran out of gas and then leaving the rest up to the saints. Looking back, that was quite possibly one of the worst ideas he’s ever come up with - which is saying something, because Jesper Fahey has made a lot of stupid decisions in his life - but he wasn’t thinking too clearly at the time.
He’d ended up outside some poor old farmer's house, and she had hurried outside to help him because people in the country are just like that, in Jesper's experience at least. That’s one thing he does remember from his childhood; people help each other out. In Ketterdam it’s everyone for themselves, but when Jesper’s car puttered to a stop on the side of some random road, Imani had been there to help him, immediately ushering him inside, asking if he needed anything.
That’s the kind of thing that gets you killed in Ketterdam, had been Jesper’s first thought, as he stared at this complete stranger who was actively inviting him into her home. The voice in his head sounded unnervingly like Kaz.
He’d accepted, allowing the woman to sit him down at her kitchen table, asking all sorts of questions. Are you ok? Where are you coming from? When was the last time you ate? You look tired, do you want to sleep? When he’d admitted he wasn’t really headed anywhere, too exhausted and hungover to come with a lie, she had immediately offered that he stay the night.
“I can’t take you up on that.” He’d said guiltily. The woman shook her head.
“Of course you can.” She smiled. “You look like you need help. Let me help you.”
“Really,” He’d insisted. “I promise I’m fine, I’ll just-” His breath hitched as his eyes caught on a row of trees lining the edge of the woman’s property.
Cherry blossoms . He thought dazedly, suddenly embarrassingly close to tears as he stared at them. Saints sake, Ma, are you trying to get me to cry in front of this nice old woman?
“I’ll make tea.” The woman said, patting him on the shoulder as she moved into the kitchen.
He’d been too tired to argue any more after that.
Wylan is already waiting against the outside of the car when Jesper exits the store. Jesper grins when he sees him, which has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the icy-poles he’s holding.
“One of those for me?” He asks.
“No.” Wylan tells him, even as he holds one out to Jesper. “They're both for me.”
“Thanks,” Jesper says, gratefully accepting his.
“I didn’t know what flavour you liked so I got pink to match your shirt.” Wylan tells him. Jesper snorts as he sets the map down, eager to avoid getting sticky artificial raspberry all over their method of navigation.
“Very kind of you.” When he looks up, Wylan is fiddling with his sleeves.
“Sorry I couldn’t help.” Jesper cocks his head.
“What?”
"With the map.” Wylan explains. “I’m- uh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Jesper says slowly, eyeing Wylan with curiosity. He hadn’t thought he’d be the kind to apologise for being an inconvenience, given that he’d been nothing but an inconvenience since literally the second Jesper met him, but maybe his snippiness was just the heat getting to him or something.
His freckles go right down to his collar bones, Jesper notices, eyes tracing along the skin visible beneath Wylan’s jumper. Why he’s wearing a jumper in this heat is beyond Jesper, and he has the strangest urge to get him to take it off, to see if the freckles extend any further down, if maybe they-
Jesper clears his throat, quickly focusing on a tree in the distance. Stupid heat, he thinks, blinking rapidly to remove the image of pale skin and freckles from his mind. It’s messing with your head. Focus, Fahey .
It takes him a minute to notice that Wylan has gone to get in the car again.
“No.” He says firmly, as Wylan tries to open the door. “You’ll get icy-pole all over my seats.” Wylan purses his lips.
“So dinting the bonnet is fine, but icy-pole juice is where you draw the line?” He asks.
“Precisely.” Jesper nods, leaning back against the bumper. Wylan rolls his eyes but comes around to join him.
“Did you get directions?” He asks, tearing the wrapper.
“Yep.” Jesper nods, following suit. “There’s a motel about an hours drive from here, so I figure we get an early night and then head off before the sun rises to avoid some of the heat.”
“Good plan.” Wylan nods. He sticks the icy-pole between his teeth, carefully using both hands to fold the wrapper into squares before storing it in his pocket. Jesper shakes his head in amusement, as he balls his up and rests it on the bonnet. In all likelihood he’ll forget to find a bin and it’ll end up flying off when he starts driving, but he has a feeling Wylan will remember to remind him, if only to be an annoying prick about it.
