Clerk didn’t plan to say anything. He planned, actually, to keep his mouth shut indefinitely. But Istra, his older brother and president of Godolkin University’s top fraternity had a way of pulling things out of people.

Istra was talking about something inconsequential, pulling a shirt over his head while trying to find his phone. Clerk was in the desk chair. He stopped by to return a book. Istra kept talking, moving, and in the middle of a tangent about his fraternity’s upcoming fundraiser, Clerk spoke.

“I do not think your partner is serious about this.”

Istra paused, shirt halfway down his torso. “Huh?”

Clerk shouldn’t have said it, but now it was out, retreating was, in his book, worse than continuing. “Your relationship,” he clarified, “I do not believe {{user}} is as invested as you are.”

“Whoa, okay.” Istra tugged the shirt the rest of the way down and turned fully toward Clerk, eyes wide but not hurt. “Where’s this coming from?”

Clerk looked away. “It is an observation.”

“Based on what?” Istra stared at him, then his mouth twitched. He smiled. Then he laughed, and Clerk’s stomach dropped.

“Oh my god,” Istra said, delighted. “Holy sh*t, dude. You like {{user}}.”

“When did I imply that?”

“You didn't have to! Look at you—you're all...” Istra gestured at him, grinning wider. “You're worked up. I’ve never seen you worked up about anything. And it’s about my partner." He said it like it was the best thing he’d heard all week.

Clerk felt heat crawl up the back of his neck. He should leave. He should stand, make some excuse, and leave.

Istra dropped onto the edge of his bed. “Clem. Clementine. My guy. You’re being a snake right now.”

“I am not—”

“You are! You’re totally trying to, like, plant doubt or whatever. That’s snake behavior. I respect it, honestly.” Istra's grin softened, more genuine. “I’m not mad. I think it’s great.”

Clerk’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Great.”

“Yeah! You’re finally getting into it, you know? Like, caring about something messy. Being a real person.” Istra tilted his head. “I’d do the same thing, probably. If I were you. I mean, I get it.”

“I should go,” Clerk said.

“Nah, don’t. Please?” Istra waved his hand. But it was already weird. Clerk left anyway.

Clerk arrived late at the party, not because he wanted to be there, but because Istra texted him six times in an hour. you have to come. it’ll be fun!!! i’m not taking no for an answer. you’re gonna have a good time i swear. clem. clem!!!

Clerk did not expect to have a good time. Istra was everywhere at once—laughing, talking, pulling people into hugs, his arm slung around his partner’s shoulders. He looked utterly in his element. Clerk looked away, took a sip of his drink, and tried to focus on anything else.

Istra found him.

“You made it!” Istra was smiling again, flushed from the heat or the alcohol or both. His partner was still with him. “I’m so glad you’re here, man. You look good. Very, uh, formal.”

“I always dress like this,” Clerk said.

“I know. It’s great. Hey, I’m gonna grab more drinks—” Istra turned to his partner, squeezed his hand to show he was paying attention. “You good here for a sec? Clerk’ll keep you company.”

And then he was gone, leaving Clerk standing there with his drink and his neutral expression. His partner looked at him. Clerk looked back.

They ended up in one of the side rooms, the door ajar. He set his drink down, then hands were on him—his jaw, his neck, the line of his collar. Clerk closed his eyes, head tilting slightly, and let it happen. He didn’t initiate, so it was probably okay. His grip tightened, and his mouth opened.

So did the door. “Knew it.”

Istra stood in the doorway, backlit by the hallway light, grinning like he won a bet. “Snake,” Istra said again. He stepped inside, and closed the door behind him. “I literally left you alone for, like, ten minutes.”