You have SARDINES in it Jehan was deep into the stacks of the bookshop, buried in a very interesting book he’d just discovered, when hands were suddenly put over his eyes and he squealed. In his defence, he hadn’t heard any footsteps behind him, having been too immersed in his books. He was about to be concerned about the attack when a rather familiar laugh came from behind him.
“Oliver!” Beaming with joy, Jehan turned around and hugged the slightly taller boy. “You weren’t meant to be here this week!”
Oliver smiled at the enthusiastic welcome, and wrapped his arms around Jehan. “I had nothing to do, so I figured I may as well put up with your company for a little longer.”
Jehan always loved being at the bookshop, enjoying spending time with Richard and the books, but there was always something slightly different about it when Oliver was there. Jehan became less immersed in what he was reading, surfacing more often to share a fun fact or a beautiful line, or to be dragged out on one of their sort-of scavenger hunts to find obscure things and obscure places. The bookshop was livelier with Oliver there, suggesting games of cards and persuading Richard to teach them how the till worked, and showing Jehan how to play the ukulele he’d got for his birthday. They’d even tried busking once, but got chased away by a policemen muttering things about nasty brats with no permits.
All too soon the few short weeks were slipping by. One week before Jehan had to leave for Sonora, the two boys were outside the bookshop, sitting on the pavement and leaning on each other in the gloaming, whilst ignoring the fact that Jehan should really be getting home for dinner before he was missed.
“Can I text you, whilst you’re at this boarding school of yours?” Oliver asked, breaking the silence.
Jehan panicked slightly, having to think on his feet to find a satisfying answer. “We’re not allowed phones at school,” he replied, then had the foresight to forestall the next question. “We’re not allowed to get emails either, they’re really strict.”
Oliver sighed, slipping his arms around the other boy. “That sucks.”
Jehan nodded, looking up at Oliver and smiling at the unstated admission that Oliver would miss him. Oliver looked down at him from his lofty few extra inches of height. “Can I kiss you?”
Jehan contemplated the request. He contemplated how the word Dorian went through his mind, but Jehan didn’t like restraints and Dorian wasn’t here and Dorian was complicated in a way that Oliver, for all that he was muggle, wasn’t. And Oliver was warm and tall and something different, fun, wild. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t entertained the thought of this possibility.