For a while they stand in silence, but Jesper is notoriously bad at those. The second he’s done with his icy-pole and there’s no longer anything physically stopping words from coming out of his mouth, he turns to face Wylan.
“So.” He starts, “What’s the deal?”
“What deal?” Wylan asks, without looking at him.
“Your deal.” Jesper says. “What am I driving you across the country for?”
“Didn’t Kaz tell you?” Wylan asks, shifting slightly where he stands. Jesper snorts.
“Kaz doesn’t tell me shit.” He says. “So come on. Tell me, or else I’ll keep coming up with crazy theories.” Wylan’s lips twitch.
“Crazy theories?” He raises his eyebrows. “Such as?”
The first thing that comes to mind is you’re some sort of drug lord that’s working with Kaz for nefarious reasons, but he feels that won’t be appreciated, so he starts with something slightly more tame.
“Well the leading one is that you’ve got some secret girlfriend waiting for you in Kerch.” Wylan nearly chokes.
“Girlfriend?” He asks incredulously. “What about me seems heterosexual?”
“You-” It really is a good thing he’s not driving because Jesper is apparently short circuiting. For some reason the only thought in his head is well that's good to know, which is entirely irrelevent. Wylan’s eyebrows are so high they’re at serious risk of disappearing into his hair and Jesper thinks he might look offended.
“You’re queer?” He asks.
“Extremely.” Wylan crosses his arms. “Is that a problem?” Now it’s Jesper’s turn to laugh, feeling distinctly less bad about his screw up.
“What about me seems heterosexual.” It’s almost funny the way Wylan’s eyes widen.
“Oh Ghenzen,” He mutters. “Shit. Sorry, I-”
“It’s fine.” Jesper says quickly. “We’re both idiots I guess. You more so, what straight man wears this many rings?” He holds his hands up as proof and Wylan swallows, eyes caught on the metal.
“I didn’t want to assume,” He mutters, looking down. Jesper raises his eyebrows.
“Oh?” He grins. “Were you hoping, maybe?”
“I didn’t say hoping.” Wylan snaps, going pink anyway. “I just- whatever.” He ducks his head, scowling at nothing in particular.
“Fine then.” Jesper says. “Secret boyfriend waiting for you in Kerch?” Wylan shakes his head slowly, drawing the wrapper out and beginning to flatten it out between his hands.
“No.” He says, running his finger down a crease in the wrapper to unfold it. “There’s no one waiting for me.”
The way he says it makes Jesper sure he’s not just being dramatic. There's a deep, almost resigned sense of something close to sadness in his voice, and he sounds so final about the whole thing that Jesper almost feels bad for him.
Be sympathetic, Jesper thinks, watching Wylan closely. He's sad. You should be helpful, offer advice, just do something.
Inej would know what to say if she were here, but, as Jesper is acutely aware, she's not. It's just him, and he's never been that good at listening or being comforting or any of those other things that friends are supposed to be. At best he's someone to lighten the mood, crack a stupid joke and distract people from their pain for a little while, but he doesn't think that's what Wylan needs right now.
So really, a little voice inside of him speaks up, you're entirely useless here. You can't help him. You can't help anyone. You-
Jesper clears his throat.
“What are you doing in Noyvi Zem?” He asks, trying to keep his tone light. Wylan exhales, folding down a corner of his wrapper.
“A holiday, of sorts.” He says, and Jesper is one hundred percent sure that is a blatant lie. He doesn’t push it though.
“Nice.” He nods. “Same here.” Wylan glances at him.
“You’re not from here?”
“Originally yes,” Jesper sighs. “But I’ve lived in Ketterdam for the last-” He screws up his face in concentration. “Sixish years, I think. Saints, that's a while.”
“That makes sense, actually.” Wylan says. “Your accent.” He adds, when Jesper raises his eyebrows. “You sound- well, I was going to say you sound kind of Kealish, but I’m clearly wrong.” Jesper laughs, surprised.
“My Da’s Kealish.” He tells him. “I’m impressed, kid. You’ve got good ears.” Wylan snorts, but Jesper sees him biting back a smile as he refocuses on his paper.
“Were you staying with him?” He asks, and Jesper feels his stomach drop just slightly.
Tell him why you weren’t, the voice speaks up. Tell him exactly what your “holiday” actually was.
