Ketterdam University

{five}

I'm going to do this. You're going to do this, Wylan thought to himself. He stared at himself in the mirror, fully dressed in a button up and cardigan, glasses, and his nice jeans. He looked...okay, not bad. His hair had decided to cooperate that morning after his shower, the curls staying nicely in place, rather than the tangle they usually reside in.

He pushed back his hair and heaved a sigh. He was going to class for the first time in a week and a half, and the flutter of anxiety in his stomach was so relentless, he skipped breakfast from fear of retching it back up minutes after. He had plans to meet Kuwei for lunch after classes ended, but he was sure he would end up moving his meal around for appearances with his organs in shambles.

The door opened suddenly, and Wylan jumped at the sound of the door banging off the wall from the force.

"Jesus Christ," he said, out of breath. Jesper stood in the doorway, looking at him in shock.

"I thought you already left," Jesper said.

"Do you usually use my bathroom when I'm away?" Wylan leaned over the sink to apply concealer under his eyelids. He really needed to improve his sleep schedule; the bags under his eyes were terrible.

Jesper squeezed past him and took a roll of toilet paper. "Nah, I just need this."

"There are refills in the laundry room, in the cabinet over the washing machine."

"Yeah, but your bathroom is closer than the laundry room and I'm lazy."

Wylan rolled his eyes and dabbed his sponge on his skin, smoothing out the product. Jesper turned to leave, but then doubled back around and watched Wylan for a long moment. The pink started to rise in Wylan's cheeks as the seconds dragged on.

"What?"

"I didn't know you wore makeup."

Wylan glanced back at him. "Not enough for people to take notice, but yeah, I wear it."

Jesper laughed, but there was no judgment in his voice. "Dude, that's so gay."

"Yeah, well, so are you."

Jesper nearly choked on his laughter. "Is it that obvious?" he asked, a quirk in his lip.

"Strikingly so, darling." And then Wylan closed the door in Jesper's face, his own cheeks nearly catching aflame. 

*****

            "Jesper? It's your father. I wanted to...I don't know, just seeing what you're up to. How are classes? Call me back."

"Jes, call me."

"It's your father. Give me a call."

"Jesper? Please call me."

Jesper stared at his phone. The missed calls had evolved into purposeful, and the impending doom was beginning to loom over him every day. It had been a month and a half since he had had a conversation with his father, who was still laboring on the farm hundreds of miles away. Sometimes, he missed the yellow wide fields, the sky of endless blue, the little old farmhouse with a little old windmill out front. He missed making breakfast for Da, bacon and fresh eggs, milk in a pitcher, pancakes sizzling in too much butter, but he knew that's just how Da liked it. He would pick a few wild flowers from the yard and put them in a crummy vase, but it didn't matter how tattered the presentation of the breakfast table was, because it was all worth it when Da came in through the back door, flushed and sweaty from the morning chores, and seeing a grin break across his face, and his eyes would light up like stars. That's what made it worth it. Who cared if the bacon was a little too crispy, or if the eggs were scorched?