“Nah,” Jesper swallows. “I uh, I was staying with a friend.”
It’s not technically a lie; Imani had been kind of like a friend to him. It’s not the truth either, but really Jesper doesn’t want to think about that now, or ever if he can help it.
“We should head off.” Jesper says, tapping his hands against the car as he pushes off. “Got a hotel to get to.”
“You’re littering.” Wylan tells him, pointing to Jesper’s wrapper, then glares at him when Jesper starts to laugh again.
By the time Jesper’s found a bin to properly dispose of his wrapper, Wylan has already settled himself in his seat. Well, as settled as he can be with that stupid duffle bag still taking up all of his foot space.
“I won’t stand for this.” Jesper tells him. “Put your damn bag in the back.” Wylan crosses his arms again.
“No. I’m fine.”
“Well I’m not.” Jesper says. “It’s distracting. I’m distracted.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“My car, my rules.” Wylan rolls his eyes. He hesitates for a moment, before slipping the phone out of the top pocket and sliding the bag into the back seat.
“There?” He mutters. “Happy now?”
“Overflowing with joy.” Jesper tells him, and Wylan wrinkles his nose. Jesper puts the key in the ignition, and Wylan thankfully stays silent about the fact that it takes three goes to get the engine running. It does start up though, and the car rumbles into life, air conditioner blasting them at full force. Jesper sighs in relief, closing his eyes as the cool air rushes over him. When he opens his eyes, they catch on something on his dashboard.
“What’s this?” He asks, reaching for it. Wylan goes slightly pink, looking down at his fingers.
“I made it.” He says, trying so hard to sound casual that it has the absolute opposite effect. Jesper grins, turning the origami butterfly that used to be Wylan’s icy-pole wrapper over in his hands.
“This is cool.”
“No it’s not.” Wylan murmurs. “I just-”
“No it is.” Jesper insists. “I mean, it’s lame in that it’s origami and you’re a nerd and I’m definitely going to bully you about it later, but it’s really pretty.”
“That,” Wylan says decisively. “Is the worst compliment I’ve ever received.”
“Spend some more time with me, I’m sure I’ll think of something worse.”
Jesper reaches up, popping open the little mirror on the underside of his sun visor. Carefully, so as not to crush it, he pins the wing of Wylan’s butterfly under it, so that it stays in place.
“There.” He says, pleased with himself. “Now it’s flying.”
“You don’t have to do that.” Wylan says, eyes fixed on where it’s pinned.
“I want to.” Jesper shrugs. “Brightens up the place.”
“It’s plain white.”
“Well maybe you should paint it.” Jesper suggests. “You got any paints in that bag of yours?”
“I-” Wylan swallows, looking away. Jesper laughs.
“Saints, you do!” He grins. “That is so in character. Ok, well then you can actually paint it when we reach the hotel or something.”
"Sure.” Wylan rolls his eyes, but Jesper catches him hiding a smile behind his hand.
“Pick another CD?” Jesper offers, holding the folder out to him. Wylan opens his mouth to say something, then apparently thinks better of it, shaking his head.
“No. I’m- I’m tired.” Jesper blinks.
“It’s like four in the afternoon.” Wylan just shrugs.
“I’ve been up for ages.” he says, fiddling with a loose string on his jumper. “I’ll probably fall asleep, so you should pick something.”
“Ok then.” Jesper says slowly. He puts a new CD in, carefully sliding the old one back into its folder, then starts driving.
True to his word, Wylan falls asleep in about two minutes, which is honestly impressive considering how bumpy these roads are. Jesper would assume he’s faking to avoid conversation, but his eyelids keep fluttering in a way that looks far too authentic. It’s kind of cute, or it would be if it were someone else who wasn’t the aggravating stranger he was being forced to cart across an ocean.
Aggravating, Jesper thinks, looking over at him again. That’s the perfect word. Really you should be happy he’s fallen asleep, then he can’t question your driving skills or try to get you to play classical music. Who even listens to classical music? Nerds. There’s a nerd in my car.
Jesper’s eyes catch on the stark white butterfly, moving slightly in the breeze from the air conditioner. He sighs, turning down the volume so that it doesn’t make the door Wylan’s resting against vibrate too much, and turns his gaze back to the road.